Rose Hill (14 page)

Being called to the mayor’s office was a lot like being called to the principal’s office, and Scott thought he knew what was coming. Mayor Stuart Machalvie was ostensibly Scott’s boss, although he had officially been hired by the town council. There were only five town council members, and all of them were either
Stuart’s cronies or were somehow related.

Stuart took turns being mayor with his wife Peg, who ran the local funeral home. Each always won by a wide margin, and served on the town council during the four years they weren’t busy being mayor. The truth was in a town of around 500 permanent residents, only about 150 people actually voted, and no one wanted the mayor’s job but those two.

There was not a lot of power attached to the job, but what there was they abused with a grin and a wink. Nothing illegal, understand, just favors for friends, which was pretty much how the town operated on its own anyway. The real money for a town that size was in having a hydroelectric dam or a wind farm within the city limits, or a huge shopping complex on the outskirts of town, and Peg and Stuart were always pursuing those pipe dreams. It didn’t help that the Little Bear River was not big enough to support a hydroelectric dam, or that the congressional representative for their district was against any project that might damage the local environment.

Surrounded in Rose Hill by large Italian, Irish, German, and Polish families, the Machalvie family was descended from one of the few Scottish families who settled the town, and they were fiercely proud of their heritage. The Kilt and Bagpipe Club of Rose Hill may have had fewer members than a man’s got fingers and toes, but they always had a float in the annual Heritage Festival parade, and marched in their kilts to the wail of the piper. Every year they tried in vain to launch a highland games competition during the festival, but few people were willing to balance on logs floating on Frog Pond, or heave a telephone pole across the meadow while wearing a short skirt with no underwear, so it failed to catch on.

Stuart’s office walls were a showcase of historic Scottish regalia and Celtic worship, complete with shields, swords, and framed, autographed photos of Sean Connery and Billy Connelly. There was a first edition of Robert Burns’ poetry, some elaborately decorated sporrans, and several collectible bottles of Glenlivit proudly displayed in a specially made case (along with a drinkable case in the coat cupboard). There was a huge “Braveheart” movie poster on the wall behind the desk, and the whole collection lent a bizarre, slightly menacing effect to meetings with the mayor.

Stuart greeted Scott and asked him to have a seat. Scott waited for Stuart to begin, and the silence stretched to a point where other men may have become uncomfortable, but Scott preferred the silence to anything Stuart had to say.

“You know don’t you, Scott, that Gwyneth and Caroline Eldridge now own the vast majority of property in this town.”

Scott nodded his head in agreement but said nothing.

“Theo’s sisters will inherit all the family holdings, including the college president’s home, the lodge, the glassworks, the Eldridge Inn, and several other valuable buildings in the town.”

“Hmmm,” Scott nodded as he pictured the falling down firetraps Theo owned down on Lotus Avenue, up Possum Holler, and t
he empty buildings downtown that were sagging in the middle from mine subsidence. He was glad he didn’t have such “valuable” property hanging around his neck.

“Were you involved in any business deals with Theo?” Scott asked him.

Stuart shook his head.

“Not a one,” he said. “That might be construed as a conflict of interest, me being mayor. I did, however, encourage any venture he put forth that would benefit Rose Hill’s tax base.”

“Such as?”

“What you may not know, Scott,” Stuart explained, “is that Theo’s family owns several thousand acres between here and the State Park.”

“Hmmm,” Scott replied, even though he did know, because he’d seen the development plan on Theo’s pool table.

“Thousands of acres of property which could be developed in the future,” Stuart said. “At one point I know he considered building a ski resort and luxury condo development. It was just a matter of waiting for certain restrictions to be lifted, and I understand it was in the works when he died. Peg and I advised him to lease some of the property to a wind farm concern we had been in touch with, and he was considering it. We could annex that property and reap huge tax benefits. Theo was on board.”

“So what was the hold up?”

“Flying squirrels,” Stuart said, and offered Scott a cigar.

Scott declined it, saying, “Pardon me?”

“Flying squirrels,” Stuart reiterated. “Small, gray, flea covered flying rats which are considered an endangered species, and therefore are more precious to the environmentalists than their own children’s futures.”

“Ah, Congressman Green,” Scott said.

“A mental midget,” Stuart said, lighting his cigar.

“Hmmmm,” Scott said, which seemed to be interpreted as agreement.

Stuart pointed his cigar at Scott and said, “Exactly.”

Scott actually agreed with Congressman Green’s platform on environmental causes and always voted for him. He didn’t see why every pristine piece of woodland property had to be scalped and paved so people would never be more than ten minutes away from a Mega Mart or a fast food restaurant.

“So I think you understand, my boy, why Gwyneth Eldridge should be handled with kid gloves in this town. Why it is important she be made to feel welcome and appreciated.”

“And not, say, tossed out of the bookstore on her ear?” Scott suggested.

“While the chief of police watches and applauds,” Stuart said pointedly, and then puffed meaningfully on his cigar.

Scott, sensitive to smoke, blinked against the rank fumes.

“I shouldn’t have applauded,” Scott admitted
, “but the bookstore is a privately owned business, it was well within the owner’s rights to escort an unruly customer out of it, and Gwyneth deserved it.”

Stuart shook his head and wagged his cigar at Scott.

“Except the longer term result is, son, that you have created a powerful enemy out of someone I wish to do business with.”

“Does this mean I’m fired?” Scott asked.

“Not if you apologize and make it right with her.”

Stuart blew some smoke rings at the ceiling and Scott started feeling nauseated.

“Hmmm,” Scott said, noncommittally.

“And it wouldn’t hurt if you could get Maggie Fitzpatrick to do the same.”

