The Judge called on the third day, told her to dress in her best power suit and arrive at Town Hall no earlier but no later than seven that evening. He'd join her there.
* * *
Arriving on time as instructed, Maddy walked the center aisle of the cavernous room where the Town Council held their business meetings. Clearly by the steeple, white clapboard walls and dark green shutters framing narrow stained glass windows, the structure began its life as a church. The wide center aisle, carpeted in indoor-outdoor green to match the shutters, was flanked by polished oak pews that now served as seats for meeting attendees. The former pulpit served as the chairman's podium. A row of tables lined up in front of the stage. Place cards bearing neatly printed names rested in front of portable mikes. A few Council members were already seated, some looking more apprehensive than their counterparts. Strain creased several faces while others, if the high-fives and cat calls were any judge, acted like guests at a party.
A stern-faced Rosemary Hanson sat in the first row on the right, her three sons at her side. Az turned and glanced over his shoulder, offering a nod in her direction. Maddy ignored him--just as she'd ignored the buzzing as she traveled the aisle--and veered into the first row on the left--as directed by The Judge. She didn't know what he planned to do, but her confidence in him never flagged--even though her nerves ranked at a nine on a scale of one to ten. Ego fueled the threats aimed at the Hansons; she hoped she'd be able to back them up if things failed to go The Judge's way.
Arthur Easterland, chair of the Town Council, a weasel-faced runt of a man in Maddy's opinion, strutted to the podium. After giving the mike a tap and waiting for the usual ear-piercing screeches to die down, he spoke in an irritating nasal whine. “Let's bring this meeting to an order. We have a matter before the Council which is usually held behind closed doors but--”
The back entry doors opened with a dramatic flair. A tall, white haired man entered. The previous buzzing ramped to roars of recognition. People in the audience stood in respect as the man made his way up the aisle. Hands shot out in welcome.
More than once, Maddy heard, “Hello, Your Honor. Welcome back to Serenity Harbor.”
Dressed in an elegant dark suit and leather shoes polished to a mirror shine, he stopped in his path and switched the ebony cane to his other hand in order to acknowledge the many greetings with a shake of his hand. “Hello, George. How are Martha and the kids?”
“Agnes Battswold, it's been a long time.”
“Carter,” the woman known around town as Aggie the Bat said in a high pitched croak. “What brings you back?”
“A bit of business with--” He spied Maddy and smiled broadly. “This young woman found herself in a bit of a bother and requested my services.”
With that, Carter Hamilton James, late of the Federal District Court, current Senior Counsel of Record with the Law Offices of James, Hamilton and Bridgewater, approached Maddy, arms open. “Child, you remind me of Milly the first time we met.”
Speaking loud enough for those in the first five rows, on both sides of the aisle to hear, Maddy walked into his embrace. “Grandfather.”
* * *
From there, in Az Hanson's considered opinion, things went downhill real fast. He came to his feet, along with the rest of the audience, in respect for one of the most honored jurists in the northeast. Carter James, local boy made good, had maintained long-standing contacts in Serenity Harbor. Apparently Madeleine Flynn was a very close contact, though she'd never used the relationship to her advantage.
Smart move on her part, he felt. Save the big guns for when you need them. Artie Easterland, red-faced and blustering, came off the dais to preen and posture in The Judge's presence, acting as if he and the jurist were long lost drinking buddies.
The Judge dispelled that illusion in a sharp take no crap tone. “I know the rules, Arthur. Any citizen of this town may speak before the Council. I'm exercising that right.”
“Of course, Carter--I mean, Your Honor--” Easterland whined. “We'd be honored to have you speak to the meeting, even if it's out of order.”
He wore the look of a man suffering from a sudden knot in his testicle. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead; his usually ruddy complexion covered a pallor suffered by the chronically ill; he bent from the waist as if to straighten might make matters worse.
“Thank you, Mr. Chair.” The Judge turned, and in facing the audience had no need of a microphone. His voice carried to the rafters. “It's come to my attention that the Township of Serenity Harbor is not operating in accordance to state law nor has it been for quite some time.” He paused to glance around the room, focusing a stare on Fire Chief Mark Morris. “I also understand the Code Enforcement Team has been working overtime flexing their muscles. Not enough to do, gentlemen?”
Council members reacted in their own ways. As Az expected, a few rose from their seats but The Judge made a half turn and motioned them back down. Some simply looked at each other in question. A couple, like Easterland, ran a finger beneath their shirt collars as if they were finding it difficult to swallow the spit in the back of their throats.
Looking unfazed, Justice James breezed on. “If actions of this body fail to conform in an efficient and legal manner, I'm prepared to bring an Article 57 petition against the town, its Council and individual members.”
Arthur Easterland leaned toward his microphone. “With all due respect, your Honor, you can't do that.”
“No?” Offering a tight smile, the aging jurist switched the cane to his other hand. “While I don't choose to get into a pissing contest with you, Artie. I'm quite sure my companion won't mind a bit.”
