“How can you keep that thing working with Pixies nearby?” Dusty asked.
“Compromise. I tell them everything said and they stay at the other end of the property while I talk.” Mrs. Shiregrove laughed as she punched in a number.
“Bill, I’ve got a news story for you.” She listened for a moment.
Dusty held her breath. Bill? As in William? The only William she could think of in the regional media was William Tremaine who anchored the news for a local affiliate of a major television network.
Quickly, Mrs. Shiregrove outlined the situation with The Ten Acre Wood. “Yes, I know it’s too late to get a truck and a team out here before tonight’s broadcast, but surely you can get the ball rolling.”
Another moment of listening.
“Sure, you’ll need to talk to Joe Newberry at the museum.” She rattled off his cell phone number from memory, as well as Phelma Jo’s and the mayor’s. “That’s right. Call all of them. I love you. Dinner at seven. I’ve got lasagna in the oven.” She closed and pocketed the phone.
“Thank you, ma’am. Thank you very much. Um… was that William Tremaine?” Dusty said, eyes wide in wonder.
Mrs. Shiregrove laughed. “Of course it was. I kept my birth name when we married, because he was only a cub reporter and didn’t want people thinking he married me for my money. Which he did, of course. But he makes up for it by loving me.” She laughed again.
“I’m sure he does. Thank you again, for everything. We all appreciate your generosity. Is there anything I can do about the grant?”
“Besides getting Joe Newberry to resign and taking over his job?”
“What?” Dusty turned hot then cold. The top of her head felt as if it flew off with Dahlia to the other end of the estate. She wanted to flee back to her basement but couldn’t move her numb feet.
“That nice Mr. Haywood Wheatland, you know, the young man who works for Phelma Jo now. He said something the other day to Dr. Johnson-Butler that made us ask the Board of Directors for an audit. We haven’t found any funds missing, but suspicion lingers. There are dozens of ways to cover up skimming. Has Mr. Newberry had any unusual expenses of late?”
Dusty barely heard the last part for the roaring in her ears. “I assure you Joe Newberry is honest. I keep the books, not him, and if there is anything funny with the accounts, I suggest you look at the Board of Directors-or the accuser.” She gathered her purse and rose to her feet, as tall and as dignified as she knew how to be, not bothering to finish her tea. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Shiregrove, and all your help and consideration. I’ll have my decorating and catering committee chairs contact you directly, just in case we have to move the Ball.”
She marched back to her car by way of the gravel path around the side of the home. Her chin wavered, but she wouldn’t give in to her emotions. Not yet.
First, she had to find out why Haywood Wheatland would make such a suggestion. Phelma Jo had to have put him up to it. He hadn’t been in town long enough to know anything about the museum operation.
Then she was going to spend as much time as necessary going over all the books and the bank statements herself.
“I have reviewed the material you brought me,” Judge Pepperidge intoned slowly, never taking his eyes off the sheaf of papers he held. Even with his tie loose and the top button of his dress shirt undone, the white streaks at his temples in sharp contrast to his dark hair, aquiline nose, and chiseled cheeks made him look authoritative and important.
Chase stood at attention in front of the judge’s massive desk, designed to clearly separate His Honor from the great unwashed, and lawyers. Chase didn’t dare unbend even the slightest. Buck privates in the army facing a wrathful drill sergeant couldn’t be more uncomfortable than Chase Norton at that moment. The air-conditioning set at Arctic didn’t cool the sweat running down his back.
Tuesday had come and gone before he got this appointment on Wednesday during the lunch hour. He wasn’t going to blow it with the slightest unbending that might be interpreted as disrespect.
“You realize that seeking an injunction against a city work order should have come from the DA or at least a City Council member.” The judge peered over the top of his reading glasses, making eye contact with Chase for the first time since he’d been summoned to explain himself.
“Begging your pardon, Your Honor, City Ordinance SFCO8795678, November 12, 1932, clearly states that any concerned citizen may seek an injunction against an action they deem harmful or dangerous to their neighborhood,” Chase recited.
“I see you’ve done your homework, Sergeant Norton.” The judge rattled the papers as he sat back in his big comfortable chair and swiveled a bit. “We could use more people like you on the force.”
“I hope you found my petition interesting and worthy of consideration, sir.” Chase’s lower back protested his stiff posture. He shuffled his feet, hoping not to draw attention to his discomfort.
“Oh, sit down, Chase. We’ve known each other since I coached your peewee football team while I was in college.”
“Thank you, sir.” Chase eased into the closest chair, a straight-backed and uncomfortable one designed to keep petitioners from lingering. The only other option was to drag a softer piece of furniture over to the desk from the far wall. If the judge wanted him to linger, he’d have provided the good chair before Chase got there.
“What made you go looking so closely into this matter, Chase?” the judge asked.
“The speed and the secrecy involved. Pixel Industries, Ltd is offering about ten times the amount of money they can get back from selling the timber, including the massive amount of old growth oak from the Patriarch Oak by the pond. Which should have been designated a heritage tree long ago but wasn’t, because people were afraid they wouldn’t be allowed to climb it or dig around it for pirate treasure. The money made me wonder why they wanted the timber so badly and why in such a hurry.”
“Cutting those trees will make a huge mess of the Masque Ball Saturday night if they start cutting on Friday,” Pepperidge mused.
“Precisely, sir. That led me to believe the entire operation was aimed at ruining the Ball, the fund-raiser for the museum. The timber has been there for a long time. Why this year? Why this week?”
“Isn’t this the first year Dusty Carrick has taken over the organization from her mother?”
“Yes, sir. And there is only one person in town who might have a grudge against her.”
“Phelma Jo Nelson. Wow, that feud goes back a few years.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I thought the girls were friends before that. It turned out well afterward since it forced the school authorities to investigate accusations of abuse in Phelma Jo’s home. She went into foster care within hours of the incident.”
“Because Dusty’s injuries got infected and wouldn’t heal, she got an early diagnosis of leukemia and was able to have complete remission,” Chase added.
“Good outcome all around, and yet the feud persists. Who knows what trauma dominated their minds at the age of nine and ten.”
“Yes, sir. I thought Phelma Jo would have forgotten it, especially since she has made such a success of her life, starting from that moment. She has no reason to be jealous of Dusty anymore. But that’s her name and her signature on the incorporation papers, which are dated only a few days before the offer to the city was issued to the mayor.”
“And it went to the mayor privately, not through regular channels and the City Council. I wonder if Seth would have even told the City Council about it until after the fact.”
“I don’t know, sir. You know him better than I do. The fact is, this operation does not look aboveboard and should be investigated fully. There isn’t time to do that before they start cutting timber unless you issue the injunction.” Chase held his breath, hoping he hadn’t been too pushy.
“I agree. That’s what I told Bill Tremaine a few minutes ago when he called. He’s married to Pam Shiregrove, you know.”
“Wait a minute, Bill Tremaine? As in William Tremaine, tall guy, white hair, very distinguished, anchors the local news on KRVR?” Chase gulped. Then he had to swallow a couple of times to get around the lump in his throat.
“Go it in one,” Judge Pepperidge chuckled. “If anyone could get recalcitrant politicians to act on the threat of negative publicity, he can. Seth will be lucky if he’s not run out of town on a rail when Bill gets done with this story. I’m signing this cease and desist order right now, and calling the DA. There may not be anything criminal going on,
