Page 84 of Chasing Lynda

A Glimmer Of Hope

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Lynda

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A WEEK AFTER THE FIRE

“This is fucking hopeless!” Dodge sounds frustrated as he lowers the local paper he has been reading and takes a sip of his coffee.

I eye the title and the few bolder headlines on the second page, taking the paper from Dodge, meeting his intense gray gaze as my fingers brush against his; the fire at Pleasure Beach has been front and center on the local news for the entire week.

Today’s article talks about four of the five casualties that have been officially named but a fifth hasn’t been yet identified; one of the women that perished on the eight floor was so badly burned that even dental records are proving ineffective.

I turn a few pages to look for the end of the main article. “It says here that the fifth victim doesn’t appear anywhere in the guest lists or the staff ledgers. Everyone else seems to have been accounted for.”

Dodge sighs, his knuckles turning white as he grips his coffee mug so hard that I fear it might shatter. “It could be anyone, Lynda. We were fully booked for the Memorial Day weekend and aside from the hotel club and the club on the beach, Bridgeport is full of venues where people drink and find hookups. If it was something like that, someone who was at the hotel for a hookup with a guest, we might never know who that was.”

I consider his words for a second and then nod in agreement. “You’re right. It says the same thing at the end of the article. They add that the CCTV feed doesn’t shed any light on the matter. Apparently, it mostly covered the elevator but there were a few blind spots,” I say following the end of the column with my finger. “Any news on Monroe?”

Carter shakes his head. “No. That motherfucker seems to have dropped off the face of the Earth.”

Bennett clenches his fists, cracking his knuckles in a menacing gesture. “It’s better for him if he stays gone; if I find him, there’s going to be one extra victim to add to the tally.”

Dodge nods. “You’re fucking right. I don’t know what my dad was thinking for putting that lowlife in charge of the entire resort. He fucking ruined us. He set the fire knowing full well that the fire inspections weren’t up to date and that regardless of the cause of the fire, the insurance would be void.”

Carter confirms his best friend’s statement. “Yup. Unfortunately that’s what they told me yesterday. Regardless of the conclusion at end of the investigation, we won’t see a cent from them.” He grabs Dodge’s good shoulder, squeezing it in a comforting gesture. “But there’s some good news, for a change. We can reopen the rest of the resort on Monday. The Fire Chief called personally yesterday to let me know. So while the hotel and all its amenities are lost for the near future, we still have the beach, the boardwalk and the pier with all the shops, restaurants and attractions.”

A muscle in Dodge’s jaw ticks before he shakes his head. “That’s good. But I don’t know if it’ll be enough to keep us afloat. Especially with having to foot the bill for the hotel repairs. I don’t know if we’ll even manage to stay open. Let alone help with my family’s situation.”

Bennett intervenes. I’ve noticed that he always tries to be positive and fix things in every situation. “We can keep organizing events all summer. We can concentrate on the beach club. There’s an outdoor dance floor and I’m sure the license for extended opening hours can be expedited, since we have our connections at city hall. I have a few things in mind—”

Dodge doesn’t look convinced. “Yeah, I’ll call my dad. The license isn’t a problem. Bennett, don’t take this the wrong way, bro, because I really appreciate your dedication to making the resort a success ...”

Bennett tops up his coffee, keeping his gaze on Dodge. “But?”

“But I don’t know how many customers we’ll have after all this negative press,” Dodge concludes glumly.

Carter tries to sound encouraging. “It isn’t ‘negative press’ as such, Dodge. They’re just reporting about the fire. And I see what you mean, but don’t forget that Pleasure Beach is in the best spot on the sea front. We have the prime location and all the other competitors with establishments on the beach are much smaller and farther from downtown Bridgeport. I think that we have a chance to at least stay afloat, if we work hard with what we have left.”

Dodge shrugs, his eyes are fixed on his empty plate. “Sure. All we can do is try. Even though there are moments when it feels like we’re trying to plug one hole in the dam like the little Dutch boy of that story my mom used to read me; but every time we manage to plug a hole, it’s like another ten appear in its place.”

I scoot backward with my chair, intending to go sit in the vacant spot next to Dodge and close my arms around him. He and the guys have been so welcoming and generous with me and I hate seeing them struggle with all this shit.

I’m about to lift my butt from the chair when I stop in my tracks, gasping at a small article at the bottom of the page I was reading.

Is that my name in the paper?

OBITUARY:

Lynda Greggs-Lawrence was only nineteen when her life was tragically cut short by a fire.

An honor student, Shell Cove born and bred Lynda had been accepted into NYU. She loved fashion, the beach and had many friends.

Lynda leaves her heartbroken mother, her father and husband after a long, painful estrangement. The family asks for privacy at this terrible time.

What in the world?

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