The entry doors opened a second time. Four uniformed officers from the Maine State Police Department strode halfway up the aisle, stopped, turned and stood at parade rest. A short, muscular man dressed in a pearl gray suit made his way up the aisle. He approached The Judge, broad smile on his unlined face.
“Thank you for calling me, Your Honor. I'm here in response to your request, but also to that of my personal investigator.”
Always cool on the surface, even in the face of an unexpected turn, The Judge nodded. “Investigator?”
“Certainly,” Attorney General Gino Randolizzi crowed. “We've had a man in place, gathering information on the goings on in Serenity Harbor for the past year. He hadn't planned to break the case open quite this early but Miz Flynn called our bluff the other day.”
The Judge flashed Maddy a quick glance. “Whom might that investigator be?”
“Lieutenant Azrael Hanson of our Criminal Investigation Division.”
* * *
The Attorney General, on the advice of his uniformed guards, elected to make the drive back to Augusta immediately after the meeting adjourned. The Judge accepted Maddy's invitation to spend the night at the Lodge. She freshened the Bohemian Suite for him while he enjoyed a cigar on the balcony outside the room.
Once he put out the foul smelling cigar, he reentered the room, taking the low backed loveseat that faced a carved mantel and fireplace “Did you know this was the room I always used whenever I visited Millicent?”
“I was so young when it seemed you stopped visiting,” she said as she faced him. “I barely knew the details of your relationship to Gran.”
He picked up a piece of pottery from the adjacent end table, lovingly stroked a lean finger over the fine black Mohacs pottery from Budapest, crafted by the master Janos Horvath himself. “I have many fond memories of all our trips,” he murmured. “This one in particular.”
Maddy relished the affection in his voice. “Why is that, Grandfather?”
“It was the final time I proposed to Millicent; she refused me of course.”
She gaped at him. “And that is a fond memory?”
“You knew only one side of your grandmother, my darling Madeleine, I am an entirely different one. She loved me with all her heart, but worried that our relationship would foul my reputation. Those were her words. I of cou
rse felt differently.”
“I don't understand.”
“I'd just been offered my party's nomination to run for a spot on the State Supreme Court. Millicent was convinced her presence in my my life would injure my chances at being elected. I wanted to be a judge; she wanted it for me. I felt it would give me the opportunity to right some wrongs, do a few good things.”
“Is that why you rarely came to visit after that?”
“It was difficult to get away from the media. Paparazzi was not a word used back then, but some members of the press were just as relentless.”
Maddy sank into a matching tufted chair with a heavy thud. “So much you can tell me. So much I want to know about her.”
“You only need to know she loved you more than anything or anyone in this world. There is nothing she wouldn't have done for you. Which is why she sent you off to Kylemore Abbey when you reached the age of twelve.”
She smiled when she thought of the summer vacations she spent with Granny Mil, traveling to each country to seek out her treasures. “May I ask another question?”
“Of course.”
“We never spoke of her, my mother, I mean. Your daughter. What can you tell me of her?”
He didn't speak for several moments, simply stared off into space. Thinking, Maddy imagined. “You never asked Millicent about your mother?”
“Of course I asked, especially when assignments at school called for family trees and such. Gran only said she would tell me about my mother when I got older. I had the mothers I needed and wanted in her and Miss Alice and Ellen, the housekeeper. I stopped asking and then, Gran was dead and it was too late.”
He patted a spot on the cushion beside him. “In addition to not spending enough time with Millicent and you, I have only one other regret in my life, and that is Dehlia.”
“Dehlia. That was her name?”
“Yes. She was a difficult child from birth, never content, always looking for something more. She frequently ran away, to what or where or why Milly and I never knew. When she was hungry or cold enough, or ill enough she always returned. Then the day came when she was fourteen, she returned.”
He looked deep into Maddy's eyes. There she saw a multitude of emotions: sadness, regret, pain. “She was in the late stages of her pregnancy with you.”
“Oh.”
“Mil barely had time to notify me Dehlia was safe before the girl went into labor. Complications set in, Toxemia I believe they called it in those days. Dehlia died just after you were born. Your grandmother inconsolable in her grief. Guilt that she didn't do enough for her only child. That perhaps she didn't care enough, didn't love her enough. Even though Dehlia was a most difficult child to love.”
“This is so sad, Grandfather.”
“Aye, it is. But she had you and that made all the difference. There wasn't a day that went by without Millicent telling you in some small way that you were loved, heaped praise on you, encouraged you to become anything you wanted, to rely on yourself and no one else.”
Maddy smiled, covered his hand with hers. “That was my Gran.”
“So. Is there anything else I can tell you, darling?”
“Only that you'll promise you'll return here to visit often and stay for as long as you want.”
“That will not be a difficult request to fill. Now, I must be to bed; I've had a busy day.”
Maddy took the old man into her arms. “I love you, Grandfather. Thank you for sharing a bit of yourself with me tonight.”
“One last thing you should know, Madeleine Louise.”
“Yes?”
“We never regretted you.”
* * *
After confiding to Sam Biddleford about his role in what came to be known as SerenityGate, and promising not to keep his best friend in the dark should anything of a similar nature occur again, Az sat his mother and brothers down at the kitchen table. The sunny room, with the checkered curtains and matching runner on the big maple table, had become the place where the Hansons always gathered whenever a major family issue needed to be thrashed out.
