“This is Tully.”
Eli looked at the man with the black stubble on his face and realized something: “You know, I’m embarrassed to say, I don’t know your first name.”
“Just Tully,” he replied, nodding at Goldie and keeping his hands in the pockets of his black leather coat.
“And what do you do, Mr. Tully?” she asked.
“Odd jobs for the city. This and that.”
“I’ll be down directly,” the lawman replied, putting some more stems in his new vase.
Tully eyed the roses and vase, slightly amused. “Considering a second career as a florist, Sheriff?”
“I’ll be down directly,” Eli repeated. “Thanks.”
Tully looked at Goldie straight-faced, nodded at her, then left the office. His appearance only reinforced in her mind that the sheriff was, at worst, complicit with Banyan, or at best, ignorant about what was going on. She just didn’t know which was which.
“Charming guy,” she noted, insincerely. “Lots of personality.”
He shrugged slightly in agreement, then continued with the roses.
“I gotta go,” she announced abruptly, zipping up her jacket.
“Okay… thanks again for the flowers.”
She turned and headed for the door. When her hand was on the handle, he decided to make an observation:
“Hey, you ever notice how our conversations start off going one way, but then stop and go another?”
She paused and considered. “Yeah,” she agreed. Then she walked out the door.
He stood there for another few seconds, arranging his bouquet.
“Okay then,” he said to himself. “See ya.”
Six minutes later, Eli walked into Charles Banyan’s office. He greeted the secretary in the front office, then went into Banyan’s office in the back. He noticed that Tully was nowhere around.
“You wanted to see me?” he began.
“Yes. Have a seat.”
The sheriff unzipped his brown suede jacket and sat in one of the two chairs in front of Banyan’s large desk.
“Tully told me Goldie Maraschino was down at your office.”
“Yeah. She dropped by to apologize for not saving a dance for me Friday night. She left the festivities early with Peter.”
“Oh. Actually, she’s what I want to talk about. Has she expressed any interest in the old Maynard operation? She ever been up there?”
At this moment, Eli Johnson had to make a quick decision. On the one hand, the mayor was his boss, the man who hired him without giving prejudice to his injury or lack of experience. He certainly felt he deserved the truth. On the other hand, Goldie had demonstrated a clear talent for discovering things that others didn’t immediately see and bringing those things to light. Like, Martha Eggleston’s belief that her husband didn’t fall asleep behind the wheel. Or, finding out about Claude Bolton and a suicide he knew nothing about. Now, she had questioned Banyan’s character and brought to Eli’s attention the fact that he had not only listed numerous properties on the same street, but also owned them. So, at this particular moment in time, Eli decided to withhold what he knew.
“No, not to my knowledge,” he replied. “But it’s interesting you mentioned the Maynard site. I just shot a mountain lion up there the other day that was getting chickens from the Nelson place. I also tightened up the chain on the main gate so critters and people couldn’t slip through.”
“You didn’t change the padlock, did you?” the mayor asked.
“No, just tightened up the chain.”
“Good,” Banyan nodded. “Alright. Let me know if she asks about the place. Eh, maybe we can arrange a tour. But only if she asks. Personally, I’d rather not. Lots of dilapidated buildings up there.”
