beaches and put up a few signs saying why.”
“Okay, Martin. That’s your decision. But let me remind you of something. You’re an elected official, right?”
“Just like the President. For four thrill-filled years.”
“Elected officials can be impeached.”
“Is that a threat, Harry?”
Meadows smiled. “You know better than that. Besides, who am I to be making threats? I just want you to be aware of what you’re doing before you tinker with the lifeblood of all those sage and discriminating souls who elected you.”
Brody rose to go. “Thanks, Harry. I’ve always heard it’s lonely here at the top. What do I owe you for lunch?”
“Forget it. I couldn’t take money from a man whose family will soon be begging for food stamps.”
Brody laughed. “No way. Haven’t you heard? The great thing about police work is the security.”
Ten minutes after Brody returned to his office, the intercom buzzer sounded and a voice announced, “The mayor’s here to see you, Chief.”
Brody smiled. The mayor. Not Larry Vaughan, just calling to check in. Not Lawrence Vaughan of Vaughan & Penrose Real Estate, stopping by to complain about some noisy tenants. But Mayor Lawrence P. Vaughan, the people’s choice — by seventy-one votes in the last election. “Send his honor in,” Brody said.
Larry Vaughan was a handsome man, in his early fifties, with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair and a body kept trim by exercise. Though he was a native of Amity, over the years he had developed an air of understated chic. He had made a great deal of money in postwar real estate speculation in Amity, and he was the senior partner (some thought the only partner, since no one had ever met or spoken to anyone named Penrose in Vaughan’s office) in the most successful agency in town. He dressed with elegant simplicity, in timeless British jackets, button-down shirts, and Weejun loafers. Unlike Ellen Brody, who had descended from summer folk to winter folk and was unable to make the adjustment, Vaughan had ascended smoothly from winter folk to summer folk, adjusting each step of the way with grace. He was not one of them, for he was technically a local merchant, so he was never asked to visit them in New York or Palm Beach. But in Amity he moved freely among all but the most aloof members of the summer community, which, of course, did an immense amount of good for his business. He was asked to most of the important summer parties, and he always arrived alone. Very few of his friends knew that he had a wife at home, a simple, adoring woman who spent much of her time doing needlepoint in front of her television set.
Brody liked Vaughan. He didn’t see much of him during the summer, but after Labor Day, when things calmed down, Vaughan felt free to shed some of his social scales, and every few weeks he and his wife would ask Brody and Ellen out to dinner at one of the better restaurants in the Hamptons. The evenings were special treats for Ellen, and that in itself was enough to make Brody happy. Vaughan seemed to understand Ellen. He always acted most graciously, treating Ellen as a clubmate and comrade.
Vaughn walked into Brody’s office and sat down. “I just talked to Harry Meadows,” he said.
Vaughan was obviously upset, which interested Brody. He hadn’t expected this reaction. “I see,” he said. “Harry doesn’t waste any time.”
“Where are you going to get the authority to close the beaches?”
“Are you asking me as the mayor or as a real estate broker or out of friendly interest or what, Larry?”
Vaughan pressed, and Brody could see he was having trouble controlling his temper. “I want to know where you’re going to get the authority. I want to know now.”
“Officially, I’m not sure I have it,” Brody said. “There’s something in the code that says I can take whatever actions I deem necessary in the event of an emergency, but I think the selectmen have to declare a state of emergency. I don’t imagine you want to go through all that rigmarole.”
“Not a chance.”
“Well, then, unofficially I figure it’s my responsibility to keep the people who live here as safe as I can, and at the moment it’s my judgment that that means closing the beaches for a couple of days. If it ever came down to cases, I’m not sure I could arrest anyone for going swimming. Unless,” Brody smiled, “I could make a case of criminal stupidity.”
Vaughan ignored the remark. “I don’t want you to close the beaches,” he said.
“So I see.”
“You know why. The Fourth of July isn’t far off, and that’s the make-or-break weekend. We’d be cutting our own throats.”
“I know the argument, and I’m sure you know my reasons for wanting to close the beaches. It’s not as if I have anything to gain.”
“No. I’d say quite the opposite is true. Look, Martin, this town doesn’t need that kind of publicity.”
“It doesn’t need any more people killed, either.”
“Nobody else is going to get killed, for God’s sake. All you’d be doing by closing the beaches is inviting a lot of reporters to come snooping around where they don’t have any business.”
“So? They’d come out here, and when they didn’t find anything worth reporting, they’d go home again. I don’t imagine the New York
“We just don’t need it. Suppose they did find something. There’d be a big to-do that couldn’t do anybody any good.”
“Like what, Larry? What could they find out? I don’t have anything to hide. Do you?”
“No, of course not. I was just thinking about… maybe the rapes. Something unsavory.”
“Crap,” said Brody. “That’s all past history.”
“Dammit, Martin!” Vaughan paused for a moment, struggling to calm himself. “Look, if you won’t listen to reason, will you listen to me as a friend? I’m under a lot of pressure from my partners. Something like this could be very bad for us.”
Brody laughed. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you admit you
Vaughan was embarrassed, as if he felt he had said too much. “My business is very complicated,” he said. “There are times I’m not sure
Brody looked at Vaughan, trying to fathom his motives. “I’m sorry, Larry, I can’t. I wouldn’t be doing my job.”
“If you don’t listen to me,” said Vaughan, “you may not have your job much longer.”
“You haven’t got any control over me. You can’t fire any cop in this town.”
“Not off the force, no. But believe it or not, I do have discretion over the job of chief of police.”
“I don’t believe it.”
From his jacket pocket Vaughan took a copy of the corporate charter of the town of Amity. “You can read it yourself,” he said, flipping through until he found the page he sought. “It’s right here.” He handed the pamphlet across the desk to Brody. “What it says, in effect, is that even though you were elected to the chief’s job by the people, the selectmen have the power to remove you.”
Brody read the paragraph Vaughan had indicated. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “But I’d love to see what you put down for ‘good and sufficient cause.’”
“I dearly hope it doesn’t come to that, Martin. I had hoped this conversation wouldn’t even get this far. I had hoped that you would go along, once you knew how I and the selectmen felt.”
“All the selectmen?”
“A majority.”
“Like who?”
“I’m not going to sit here and name names for you. I don’t have to. All you have to know is that I have the board behind me, and if you won’t do what’s right, we’ll put someone in your job who will.”
Brody had never seen Vaughan in a mood so aggressively ugly. He was fascinated, but he was also slightly shaken. “You really want this, don’t you, Larry?”
“I do.” Sensing victory, Vaughan said evenly, “Trust me, Martin. You won’t be sorry.”
