‘Here, in Ocean Mist?’ asks Melly, pushing her pink sun visor higher on to her head. The years of Botox mean her expression is always one of surprise, but there’s worry in her voice now.
‘I saw cops over at Manatee Park this morning when I was out power walking,’ says Hank, smoothing his polo shirt down over his flat stomach. ‘Must have been there.’
The patrollers talk over each other. The volume and anxiety levels are rising.
Stepping up to the table, Rick thumps his fist against the solid wooden surface twice. ‘Quieten down.’
The chatter stops. Everyone is looking at Rick and Philip.
Philip clears his throat again. ‘A woman lost her life last night, here, in our neighbourhood. She was found this morning in Manatee Recreation Park.’
‘How did it happen?’ asks Donald. He looks pale beside all the others, but then he always does. Rick’s never seen someone living in Florida be so untanned, but then he knows Donald’s one of those computer nerds. What was it he’d said at the first watch meeting? Oh, yeah, he’d spent his working life with one of the big tech companies. Figures, thinks Rick. From the look of him, Donald still spends most of his time inside with his computers.
Melly looks from Donald to Philip. ‘Do you know who did it?’
Philip shakes his head. ‘At this time—’
‘Who died? Oh my God, was it Maeve?’ Dorothy puts her hands to her face. ‘She didn’t call me back last night, she said she would but she never did and I didn’t think to try her again after I’d finished watching my programmes. Did the killer get her? I’ll never forgive myself if she—’
‘The cops are establishing the facts now,’ Philip continues. ‘But the victim was a young woman, too young to be a resident here. There’s no ID right now, but—’
Hank pushes his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. ‘Why don’t they know who she is? How did she get here?’
‘Every entrance is gated, there should be a record,’ says Donald, running a hand across his chin. ‘They’ll get her name from that.’
‘But people won’t feel safe in their homes,’ says Dorothy. Her eyes are tearing up behind her glasses. ‘It’s bad enough with the burglaries, but murder? Who would do such a thing? Our little neighbourhood used to feel so safe but now—’
‘It’s outsiders coming in, has to be.’ Rory’s clenching his fists and his face is getting red. ‘They’re coming into our community and terrorising our residents . . .’
‘Yeah, this all started same time as the construction over in district eleven,’ says Donald. ‘We had no crime before then, but those workers came in and suddenly it’s like we’re crime central.’
Rick watches the group. He can tell from the voices of those closest to him, and the body language of those further away, that the tension is rising. He glances at Philip. Knows that Philip’s style is to let them talk themselves out, then once they’re done, focus on taking action – it’s the tactic he used after the first few burglaries – but he needs to step in sooner today. Take control.
‘Yeah, first the burglaries, now homicide,’ agrees Clint. ‘My grandkids visit on the weekends. It’s no good if this place isn’t safe for them.’
‘For sure,’ says Rick. ‘We need to help the cops solve this. That’s why we called the meeting.’
There’s uncertainty on the patrollers’ faces now. Fear too.
‘How can we do that?’ asks Dorothy. She’s petite and must be pushing eighty years old, but Rick can tell there’s a steely core to her. With her white hair pulled into a tight bun and her pink twinset and pearls, she reminds him of the stern maths teacher he had in seventh grade.