Fatal Reservations Read Online Free PDF Page A

roared up the aisle from the back of the room, yanked him off Lorenzo, whipped his hands behind his back, and cuffed them. He fought and cursed as they ushered him out of the room and down the stairs. Outside, I heard the whoop of several sirens.
    The mayor’s face was now beaded with sweat, his wire-rimmed glasses askew, and his wide forehead lined with concern. He removed his glasses and wiped them on his white shirt. “Are you all right, sir?” he asked Lorenzo.
    “I think so.” Pulling a crisp handkerchief from his pants pocket, Lorenzo patted his face and neck, now mottled red, and smoothed his hair.
    “If you’re able to speak, sir, it’s your turn at the microphone,” said the mayor, and sank back into his leather chair.
    Lorenzo nodded, adjusted his collar, and came forward. By dress alone, he stood out from most everyone in attendance: long-sleeved white dress shirt, high-waisted black pants, black tie, tortoiseshell glasses—even his wavy hair had been smoothed into a neat ponytail. All very proper and distinguished. But his face shone in the spotlight and large damp circles spread from his underarms to the body of his shirt. He looked very hot. And rattled.
    “I should make clear that I am speaking for myself tonight, as a concerned artist at the Sunset Celebration, not in an official context.” He ran his finger around his collar and straightened his tie. “Next to the ocean itself, the Sunset Celebration is the biggest tourist attraction on our island. Everybody in the world has heard of it, and that’s a major reason why they come to Key West.” Lorenzo touched his forehead again with the hankie. “Ihate to say it, but I must agree with Commissioner Greenleigh. Our present steering board seems unable to solve—”
    “The city government cannot be allowed to take control—they will ruin this just the way they’ve ruined everything else,” a man called out from the audience.
    Lorenzo waited with a pained expression on his face while one of the cops went to quiet the disgruntled spectator. “As I was saying, I’m not convinced that our internal organization can handle itself well enough to make certain that the Sunset Celebration remains the city’s crown jewel. That’s all. Thank you.” He nodded at each of the leaders and returned to his seat.
    After some discussion among the commissioners, they decided that several of them should attend the Artistic Performance Preservation Society’s meeting in two days to see if some informal assistance could be rendered. If this proved impossible, more drastic actions would be considered.
    The mayor, who appeared tired and haggard, glanced at the big clock on the wall. “It’s late. I’d like to have a quick discussion on this final item, which concerns the ongoing robberies in homes around the cemetery. We pride ourselves on the safety record of our island,” he said, “and now we’ve had what—six? seven? ten? burglaries in what is touted as one of the safest residential areas in the city.”
    “More like twenty!” called a woman from the audience.
    The mayor ignored her. “The so-called cemetery burglar is making a laughingstock of our police department.” I was more than a little surprised that he’d be publicly critical of the KWPD. He must have been feeling a lot of pressure. He looked around the hall. “Idon’t see our police chief in attendance. Lieutenant Torrence, perhaps you could come to the podium and speak to these issues?”
    The crowd rustled and muttered as Torrence muscled his way to the front of the room, managing to look official and friendly at the same time. For fifteen minutes, he answered questions from the city officials and the audience, assuring everyone in the calmest of voices that the police were very vigilant and close to arresting the burglar. “In fact, due to our vigilance, there have been no new burglary episodes in the past week. In spite of the millions of visitors we welcome each year, our city