I smiled. “A public relations or advertising favor?”
“You never know.”
“One more thing, Chuck. It’s important you know how serious this is. The future of a town may be at stake here. A town with a lot of…;well, quirky, crazy people. But really good people. I mean, this isn’t just some snubbed wife who wants to get the dirt on a cheating hubby, you know? It’s really important to me. Are you any good at what you do?”
“Yeah, I’m damn good at what I do. And just for the record? I take on very few domestic cheating-spouse investigations. Can’t stand to see women cry.”
I laughed. Chuck was a stereotypical tough guy.
“Now, about your man. Get his license plate number and make of car. Get some digital photos without being obtrusive about it. Email everything, along with any information you have including the cities where he says he has businesses. Also try to send a copy of the option offer that the residents got. You have my email address?”
I was a fanatic about keeping a great contacts database. “Of course.”
“If the opportunity comes up, get his fingerprints on a glass or something else that’s relatively smooth and clean. Put it in a plastic baggie and overnight it to me. Lastly, keep your eyes and ears open. Meanwhile, I’ll see what I can find out from this end.” He hung up without waiting for a goodbye.
Suddenly, the house felt stifling. I had to get away from the phone and the computer and my thoughts about all the men I’d dated in the past. I found Pop shelling peas and asked him the best way to hook up with all the town council members. I was way past due in having a talk with them about the future of their town.
“A few of them were at Bull’s earlier. But now, everyone will be at the town hall,” he said. “Judge is holding court today.”
“Town hall being the movie theater?”
“Aye.”
“Why would the council members be there, unless one of them had to go in front of the judge?”
“It’s a big event ‘round here. Everybody will be there.”
“You mean, for the entertainment value?”
He nodded. “Right-o. C’mon, I’ll take you. Might even buy you a popcorn, if you’re lucky.”
“With butter?”
He winked the green eye. “Why not?”
Chapter 13
Gertrude spotted us and waved as soon as we walked into the movie theater’s lobby. “Yer birth control pills are in, Sugar!” she yelled in a decibel level much higher than an eighty-year-old pharmacist ought to be able to produce. “You kin pick ‘em up any time!”
Conversations stopped as people followed the direction of Gertrude’s voice until their eyes settled on me. I hurried to the woman in an attempt to ward off further outbursts about my medical profile. “Uh, thanks, Gertrude. I’ll stop by your place tomorrow.”
Cackling, she patted my shoulder. “Come tell, who is it? You musta found yerself a hot beau around here,” she said loudly enough for everyone to hear, and twenty or more people milled around. “I’ll bet he blows away those prissy city boys yer used to!”
I’d simply stopped by the Always Open Apothecary to get a prescription refill. After I woke her up and told her what I needed, Gertrude explained that nobody in Rumton had used birth control pills for umpteen years and she didn’t have them in stock. The only hormones on her shelves were for menopause. But the drug wholesaler she ordered from could have my pills to her in a few days, she’d said. We agreed I’d drop back by.
“It’s okay, Sugar, I know how to keep a secret,” Gertrude yelled. “Now, who is he?”
Thankfully, Pop came to my rescue. “Time to replace your ‘hearing aid battery, Gertrude. You’re shouting.”
She pulled the device out of her ear to look at it. “Really?”
“Jaxie will see you later for her prescription.” He clapped his hands and turned toward the concession stand. “Now, how ‘bout some popcorn, Lass?”
Pop joked with the volunteer firefighters as they served our popcorn and Pepsis, and looking around, I was amazed to see the lobby fill with more people. Propped on an easel, a large dry erase board served as a marquee. Five names with corresponding offenses were scrawled on it. An Ohio man was charged with driving past Rumton while intoxicated. Two drivers, both from Virginia, had the bad taste to speed through Rumton jurisdiction while heading south on Highway 17. A local woman was charged with violating a restraining order. And another local was charged with shooting his neighbor’s goat.
“That goat deserved to get shot,” Riley mused, walking up behind me as I stood gaping at the sign.
I turned to him. “Mister Mayor–”
“When did ya quit callin’ me Riley?”
“When I found out you were the mayor. Listen, Riley, do you think I could talk to you and the town council members tonight? After court is out? It’ll just take a few minutes.”
“Sure. I’ll let everybody know. Might have to buy us a drink, though. Once the judge finishes up, you can get rum in yer Pepsi, for an extry three dollars.”
I had some bills in my purse. “No problem.”
The crowd migrated through the double theater doors. It was show time. A large desk on wheels rested center stage, flanked by floor pole stands displaying the South Carolina and United States flags. Looking uncomfortable in a starched uniform, the police chief sat to one side. Smacking chewing gum, a court reporter sat on the other. And sporting a long black gown that may have been a church choir robe, the judge took his seat without any fanfare.
A gavel rapped. “Quiet down, people. This isn’t a movie show.”
“He says that every time,” Pop whispered from the seat beside me.
“Every time,” Mad Millie seconded, sliding into the vacant seat beside Pop. The two of them had become quite cozy.
“Every single time,” Riley agreed from my other side.
