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Chapter Seventeen

I knew I’d sounded super brave when I told Ben over breakfast that I was all too ready to get into Jim Tillman’s face.

Inside, though, I was a bowl of jelly. People thought I was tough, but that was just an act, a face I put on so no one could tell how many fears and insecurities I hid inside. A psychologist probably would have said that I had abandonment issues…and I probably would have agreed.

But no matter how nervous I was, I couldn’t avoid this confrontation. I’d sensed that Ben would have stepped in to help me out, and yet I knew his words wouldn’t have the same effect.

He wasn’t a local.

No, this was my job, no matter how uncomfortable it might be.

At least I felt a little more awake after my shower this morning and breakfast at Eliza’s. If I managed to get a decent night’s sleep tonight, then tomorrow I might actually feel like a regular human being.

After we were done eating, Ben had offered again to go with me to City Hall, and again I’d told him I could handle it on my own.

“Besides,” I’d added, “you need to go back to the B&B and see what you can find out about the Ogham letters you found on the stone circle. If we can’t decipher those, we might not ever be able to find out what’s really going on.”

He’d agreed, if reluctantly, and I’d told him to come over to the house around one, giving us both several hours to get our respective tasks managed.

That was why I mounted the steps to City Hall alone, and why I paused once I was inside the door, doing my best to gather my breath, mentally review the events of the night before, and tell myself I could do this.

It was Wednesday morning, and that was how I knew Mayor Tillman would be in his chambers. At eleven-thirty, he’d have a meeting with the town manager — and follow it up with an extra-long lunch — but for now, he should be available.

“Hi, Shannon,” I said to his secretary, whose desk sat almost right in front of the door into Tillman’s private office, as though he’d wanted her placed there to ward off anyone who might try to claim some of his time. “Is the mayor in?”

“He is,” she replied brightly. Shannon Howard was in her early forties, with sandy hair that she got carefully highlighted once a month in Eureka. Her husband was the fire captain, and they were both lifelong residents of Silver Hollow, just like me. “What’s up?”

“Oh, I just need to talk to him for a minute,” I said. Inspiration struck, and I added, “It’s about the pet store’s float in the Fourth of July parade.”

The parade had been held for at least a hundred years, and was a major institution in the town. I’d offered that as the reason for my visit today because I knew Mayor Tillman adored the parade and wanted to make sure it was always picture-perfect.

Shannon had worked for him for the past six years — he was in the middle of his second term — so she knew this as well as I did. Smiling, she replied, “I think he has a few minutes to spare. Let me check.”

She picked up the handset for the phone that sat on her desk and pressed the intercom button.

“Mayor Tillman? Sidney Lowell is here. It’s about the Fourth of July parade.

Do you have some time to talk to her?” A pause, and then Shannon nodded at me.

“He’s prepping for his meeting with the town manager, but he can give you five minutes. Will that be enough?”

It would have to be.

“Sure,” I said.

“Then go on in.” She waved a hand at the door behind her.

I pulled in a breath, one I didn’t think Shannon would notice, but which helped to steady my nerves a bit. Then I moved behind her desk, laid my hand on the doorknob, and opened the door.

Mayor Tillman sat behind a big pine desk that had been a fixture of the office since I could remember, and long before that as well.

Legend had it that the desk had been built for Silver Hollow’s first mayor from trees cut in the forest, and the town’s charter maintained that it couldn’t be removed, only repaired.

Most likely, the mayor hadn’t been entirely happy about that tradition, if only because he tended to gravitate toward furnishings that were a little more elaborate, as indicated by the dark walnut bookcases that filled one wall and the Tiffany-style floor lamps set on either side of a pair of burgundy-upholstered side chairs.

“Sidney,” he said as he rose from his desk chair. Although he smiled, something about his expression was a bit wary, as if he’d already guessed I’d come here on an errand a bit more important than the style of bunting I planned to hang on my float.

“Hi, Mayor Tillman,” I replied, doing my best to sound breezy and unconcerned. “Thanks for seeing me.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. You know I’m always here for my constituents.”

He might as well have handed me that opening on a silver platter.

“That’s good to hear,” I said, then sat down in the chair that faced his desk after he’d waved me into it.

