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Red Tape
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Red Tape
A Jersey Shore Mystery Novel
By Michele Lynn Seigfried
Red Tape is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 Michele Lynn Seigfried
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design by LLPix Photography, www.llpix.com
Edited by Hercules Editing and Consulting, www.bzhercules.com
Visit the author’s website at www.MicheleLynnSeigfried.com
ISBN-13: 978-1482012880
ISBN-10: 148201288X
Second Edition
A Special Thank You to:
My advance copy readers, Joanne Kruplo & Debbie Bauer.
Municipal Clerk Kathy Norcia for many creative writing ideas.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my beautiful daughter.
I will love you with all my heart and soul forever.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter 1
He had crazy eyes. That was the first thing I remember about “him.” It was last March when I received a text message from my assistant: Oh, my god Chelsey, we have this new guy coming to our meetings. He’s nuts. He has crazy eyes.
Little did I know that Mr. Crazy Eyes was soon to make my life a living hell. I was out on maternity leave, having given birth last month to a beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby girl named Amanda, “Mandy” for short. Bonnie was my assistant or deputy town clerk, to be exact. She was filling in for me during my absence and she was required to attend the meetings of the town council in my place.
Since I had been home since a month before I went into labor, I was starved for the office gossip, so I quickly responded to her: Call me!
Bonnie gave me the scoop. “He” was Robert Triggers. He was unhappy about the lack of dunes at the end of the street where he lived. The owner of the land at the end of the street, Bill Bradford, did not want dunes in front of his house. Bill said the dunes would block the view and diminish his home’s value. I had met Bill once when he came to my office to submit his landlord registration form. He seemed like a really nice guy. His property was a rental and I had to guess that he was happy that he didn’t have to deal with an irate neighbor most of the time.
Bonnie told me that Triggers was retired from some sort of biotech job and had a lot of free time on his hands. She said he was a large man, over six feet tall and likely pushing three hundred pounds. She called him an eccentric dresser, stating his clothing was often mismatched and his neckties were unusual. He was balding with gray on the sides. His skin was tan and his nose was big. She described his eyes as being so dark and cold, that it sent shivers down her spine to look at him.
Though being told repeatedly that it wasn’t possible to install dunes on someone’s private property, Mr. Triggers did not let up on his pursuit. He showed up to every town meeting, demanding that the town install the dunes.
“He’s like a broken record,” Bonnie said. “He says, ‘Where are my dunes? Where are my dunes? Why all the red tape? Why all the red tape?’ I’m having trouble dealing with him.”
“What else is going on there?” I asked Bonnie.
“Well, the courtroom caught on fire yesterday.”
“Oh dear lord! Is everyone okay?”
Three court clerks were having dinner in the downstairs kitchen before the night court session. One of the clerks went back to the office to make a phone call. She saw the smoke and picked up a phone to dial 9-1-1, but neither the phones nor fire alarms worked. She left the building and ran across the parking lot to the police headquarters to get help. An officer came back and extinguished the flames before the fire trucks arrived. Smoke filled the building and the few people inside had to evacuate.
“Everyone was fine and there was only damage to the courtroom, not any of the offices,” Bonnie reported. She told me she missed me and said she didn’t know how she was going to handle the next three months without me.
“You’re exaggerating. You’ll be fine. Call me if you need me.”
With that, we said our good-byes.
The Town of Sunshine was a small town—eight square miles and four thousand year-round residents. The population swelled over the summertime to ten thousand with part-time residents and tourists. It was located on a barrier island in New Jersey with the bay on the west and the ocean on the east. It was incredibly beautiful with its unique, majestic, mini-mansions which sat along the beachfront in an array of pastel colors. Side streets were lined with the cutest bungalows and capes. There were no lawns to mow—residents preferred the convenience of hardscaping at their vacation homes. There was indeed something about Sunshine that was calm and relaxing. But that relaxing feeling was soon to be a foreign concept of the past.
* * *
Early the next morning, while the baby slept, I pulled on my robe and shuffled down the hall to the kitchen to brew some coffee. I chose a Carmel Vanilla Cream K-cup and made it a latte with my fat-free creamer. I stepped outside to get the newspaper. It felt like spring for the first time this season. I took a deep breath and enjoyed a peaceful moment in the warm sunshine and crisp breeze. The birds were chirping and puffy white clouds passed on by. I hurried back into the house so I could hear Mandy if she stirred. I sat at my breakfast bar and opened the newspaper to see an article on page two. “Arson in Sunshine Being Investigated.” My peaceful moment dissipated.
Bonnie didn’t mention it was arson, I thought. I read further down the page. “Phone lines and the town’s fire alarms were found to be tampered with.” I wondered who could do such a thing. A disgruntled ex-employee? An angry taxpayer? A lunatic on the loose? Mr. “Crazy Eyes?”
