The Chosen

astonishment watched after him; it took a while to kick in. My boss just asked me out, and I said yes. But why shouldn’t she? She sat with chin in hand, reflecting. How weird, she thought. With Kyle, for instance, her feelings—as well as her attractions—were constantly at odds. One minute she’d be condemning him as a cad, the next she’d be hoping he’d make a pass, and the next she’d be disappointed when he didn’t. Feldspar was different. She could not, and never had, deny her attraction to him. It was not physical. It was purely an adult and sophisticated attraction. All along she’d wished that he’d show some interest in her, and now that he had, she felt in a heady quandary. Don’t go overboard here, Vera, she smirked to herself. She’d be getting her hopes up, perhaps, for nothing. What do you want? Do you want to go to bed with him? She couldn’t picture anything less conceivable. He wasn’t even really taking her out; he’d simply be having dinner with her at The Carriage House. It’s business, she suddenly felt convinced. He wanted to appraise the restaurant’s cuisine for himself in Vera’s presence. That’s all, she thought.

Still, her mind wandered, over other, less rational possibilities.

“Excuse me, miss. Can you help me?”

Vera glanced to her open office door. She was about to speak but any response quickly turned to mush.

A cop? she questioned.

Yes, a big hick cop, fiftyish, with a broad shiny face and a VFW haircut. He smiled rather sheepishly, a cowboy-type hat with a badge on it under his arm. He looked huge in the brown, down-filled jacket, and spoke with a slight drawl. “I’m sorry to interrupt. The name’s Lawrence Mulligan, Chief Lawrence Mulligan. Waynesville Police Department.”

“Please come in,” Vera invited, but all she could think was: What the hell is the chief of police doing here?

“Thanks kindly.” He waddled in and set his hat down. A big pistol hung on his hip through a slit in the jacket. It reminded her of the gun she’d seen in Feldspar’s desk, only because of its size. “Actually, I’m looking for a Mr. Feldspar. It’s my understandin’ that he runs the place,” Mulligan said.

“Oh, well let me call him. I think he’s right over—”

“He’s out, Vera.”

Another surprise. Suddenly Kyle was standing in the doorway, looking at her over Mulligan’s giant shoulder. “He just left for the airport.”

“The airport?” Vera said.

“Yeah, you remember. He had to go to that Historic Inns of America Convention in New York.” And after Kyle said that, he quite deliberately winked.

Vera got the message at once, and this was too spontaneous a situation to question it, though that didn’t mean a flurry of questions did not sweep through her mind. Why’s he lying?

Kyle was gone as quickly as he’d appeared. Vera re-faced the big police chief, a hand diddling at her collar. “Well, so much for that. My name’s Vera, I’m the restaurant manager. Is there a problem?’’

“Well, yes, er, no. Er, I should say kind of,” Mulligan quite elaborately stated. “Actually, I feel sort of silly, but what ya got to understand is that in these parts, chief of police is an elected post.” He paused, exhaled as if winded, and went on. “I’m a tad thirsty, miss. Might I—”

“Would you like me to order you some coffee from room service?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want you to go to all that trouble on my account. Just anything you