Night Songs Read Online Free PDF Page B

Trenton, and I think you ought to meet them. They might change your mind about the casinos and what they'll do for the island."
        "What they'll do is ruin it," he said flatly.
        "So you say."
        "So I say, so the Chief of Police says, so says half the island, if not more."
        "You're making this awfully hard on yourself, Col. And it isn't doing the island any good, either."
        He sat up, his left hand a fist on his thigh, his right strangling the receiver. "Don't," he said quietly. "Don't you dare blame me for what's happening here, Bob. I'm not the one who's promising pie-in-the-sky riches if the casinos come in. I'm not the one promising bigger houses and bigger cars and fancier clothes and all that other nonsense."
        "Colin," the man said, his voice straining to hold back anger, "all I want is what's best for Haven's End."
        "Jesus," he said in disgust. "Jesus H. Christ, Bob, this is me you're talking to, not some goddamned fisherman who can barely make ends meet."
        "My friends from the mainland-"
        "Yeah," he interrupted, "I know all about your so-called friends."
        The year before Colin moved south, Peg's husband, Jim, had decided to investigate Cameron's somewhat dubious mainland connections. For months he had worked alone, and for months had held his silence, but it was inevitable that word of his preliminary findings would finally leak to the grapevine. Cameron grew increasingly defensive, the islanders increasingly hostile, and late in April Fletcher's car had blown up while waiting for the ferry on the island-side platform. Jim had been in it. Five and a half years later there were still no arrests.
        Cameron had instantly disclaimed responsibility, his rapid backpedaling so skillful that people believed he'd only gotten in over his head. Nevertheless, when he tried once again to bring in the casinos, to make the small sheltered island a refuge for the high rollers discouraged from visiting Atlantic City to the north, Colin didn't trust him, didn't like him, and in a brief moment of weakness agreed to oppose him for the Board of Governors' top position.
        "Listen, Ross," Cameron said, civility abandoned, "you've no call bringing up stuff that's dead and buried."
        "Poor choice of words, Bob," he said lightly.
        "Faggot painter," Cameron snapped. "I'm giving you a chance to get the truth, and all you can do is throw mud. And if you think I'm going to stand by and watch this island go to hell in a handbasket because some goddamned jackass who wasn't even born here thinks he knows better than me what's good for this place, you've got another think coming."
        "Bob, you really are a shit, you know that?"
        "Ross, I'm warning you…"
        He had had enough. "Warn me all you want, Bob," he said, "but if you so much as look cross-eyed at me between now and the election, I'll knock your fucking teeth in."
        "Peg," the man said righteously, "doesn't approve of violence."
        "And you leave her out of this!"
        He slammed the receiver onto its cradle and glared at his fists. He knew there were still a few who would never think of him as being really "island"; but there were also enough who had sufficient faith in his judgement-and in the future of Haven's End without the casinos-to back him all the way. There was no denying the fact that Jim Fletcher's murder bothered him. There was also no denying the fact that coming to Haven's End, working with the schoolchildren, meeting Peg and the others, all served to heal him inside as nothing else had.
        To his mind that meant he had an obligation.
        And if he was ever going to be able to call this place a home, he would have to discharge that obligation before the temptation to flee grew too strong to resist.
        He rose suddenly and crossed the room to the narrow, white-curtained window on the left hand wall. Below it was a chipped