I quickly picked up the phone and dialed Bonnie’s number. Voicemail. “You didn’t tell me that fire was ruled an arson. Call me back!” I said into the phone. The baby started to cry. That put a stop to my worrying about work for the moment. It was time for me to get to diaper and bottle duty.
As I changed Mandy’s diaper, my mind wandered to Mandy’s father. I met the jerk when I was twenty-six. Randy was charming and fun. We had a lot in common and hit it off immediately. At the time, I thought he was my soul mate.
When I was twenty-eight, my Great Uncle Lou passed away and to my surprise, he left his home to me. My ex moved in a year later when we got engaged and right back out again once Mandy was born.
My phone rang, which gave me a momentary reprieve from my depressing thoughts and lonely feelings.
“Bonnie, what is with you leaving out the full gossip?” I asked her.
“Well, I didn’t want to worry you,” Bonnie said.
“Do you think Mr. Crazy Eyes set the building on fire?”
“Could have been one of those firemen!” I joked.
“Ah! Don’t say that! You know how much I love firemen,” Bonnie shrieked.
“But there are those who become firemen because they are obsessed with fire.”
“They can come over to my house and be obsessed with my fire.”
“Ugh, puh-lease!” I said to Bonnie. She laughed.
“Do the police have any leads?”
“You know them, they are tighter-lipped than a 90- year-old virgin!”
“Gee, thanks for the visual. I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight with that sort of imagery.”
“You just popped a kid out of your hoo hoo in front of a room full of people. You should have lost your prudishness by now.”
“I had a c-section. I didn’t have to show anyone my hoo hoo. But, seriously, is it safe there for you at work?”
“Oh, I’m sure it is. I mean, I’m usually there during the day with a ton of other people. I doubt someone would be stupid enough to try something when there’s lots of people around.
“I hope you’re right. People can be stupid.”
“I am right. And don’t you worry yourself. You just take care of that gorgeous baby girl and I’ll talk to you in a couple of weeks.”
I told Bonnie to call me if she needed anything, but I hadn’t heard from her for those couple of weeks. I surmised that Mr. Triggers had made himself scarce, leaving Bonnie with little to report. Meanwhile, I was thrilled it was finally April. It meant that I would be permitted to drive again after my emergency c-section. My parents, Tom and Mary Alton, came by a few times every week to bring me food and to drive me crazy for a while, but that wasn’t enough excitement for me. I couldn’t wait to get out of the house.
The buzzing of my phone grabbed my attention. I glanced at it to see a text from Bonnie: Oh my gosh! Call me! If nothing else, Bonnie was a good diversion for me. She was such a drama queen. I wondered why she didn’t ever call me instead of texting me, telling me to call her.
Thirty-nine-year-old Bonnie Fattori was a voluptuous Italian princess and Greek goddess all wrapped up in one person. She had beautiful long, dark-brown hair with gorgeous golden highlights. Even after having two children, she still had that perfect hourglass figure that women like me only dream about. Her deep brown eyes and plump lips made men fall out of their chairs when she walked by.
I was probably Bonnie’s opposite in looks. I stood ten inches shorter than Bonnie when she wore her four-inch stiletto heels and I had blonde hair and green eyes. I was still thin, even though I put on a few pounds too many when I was pregnant. Not that I was bad looking, but I was more cute and perky compared to Bonnie, who was sexy and sultry.
I dialed her number.
“What now? Just kidding,” I said with a giggle.
“Oh my god, Chelsey, FBI agents were here. They came in with warrants and confiscated various records and computers. They served me with some papers, asking for a whole bunch of stuff, like text messages and cell phone records. How on Earth am I supposed to get that?”
Oh my word, she wasn’t such a drama queen after all, was she? I was speechless.
“Uh, did you give it to the town attorney?”
“Yes, but you know how he is—he never responds to me.”
Our town attorney was Colby Betts III. He was a nice guy, but he was from the Deep South and people from his neck of the woods were much more laid back than us Jersey folks. Colby was a Sunday driver on an autobahn. It wasn’t that he never responded; it just took him forever to respond. In his mind, nothing was urgent. In our minds, everything was urgent. His looks reminded me of Colonel Sanders, but he had longer hair.
“Do you know why they were there or who they were after? Did it have something to do with that fire?” I asked her.
“I don’t know! They took a bunch of files and took lots of pictures of documents, like the marriage license book, receipt books, and the mayor’s files. They didn’t really say what they wanted.”
“Geez, Bonnie! I’m glad I’m not there! But seriously, I once heard of a town that was investigated because some guy was married to three different women. Maybe they were looking to see if the mayor married someone who turned out to be a polygamist,” I told her, trying unsuccessfully to be reassuring. “Call the cell phone company and ask them how to go about getting records from them. Call me back and let me know what happens.”
