Jaws Part 2

"That it's quite common for a great white to come into water this cold. Some years ago, a boy was killed by one near San Francisco. The water temperature was fifty-seven." Brody sucked a long drag from his cigarette and said, "You've really done a lot of checking into this, Harry."

"It seemed to me a matter of --shall we say --common sense and public interest to determine exactly what happened and the chances of it happening again."

"And did you determine those chances?"

"I did. They're almost nonexistent. From what I can gather, this was a real freak accident. According to Hooper, the only thing good about great whites is that they're scarce. There's every reason to believe that the shark that attacked the Watkins girl is long gone. There are no reefs around here. There's no fish-processing plant or slaughterhouse that dumps blood or guts into the water. So there's nothing at all to keep the shark interested." Meadows paused and looked at Brody, who returned his gaze silently. "So it seems to me, Martin, that there's no reason to get the public all upset over something that's almost sure not to happen again."

"That's one way to look at it, Harry. Another is that since it's not likely to happen again, there's no harm in telling people that it did happen this once." Meadows sighed. "Journalistically, you may be right. But I think this is one of those times, Martin, when we have to forget the book and think of what's best for the people. I don't think it would be in the public interest to spread this around. I'm not thinking about the townspeople. They'll know about it soon enough, the ones that don't know already. But what about the people who read the Leader in New York or Philadelphia or Cleveland?"

"You flatter yourself."

"b.a.l.l.s. You know what I mean. And you know what the real estate situation is like around here this summer. We're right on the edge, and other places are, too, like Nantucket and the Vineyard and East Hampton. There are people who still haven't made their summer plans. They know they've got their pick of places this year. There's no shortage of houses for rent... anywhere. If I run a story saying that a young woman was bitten in two by a monster shark off Amity, there won't be another house rented in this town. Sharks are like ax-murderers, Martin. People react to them with their guts. There's something crazy and evil and uncontrollable about them. If we tell people there's a killer shark around here, we can kiss the summer good-by."

Brody nodded. "I can't argue with that, Harry, and I don't want to tell the people that there is a killer shark around here. Look at it from my point of view, just for a second. I won't dispute your odds or anything. You're probably right. That shark has probably gone a hundred miles from here and won't ever show up again. The most dangerous thing out there in the water is probably the undertow. But, Harry, there's a chance you're wrong, and I don't think we can take that chance. Suppose --just suppose --we don't say a word, and somebody else gets. .h.i.t by that fish. What then? My a.s.s is in a sling. I'm supposed to protect people around here, and if I can't protect them from something, the least I can do is warn them that there is a danger. Your a.s.s is in a sling, too. You're supposed to report the news, and there's just no question but that someone killed by a shark is news. I want you to run the story, Harry. I want to close the beaches, just for a couple of days, and just for insurance sake. It won't be a great inconvenience to anybody. There aren't that many people here yet, and the water's cold. If we tell it straight, tell people what happened and why we're doing what we're doing, I think we'll be way ahead."

Meadows sat back in his chair and thought for a moment. "I can't speak for your job, Martin, but as far as mine is concerned, the decision has already been made."

"What does that mean?"

"There won't be any story about the attack in the Leader."

"Just like that."

"Well, not exactly. It wasn't entirely my decision, though I think that generally I agree with it. I'm the editor of this paper, Martin, and I own a piece of it, but not a big enough piece to buck certain pressures."

"Such as?"

"I've gotten six phone calls already this morning. Five were from advertisers --one restaurant, one hotel, two real estate firms, and an ice cream shop. They were most anxious to know whether or not I planned to run a story on the Watkins thing, and most anxious to let me know they felt Amity would best be served by letting the whole thing fade quietly away. The sixth call was from Mr. Coleman in New York. Mr. Coleman who owns fifty-five per cent of the Leader. It seems Mr. Coleman had received a few phone calls himself. He told me there would be no story in the Leader."

"I don't suppose he said whether the fact that his wife is a real estate broker had anything to do with his decision."

"No," said Meadows. "The subject never came up."

"Figures. Well, Harry, where does that leave us? You're not going to run a story, so as far as the good readers of the Leader are concerned, nothing ever happened. I'm going to close the beaches and put up a few signs saying why."

"Okay, Martin. That's your decision. But let me remind you of something. You're an elected official, right?"

"Just like the President. For four thrill-filled years."

"Elected officials can be impeached."

"Is that a threat, Harry?"

