“None whatever. Call me when you’re through, or I’ll call you. If you wander over later, and ask me nicely, I’ll fill you in on what’s happening with Kathy Burton.”
“What do you think’s happening?” Jack asked.
The police chief looked grim. “If we’re lucky, it’ll be the same story as Anne Forager. But we won’t be lucky.”
“You sound awfully sure,” Jack said.
“Call it a hunch. And knowing kids. Don’t quote me, but I tend to agree with the people who say nothing happened to Anne. She’s always been that kind of kid. Kathy Burton’s different, though.”
“Oh?”
“Norma and Marilyn Burton have been friends for years, ever since they were kids. So I know Kathy. She’s a good kid. Responsible, not the kind that would have let Norma down the way she did today, unless something happened. Been that way ever since her father died.” Norton shook his head sadly. “That was a tough break, for Kathy and her mother both. I really hand it to them.”
“It was a hunting accident, wasn’t it?”
“Yup. Just about three years ago. Really dumb one. He wasn’t wearing the colors, and someone mistook him for a buck. I tell them the same thing every year: Wear the colors. There’s always one or two who don’t listen. But Burton’s the only one who ever caught a shot for his trouble.” The chief glanced at his watch. “Well, enough jawboning. Got work to do.” He shifted the car into gear as Jack got out. “See you later.”
Jack watched him pull away and head around the square to the police station. It was one of the things he liked about Port Arbello—being able to watch the whole town from his front door.
He had been right: Sylvia Bannister was in his office, and she was trying to do his work. She smiled at him as he came in.
“You just wrote one of the best editorials that’s ever come out of this office,” she told him.
“Oh? What’s it about?”
“Read it yourself,” she said, handing him a sheaf of papers. “Pure dynamite. You are fearless, courageous, and willing to put your reputation on the line. But modest and humble.”
“Sounds great,” Jack said. “But what am I being all this about?”
“Rose’s plan for the armory.”
“How’d you hear about that?” Jack asked, puzzled. “That’s supposed to be a secret.”
“Not in this town,” Sylvia said. “Anyway, you’re against the plan.”
“I am?” Jack said blankly. “That’ll be great for me at home.”
“It won’t hurt. You couldn’t very well be for it—everyone would accuse you of corruption. This way, you get credit for being honest and courageous and Rose gets her plan talked about.”
“Have you talked this over with Rose?” Jack said doubtfully.
“Of course,” the secretary said. “Who do you think thought of the idea? Didn’t she tell you about it?”
“She doesn’t tell me about much,” Jack said, and a sudden wave of despondency flowed over him. He saw Sylvia’s face cloud over.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought maybe things were getting better.”
Jack smiled, but it was a wry smile. “I thought they were. But you can never tell One day things seem to be going well, and the next all hell breaks loose.”
“And today all hell broke loose?”
Jack shrugged and slumped into a chair. He folded his hands over his stomach and stretched his legs. He was comfortable, and he hadn’t been comfortable for a long time.
“Not really, but it might yet. The night isn’t over.”
Sylvia looked at him curiously, and he filled her in on the disappearance of Kathy Burton. When he was finished the seemed puzzled.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear about Kathy, of course, but I don’t see how it could have any bearing on you and Rose.”
“Rose has problems with reference to me and young girls,” he said quietly. He saw the outrage flash into Sylvia’s eyes, and it pleased him.
“But that’s ridiculous,” Sylvia declared. “For God’s sake, she’s been with you all day. What does she think, you spend all your time, even when you’re with her, making trouble for children?”
Jack held his hands out helplessly. “I know. But it makes her nervous. And I suppose I can’t blame her, all things considered.”
“Well, I think it’s awful,” Sylvia said, and Jack could hear indignation boiling in her. “Is she going to hold one incident against you the rest of your life? I don’t think you should stand for it. Really, I don’t!”
“My God, Sylvia,” Jack said. “You sound really angry.”