TWENTY-ONE
A special emergency meeting of the town board was called for the afternoon of Joe Carroll's murder. Colin sat in the audience waiting for the meeting to begin, still shaken by the scene he'd encountered at the funeral parlor that morning.
By the time he'd arrived, the mortuary was packed with people. Schufeldt and Hallock were screaming at one another while the lab technicians popped their flashbulbs and made their measurements. Buzz Gormley from Newsline was on the scene because he'd been in the area on another assignment.
In the far wall of the prep room, a closet door hung open, grotesquely exposing the nude body of Fred Turner, who was wedged inside on an angle between floor and side wall, arms hanging forward limply like a huge inflated doll. On the table Joe Carroll lay dead, his shirt ripped open, a carving on his chest. Only this time it wasn't an A. Now there was a new symbol, more complex, more mystifying than the other.
Colin flipped the pages of his notebook and looked at the copy he'd made of what the murderer had carved into Carroll's chest. He had drawn it speedily and now he ran his pen over it, making the markings thicker, darker. And then he studied it:
Schufeldt had insisted it was a swastika, but Hallock had pointed out that although it resembled a swastika it was not one; the characters were backwards. A loud argument had ensued, then escalated into a shoving match, Hallock and Schufeldt having to be separated by Charlie Copin and himself.
The way Colin saw it, it could either be a swastika drawn by someone who didn't know what one looked like, or it could be an arcane symbol. But whatever it was it had completely blown Hallock's theory about the A being an initial of a name and had made the women's two-and-a-half-days' work totally useless.
The Town Hall was a new building. The meeting room was large, with orange and yellow plastic chairs, tan drapes, and an orange carpet of indoor-outdoor material. Fluorescent lighting was recessed into an Armstrong ceiling and spilled out in a depressing glow. In the right-hand corner of the room was a large American flag and on the nearby wall a photograph of the president of the United States. At the front of the room was a platform supporting a long, desk-type piece of furniture where the mayor and board members presided.
Word about this emergency session had leaked and now a number of townspeople were filing in. Hallock and Schufeldt sat in front, ten seats separating them.
A few board members, Phil Nagle one of them, had already taken their seats when Jill Townsend, town clerk and the only woman on the board, joined them. Colin watched Gildersleeve as he climbed the four steps to the platform and assumed his place in the middle. He removed his sunglasses and surveyed the room, his small mouth tightly closed in an unyielding line. He wore a seersucker suit, white shirt, red striped tie. A handkerchief in a breast pocket showed three neat points.
The room was filling up. Colin was surprised to see Fran Hallock seated in the back with about eight other women. She looked tired. Burton Kelly came through the main double doors. Colin slid down in his seat, not wanting to talk to Kelly.
The last councilman arrived just as somebody tapped Colin on the shoulder. He felt a rush when he saw her. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I'm a citizen," Annie said smiling.
"Sorry. I didn't mean-I don't know what I meant," he laughed. "Why don't you sit here?" He indicated the chair next to him.
They brushed shoulders as she sat, and Colin felt as if he'd touched a live wire. She was wearing a lavender button-down collar oxford shirt, and a khaki skirt. He thought she looked terrific.
"What do you think will happen?" Annie asked.
"I think we're going to see a lynching, figuratively speaking."
"Waldo?"
"Between Gildersleeve and the state trooper, old Waldo doesn't have a chance. But the people will do it for them, you'll see."
"I can understand how they feel. Four murders in two weeks is a lot of people to deal with, Colin."
He liked it when she said his name. "That's not Waldo's fault."
"No, of course not, but he's in the office of chief to protect the people of Seaville."
"And he's not doing a very good job, is that what you're saying?" The last thing he wanted was to fight with her.
"I'm not saying that, but it's what the people are saying. I had a lot of calls today after word got out about Joe Carroll."
"What kind of calls?"
"Angry calls, scared calls. Everybody feels very vulnerable, and they are," she said thoughtfully.
"I can't argue with that but Waldo's doing the best he can, Annie. He's got practically nothing to work with. Whoever's doing this is very smart, very cagey."
The gavel sounded and Gildersleeve rose. "We'll begin this special meetin' of the town board, as usual, with the salutin' of the flag."
Everyone faced the flag and placed their hands over their hearts. When they'd finished the pledge and resumed their seats, Gildersleeve banged the gavel once more.
"Councilmen, members of the audience, this special meetin' has been called to determine what action the town of Seaville should take in relationship to these unsolved murders. As you all know, there have been four terrible killin's since Saturday, May Twenty- third. That is to say, the discovery of one murder," he coughed and scratched an ear, "and then the brutal killin's of three of our own citizenry. One of them a darlin' little girl, Mary Beth Higbee."
Along with the rest of the audience, Colin followed Gildersleeve's mournful gaze and found himself looking at the broad back of Chuck Higbee. The man's shoulders heaved and Sally Higbee leaned closer to her husband, a hand sliding up his arm. Colin felt disgusted by Gildersleeve's theatrics. He wondered if Russ Cooper was in the audience, then spotted him two rows from the back. None of the Carrolls was present.
"… and so," Gildersleeve was saying, "we intend to take action today. There will be no more so-called privileged information. Every citizen in this township will know everything he or she wants to know about these killin's."
Colin shook his head. "What an idiot," he whispered to Annie.
"Don't the police purposely hold back information to trap the killer?" she asked.
"Exactly."
"… it is our duty. We will now hear from Councilman Philip Nagle."
"Swell," Colin said sarcastically.
Nagle pulled his microphone closer and adjusted his aviator glasses. He was wearing a light blue linen jacket, gray creaseless trousers, a white shirt, and a dark blue tie. When he bent his head to read his prepared statement, the light shone on his thinning hair, revealing a pink scalp.
"This guy is the pits." Colin said. "Do you know him?"
"I've seen him around."
"He was Gloria Danowski's lover."
"No kidding?"
"But he's innocent."
"… and members of the Council. I am here today to propose the immediate dismissal of Chief Waldo Hallock. In the past weeks, Chief Hallock has failed to uncover one shred of evidence, not to mention that not one suspect has been detained. Why? Because Chief Hallock has not been able to come up with a suspect. Why? Because Chief Waldo Hallock is incompetent and ill-suited for the responsible and difficult job of chief of the Seaville Police. I urge you, Council members, to vote for removal of Waldo Hallock from his present position. Thank you."
Colin made some notes on his pad. "He probably thinks he should be chief, the creep."
Annie said, "I'm getting the feeling you don't like him."
"Hey, you're one sharp woman."
"You have to get up early to get something past me, fella."
Colin laughed.
Gildersleeve wiped his face with a handkerchief and leaned toward his microphone. "Thank you, Councilman Nagle. We will now hear from Special Agent William Schufeldt."