Meadows smiled. "You know better than that. Besides, who am I to be making threats? I just want you to be aware of what you're doing before you tinker with the lifeblood of all those sage and discriminating souls who elected you." Brody rose to go. "Thanks, Harry. I've always heard it's lonely here at the top. What do I owe you for lunch?"

"Forget it. I couldn't take money from a man whose family will soon be begging for food stamps."

Brody laughed. "No way. Haven't you heard? The great thing about police work is the security."

Ten minutes after Brody returned to his office, the intercom buzzer sounded and a voice announced, "The mayor's here to see you, Chief." Brody smiled. The mayor. Not Larry Vaughan, just calling to check in. Not Lawrence Vaughan of Vaughan & Penrose Real Estate, stopping by to complain about some noisy tenants. But Mayor Lawrence P. Vaughan, the people's choice --by seventyone votes in the last election. "Send his honor in," Brody said. Larry Vaughan was a handsome man, in his early fifties, with a full head of saltand-pepper hair and a body kept trim by exercise. Though he was a native of Amity, over the years he had developed an air of understated chic. He had made a great deal of money in postwar real estate speculation in Amity, and he was the senior partner (some thought the only partner, since no one had ever met or spoken to anyone named Penrose in Vaughan's office) in the most successful agency in town. He dressed with elegant simplicity, in timeless British jackets, b.u.t.ton-down shirts, and Weejun loafers. Unlike Ellen Brody, who had descended from summer folk to winter folk and was unable to make the adjustment, Vaughan had ascended smoothly from winter folk to summer folk, adjusting each step of the way with grace. He was not one of them, for he was technically a local merchant, so he was never asked to visit them in New York or Palm Beach. But in Amity he moved freely among all but the most aloof members of the summer community, which, of course, did an immense amount of good for his business. He was asked to most of the important summer parties, and he always arrived alone. Very few of his friends knew that he had a wife at home, a simple, adoring woman who spent much of her time doing needlepoint in front of her television set.

Brody liked Vaughan. He didn't see much of him during the summer, but after Labor Day, when things calmed down, Vaughan felt free to shed some of his social scales, and every few weeks he and his wife would ask Brody and Ellen out to dinner at one of the better restaurants in the Hamptons. The evenings were special treats for Ellen, and that in itself was enough to make Brody happy. Vaughan seemed to understand Ellen. He always acted most graciously, treating Ellen as a clubmate and comrade. Vaughn walked into Brody's office and sat down. "I just talked to Harry Meadows," he said.

Vaughan was obviously upset, which interested Brody. He hadn't expected this reaction.

"I see," he said. "Harry doesn't waste any time."

"Where are you going to get the authority to close the beaches?"

"Are you asking me as the mayor or as a real estate broker or out of friendly interest or what, Larry?"

Vaughan pressed, and Brody could see he was having trouble controlling his temper. "I want to know where you're going to get the authority. I want to know now."

"Officially, I'm not sure I have it," Brody said. "There's something in the code that says I can take whatever actions I deem necessary in the event of an emergency, but I think the selectmen have to declare a state of emergency. I don't imagine you want to go through all that rigmarole."

"Not a chance."

"Well, then, unofficially I figure it's my responsibility to keep the people who live here as safe as I can, and at the moment it's my judgment that that means closing the beaches for a couple of days. If it ever came down to cases, I'm not sure I could arrest anyone for going swimming. Unless," Brody smiled, "I could make a case of criminal stupidity."

Vaughan ignored the remark. "I don't want you to close the beaches," he said.

"So I see."

"You know why. The Fourth of July isn't far off, and that's the make-or-break weekend. We'd be cutting our own throats."

"I know the argument, and I'm sure you know my reasons for wanting to close the beaches. It's not as if I have anything to gain."

"No. I'd say quite the opposite is true. Look, Martin, this town doesn't need that kind of publicity."

"It doesn't need any more people killed, either."

"n.o.body else is going to get killed, for G.o.d's sake. All you'd be doing by closing the beaches is inviting a lot of reporters to come snooping around where they don't have any business."

"So? They'd come out here, and when they didn't find anything worth reporting, they'd go home again. I don't imagine the New York Times has much interest in covering a lodge picnic or a garden-club supper."

"We just don't need it. Suppose they did find something. There'd be a big to-do that couldn't do anybody any good."

"Like what, Larry? What could they find out? I don't have anything to hide. Do you?"

"No, of course not. I was just thinking about... maybe the rapes. Something unsavory."

"c.r.a.p," said Brody. "That's all past history."