If Justin were with me to share the craziness of the event, we’d laugh about it later, back at the office in Atlanta. I wished things had turned out differently after our late night walk. I wished he wasn’t so hung up on meaningful dating. I wished I could quit thinking about him. What did I want from him, anyway? The seductive scenarios playing out in my head against my will were maddening.
“…;so let’s get down to it,” the police chief said. “First up! Manny Blake Ledsetter, for destruction of his neighbor’s livestock. Allegedly put a bullet between the eyes of a prized goat, to be exact.”
While people munched their popcorn and leaned to whisper comments in each other’s ears, the chief went through the swearing in process with a bible. The judge asked Manny how he pleaded.
“Not guilty, judge. It was self-defense. That crazy goat was just asking’ to get itself shot!”
There was a murmur of agreement from the audience.
“Manny, you’re a piece of work!” a woman shouted, standing up. “Elvis was the sweetest goat on this planet and you killed him in cold blood. Out of pure meanness.”
“That goat wasn’t right in the head,” Manny argued back. “Even for a goat.”
“Elvis had more brains in his head than you do in yours!” the woman rebutted.
An aisle in front of us, Gertrude stood up, shaking her head side to side. “That goat didn’t have nothin’ upstairs, Jane. It ate my patio table last year. And it tore up the passenger door of Walter’s truck from buttin’ it. You ever catch a ride with Walter? You have to climb through the driver’s side and scooch over because the other door won’t open.”
Another murmur of agreement came from the audience.
Encouraged, Gertrude continued. “Elvis needed medicating’. That’s what that goat needed.”
The gavel rapped again. “Quiet down, people. Everybody will get their turn to talk. And Gertrude, your hearing aid has gone out again. You’re shouting. Now, sit down,” the judge said.
Fidgeting with the device in her ear, Gertrude sat.
The judge did a pretty good job of getting both sides of the sto
ry and managed to get the pertinent information from both Jane and Manny. He did want to know why Manny had a pistol on him while pulling weeds. Manny explained that the goat had attacked him before, and the gun was for protection. Before ruling, the judge opened up the floor for five minutes of public input. Anyone with something to say about the matter was allowed exactly one minute and the police chief, using a standard rotary dial egg timer, doubled as the timekeeper.
“Is that normal?” I whispered to Pop. “A judge asking for public input?”
“Don’t think so, Lass. But he likes to hear what folk think before making a decision.”
“What do you think about Elvis?”
“Damn goat should’ve been shot months ago.”
Everyone who stood up to say their piece in sixty seconds or less agreed with Pop. And the judge agreed with them.
“I hereby find that the accused, Manny Pool, acted in self-defense when Elvis butted him while he pulled weeds. On the charge of destruction of property, not guilty!” A short round of clapping ensued. With narrowed eyes, the judge pointed the gavel at Manny and everyone quieted to hear what came next. “The neighborly thing to do, though, would be for you to buy Jane a new goat.”
The judge’s stare got sharper as his eyebrows went up. Manny visibly shrunk down under the piercing look. “Okay, judge. Sure. I’ll buy her a new goat to replace Elvis,” he mumbled.
“And you’ll take care of this neighborly reimbursement by next week?”
Manny sighed, straightened up. “Yes, judge.”
The gavel rapped.
In similar fashion, the judge heard the remaining four cases. It was determined that the driver charged with DUI had a medical condition, which caused him to talk with slurred speech. The two speeders were given reduced fines in return for a promise to obey speed limits in the future. And the local woman was found guilty of violating a restraining order when she broke into her estranged husband’s woodshop. She thought he was having sex with his mistress at the time because Gertrude let it slip that he’d gotten a prescription for Viagra. During public input, the alleged mistress declared that the affair was over, the wife admitted that she didn’t want to end her fifty-year marriage even if her husband had been unfaithful, and the husband asked the judge for leniency because the restraining order would be removed anyway. The husband had plenty of Viagra left and wanted to give it a try with the woman he loved. People clapped when the gavel rapped to conclude that case, too, and the court reporter had to stop typing for a minute to wipe a tear from her eye.
As we filtered back into the lobby, I realized that my contacts dried out from not blinking enough and dug some rewetting drops out of my handbag. A line immediately formed at the concession stand and I wondered how many of them were going to whip out an extra three dollars. I also noticed some bills changing hands between several people, like I’d seen at the country club in Atlanta, after a golf tournament.
“People bet on the outcome of these court appearances?”
Pop nodded. “Aye.”
Mad Millie appeared and playfully punched him on the arm. “You win, Cuddles,” she said, snuggling up to him as she handed over a five dollar bill. “And I always pay my debts.”
Cuddles?
Grinning, he pocketed the money.
I couldn’t believe what I heard and saw. “You bet on the outcome of these court hearings, too?”
“Aye.”
“Sweet Jesus.”
* * *
Riley gathered up the council members and told them to get a drink on me. They did, and with Pop as my moral support, we returned to the theater. I borrowed the folding chair previously occupied by the police chief and placed it to face the front row of seats, where Riley, three men and one woman waited to hear me out. I cleared my throat, willed my eye not to twitch, and thanked them for agreeing to meet with me.