Scott snorted unintentionally and then laughed out loud.

“Well, that’s not going to happen. You might as well ask Congressman Green to approve plans for a nuclear power plant in Gerrymaine Valley.”

Stuart leaned forward with a weird, zealous gleam in his eye.

“It would be a wonderful windfall for this town, Scott, and there’d be jobs for everyone.”

“And the flying squirrels would glow in the dark, so they’d be easier to spot,” Scott joked.

“You want to know a secret, son?” the mayor asked with a smirk.

“Probably not,” Scott said, and stood, preparing to leave.

“Those squirrels,” Stuart began, pointing an imaginary gun, using the hand without the cigar in it.

“No, don’t tell me,” Scott said, backing toward the door.

“They’re mighty good eatin’,” Stuart said, and laughed uproariously at his own joke, pounding the top of the desk.

“He’s quite a character, isn’t he?” Scott said to Stuart’s secretary Kay, who sat at a desk in the outer office, where she could hear everything.

Kay
smiled and shook her head.

As he left the outer office, Scott could still hear Stuart laughing, which turned into a cough, which sounded as if a lung might come up.

“You make up with Gwyneth!” Stuart choked out between coughs as Scott shut the door behind him.

Sarah was sitting in her car outside the station when he got back. He invited her in and made her some coffee. Scott told her about what Knox said about the coin, about Anne Marie’s accident, Drew’s background check, and about Billy, Phyllis, and what Tommy saw. No one had any leads on Willy Neff or his vehicle. He did not tell her about his plan to go see Maggie’s brother
, Sean, on Thursday. She made some notes and thanked him for the work.

He walked her back out to her car, where she hesitated before getting in.

“I’m going to talk to Phyllis, Billy, and Tommy,” she said. “Afterwards I’d like to compare notes with you. I’ll bring pizza.”

Scott didn’t want to encourage Sarah but he did want to know what happened.

“Sure,” he said.

Maggie stopped by a little later to give Scott his to-do list from the Winter Festival committee meeting he forgot to attend. Scott told her all about Tommy, Phyllis, and Billy.

“Do you think Phyllis or Billy could have killed Theo?” Maggie asked Scott.

“Phyllis may have
been mad enough,” he responded, “but I think it had to be someone much bigger and stronger.”

“Bi
lly’s big enough,” Maggie said, “but he only bullies people weaker than he is. I think he would be too scared of Theo.”

“I thought maybe Billy might do it in retaliation for Theo hitting his mom until I talked to him,” Scott said.

“Phyllis and Billy hate each other. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day Billy hauls off and smacks her one himself. She constantly puts him down and makes fun of him.”

Sarah came in carrying a pizza box and a six-pack.

‘Damn,’ Scott thought.

He
had forgotten she was coming back.

The two women were barely civil to one another, and Maggie was obviously not pleased to see the pizza and beer come in along with her petite nemesis. She left after giving Scott a dirty look.

Sarah served the pizza to Scott as if it were her kitchen and not the station break room, made teasing comments about his bachelor life, and gave him the distinct feeling she was going to make another blatant pass at him.

Sure enough, after she reported on interviewing Tommy, Billy, Phyllis, and the neighbors (without finding
out anything more than Scott did), she batted her eyes, smiled up sideways at him, and commenced her assault. Scott feigned cluelessness until she made it perfectly clear what she was interested in, and then he said he had a policy not to get involved with anyone he worked with.

“I’m only keeping you involved in the case as a courtesy, Scott,” she said. “I wouldn’t call that working together.”

Scott wouldn’t budge, and she finally left in a furious snit. Scott thought he probably could have been talked into sleeping with Sarah if she wasn’t so condescending about everything. She was good looking, willing, and Lord knows he was deprived. It would ruin things with Maggie though, for sure, and he hadn’t given up on her yet.

When he got back inside he called Maggie, but her line was busy. Completely exhausted, he flopped down on the couch in his office to rest a moment before trying her number again, and fell sound sleep.

Maggie went home seething about what looked an awful lot like a date between Scott and Sarah. She called Hannah to complain about it and found her cousin less than supportive.

“You don’t want him but you don’t want anyone else to have him
, either,” Hannah said. “How fair is that?”

“But not Tiny Crimefighter!” Maggie moaned.

“You wouldn’t like anyone he dated,” Hannah retorted. “You’re just as bad as his mother,”

Maggie gasped and hung up. The phone immediately rang again and she picked it up, saying, “I am nothing like Scott’s mother,” and a voice that wasn’t Hannah’s said, “Okay, you’re not.”

It was Caroline Eldridge, calling from South America. They had been friends since kindergarten, although they hadn’t seen each other for many years. Caroline would occasionally send a postcard or call and catch up for an hour or two, but those instances were sometimes years apart. She traveled extensively, often on behalf of charitable organizations, and did not have a fixed address.

Caroline said she had recently
returned from a foray into a rural area outside the city of Concepcion, in Paraguay, where she was assisting a relief organization in distributing much-needed medical supplies. Talking to Caroline always made Maggie realize how spoiled and rich she was compared to most of the world, and the way she dealt with the guilt was by making a contribution to whatever charity Caroline was working with at the time. She asked Caroline for the mailing address; Caroline told her she could make a donation through their web site, and she would e-mail Maggie a link.

“I’ve been out of touch, so I just found out about Theo,” Caroline said. “I talked to Gwyneth and told her I can’t be at the funeral. It sounds like she has everything well in hand.”

When Maggie told her she was sorry about Theo dying, Caroline said, “I’m not upset about it. Theo was a miserable guy most of his life, and he made everyone around him unhappy too. Maybe next time he will do better.”