I never heard back from Bonnie. I guessed she figured it all out on her own or maybe she went shopping to ease her stress. Bonnie was a big shopper. Her shopping habits were so out of control that her husband made her get a job to support her addiction to clothes and accessories. She lived in one of those beachfront mini-mansions. She was married to a neurosurgeon. I was sometimes jealous of her lifestyle, but I couldn’t hold it against her because she was such a caring person. Plus, I was extremely worried about her and what was happening at work.
* * *
A day later, the headlines in the local rag paper, the Lagoon Tribune, screamed “FBI Raids Town Hall!” I kept reading. “Sunshine Twp. - FBI agents stormed into Town Hall yesterday and left with several boxes in hand. Sources close to the investigation say that they were working on a tip about government corruption, however, they would not elaborate. No arrests were made. Mayor Frita O’Donnell could not be reached for comment.”
Mayor Frita O’Donnell was in her fifties, short in stature, and plump in physique. Time hadn’t been as kind to her as it had been to other people her age. She didn’t own any cosmetics. Once she cut her long locks and dyed her buzz cut black, she was more masculine looking than usual. She had been mayor for the past nineteen years. Well, except for that one year, 2003 to be exact, when she didn’t get elected, and Pizza Joe, i.e. Joe Marino, owner of Pizza Joe’s restaurant, took over. After a year, Pizza Joe decided being mayor wasn’t a good fit for him and Mayor O’Donnell was appointed to fill his unexpired term.
The following day, I noticed that Mayor O’Donnell had issued a press release. That was thanks to the fact that I had subscribed to the town’s e-mail list and “liked” their Facebook page in an effort to keep up with what was going on in Sunshine when I was on leave. It said something about the FBI investigation being a routine matter, there was no wrongdoing on the part of the town or any of its officials, and that the mayor and staff of Sunshine were fully cooperating with the FBI. I’m not sure I believed it.
I closed the email on my Android. I couldn’t help but feel glad that I didn’t have to deal with the FBI. I was happy and sad to be off from work at the same time. Having time to spend with my daughter, which I wouldn’t have working full-time was a positive. But, I was also ready to get back into the world of people who speak adult language. And, it was hard not to feel bad for Bonnie with this new craziness at work that she had to deal with. I missed a lot of our yearly crunch times in the office like issuing dog licenses, budget time, beach badges, and the June Primary Election. Bonnie was stuck handling it all. I hoped that Bonnie was getting extra help from other departments so she could cope with the extra work load. I wished for the insanity at work to fade before I was finished with my leave of absence. I didn’t think the phantom wish granters were listening to that wish, because the insanity was just beginning.
Chapter 2
June 20th was the first official day of summer and also my first day back at work. Thanks to the laws in New Jersey, I was able to take an extended leave for disability in order to care for a new baby. The morning was hectic. This was my first time trying to wake up to feed and change the baby, in addition to getting myself together while she screamed her head off. I loaded Mandy into the car along with a hundred baby items and headed to my parents’ house. My parents had agreed to provide day care for Mandy, which was convenient for me because they only lived a few minutes away from my
office.
The job as municipal clerk could best be described as a jack-of-all-trades. It was especially true in a smaller town, where there weren’t enough employees to handle all the positions that are required in local government. According to the New Jersey Legislature, the municipal clerk was the chief custodian of records, the chief elections official, the secretary to the governing body and the chief registrar of voters. Without having our own health, human resources, and purchasing departments, I was also in charge of vital statistics, personnel issues, budget basics, and so many other things, it would take me years to explain it all. Three years, to be exact. That’s how long it took me to get through the classes at Rutgers University to obtain the prestigious Registered Municipal Clerk certification. The state exam was the worst test I ever took in my life, inclusive of all my college finals. I personally thought it was equivalent to the bar exam. It wasn’t the easiest job in the world, but I loved it. I had always been a hard worker and I liked that the office was so hectic all the time. It made the day go by quickly.
Mom and Dad were waiting on the porch. They were so excited to be spending the day with their only grandchild. Dad was in his wife-beater tank top and long khaki shorts. His beer belly protruded from his thin frame. He was mostly bald, but still had some blonde hair left on the sides. Mom was in a blue and white striped short-sleeved shirt and white capri pants. She still looked young for a woman in her fifties. She kept her hair dyed golden blonde and cut into a bob that was longer in the front. She loved to walk, which contributed to her slender body and lean legs.
“Now, don’t you worry,” Mom said in her caring voice. “Mandy will be fine.” My dad also told me not to worry and wished me good luck at work. “I’m making my famous fish sauce for dinner tonight,” Dad said. He did make great fish sauce—loaded with clams, scallops, and shrimp on top of angel hair pasta. Yum.