Chapter 16 #3
“Eyewitness reports have you sneaking off from the party at 6:03 p.m. You scurried across the backyard to rendezvous beyond the hedge separating Holly’s property from the abandoned Brody farm. Tell us who you were meeting.”
Ivan gulps. “I-I wasn’t meeting anyone…”
“Your partner had clear crystal slides.” Elliot flips to another page.
“Five inches tall. What was the purpose of this meeting? A tryst? Were you making a back-alley deal importing counterfeit crystals? Or both…?” Elliot steps forward until he’s in Ivan’s face and lowers his voice.
“Are you in the habit of mixing business with pleasure?”
Ivan shrinks back. “I don’t have to answer any of your questions without my lawyer.” Shouldering Elliot aside, he marches to the door and yanks it open. “Now kindly set down my bolo tie and get the hell out of my house.”
“That tears it.” Elliot flips his notebook shut and strolls past Ivan. “Don’t think about leaving town.”
“I’m the mayor,” Ivan sniffs, “why would I leave? If anything, you should leave.”
As I follow Elliot out the door, I stop in front of Ivan and try to read the truth in his shifty eyes. “Did you shit under my Christmas tree?”
“Holly…” Rolling his eyes, Mayor Thornberry adopts a patronizing tone, enunciating every word like he’s speaking to a child. “I’m going to be very honest with you. No. I never shat under your Christmas tree, but right now,” his voice becomes a menacing growl, “I wish I did.”
* * *
I barely make it inside my car before breaking down in the ugliest sob of my life. I’m not just sobbing… I’m wailing like a baby.
“Um… Are you okay?” Elliot asks from the passenger seat. He’s at a complete loss as to what to do about the puddle of tears and mucus next to him. “Let me get you a…” He frantically pats his jacket for a tissue. “Here!”
I blow my nose like a wet trumpet. Elliot swats me lightly on the back.
“What are you doing?”
“Comforting you.” He sounds unsure of himself. “Is it working?”
“It’s confusing me.” I blow my nose again. “So… yes?”
Elliot gestures awkwardly to my snotty nose. “There’s no need for all this.”
“He hurt my feelings on so many levels.” I plop my forehead on the steering wheel; a honk startles me upright.
“I always thought he was looking out for me. Now he’s probably teaming up with Aunt Cherry or Jen (dressed like Aunt Cherry) to undercut my crystal business.
And we still don’t know for sure if he shat under my tree! ”
“Don’t worry,” Elliot says, “I’m not ruling him out.”
“You haven’t ruled out anyone!”
“Not true,” Elliot says, “we’ve cleared the pets and the children. We just need to cleave our way through the degenerate adults, er… your friends and family.”
“We’re no closer to cracking the case than when we started! Paige. Jen. Brian, maybe. Aunt Cherry, definitely. Ivan the Terrible! They all have a motive and that motive is they hate me!” I whirl on Elliot. “Don’t you see what this is doing to my self-esteem? I’m starting to develop a complex.”
Honk. My forehead bangs against the steering wheel. Honk. Too dejected to sit up, I let the horn do its thing. May it disturb Mayor Thornberry’s peace and quiet. Honk.
Elliot chews on his inner cheek. “I don’t envy your position. Imagine being hated by the whole town…”
I lift my head and glare at him. “Not helping here.”
“For what it’s worth,” Elliot clears his throat, “I don’t think UPS Manny or Dennis the mullet man hates you. Brian is still obsessed with you. Your mother loves you, obviously. Your aunt’s bulldog loves your leg.”
“Are you trying to cheer me up?” I ask.
He offers me a meek smile. “Is it working?”
My face crumples. “So it’s true… I’m really that unlikeable.
All this time, I thought everyone loved me, but now I see that I’m…
” I study my reflection in the rearview mirror.
My nose is red and puffy, my eyes wild and bloodshot.
“I’m the most hated person in Mapledale.
How did I talk myself into running for mayor? Ivan’s going to eat me alive.”
“If it makes you feel better,” Elliot says, “I’m not voting for Thornberry.”
“It does make me feel better, actually.” I hiccup. “But as it stands, that slimeball’s going to wipe the floor with me. I’ll lose by a landslide. It’s going to be the most embarrassing defeat in Mapledale history. I’ll never be able to show my face in town again.”
I begin to hyperventilate. “I need to drop out. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll drop out—”
“You will not drop out!” Quite out of the blue, Elliot seizes my shoulders and shakes me. His quiet vehemence shocks me into silence.
I tilt my head back, blinking at him in surprise. “I-I have to. I have no chance. How can I expect to win if my own friends and family hate me?”
“Dropping out is exactly what Thornberry wants you to do,” Elliot says, “and you’re not going to give him the satisfaction. For all we know, he took a shit under your tree—or in your basement — to intimidate you. You have to stay in the race.”
“But I’ll lose.”
“Even if you lose.” Elliot leans closer until our foreheads bump together. “You can’t let that raging narcissist silence you.”
His eyes were so dark and intense that I back up an inch. “I thought I was the raging narcissist?”
“Well, I found a bigger one,” he says. “Compared to him, you’re almost normal.”
I blink. Elliot really has a way with words. “I-I didn’t know you were so invested in who becomes mayor.”
“I don’t care one way or the other,” Elliot says, “but I don’t like that guy. The things he said to you were uncalled for.”
I’m suddenly buoyed by hope. “You think I’m a good singer? Deck the halls—”
Elliot sucks in air through his teeth and shakes his head. “Please…” He touches his ear.
“Oh.” My shoulders deflate. I suppose I can’t be good at everything. On a positive note, Elliot’s belief in me has restored some of my lost confidence. “I’ll stay in the race,” I say, starting up my engine, “if only to spite Ivan.”
“Good,” Elliot says. “You can never trust a guy who wears a bolo tie.”
“Crystal counterfeiting jerk,” I mutter.
“Holly?”
“Hm?” Checking over my shoulder, I pull into the road. Leafy shadows dance over my car as I drive through arches of fiery maple trees.
“Not everyone hates you.” Elliot looks carefully out the passenger side window, his fingers tapping nervously against his knee. “I don’t hate you. I actually…”
Keeping my eyes on the road, I wait with bated breath. “You actually what?”
Actually likes me?
Fallen madly in love with me despite knowing me for a short time?
Wants to ask me out for coffee?
Doesn’t mind my singing?
“I actually… you know,” Elliot tugs at his collar, “don’t mind you.”
“Oh,” I say, disappointed. “That’s it? That’s what you wanted to tell me?”
He turns to me, one brow arched in that familiar quizzical angle. “What did you think I was going to say?”
“That you take it back and I’m a great singer after all?”
Elliot snorts. “I can’t say that. We all know that’s a lie.”
“You haven’t even heard me sing.”
He holds up a hand. “I heard enough.”
I mash my lips together, suppressing a smile. “You heard one note.”
“That’s one note too many,” he says.
I turn on the radio. “You haven’t heard my rendition of Anti-Hero.”
“Holly…” Elliot shakes his head. “I said I don’t hate you. Are you trying to change my mind?”