Welcome back to Glass Half Full and thanks for reading! It’s the last of these short scenes. Next week, a full chapter!
I WALKED through town to the mayor’s office. It was in the new city hall, part of a civic complex farther around the lake, also featuring the fire department, cop shop, rec center, ball fields, all connected by a ped/bike path. Someone’s idea of good modern planning.
Mayor Sharp wasn’t in. “He’s wearing his other hat today, over at the Visitors Bureau,” his assistant told me.
“Where’s that?”
“Down the hall to your right, then down the stairs to the first floor.”
Thank god for good urban planning, because I’d had enough of walking.
The mayor looked up as I entered his other office, a more unassuming affair than the one upstairs, which meant no assistant to run interference.
“I thought we’d finished our conversation yesterday. What more is there to say?”
“Buy you a coffee?”
“What’s this about?”
“Wanted to apologize, really. And to let you know a few things I heard last night.”
He looked at the clock on the wall, which showed late afternoon. “Okay, I could use a pick-me-up.”
We walked to a little shopping plaza adjacent to the civic center, got our coffees to go from a chain outlet, and carried them back toward downtown on the bike path.
I filled the mayor in on the group who’d confronted me the previous night. “You know about the community meeting they’re having tonight?”
“I’ve heard of it.”
“I apologize for stirring them up. But you said you wanted to put this run of bad luck behind you. And maybe these folks have an idea of how to do it.”
“Let me guess. It has to do with that infernal lamp.”
“It does. But before we get back into that argument, you should know, I’m not sure about the lamp connection anymore — not that I ever was.” Sometimes a little lie helps the medicine go down. “Just asking questions, more like.”
“Same as every conspiracy theorist.”
“Fair point. But now that these folks are fixated on the lamp, maybe that’s your opportunity to provide some closure. Everyone thinks the lamp has cursed the town generally, not just the few people who’ve owned it. Get rid of it, and people will decide the curse is over.”
“Okay, but who has it?”
“Afraid I can’t reveal that, but I might be able to get my hands on it.”
Sharp looked at me skeptically. I could almost see the cogs ticking over in his politician’s mind. “If you get the lamp, and there’s going to be some kind of ceremony to get rid of it, I’ll be there.”
“Best I can ask for,” I said. We walked in silence for a few steps. “So you were born and raised around here?”
The mayor’s skeptical look didn’t fade. “Sure. I grew up on a dairy farm outside of town.”
“What was that like?”
“It was nice. Our property ran right down to Lost Lake, with a creek running through it.”
“Sounds great.”
“It was. We had our own private beach, and in the fall the fish were so thick in the creek you could almost walk on their backs.”
“But not anymore?”
“I wouldn’t know. My parents sold off the property right after I graduated college. You know what’s happened to small dairy farmers.”
“Not really.”
“You city folks need to know more about where your food comes from. The short answer is, nothing good. Our property along the shore is all vacation homes and AirBnBs now. The rest is five-acre lots with McMansions on them.” I could hear the bitterness in his voice.
“That’s progress, I suppose.”
“It is. And we need it. Sure, it has its drawbacks.”
We’d come to the spot along the waterfront with the empty lot. It was a warmer day, and it being a Friday the town was getting busier, the beach across from the lot crowded with families.
“There was a time when you could come down to the beach on a Friday and have it to yourself, or maybe a few other locals. That was in the tourist slump in the ‘70s and ‘80s. Was that better? Some people want it to be that way still. They’re against the development here, too, say it will block the view. Sure, I’d rather let everyone have an unobstructed view of the lake, but we need those jobs. You can’t turn back time.”
“The good old days aren’t coming back, are they?”
He pulled up short. “Why are we talking about this, anyway?”
“Just shooting the breeze, far as I’m concerned.” I shrugged.
He threw his coffee cup into a trashcan. “If there’s nothing else, I should get back to that grant.”
He walked off, and I headed toward Al’s. It was five o’clock somewhere.
I was ninety percent sure my theory of the case was correct. A theory that made me feel like I was losing my damned mind, but it was the only explanation that fit all the evidence. I only needed to confirm one more piece, and I’d have it locked down. Too bad I’d never be able to tell anyone about it.
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