Page 45 of Reptile Dysfunction

I don’t have time to process all this right now, I decide and head to my next meeting, but the rest of the day is more of the same. Almost every vendor I speak to tells me the same thing – that Charlotte has been asking about their invoices, and when I get back to the town hall for that afternoon’s committee meeting, things get even worse.

“Oh, Mayor Wendall,” Barry says before we begin. “Charlotte asked for a copy of the outgoing expenses for Pickle Fest. She said she wanted to include some of the background information in her article. I hope it’s okay that I gave her access to that?”

I sigh, well and truly convinced that Charlotte has launched another full-scale investigation into the mayoral office. I know there’s nothing to hide, and I assure Barry he did nothing wrong by sharing that with Charlotte, but that’s not what I’m worried about now.

I truly thought things were going well between us – not just professionally, but personally. It seemed like all this suspicion was behind us, but this latest news has me doubting everything I thought was true.

Was she just using me this whole time? I think to myself as the meeting gets started. Is her career still worth more to her than the growing closeness between us? And is she really still digging for some corruption scandal that doesn’t exist?

I thought she knew me better than that by now. The last few weeks have been wonderful, and she even admitted she was wrong to accuse me of corruption in the past. I wish I could believe that she had changed for the better, and for a while I did. But I can’t think of any legitimate reason that she’d be asking for the Pickle Fest financials unless she thought there were some dodgy dealings going on.

“Mayor Wendall?” Annabelle is saying, and when I look up, I realize she must have been trying to get my attention for some time.

“Yes, sorry,” I say hastily. “What was that?”

“I asked if you’d had a chance to look at the programs?” she repeats patiently.

“I did,” I say, trying to force myself to concentrate on the task at hand. “They look wonderful. They’ll be delivered to the office this week.”

The other committee members titter with excitement, but I can’t even pretend to join in. This thing with Charlotte is weighing far too heavily on my mind.

As the meeting goes on, I pull out my phone under the table, hoping my colleagues won’t notice. The missed call from Charlotte is still staring at me from my screen, and for a moment, I consider calling her to ask what’s going on. The thought of hearing her hollow excuses is worse than letting this investigation run its course though.

I know I have nothing to hide, but I thought by now Charlotte would know that, too.

“And Dill Cucumis has sent us his setlist,” I hear Sandra say excitedly.

The rest of the committee members gather around the tablet she’s laid in the middle of the table, eager to see if their favorite songs have made the cut.

I’m not particularly focused on the meeting, but I know pining over Charlotte will only get in the way of me doing my job, and that’s not something I’ll stand for. Besides, I know the only thing I can do is continue the way I have been, no matter what allegations Charlotte tries to throw at me.

I lean forward, trying to show an interest in the setlist, but the moment I catch sight of the screen, my heart breaks a little. The first song on the list is Always On My Brine.

You are always on my brine, Charlotte, I think to myself. But maybe you shouldn’t be.

27

CHARLOTTE

“Thank you, Mr. Kroger,” I say, cringing at the sound of my own voice. “That’s very helpful for the article.”

I get off the phone as fast as I can, hating that I’m even having phone calls like this. But I did vow to follow this lead objectively and, for better or worse, that means getting my hands dirty.

That’s the eighth phone call I’ve had today, chasing up vendors who didn’t get back to me or who I haven’t emailed yet. I’m trying to make this investigation as short and painless as possible, figuring it’s best to just get it out of the way. Then, at least, I’ll know the truth.

Still, I can’t help but feel like I’m betraying Mason. I haven’t heard from him since last night’s phone call, which I’m kind of relieved by. If he’s too busy to call me back, then hopefully that will spare me from having to lie to him until this investigation is over. I’m struggling to be dishonest with the vendors about my reasons for looking into Pickle Fest. I can’t imagine how horrible I’d feel if I had to do the same with Mason.

I check down the list of vendors I have yet to contact. Of the 56 I contacted last night, 21 have already replied with their invoices, and of the eight I just called, six promised to send their invoices over right away. The other two didn’t answer, and I’ve made a note to call them back later.

I sigh, looking at all the work I still have to do on this investigation and feeling that sinking guilt in my chest again. It’s been there since I decided to follow the lead last night, and it’s only grown larger throughout today’s follow-up. The only way I can keep going is to remind myself that the guilt will vanish the moment I get to the bottom of this tip-off.

Of course, that’s still at least a couple of days away, and I hope I can hold out until then.

I click back over to the document Barry sent me, getting started on the information I have so far.

“InkStinkt,” I whisper to myself, scanning the file for the line item describing the printer’s fee.

When I find it, I take note of the dollar amount, cross-referencing it to the invoice Soriah sent me. I breathe a sigh of relief when it matches perfectly and cross my fingers that all the others will be equally as accurate. More than anything, I want to find all of Pickle Fest’s expenses to be above board.