Chase stared at the Mayor, speechless.
“Look, you don’t have to give me your answer now, son. Think it over. Take your time. And then when the time is right, you and I can have another little chat, and let’s just say I see a great future for you here, Chase. A future with you as chief, and Fiona as mayor. I think it would leave Hampton Cove in good hands. The best hands. Now don’t let me keep you,” he added as he got up. “I’m sure you have a ton of work. I know I do.”
And as he stuck out his hand to shake Chase’s, the cop knew he should say something. He should voice some protestations. Put his foot down and demand that Chief Alec stay chief and that Dolores get her rightful place back heading the front desk.
But for some reason Mayor Dunham’s intense stare and iron grip wiped all those thoughts from his mind, and caused him to mindlessly shake the politician’s hand and then walk out of his office, a welter of emotions.
Dang, he thought once he was out on the sidewalk. What had just happened?
Chapter 12
Victor Ball had finally returned home. He’d been forced to walk, as he’d left his bike lying in the road the night before, and Chief Alec had refused to dispatch a squad car. After walking for almost an hour, he entered his home with some trepidation, fully expecting his lovely wife of forty years to have been gobbled up by the monster he met out in the fields.
“Alice,” he asked in a shaky voice. “Alice, honey? Are you still alive?”
When there was no response, he knew his worst fears had come to pass. And as he walked into the living room, he braced himself for the sight of his wife’s mangled body. Instead, she was waiting for him with a rolling pin, one hand on her hip, the other shaking the heavy pin.
“And where have you been, mister?” she demanded hotly. “You didn’t even come home last night! I called the Blue Oyster but they said you already left, so I’ll repeat my question, and don’t you dare try to feed me any of your lies: where have you been?”
“Oh, Alice, am I glad to see you! I thought for sure that monster had torn you limb from limb!”
“What monster? What the hell are you talking about, you drunkard!”
“I met a monster on the road last night. A vicious beast, all hairy with long fangs and a terrifying roar. And so I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, and by the time I got to the police station, I’d lost him.”
“The police station? You were arrested for public drunkenness again?”
“No, I wasn’t, I swear! I went there for protection. I figured it was the only place where I’d be safe. And it worked! The monster didn’t come after me, as it knew it wouldn’t be able to get at me behind those bars.”
“I’m warning you—if you’re lying to me about spending the night at the police station...”
“No, I’m not, I swear. I was there all night. Just ask them.”
“Don’t think I won’t call Chief Alec to check your story.”
“You can call him now—he’ll tell you it’s all true. I told him about the monster—the werewolf—but he wouldn’t believe me. But it happened. I met the monster in the road out near Garrison’s Field and it practically devoured me with hide and hair!”
Alice hauled off with the rolling pin and got a good one in before Victor managed to take the pin from her. “Ouch! What did you have to do that for?”
“What do you think? You’re still drunk, Victor Ball! Telling stories about werewolves.”
“But it’s true—it really happened!”
Alice, a voluminous woman with a fleshy face and a firm perm, raised her eyes heavenward. “Oh, why didn’t I listen to my mother when she told me not to marry you? I should have known she knew best. And now look at me. Married to a raging drunkard!”
And as Victor took a glance through the window for a sign of the werewolf, he suddenly remembered one crucial detail about werewolves: they only turned into a werewolf when there was a full moon. Which meant he should be safe now. He quickly checked his calendar to see if tonight there was a full moon, and of course there was.
“Alice, don’t go out tonight,” he said. “That werewolf will still be roaming around.”
“Oh, just go and boil your head,” said his wife. “Me and the girls are going out tonight. And don’t you try and stop me.”
“But... It’s dangerous out there! That werewolf—”
“Enough about this werewolf already! Go to your room!”
Meekly, Victor did as he was told. He didn’t feel like working anyway. His field needed to be prepared, and his animals checked, but suddenly he wasn’t feeling so well. And as he dropped down on the bed, he wondered if werewolves ever ventured indoors, and if garlic would stop them. But then he sank into a deep sleep, and soon he knew no more.
Johnny Carew had never sat at the desk of a library before. He hadn’t even set foot inside a library before. And he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. Marge Poole had called in a little after eleven, to tell them she wasn’t coming back any time soon, since something had come up, and could they please take care of the library customers for the time being.
Johnny had immediately turned to Jerry, who had the bigger brain of the twosome, but Jerry had argued that his big brain was needed to tackle the wall issue, and that Johnny should handle the library by himself for the time being. How hard could it be?
So now Johnny was sitting behind the library counter, staring at the old ladies who traipsed around, collecting books from the shelves as if they were so many Easter eggs, and then carrying them over to the counter to check them out.
Marge had given him instructions over the phone, and had told him that it was an easy job. Anyone could do it. Anyone but Johnny, he figured, as he stared dumbly at the old lady who now presented him with five books of one Nora Roberts, a writer he’d never heard of. Then again, since he’d never read a book in his life, there were very few writers he’d heard of, and all of them were apparently part of this library’s collection.
He checked the note he’d scribbled, when jotting down Marge’s careful instructions.
First he needed to ask for the customer’s library card, then drag it past the scanner, then check if the client had other books at home, then scan the new books, then press the big green button on the screen, then hand them a piece of paper listing their little haul.
So he took a deep breath and dragged the lady’s card past the scanner.
“You new here?” croaked the old dame. “What happened to Marge? Will she be back? Is she sick or something? Has she decided to quit? Is she retired? She can’t have retired. She’s too young. I’ve been coming here fifty years, did you know that, young man?”
And as the lady babbled on, apparently not expecting him to respond, he watched with beads of sweat on his brow as the PC refused to respond to his scanning efforts.
He checked his chicken scratch, but there were no instructions on how to handle this particular type of contingency.
“Um... it doesn’t seem to work,” he said dumbly. When she simply stared at him, her eyes large behind her glasses, he turned the computer screen to her. “See? I’m supposed to scan your card and then your name should appear on this here screen, but nothing is appearing on this here screen.”
“Probably a computer glitch,” said the woman. “Here. Let me try.”
“Okay,” said Johnny, sweating profusely now. He’d never imagined working at a library could be more stressful than robbing liquor stores or breaking into people’s homes, which was his regular line of work. Behind this old lady, three more old ladies had formed a line, and sweat was now trickling down Johnny’s spine as he watched the queue growing longer and longer by the minute. This was a frickin nightmare!