Possibly, I would have given off more of an aura of strength if I’d remained standing, but I hadn’t wanted to tip my hand by ignoring his request straight off the bat.

“Then I hope you won’t mind telling me what a bunch of Northwest Pacific workers were doing in Welling Glen last night, starting to cut down a bunch of trees? ”

Tillman was short and rounded and ruddy on a good day. Now his face turned even redder, making him resemble nothing more than an over-ripe tomato.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, even as I noticed he wouldn’t quite meet my gaze. “You know there’s a moratorium on any cutting in that area — or anywhere else in the forest — until the residents of Silver Hollow have had a chance to weigh in.”

Typical politician, always trying to cover his butt. Luckily, I’d been prepared for this sort of obfuscation, so I wasn’t about to let it put me off my stride.

“That’s what I thought,” I responded, still doing my best to sound pleasant, nonthreatening. “But it looks like the people at Northwest Pacific didn’t get the memo, because they were definitely out there last night with bulldozers and cutting equipment and the biggest woodchippers I’ve ever seen.”

He tugged at the lapel of his jacket. Although it was cool enough in the room, a faint sheen of perspiration appeared on his forehead.

It was probably the first time in my life I’d ever made someone sweat, and I had to admit I was kind of enjoying myself.

“Do you have any evidence of this, Sidney?” he inquired. “Because while I of course believe you, I think the people at Northwest Pacific are going to want something to back up these claims.”

“Ben Sanders was with me,” I replied at once. “He has a Ph.D. in archaeology and can corroborate what I saw.”

Of course, I conveniently left out the part where Professor Sanders now seemed to be operating on the fringes of an already fringe community.

Right now, I just wanted Mayor Tillman to know that I wasn’t making this up and that I had another eyewitness who would be all too willing to testify that the logging outfit was operating where it shouldn’t be.

Was that a bead of sweat rolling down the mayor’s nearly beet-colored temple?

“Also,” I added, doing my best not to grin at his obvious discomfort, “I’d be more than happy to pick out the foreman from a lineup. He was wearing a hard hat, so I can’t say for sure what his hair color is, but I still got a pretty good look at his face.”

Tillman reached up to brush the perspiration away from his forehead — a sure sign of weakness, according to a friend of mine from college who’d majored in psychology. “This — this is not a criminal matter, Sidney. There’s no need to be talking about police lineups and such.”

I tilted my head at him. “Are you sure? Those are Forest Service lands, after all. We might be talking about a federal offense here.”

Now the mayor looked as if he was about to fall over from sheer panic.

“I assure you that Northwest Pacific would be careful to have all its permits in place before it ever began such an operation. They’ve been in business for nearly a hundred years and certainly understand all the legal procedures they need to follow. ”

That was true enough. Although I didn’t like it, I knew the government leased lands to private corporations like this all the time if there were parts of the forest that needed to be cleared. It was a good means of making money in a way that wouldn’t have much impact on anyone.

Well, except for whatever animals might be living there.

“Maybe they thought they had permission, but they don’t,” I said. “Everyone at the town hall heard what you and Victor Maplehurst agreed on. If he’s reneged on that promise, then maybe he should come out and explain himself to everyone.”

Mayor Tillman tugged at the collar of his shirt. Thanks to his pudgy neck, those collars always seemed a little too tight, but right then, the thing looked as if it was about to throttle him.

“Mr. Maplehurst left for Portland this morning,” the mayor said. “He has a site in the Willamette National Forest that he needed to inspect.”

“That’s convenient,” I remarked. “Running away from the scene of the crime, huh?”

The mayor’s pale blue eyes bulged with indignation.

“He wasn’t ‘running’ anywhere,” he said.

“He’s a busy man with a number of properties he needs to manage.

The only reason he was here in Silver Hollow at all was to speak to the residents and allay any fears they might have had regarding his operation. ”

“Fears that seem pretty justified to me,” I returned, then rose from my chair. “And I’ll be sure to share with everyone what I saw last night.”

“Ms. Lowell — ”

It must have been a sign of his desperation that he’d addressed me like that, considering he’d known me since I was a little girl.

I didn’t bother to respond, however. No, I just swept out the door, head held high.

Time to go on the offense.