“I didn’t know there was going to be a second show tonight,” someone said from the back of the theater. A group of people returned to their seats. They didn’t want to miss anything.
“Come on in,” Riley said. “Jaxie Parker wants to say her piece to the council. Everybody’s welcome to listen.”
“Get up on the stage,” Gertrude shouted. “We can’t see you.”
I looked at Pop. He shook his head no.
“What if I just speak up, Gertrude? So everyone can hear me better.”
She waved a hand at me, as though shooing away a fly, and plopped down. I faced the council and did my best to speak loudly without shouting. “First, thanks for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice. As you all know, I’m in your town on behalf of Shine Advertising and Public Relations, doing this work for free. Trying to come up with some ideas on how to revitalize Rumton, and get some money flowing into the town again. I think most of you know my boss, Aaron Ackworth, who grew up here.”
A few Pepsi cups rose up in acknowledgement. “Good man,” someone
said.
Nervous, I took a deep breath. I wanted these people to like me, and more importantly, believe in me. I gave them a brief update of what had been done so far and where things stood regarding a revitalization plan, leaving out nothing except the part about the submerged shipwreck. “So with all that being said,” I paused to look at each council member directly, “I’m here to ask that you give me some time to finish what I’ve started before you make a decision regarding Lester’s investment offer to buy the town-owned plot of land near the waterway. Let’s wait and see what I come up with first. That way, you will have some options and you can choose what’s best for the town.”
Their expressions were set, as though the issue had already been decided. They were going to take Lester’s money for the till, gratefully, as though he was doing everyone a big favor.
“We’re appreciative of your efforts and will pass along our gratitude to Aaron,” the councilwoman, Delores, said. “But Lester’s offer, on what is essentially worthless land, is quite generous. It will give us enough money to make some improvements to our downtown.”
“And now that Lester is here,” one of the men said, “seems to me like you ought to be helping him out, not doing your own thing, like finding a shipwreck and sending your boys out there without telling anybody about it.”
My face flushed. They’d heard about the boat along with everyone else that knew the secret, but waited to see when I would tell them. Maybe that’s why nobody responded to my Rumton Review ad seeking historical information. They thought I held back, and they didn’t like it. “Look, there’s really not much to tell yet, which is why I didn’t bring it up. It’s just an old boat, submerged right on the shoreline. Avery has some marine archeologists checking into it, to see if there is any historical value.”
A few of them shrugged. A few drank. Still, nobody offered anything to make me feel better. Tough crowd.
“I’ll keep you updated on the ship and let you know what we find out,” I promised. “But back to Lester. None of you really knows this man personally, right? So why is everyone so quick to buy into his plan? What if it’s not the best thing for Rumton?”
“None of us knows you personally, either,” Delores said politely.
“Right, but you know my boss very well. And we have nothing to gain by being here, other than the satisfaction of helping the small town where he grew up. This place is very near and dear to his heart. So I’m just asking that you give me some more time before you start selling land. The land the town owns near the waterway and any of your personally-owned properties that Lester inquired about.” I paused to breathe. Their expressions were not softening. “May I ask how many of you have been contacted regarding selling property that you own?”
Several hands went up. Riley, two council members and four or five people who sat in on our meeting.
“And options? Has anyone besides Riley already signed options to sell?”
With the exception of one person, all the same hands stayed up. My heart dropped into my stomach with dread. I
might have been too late. I stood up to unroll an area map that Avery gave me and whispered to Pop to have one of the firefighters bring more drinks and some bags of pretzels. He left to do so while I went around and asked people to point out where there parcels of land were. I wrote on the map how much acreage they had, along with the option purchase price, if they were willing to say. When I finished, it was apparent Lester Smoak meant business. He already acquired options for more than sixty acres of Rumton soil. I also learned that he mailed letters to everyone about the same time I’d arrived in town.
Apparently, letter recipients got a follow-up phone call from Lester the day after their option contracts arrived. All they had to do was sign and return a single page in the postage-paid envelope, and their check arrived a week later. The buyer was not listed as Lester Smoak, but what I assumed to be one of his businesses. Gertrude had a copy of her contract in her purse and told me I was welcome to take it.
“You kin just bring it back to me when you come pick up yer birth control pills,” she near-shouted, even though I sat right next to her at the time.
Stunned at the speed with which things were happening in sleepy little Rumton, I resumed my place before the council to see if I could change their minds. But ultimately, I couldn’t come up with any concrete reasons why they shouldn’t sell their land. Most of it had been farmland that was no longer being farmed. There was nothing growing and nothing to harvest. And most of the sellers could use the money.
“So what about the town’s land? The strip by the waterway?”
“We’ve already gotten an independent appraisal and had a first reading on the issue at the last council meeting,” Delores explained. “I don’t think any of us sees a reason to hang on to it. We’d never use it for anything. But we can use the proceeds for several things.”
I scanned their faces. “Aren’t you concerned about what he wants to do with it?”
Carolina Booty Page 13
