The Prospect - Eliot Parker (top 10 novels .txt) 📗

emptiness.
The mayor’s office rested in the middle of downtown Sheaville. The manila stucco building was long and low-slung with one window that ran its entire length. When someone stepped inside the oak door and turned around, anything and everything going on in the street could be seen. Frank tip toed around a little boy playing marbles on the sidewalk, entered the mayor’s office, and nearly tripped on the carpet inside the doorway. Luckily, he caught hold of the wall and regained his balance.
Morton was on the telephone with his feet propped up on the desk as he leaned back in a larger black leather chair. His desk was a small, polished cherry oak one that was slightly different in color from the dark cherry oak door that Frank just passed through. The top of the desk was orderly and a couple of file folders were stacked on top of one another and placed near the right edge of it. The outer wall behind the desk was surrounded by file cabinets and filled cardboard boxes, yet Frank could not tell what was in them. On the walls, pictures of articles written by the Charleston Gazette about Sheaville were mounted, framed, and hung in chronological order. Frank was wearing his spectacles, and he could read the byline of the earliest article written by Sam Thomas, former publisher of the newspaper, dated September 15, 1960.
Morton seemed uninterested that someone was in his office, but he eventually hung up the phone. “Well, hello Frank!” the mayor proclaimed. “It isn’t time for my prescriptions to be refilled, so what can I do you for.” Morton noticed Frank’s disheveled appearance. “Something the matter?”
“Nope,” Frank said simply.
“Okay then, what is it?” Morton said, folding his hands, placing them behind his head while his feet remained on top of the desk.
“Mayor, I will make this here short and sweet. I know you have…lots of things to do. Actually, I shouldn’t have to say nothing because you already know what this week is and what’s it about.”
The mayor’s eyes circled around the room as thought cautiously. “No, Frank I really don’t. So why don’t you refresh this old mind of mine.”
“All right, I will.” Frank folded his arms and walked closer to the desk. His shadow was cast throughout the room thanks to the sunlight beaming in from the outside. The mayor appeared to have no idea regarding what Frank was going to say. “Dag nammit, eighteen years ago the saw mill exploded and yet another year has passed by and your ain’t had a ceremony or nothing to recognize it. You are responsible for it.”
Morton rolled his head a few times and then removed his arms from behind his head, folded his hands, and placed them on his pudgy stomach. “That is ridiculous Frank. I am not sure anyone in this town needs to be reminded of that tragedy. That fire was on of many tragedies. The men knew that every time they walked into that mill. That’s the chance they and their families took. The mayor then scratched his chin before continuing.
“I mean, really. The state police investigated the fire and determined it was an accident. The mill blew up because of faulty wiring in the electrical system.”
“That’s right,” said Frank, interrupting Morton’s explanation. “A wiring system you were supposed keep up with as foreman of the mill.”
Morton shot Frank a perfunctory glance. “I was paid to check the electrical system once a month. What you are insinuating is that I somehow did not do my job and let that accident happen.”
“You know as well as I do that that there system in the mill was forty blasted years old and should have been replaced. Many men told ya. Remember all the power outages out yonder? The system couldn’t handle the power use and bunches of times we lost power throughout the whole town.”
The mayor began to become more defensive. “If I remember correctly Frank, everyone in Sheaville was aware of the electrical system out that way because of the blackouts. We needed all the electricity we could get. Sometimes, there is a little price to pay for prosperity.”
“For Pete’s sake, a man lost his life for it. And what happened because you did not ask Harlan for money to replace the thing is darn near pitiful.
Morton now swung his feet around and stood up. He interpreted Frank’s comments as insipid and auspicious. Frank was loosening the buttons on his peach colored shirt and his glasses were slipping down the bridge of his nose. The mayor placed his hands on the desk, fist first and leaned inward, coming closer to Frank. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I am ‘bout that accident. But what you are proposing is just outrageous. I was not in charge of those men and it was not my responsibility to take care of them. Besides, I would never have let them be harmed under my watch and I sure as hell am not going to make the residents of Sheaville remember that accident through some sort of damn memorial.”
By now, Frank was becoming alarmed with Morton’s ability to forgo the issue and clear away the memory. Frank new the real story and why this could and probably did happen. “You could have done something and you didn’t. It’s hard to tell how many men would of died out there had it not been late.
Morton walked around the desk with his hands in his pockets and moved near the stacks of boxes. He began lifting them one by one and moving them near the front door, trying not to topple Frank in the process.
The mayor used the time to remember what happened. One mill worker did die in the accident. Morton remembers it clearly. The one man that died was Roger Triplet. Morton would never forget the state police pulling his burned body from the mill site.
