Page 15 of Reptile Dysfunction
“Can’t catch a break apparently,” I mutter, more to myself than to Deborah as I take the messages. “Could you get me the number for the Herald?”
When I get to my desk, I pick up the phone, ready to request a meeting with Charlotte. But as I wait for Deborah to get me the number, I have second thoughts.
Is this meeting a good idea, or am I just trying to get in the same room as her pretty face? She may be beautiful, but that’s not a good reason to try to kiss up to her. As far as I can see, underneath the attractive looks she’s nothing but trouble. Perhaps her beauty means she’s become a bit too comfortable with always getting her way, but I hardly have the time or space in my life for these theatrics.
Now, meeting for more practical reasons would be another matter. But as I think it over, I decide a meeting might just add fuel to her fire, and I remember the advice I gave Pete this morning. Wait for the rumors to lose steam.
I put the phone back down, resolving to trust that the truth will come out in the end. This is a good town with good people, and I’m a good mayor. Charlotte will see that eventually, I’m sure of it.
“Deborah!” I call out, setting the phone back down. “Forget the number.” Then I have another thought. “And find me another phone, please. Cordless this time.”
9
CHARLOTTE
“Unbelievable,” I say while biting my thumb. Everyone in the local press is gathered in the cramped little meeting room. A ghost of a long-dead man floats at the front of the room, pointing at a projected image of the most recent polling results.
“As you can see, the incumbent mayor, Mason Wendall, is leading by a large margin,” the man drawls slowly. “At the current rate, with the election in just a few weeks, the Perkinson Polling and Analytics firm is predicting a landslide win for the incumbent, with a minimal margin of error.”
Everyone in the room turns to look at me, the lone voice of reason in this meeting. Maybe even the town itself. Even after everything I’ve exposed, all of my exposes and articles, no one seems to be listening! Everyone is so enamored with his charm and smile, they can’t see what’s right there in front of their eyes!
“Are there any questions?” the ghost of Perry Perkins asks. To my horror, Fred raises his arm.
“Yeah, did you become a ghost or a polling expert first? Like, did you know this stuff before you died?” he asks. My face goes hot red at the embarrassment of being associated with him.
Perry does not seem to appreciate the question. “I spent fifty years of my life in data analysis, then one hundred and sixteen running this firm as a ghost. No one is more accurate or dedicated than me. Now, are there any questions related to the election?”
I raise my hand, and everyone in the room audibly groans. “What would you say is your professional relationship with Mayor Wendall? Are you perhaps at risk of any bias in your statistical reporting? Is the raw data available for the public to peruse?”
Perry looks insulted and takes his little ghost bowler off to wipe his ghost hair back. “Miss, I would ask that you be a little less aggressive in your questioning. This isn’t a courtroom, after all.” The groans turn to chuckles, and I feel like the entire world has gone insane around me.
“Seriously, is she trying to get us all sent to the hospital?” a woman in front of me whispers to her partner. I look at Fred in confusion.
“Oh, yeah. Well, Perry’s a poltergeist. You know, goes berserk, throws stuff around the room, and all that. But only when he gets angry. Better to throw him softball questions, you know?” Fred replies.
“So, wait. You’re telling me… that man is Perry Perkins the polling poltergeist?” I ask.
Fred nods his head with a condescending look like I’m a second grader who just discovered five plus five equals ten.
“Okay, well. Mr. Perkins! How did you gather this data, and is it available for review?” I ask in the most pleasant voice I can muster. Despite that, a stapler rises up into the air and slams into the clock on the other side.
“Why? So you can make up new numbers to get mad about and pretend they were in the report?” Perry asks.
Again, my face flushes as the people around me chuckle.
“It’s available on our website. My great-great-great grandson at the front desk can help you find it. Now, are there any real questions today?”
I stand up and excuse myself quietly, power-walking through the hall of the small firm and out into the fresh air. I catch my breath, desperate to release the anxiety and frustration that’s been taking over me since I got here.
How can nobody see what’s going on here? The fact that I’ve exhausted all normal avenues of investigation and come up empty is evidence itself of foul play! Everyone has some dirt under their fingernails. The fact that I’m finding not a single speck on Wendall makes him even more suspicious.
He’s hiding something, I’m more sure of that than ever. And he’s good at hiding it, too. He’s covered his tracks well, but I’m determined to uncover them. I just need to start working on his level. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I walk to city hall and take stock of my options. After canvassing the building and finding no easy access points, I make a plan of attack. I walk right in through the front door. The receptionist knows me by now and rolls her eyes when she sees me.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, knowing full well I don’t.
“I’m just here to get a sound bite from the mayor about the recent polls, then I’ll see myself out,” I say.