"Dammit, Martin!" Vaughan paused for a moment, struggling to calm himself.

"Look, if you won't listen to reason, will you listen to me as a friend? I'm under a lot of pressure from my partners. Something like this could be very bad for us." Brody laughed. "That's the first time I've heard you admit you had partners, Larry.

I thought you ran that shop like an emperor."

Vaughan was embarra.s.sed, as if he felt he had said too much. "My business is very complicated," he said. "There are times I'm not sure I understand what's going on. Do me this favor. This once."

Brody looked at Vaughan, trying to fathom his motives. "I'm sorry, Larry, I can't.

I wouldn't be doing my job."

"If you don't listen to me," said Vaughan, "you may not have your job much longer."

"You haven't got any control over me. You can't fire any cop in this town."

"Not off the force, no. But believe it or not, I do have discretion over the job of chief of police."

"I don't believe it."

From his jacket pocket Vaughan took a copy of the corporate charter of the town of Amity. "You can read it yourself," he said, flipping through until he found the page he sought. "It's right here." He handed the pamphlet across the desk to Brody. "What it says, in effect, is that even though you were elected to the chief's job by the people, the selectmen have the power to remove you."

Brody read the paragraph Vaughan had indicated. "I guess you're right," he said.

"But I'd love to see what you put down for 'good and sufficient cause.'"

"I dearly hope it doesn't come to that, Martin. I had hoped this conversation wouldn't even get this far. I had hoped that you would go along, once you knew how I and the selectmen felt."

"All the selectmen?"

"A majority."

"Like who?"

"I'm not going to sit here and name names for you. I don't have to. All you have to know is that I have the board behind me, and if you won't do what's right, we'll put someone in your job who will."

Brody had never seen Vaughan in a mood so aggressively ugly. He was fascinated, but he was also slightly shaken. "You really want this, don't you, Larry?"

"I do." Sensing victory, Vaughan said evenly, "Trust me, Martin. You won't be sorry."

Brody sighed. "s.h.i.t," he said. "I don't like it. It doesn't smell good. But okay, if it's that important."

"It's that important." For the first time since he had arrived, Vaughan smiled.

"Thanks, Martin," he said, and he stood up. "Now I have the rather unpleasant task of visiting the Footes."

"How are you going to keep them from shooting off their mouths to the Times or the News?"

"I hope to be able to appeal to their public-spiritedness," Vaughan said, "just as I appealed to yours."

"Bull."

"We do have one thing going for us. Miss Watkins was a n.o.body. She was a drifter. No family, no close friends. She said she had hitchhiked East from Idaho. So she won't be missed."

Brody arrived home a little before five. His stomach had settled down enough to permit him a beer or two before dinner. Ellen was in the kitchen, still dressed in the pink uniform of a hospital volunteer. Her hands were immersed in chopped meat, kneading it into a meat loaf.

"h.e.l.lo," she said, turning her head so Brody could plant a kiss on her cheek.

"What was the crisis?"

"You were at the hospital. You didn't hear?"

"No. Today was bathe-the-old-ladies day. I never got off the Ferguson wing."

"A girl got killed off Old Mill."

"By what?"

"A shark." Brody reached into the refrigerator and found a beer. Ellen stopped kneading meat and looked at him. "A shark! I've never heard of that around here. You see one once in a while, but they never do anything."

"Yeah, I know. It's a first for me, too."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Nothing."

"Really? Is that sensible? I mean, isn't there anything you can do?"

"Sure, there are some things I could do. Technically. But there's nothing I can actually do. What you and I think doesn't carry much weight around here. The powersthat-be are worried that it won't look nice if we get all excited just because one stranger

got killed by a fish. They're willing to take the chance that it was just a freak accident that won't happen again. Or, rather, they're willing to let me take the chance, since it's my responsibility."

"What do you mean, the powers-that-be?"

"Larry Vaughn, for one."

"Oh. I didn't realize you had talked to Larry."

"He came to see me as soon as he heard I planned to dose the beaches. He wasn't what you'd call subtle about telling me he didn't want the beaches closed. He said he'd have my job if I did dose them."

"I can't believe that, Martin. Larry isn't like that."

"I didn't think so, either. Hey, by the way, what do you know about his partners?"

"In the business? I didn't think there were any. I thought Penrose was his middle name, or something like that. Anyway, I thought he owned the whole thing."

"So did I. But apparently not."

"Well, it makes me feel better to know you talked to Larry before you made any decision. He tends to take a wider, more over-all view of things than most people. He probably does know what's best."