His father's death, coupled with Az being a native of Serenity Harbor, made him the perfect candidate to return home, ostensibly to help his mother with the business, to look into the mess in Serenity Harbor using his being a licensed general contractor as his cover.
Word that Maddy Flynn planned to rehab That House was the crowning glory to the scheme to take over the property and turn it into a casino. Getting Az inside the place only helped the process along. While he made sure the actual renovations met code and were well done he was able to mount a case against some of the Town Council--not all of whom were in on the scheme--though some were simply yes men or too weak willed to take a stand against Arthur Easterland and his cronies.
“Why didn't you tell us, Azrael?” his mother begged as she, again, wiped her eyes with a ratty tissue.
“Yeah, why didn't ya?” Uri said.
Az offered this brother, known far and wide for his genetic inability to keep a secret, a jaded look. “Like that'd work. Within five minutes of telling anyone in this family, Uri the Mouth would have it spread all over town. I needed to help this town and going undercover was the best way to go.”
Brack settled in with a fresh pot of coffee at the ready. Rosemary supplied a box of donuts from the local bakery. “Okay, bro, bring us up to speed.”
“A department in the AG's office had received a number of complaints over the last couple years about small businesses failing almost before they had a chance to open. One was a seafood restaurant that never even opened its doors.”
“I remember that,” Rosemary claimed. “I'm always up for new places to eat and I was looking forward to taking my business there. Never occurred that there might have been reasons other than lack of customers to make them close their doors.”
Az poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. “A bit of business with the Code Enforcement Team. They'd be cited for code violations from the fire and health departments if they refused to go along. Same thing happened with the contractor and builder who packed up and left right before Dad died.”
“Nice guy,” Uri said. “Did good work as I recall. All of a sudden his doors were closed and I never heard from him again. No sense in all that really. There was enough work to go around.”
Rosemary grabbed her son's hand. “Were you approached to pay bribe money, Barachiel?”
“Naw, Ma. Never.”
Az decided he'd wait till he had his brother alone before he brought out the rubber hose and spotlight. “Not all the business owners were forced to pay bribes, Mom. Some were threatened with code violations if they cooperated with other new businesses.”
“You mean like Maddy Flynn's difficulties with getting fabrics and art work,” Uri said.
“How'd you know?” Az asked.
“Hey, I worked there, too. Guy keeps his ears open and his mouth shut, he hears things. Like that twerp at the BuyRite who told Suzie Q he couldn't get fresh herbs for her. Bullshit if you ask me.”
“She wants herbs?” Rosemary asked. “Why didn't you send her to me? Hansons will get her all the herbs she needs.”
“I think it's a bit late to take pots of basil and chervil to the tattooed lady, Mom. She might come at you with a meat cleaver.”
Rosemary huffed, brought her shoulders back. “As if.”
“What's the deal with Roger the Dodger and his inspection business?” Brack asked.
“Roger Barnes is a lying sack of shit who did good work in terms of the inspections--when he wasn't half in the bag,” Az said. “Unfortunately it's not a punishable offense to lie to a customer about why he's dragging his ass getting an inspection completed.”
“Yeah, but as Maddy said at one point,” Uri pointed out, “No inspection, no further work could be done, holding up the opening of the business. No reservations, no customers, no business.”
“True,” Az said. “This is where we come to the real bad actor in this scenario: Art
hur Easterland.”
Rosemary harrumphed again. “Never did like that whiner.”
“Artie made a lot of promises to a number of people who he wanted to do his dirty work. I'm still working up a case on Mark Morris.” He gave each family member present a dark look. “That is a secret. If it gets out, I'll know where it came from. Then I'll have to cut your hearts out with a spoon.”
“He really had ideas of opening a casino?” Rosemary asked.
“Ideas are one thing, Mom and we all have the right to them. Artie suffers from delusions of grandeur. I have no clue what folks have to go through to get a gambling operation set up, all the hoops you have to jump through--”
“All the political asses you have to kiss,” Brack grumbled.
“There is that,” Az agreed.
* * *
Rosemary waited till the boys left before she pinned down her oldest son. “Okay, Azrael, time for a bit of truth telling. Was this undercover assignment the final blow to your marriage to Pamela?”
“She craved the big city and the high life it offered. When I played the role of putting in my retirement papers and coming back to Serenity Harbor, she suggested I contact her lawyer. I couldn't tell her the truth, Mom, I just couldn't.”
“Good riddance, if you ask me,” Rosemary said. “Never liked that girl. Besides, having no soul she didn't want kids, did she?”
Az shook his head. He may have teased Sam and Katie Biddleford till kingdom come about the new baby but deep down he envied the crap out of them. Kids was something he'd always wanted.
“Now, that Flynn girl. She's a keeper.”
He stared at this bird of a woman who scared the crap out of any girl her boys brought home. “Really? You mean it?”
“Any woman with the brass to stand up to me is worth it, Azrael. Trust me.”
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