Before Another Dies by Alton L. Gansky

talk meant to put me at ease. He was good.
    â€œMost people find it boring. The chamber seats two-hundred-fifty people, but I’ve seen it full only two or three times. Usually, we have a handful of people and the occasional senior citizen who finds this more interesting than television. Unless you have a love for civic matters, this is the dullest place on a Tuesday night. I’ve seen a lot of people nod off.” I wrung my hands.
    â€œI’ll bet I’ve seen more,” he said with a smile. There was a soft kindness in his eyes.
    â€œI doubt it.”
    Pastor Lenny was not dynamic. He did not pound the pulpit or wave his Bible, but he could fix the attention of his listeners faster than anyone I have ever seen. He was more teacher than preacher but his communication skills were phenomenal. If you fell asleep in one of his sermons it was because you weren’t listening or were on medication. “Where’s Floyd?”
    â€œMy son said you might want to talk to me alone, so he bowed out and went back to the office. By the way, how’s he doing?”
    â€œHe’s doing well. Adjusting.” Floyd and his father could not be more different. Pastor Lenny was an outdoor man, as his tan testified. A surfer, he spent his high school days on the beaches of California looking for that perfect ride. After graduation, he learned that surfing doesn’t pay well, and he took to driving trucks. “To be outside,” he once told me. Someplace along the line his thoughts shifted from the waves to the Maker of the waves. At the age of twenty-five, he went to college then on to seminary. He started Ocean Hills Church the week after they handed him his master of divinity degree. That was twenty years ago.
    â€œI appreciate you giving him the job, Maddy. He still lacks focus. I was hoping some consistent oversight by someone like you might help him settle on a track.”
    â€œWould it have helped you at his age?”
    He erupted into laughter. “No, it most certainly wouldn’t. I needed time to be me before I could become what I was intended to be. That’s why I’m so patient with Floyd. He’s battling genetics.”
    â€œThat may be his greatest asset.”
    Pastor Lenny shook his head. “His greatest asset is the Lord. At least he has that settled.”
    â€œHe’ll find his direction. He told me yesterday morning that he might enjoy being a police officer.”
    Lenny made a sour face. “Officer Floyd Grecian,” he mumbled. “I just don’t see it. Still, I think he can be great at whatever he chooses. I just wish he’d choose it.” He paused and looked up at the council bench. “Do you like it up there?”
    I admitted that I did. “It’s hard to describe. The job is hard, frustrating, carries less glamour than most think, and gives more bruises than caresses. Still, I love it. The position makes me feel . . .”
    â€œComplete?”
    â€œThat’s a good word for it. Complete. I feel like I belong.”
    â€œDo you feel like you’ll belong in congress?” Somehow the good pastor had changed the subject from himself and his son to me, and I hadn’t seen it coming.
    â€œThat’s an unknown. I think so. To be honest, I feel a little guilty. The people elected me to this position. I’m the first full-time mayor, and now I’m running for a higher office.”
    â€œI have a question. Why do you call congress a higher office?”
    I shrugged. “That’s just the way it’s done. Everyone speaks of politicians running for higher office.”
    â€œAre you saying that being a congresswoman is more important than being mayor?”
    â€œI wouldn’t put it that way. It’s probably more prestigious.”
    â€œIs that important?” he asked.
    I looked at him and weighed my answer. “I’m not sure. Are you saying that I’m running for the wrong