“I’ve never discussed Opperman with him.”
“For chrissakes, Russ, you act like you smell dogshit whenever the man’s name comes up. Everybody who knows you knows how you feel. Cameron probably figures this is a good time to pour a little oil on those waters.”
“He’s throwing around money, so I’m supposed to forget what he’s done and play nice?”
“Russ-”
“No.”
“It’s a scholarship. For kids.” MacAuley frowned, his bushy gray eyebrows drawing together like miniature thunderclouds. “I’m not going to argue with you. You want to turn the mayor down, you have to go tell him yourself.”
The chief stalked away, muttering. Hadley frowned. “What was that all about?”
“A whole lot of old business.” MacAuley watched the chief for a few more seconds before turning toward her. “BWI Opperman came to build the new resort a couple years before you moved here. That was when they were just in the hotel trade, before they got into construction and what-all. Anyway, there were three partners in the business at that time, and before the place was completed, two of ’em were dead. The chief’s always been convinced John Opperman was behind it, but he couldn’t prove anything.”
“Huh. Okay.” She couldn’t help sounding doubtful. It didn’t seem very professional. Keeping an eye on someone you suspected, sure, but not acting like he burned down your house and shot your dog.
MacAuley gave her one of his deceptively lazy looks. “You’re thinking that’s not enough for him to be carrying on like this, right?”
She shrugged.
“Yeah. There’s more to it. Right before she died, Linda-his late wife-spent a week at Mr. Opperman’s private retreat in the Caribbean.”
Hadley’s mouth opened.
“She didn’t have a romance going with Opperman or anything. She worked for him, making all the fancy curtains and frilly bits for the hotel. It was just a getaway.” MacAuley’s denial was so firm Hadley figured Opperman and the late Mrs. Van Alstyne must have been going at it like crazed rabbits from dusk to dawn. “But it stuck hard in the chief’s craw. You know the intersection where her car wrecked?”
“Yeah. Eric pointed it out to me back when I was a rookie.”
MacAuley gave her a look that said, You’re still a rookie, girlie. “She was driving there because John Opperman dropped her off at the resort after the trip. He was one of the last people to see Linda Van Alstyne alive.” He pointed at the pavilion. “Huh. Looks like the mayor got him up there after all.” The chief was standing behind the soldiers, talking to the teen, turned away from the rest of the people on the stage. “Lotta folks around here owe their jobs to Opperman.” MacAuley tapped his nose. “Jim Cameron can smell which way the wind’s coming in.”
Small-town politics was definitely on her list of things to avoid. “Do you want me to walk the loop, Dep?” Every merchant along the street circling the park had a sidewalk display set up, an open invitation to snatch and run. “Patrol the shops?”
“Naw, I’ll take that. You stay here. Watch out for anybody who thinks it might be funny to set off a rocket during the speeches.” He turned away, then turned back. “And keep an eye on him. Just in case he forgets to smile and play nice.”
Mayor Cameron stepped up to the microphone stand. “Hi, everyone. I’m happy to say we’re welcoming back our veterans to a strong and growing economy, thanks in no small part to BWI Opperman, whose commitment to hire locally has made a big difference in our community’s life.” Tally McNabb dropped her head as if she would have rather been anywhere than in front of the crowd. Four days ago, she had been hiding from her husband and her boyfriend. Hadley wondered what had changed since then. “Now the CEO of BWI is here to make another commitment to our town, and to tell you about it, please welcome Millers Kill High School principal Suzanne Ovitt.”
There was enthusiastic applause as the woman in the twin set took the microphone. “Thank you. Mr. John Opperman has generously established a scholarship for four years’ tuition, room and board at any State University of New York campus.”
Holy shit. If Hudson could land that, she wouldn’t need that lousy ten bucks a week.
“The winning scholar must be a graduating senior with a strong academic record who serves his or her community and encourages others to do so. This year’s inaugural recipient of the BWI Opperman scholarship is Olivia Bain.”
More applause, along with some whooping from the winner’s friends. The oldest of the three soldiers cheered. A slim girl mounted the pavilion steps and shook Ms. Ovitt’s hand. Hadley got her first good look at John Opperman as he came forward, greeted the teen, and handed her an envelope. His clothing was expensively casual, and he boosted his middling height with three-hundred-dollar shoes. His darkish hair hadn’t been cut in any Millers Kill barbershop, that was for sure. If they had been in L.A., she would have pegged him as a corporate lawyer, with an office in Century City and a mistress in Bel Air.
“Thank you, Principal Ovitt, and congratulations to Miss Bain.” Opperman’s voice wasn’t warm, but she figured that was normal from someone more used to giving orders than speeches. “I’m pleased BWI Opperman can, in this small way, give back to the town which has so wholeheartedly taken us into its bosom.”
Hadley glanced at the chief, standing behind the soldiers. He looked like he wanted to spit.
“However, being up here with these fine representatives of the armed forces has made me realize that one scholarship is not enough.” The men and women around her who had been discussing the scholarship and the high school and the Bain girl fell silent. “Therefore, I have decided to establish a fund that will provide one thousand dollars to each and every graduate of Millers Kill High School who has had a parent serve in a combat arena.”
The crowd went wild. The teenaged soldier grinned and said something to Van Alstyne.
“Now. I understand Mayor Cameron has a certificate of appreciation to give to these brave soldiers behind me.” The mayor stepped toward the microphone, but Opperman pulled several note cards out of his back pocket and continued. “First, Lance Corporal Ethan Stoner. Ethan will be heading back to Afghanistan shortly for his second tour of duty with the 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marine Division.”
The kid the chief had been talking with stepped forward, shook the mayor’s hand, and accepted an envelope. He looked at Opperman, clearly uncertain if there was more to do.
The CEO brought the mic up again. “Corporal Stoner, I’d like to add my thanks by offering you and all our honorees a complimentary weekend at the Algonquin Waters Spa and Resort.” Stoner grinned and pumped Opperman’s hand until it looked as if the CEO’s gold watch might fly off.
Van Alstyne put his arms behind his back and assumed a parade rest posture. He didn’t even glance toward Opperman this time. His grudge match against the Algonquin’s owner was starting to look like a vendetta against Santa Claus.
“Dr. George Stillman is a lieutenant colonel in the National Guard and has just gotten back from his second tour of duty in Iraq.” Opperman put down the mic and clapped. Stillman seemed much more assured than the Stoner boy when he stepped up to get his certificate. Hadley thought it was weird, that a guy as old as her father could be sent off to war.
At the other end of the pavilion, Olivia, the outstanding senior, was bent over the railing, making come-on-up gestures. Hadley cut through the crowd until she spotted Will Ellis, talking back to the girl, shaking his head. Will could only be a year or two older than Olivia. Maybe they’d been in drama together, or band. Maybe prom dates. Now she was going off to college and he was stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but evidently Opperman could. He left the doctor and the mayor, who, having retaken the mic, was going on about “the ethos of service.”