Клэр Донелли - Hiss And Tell

Sunny nodded, impressed. “Sounds pretty serious.”

Priscilla laughed, flashing that smile again. “It makes a nice change from forever talking about wedding plans.”

“Speaking of which . . .” A lady off to Priscilla’s left cut in. “Have you considered using local goods and services for the wedding? That could be a real economic boost.”

Priscilla turned to her, looking a bit harassed. But the woman on Priscilla’s right stepped forward with an answer. “I’m Fiona Ormond, Ms. Kingsbury’s wedding planner. Some elements of the wedding—the gown, for instance—will of necessity come from New York. But there are many other supplies and services, of course, we’re looking to source locally.”

The planner had a handsome, slightly square face, and blond hair with dark roots showing at the part. Proof that she’s a busy woman who doesn’t get distracted by mere vanity, Sunny’s irreverent alter ego suggested. With her crisp business suit and a smile that could cut paper, Fiona was the classic stereotype of the go-getting New York career woman.

Is that what Will thought he was seeing when he first met me? Sunny wondered. She looked over to the stage, where he stood looking out at the crowd. Will smiled when he spotted her. At least he’s changed his mind now.

“I guess this isn’t the time or place to discuss life on the campaign trail,” Helena whispered with a smile as she moved away from Priscilla and deftly snagged them a pair of aisle seats. As usual, Mrs. M.’s timing was impeccable. No sooner had they sat down than the chairwoman called the meeting to order.

Once everyone was seated, Will set off on his stump speech. It wasn’t an attack speech. Will was respectful of Frank Nesbit, praising him as a good administrator who worked well within the county government. Will had practiced and refined his words, working with Mike and other members of his “Kittery Harbor Kitchen Cabinet.” As Will concluded, he said, “Just as his billboards say, Frank Nesbit has done a good job of keeping Elmet County safe. But now the job is changing. We’ve had drug labs appear, even dealt with a serial killer. What you don’t know can hurt you. So you have to ask yourselves: are you safer not knowing what’s out there or being aware of the potential crime situation?”

Sunny tried to listen like the reporter she used to be, rather than a girlfriend. She thought Will sounded pretty good, and judging by the applause, a lot of other people in the audience did, too. Then the chairwoman opened the floor for questions.

A voice came from the rear of the hall, pitched so everyone could hear. “But how do you become aware of the potential crime situation? Would you be sending officers out looking for trouble?”

Sunny twisted in her seat to get a glimpse of the questioner, a handsome woman with a frosting of gray in her short, dark hair.

“Lenore Nesbit,” Helena Martinson whispered in Sunny’s ear.

Did Will recognize his antagonist? Whether he did or not, he responded to Lenore with a smile. “For most cops, it’s the other way around. Every time a law enforcement officer goes out, there’s the possibility of trouble finding him—or her. That’s a difference between the sheriff and myself—I’ve pounded a beat in several different locations.”

“So is that your policing policy, that our officers should be ‘pounding a beat’ rather than, for instance, driving on traffic patrol?” Lenore asked.

Will refused to be drawn into that trap. “I think we know what the situation is on the interstate through outlet-land,” he said. “There’s a lot of traffic, and people get a little crazy when it comes to bargains. Plus, I’m aware of the revenue generated from giving tickets to folks from outside the state. It’s a fiscal enhancement for the sheriff’s department and for the county, as well as a valid safety issue.”

So Ben Semple will keep his job, Sunny thought.

Lenore thanked Will and disappeared while others in the hall asked questions or expressed concerns. The chairwoman was just beginning to wrap things up when a surprise visitor arrived.

Frank Nesbit walked into the hall, wearing his usual green sheriff’s department Windbreaker, his trademark silver mustache as carefully groomed as ever. He might as well have stepped down off one of his campaign billboards.

He made his way to the front of the hall, shaking a lot of hands on the way. “I’m not here to steal my opponent’s thunder,” Nesbit said as he faced the crowd. “The past few years have shown that Will Price is a very talented, experienced officer. Right now we have a situation that calls for both of those qualities: the Kingsbury-de Kruk wedding. So I’m appointing Constable Price as my liaison officer for the duration, effective immediately, so he can help us work with all the other law enforcement agencies providing security for the celebration.”

While everyone applauded the sheriff’s generous response, Nesbit shook hands with Will, who did a good job of looking pleased. But Sunny could tell otherwise, and so could Mrs. Martinson. “What’s that old rascal up to now?” she asked in a low voice.

They didn’t get an answer until Will finished pressing the flesh and almost everyone had left the hall. “That’s one I didn’t expect,” Will growled as he escorted Sunny and Helena to the Buick. “If the wedding goes off without a hitch, Nesbit cements his reputation as a great administrator, appointing the right man for the job. And if anything goes wrong, it will all be my fault.”

“That is clever, in a twisted kind of way,” Sunny had to admit.

“But here’s the kicker,” Will said. “It also means that I’ll have to spend a lot of time up in Wilawiport, giving me even less of a chance to campaign.”

“And there you have it in a nutshell,” Helena Martinson said. “The difference between a cop and a politician as sheriff.”

3

Since it wasa work night, Sunny couldn’t stay out late to help Will figure out how to deal with this latest political curveball. By the time she got Mrs. Martinson home, it was just about time for bed. Sunny arrived at her house to see her father watching the late news.

“Somehow, Will’s speech didn’t make it into the national newscast.” Mike grinned at her. “How did it go?”

“As far as the speech went, that was pretty good. But afterward . . .” She recounted what happened with Frank Nesbit’s surprise visit.

“Not wanting to steal Will’s thunder? Of course he did.” Mike frowned. “And Nesbit’s shoveled enough happy horseflop with the Kingsburys to know damn well this isn’t the plum job he’s making it out to be.”

Sunny nodded. “Will already figured out it’s a heads-Nesbit-wins, tails-Will-loses situation. And it will keep him stuck in Wilawiport instead of campaigning.”

That got a deeper scowl out of Mike. “Just means we’ll have to pull up our socks and work all the harder to get the word out. Is Will taking it okay?”

“He knew from the start what he was getting into,” Sunny said. “And we all knew the sheriff wasn’t going to make it any easier.” She looked down. “I’d better get out of this outfit and into bed.”

She’d already spotted Shadow making a slow circle around her, watching intently. It wasn’t often that Sunny wore nylons, and she wanted to get safely out of reach before Shadow’s nosiness overcame his usual caution. Cat claws and pantyhose did not make a good combination.

Up in her room, she quickly changed into pjs. Shadow shouldered the door open and came in, looking relieved to find her back to normal.

Sunny sat on the floor, and Shadow crawled into her lap, arranging himself for a good petting.