The Taking of Libbie, SD Read Online Free PDF Page A

weather, and little else. Not even thrice-divorced Sharren Nuffer, who worked behind the desk and sometimes in the hotel’s restaurant, could get words from the Imposter no matter how breathlessly she asked if there was anything she could do for him.
    It wasn’t until several days later that the Imposter stepped into the office of the City of Libbie’s director of economic development. A man named Ed Bizek—the department’s sole employee—was there to greet him. The Imposter told Bizek that he was the front man for a syndicate of developers from the Twin Cities. He said he’d found the perfect parcel of land at the intersection where Highway 20 met Highway 73. Unfortunately, a dryland farmer named Michael Randisi owned the parcel, and it was zoned for agriculture. The Imposter said he wanted to meet with the county commissioners and the Libbie City Council. He wanted to be assured that the county would rezone the land for commercial use if he bought it, and he wanted the negotiations kept confidential for fear that if word of his intentions leaked out, Randisi would demand more for the land than the syndicate was willing to pay. That would kill the deal, the Imposter said. It was this fear—that the deal would be killed—that would induce so many people to do so many foolish things in the coming weeks.
    “What were his intentions?” I asked.
    “The Imposter wanted to build an outlet mall.”
    “Is that like a shopping mall?”
    “A shopping mall where manufacturers sell their products directly to the public through their own stores. Mostly you see them in locations far away from major cities. That’s because the rents are cheaper, which reduces overhead, and because most of these manufacturers have contracts with conventional retailers that sell their products. The malls have to be located in places where they won’t compete with them.”
    “Okay.”
    “I know what you’re thinking, McKenzie—a mall in a town with a population of twelve hundred, in a county with only thirty-three hundred people? But it was a good plan. The plan would have worked. An outlet mall here would have drawn customers from Prairie City and Bison, Meadow, Faith, Isabel, Timber Lake, Dupree—where else?—Lemmon, Reva, Lodgepole. You have to remember, we’re five hundred thirty miles from Denver, six hundred miles from Minneapolis, and about the same distance from Omaha. The nearest decent shopping—we’re nearly four hours by car from both Rapid City and Aberdeen. An outlet mall here would have been huge.”
    “Except he did not intend to build a mall.”
    “No. All he wanted was our money.”
    “How much did he take you for?”
    She said, “Nothing from me,” in a way that made me think she was lying. “The city, though, and some others—he picked us clean and disappeared.”
    “How long ago?”
    “Tomorrow will make a week. McKenzie, can I rely on your discretion?”
    “Not even a little bit.”
    “McKenzie, if we let you go—”
    “What do you mean, if?”
    “That came out wrong.”
    “I certainly hope so.”
    “I meant when we let you go—McKenzie, we need your help.”
    “To do what?”
    “To catch Rush—to catch the Imposter.”
    “Call the cops.”
    “Chief Gustafson is working on it.”
    “Call the real cops. Call the South Dakota Division of Criminal Investigation. Call the FBI.”
    “We don’t want—we’re trying to avoid—our losses were severe, McKenzie. The city was forced to borrow to maintain basic services. Others were hurt, as well—the bank, some Main Street businesses, other investors. McKenzie, small towns all across America are drying up and blowing away. We were doing okay, except now—if we get the money back, a lot of people will be embarrassed, but life will go on. If we don’t, if people learn the city is bankrupt…”
    “Do you expect me to care?”
    Tracie’s eyes lost their harshness then. They became soft and moist, and I found myself looking away so I didn’t have