Page 132 of A Light in the Dark
“He’s the reason she was elected, isn’t he?” my father asked.
“Yes, he is. She’s the only candidate he endorsed—and he convinced a few other city-state leaders to throw their weight behind her, too. Mirage is included,” Joel warned. “They saw your pre-college records, evaluated what you’d done with your grant, and have been praising your common sense and diligence appropriately. They’ve also made it public record you’ll be attending at least two of their universities remotely.”
“I’m probably a little crazy for that.” I shrugged, and when the elevator opened, I discovered a straggler reporter with a cameraman, and judging from the situation, the camera had broken, resulting in the poor woman having lost her chance with me.
She looked ready to cry, and I couldn’t blame her.
The cameraman looked ready to break down as well, which left me with a few options. I dealt with the first of my problems, and he raised a brow at the sight. “Please forgive me for the next ten or twenty minutes I lose of my life to a work thing.”
“Sure.”
“Also, get your phone out and play nice with the poor people. You can record on that thing and send them the video, right?”
Joel smiled, set down his backpack, and pulled out his fancy camera. “Even better. I brought my baby with me.”
With that taken care of, I tapped the reporter on the shoulder to get her attention. “You missed the shindig upstairs, but I can spare you a few minutes so you get a turn,” I told her. “In exchange, you have to call me Valerie when we’re talking, and you have to play softball. My neighbor has a fancy camera, and he can record since yours seems to be broken.”
The cameraman stared at Joel’s camera, and he licked his lips. “That camera will film just fine for our needs, Mary.”
Mary stared at me, stared at Joel, who was already at work recording us, and blinked. “You mean it, ma’am?”
“I absolutely do. Life’s not fair most of the time, and while I’m supposed to be off work, if a few minutes makes your life a little more fair, then I can spare the few minutes. Just apologize to the reporters upstairs. I’m sick and I shouldn’t be working, but this is a good reason for an exception. Please beg for them to have mercy on me later.”
“Thank you, Valerie. Are you willing to talk to me about the cobbler your neighbor made for you?”
I smiled. “Her name is Elenora, and she was worried something would happen because everywhere else in the city-state lacks our flood plains’ unique botany. She’s a bit of a prankster at heart, and she also nailed Joel with it. He’s my neighbor who lives up the street from me, and he’s driving me around when I’ve got a headache and don’t feel safe behind the wheel.” I took a moment to introduce my parents, explaining that they lived in a small town several hours away. “I’ve taken to calling it Death Cobbler, and I’ll be asking her—and all the other friendly bakers in our city—totry to warn their targets of the side effects of their culinary misadventures. But, because she was worried, I’m alive, and I’m grateful for that. And yes, I knew she was using toxic berries after the first serving. I was never bothered she did it, and I think she’s sweet she did something like that for my sake. The amount of effort she put in making certain accidental exposure to a variety of toxic berries is admirable. I’m hoping that through education and awareness campaigns, our kind neighbors won’t have to resort to making such cobblers in the future, although I think it’s a brilliant way to make certain if thereisa mistake, well, it won’t be a fatal one. And considering Stonecreek’s recent history with the misuse of those berries, education and awareness are going to be critical.”
“Is it true that Mr. Oustenhaus was intending to use such berries in a grocery store mass poisoning?”
I sighed. “I can’t say much about the ongoing investigation, but I have asked your fellow reporters to help spread the word about the types of berries that are toxic, what they look like, and how to avoid them in the grocery stores to make certain that there’s no possibility of this happening. That said, the situation is being investigated by law enforcement, and any and all evidence against Mr. Oustenhaus should be submitted to the police. If you are concerned that someone was a victim of his scheming, bring it up to law enforcement along with your reasoning for suspicion. While pursing charges can’t bring back the victims of his machinations, justice can be served—and it should be served.”
“Thank you, Valerie. What are your plans for Stonecreek after you handle the consequences of Mr. Oustenhaus’s actions?”
In a way, I appreciated Mary’s courage, as she asked the one question I suspected the other reporters wanted to ask but hadn’t, likely in an attempt to be kind. “Purging the systemic corruption plaguing Stonecreek is near the top of the list. I’ll also be making certain no mayor can eliminate their competition and prevent the people from having an appropriate say in who manages our city-state. I’ll definitely be working to prevent the mayor from gaining any fiscal benefits from being in the position. It’s a job and a responsibility, yes, but positions of power need checks so they aren’t abused, and I view my job as making certain whomever takes over Stonecreek after me is incapable of walking in his footsteps. After that, assuming there is time before the next election, I will be working at improving public services, encouraging events like the recent job fair, and working to bolster our general economy so that unemployment and homelessness rates drop. I will also be making certain that our programs are present to help rather than drive away good people.”
Or kill them, but I allowed my expression to harden and hoped anyone watching might read between the lines.
I allowed myself a sigh. “Mostly, I expect to do the work that Mr. Oustenhaus failed to do, as he was more concerned about exploiting the population than helping. Ideally, when I am finished, the mayor will only have to do a few hours a day of work while the excellent men and women at City Hall and the other city-state employment venues continue handling their jobs with grace and dignity. Once those who are directly responsible for the murders of our refugees have been dealt with, things should improve for everyone. Rebuilding our reputation will take time, but I’m hopeful I’llbe able to start work on that task so that whoever is elected next has a strong foundation to work with. Does that answer your question, Mary?”
“It does, Valerie. Thank you so much. Will you be taking any time off to recover from your illness?”
I shook my head. “I’ll be limited in how many hours I work per my doctor’s orders, but I’m afraid the good people of Stonecreek will be forced to put up with me daily until the critical matters are resolved.”
Mary smiled at that. “Thank you, Madam Mayor. I appreciate the time you’ve spent answering my questions.”
I understood her usage of my title, and I smiled for her, aware she tried her best to support my tainted position’s limited authority. “You’re welcome, Mary.”
Joel lowered his camera and flashed a grin. “Do you have a business card, Mary? I’ll send the file over to you as soon as I’m able to get home and to my computer. I didn’t bring a spare memory chip with me.”
The cameraman reached into his pocket, pulled out a chip case, and held it up. “Will this work?”
Joel took the case, popped it open, and pulled out a chip. “Valerie, does your laptop have a card reader?”
I crouched, dug through the briefcase I’d selected for myself, and pulled out my laptop, handing it over. Upon discovery my machine had a chip reader, Joel had me boot it up before copying over the files and giving it to the cameraman. Once I had everything put away, I waved a farewell to the pair, went to my new car, and claimed the passenger seat for myself. “Your turn, Joel. I’m too tired to drive at this stage.”
He claimed my keys, grinned, and got behind Blaze’swheel. “After that? I would be too. I just feel I should warn you that if the reporters didn’t adore you already, they do now. You have no idea who you just bailed out, do you?”
My parents got into my car, buckled in, and joined me staring at Joel. “I haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about?”
