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“Nah. That’s all I have.”
“Well, thanks again.” I turned to leave, but stopped at the door. “If anything else comes in will you give me a call or text me?” I flipped one of my business cards on his desk.
“Like what?” He turned it over between his fingers.
“I don’t know. If you see something interesting. Another application for the Beach Combers Cove land. Just anything. Ok?”
He smiled. “Sure. And now I’ve got your number.”
I sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”
He rocked back in his chair, and for a second I thought he might bounce onto the floor.
“Gotcha covered, girl.”
“Awesome. Thanks.” I darted out of the office before he misinterpreted everything else I said. He may not be a reliable source, but if another application came in today there was a good chance he would let me know, assuming he could identify what he was reading.
I had another stop I wanted to make before I started writing my article. I checked the directory in the lobby and found Commissioner Rodriguez’s office.
I tapped on the door. She was hunched over a map in the corner of her office.
“Come on in.” She didn’t look up.
“Commissioner, we met at the last council meeting. I’m Sydney Paige.”
She stood upright and turned to smile. “Nice to see you again. What can I do for you?”
“I’m here reporting on the Beach Combers Cove development. I was wondering what the council’s position is on developing that end of the island. Would you like to make a statement?”
There was a pen lodged above her ear. “I wasn’t aware there were any applications.”
“The Lachlan Corporation submitted one for a resort and—”
“A resort?”
I nodded. “Yes. What is your stance on a resort at that end of the island?” I would go through the list of proposals. There was a golf course and an amusement park in the stack too.
“I’m afraid I need to pull together some information before I make any kind of statement on that tract of land.”
“But, how would you vote for the resort?”
“Excuse me.” She hustled past me in the small space and opened the top drawer on her desk. “I need to work.” It sounded as if she was whispering to herself.
“Would you like to comment on the zoning issues?” I asked. I needed a quote. Something. Anything. I couldn’t write a story on six applications that hadn’t even crossed over the intern’s desk yet.
“I will release a statement after I have had a chance to review the information. I work within the confines of facts. I need facts.”
Did she realize she was speaking to a journalist? I placed my card on the corner of her desk. “Here is my contact information.”
“You will receive a copy along with the rest of the press. I don’t play favorites, Miss Paige.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that, Commissioner.” Great, I had offended her. I debated slipping the card off the desk and into my bag. “Thank you for your time.”
I ducked out of her office while she frantically worked on the tip I had given her.
I was spinning my wheels. Nothing panned out. I made a few calls from my car to the companies who had submitted applications. No one would comment on whether they had won the auction.
It was three o’clock. With only two hours until deadline I was screwed.