“Frank, you come in here each year and mention this memorial….but this year…does this have anything to do with that Triplet boy and his mama?”
Frank rocked backwards momentarily on the balls of his heels.
“They have suffered and are suffering now cause of what happened!”
The mayor verbally shot back. “How are they suffering? Shane’s is doing all right this year for the Loggers. Joann has a job working for Ruth and Jack Busby. Harlan’s family gave them a large chunk of money for Roger’s death. Why are we even discussing this Frank? This happened eighteen years ago. Let it go. Roger is gone and just because you have these wild fantasies that I was at fault will not bring him back.”
Frank gritted his teeth and felt his heart thumping in his chest. His first impulse was to kidnap the mayor, drive him out to the old mill, tie him to a tree, and leave him there. Nobody would miss him, that’s for sure. However, Frank did not want Olivia to experience what Shane was going through now.
“He has no daddy! Joann’s sick! Phil Rodney and I is doing what we can to help ‘em. Shane misses him and so she does too.”
“Well, Roger did not miss her,” the mayor said. “Frank, you know as well as I do that Roger was an alcoholic and a womanizer. He slept with more women and more husband’s women in this town than anyone ever did or ever will. He died before Shane was even old enough to remember him. Joann spent a lot of nights alone, not because Roger was working, but because he loved beer, cigarettes, and women. Well, women other than her. Had she not become pregnant, he would have left her immediately…and what do you mean you and Phil are taking care of her. She’s a grown woman, last I checked, and can do it herself.”
Frank was furious. “You have no idea what you are saying or the harm you have caused…”
“Bullshit!,” the mayor bellowed, now turning around, facing Frank and shooting a stream of saliva onto Frank’s shirt. “You come in here accusing me, putting me on trial for an accident that happened. Roger Triplet was a good worker and a lousy husband and father. I know this! He worked with me at that mill 8 years. I heard the stories from the men. I heard them talking about where and when and with whom they saw him with last night. The building caught on fire. I hated that, I really did. But I had nothing to do with it. Now I think you need to take yourself and your wild theories and leave right now.”
On impulse, Frank grabbed Morton by the shirt and pushed him backwards. One of the cardboard boxes Morton was carrying hit the floor, spilling papers and folders across the wooden floors. Morton outweighed Frank by 60 pounds, yet he moved backwards like a rag doll.
“I found that note from 19 and 78 where Harlan gave you the order to fix the system. I found it years ago when I helped the Shea family clean out ol’ Harlan’s house. Know what I did with it? I gave it to Joann.” Frank’s cool tone had Morton perplexed.
The mayor’s double chins were sagging over the collar of his yellow shirt, and a clear stream of nasal fluid began oozing out of one nostril. “You should have seen that look on her face. Uh, ha. Know what she did with it? She threw that piece away…just like you did to her family. She and Shane ain’t never going to be the same. You ain’t with them everyday. Their pain is silent and the problems is inside not out.”
The wooden door slammed shut behind them. Frank let go of the mayor as he struggled to free himself from Frank’s grip and welcome in the visitor.
“Daddy, Mr. Miller.” Olivia was standing in the doorway with her empty newspaper delivery bag wadded up in her left hand and her ball cap in the other. The look on her face spoke volumes about what she was thinking. At first, she looked like she was witnessing a crime in progress. Once Olivia realized who was talking to her father, her body relaxed and her shoulders slumped forward. “I must have come in at a bad time. I can leave.”
“No, no,” begged the mayor, “come right on in. Frank and I were just having a little chat that is all.” Morton slid under Frank’s armpit and grabbed the old man’s rib cage as he went under.
“I…I hope that everything is ok. Really, I can leave daddy that is no problem.”
“Nonsense,” was her father’s response. “Frank was just leaving.” Turing back to face the owner of Frank’s Drugstore, the mayor’s look was demanding a reaction. His eyes widened and his nose wrinkled inward, still running with streams of mucus. Frank was breathing heavily, and his weight was shifted from his left pivot foot to his right foot. This enabled the mayor to realize that Frank Miller would indeed be leaving soon.
Frank scratched his head and walked past Olivia near the front door to the mayor’s office. “One day, their going to understand it all. I hope to George Washington that I’m ‘round when it comes. Nice to see you again, Olivia. Frank tipped his sun visor in her direction.
Olivia listened intently and studied the mannerisms of both men. Before she could ask questions or make informed speculations, Frank was gone and Morton wrapped his flabby arms around her waist, squeezing her tightly.
“It is SO good to see you peach cake,” uttered Morton calmly and passionately. Olivia leaned her against her father’s chest and the smell of Old Spice cologne breached her senses.
“Daddy, are you okay? Mr. Miller looked awfully