Getting out of the car, she spotted Ellie Martin and gave her a big wave. This was better; she’d feel a lot more comfortable going into the meeting with a friend.
“Looks like a full house tonight,” said Lucy, as they waited for a car to pass so they could cross the street.
“I hope there’s room for everybody,” said Ellie. “I don’t want to be shut out.”
“Oh, you won’t be,” Lucy reassured her as they stepped off the curb. “Open meeting law. If the room’s too small they have to relocate the meeting.”
“Really?”
“Really. Trust me on this. If they could get away with it, the board would meet in a coat closet!”
Ellie was quiet as they walked along the sidewalk; then she stopped abruptly as they were about to enter the building.
“How do you think it will go tonight?” she asked in a serious voice. “Do you have any idea how they’ll vote?”
“Not a clue,” said Lucy with a little laugh. “They’re a pretty unpredictable bunch.”
She pulled open the door and paused, wondering what was bothering Ellie. “Does it matter to you, how the vote goes?” she asked.
“I didn’t think it did, but now I’m not so sure,” said Ellie, who was twisting the handles of her purse. When she spoke, she sounded tired. “I guess it’s six of one and half a dozen of the other. You’ve heard of a win-win situation? Well, I’m afraid this is a lose-lose situation. No matter how the vote goes, everybody’s going to lose.”
* * *
Lucy wondered what she meant as they entered the hearing room. She had feared they would have to stand, but discovered there were a few unoccupied seats in the last rows. They sat down together and Lucy rummaged in her bag for her notebook and pen. Flipping the notebook open, Lucy found the agenda she’d picked up last week and unfolded it, holding it so Ellie could also read it.
“Where’s the Metinnicut proposal?” asked Ellie, scanning the long list of items that included new parking regulations for Main Street, budgets for the cemetery, shellfish and waterways commissions, and an executive session to discuss upcoming contract negotiations with the police and fire unions.
“It’s last,” said Lucy, realizing with dismay that the meeting could run well past midnight. “We’ll never get out of here.”
“Maybe they’re hoping everybody will run out of patience and go home,” said Ellie, hitting the nail on the head.
“Not much of a chance of that,” said Lucy, scanning the jam-packed room. ‘These folks aren’t leaving until they’ve had their say.”
Even from her seat in the back of the room, Lucy could see that all the players were in place, almost as if in a courtroom.
In the front row, on one side, sat Jonathan Franke, executive director of the Association for the Preservation of Tinker’s Cove and Bob Goodman, Rachel’s husband and the lawyer representing the association.
Franke’s once long hair and casual workclothes had gradually been giving way to a more professional look; tonight he was wearing a denim shirt and knitted tie, topped with a tweed sport coat.
Bob, Lucy noticed, looked as if he’d come to the meeting straight from a long day in court. His suit was rumpled and he definitely needed a haircut. He was bent over a thick sheaf of papers and occasionally consulted with Franke.
On the other side of the room, the Metinnicut faction seemed more relaxed. Bear Sykes, the tribe’s leader, was sitting with his arms folded across his chest. His thick black hair was combed straight back, and when he turned to confer with Chuck Canaday, the tribe’s lawyer, Lucy saw he was wearing a wampum bolo tie with his plaid flannel shirt.
Canaday, as always, was impeccably dressed in a neat gray suit. Tall and fair, he was a dramatic contrast to Sykes’s stocky, barrel-chested figure. Next to him was Andy Brown, wearing his trademark farmer’s overalls and a smug expression, as if he had counted his chickens and was certain they would hatch a casino. The three looked up when a fourth man approached them—a man Lucy didn’t recognize.
From his city-tailored suit, with no vents in the jacket, Lucy guessed he probably represented a bank or a real estate development company. This guess was confirmed when he bent down and whispered to Sykes, who immediately left the room and returned a few minutes later carrying a cardboard box, which he carefully set on a table in the front of the room. Lucy figured they were going to be treated to an architect’s model—plans for the casino had indeed progressed further than anyone suspected.
“Look at that,” snorted Ellie, glancing at Bear. “They treat him like an errand boy.”
“If the casino gets approved, he won’t be an errand boy anymore,” said Lucy. “As tribal leader he’ll be a very influential man.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Ellie. “When’s this meeting going to start?”
Lucy glanced at the empty bench in the front of the room and checked her watch; it was already ten minutes past seven.
“It’s a power thing,” she said, leaning toward Ellie. “The board keeps everybody waiting so they know who’s in charge.”
“I’ll let them know who’s in charge come the next election,” said Ellie. “I’m missing my favorite TV show.”
“Hiya, Ellie! What’s happening?”
It was Curt Nolan, sliding into the seat beside Ellie.
“Did I miss anything?”
“Nothing. They haven’t started,” said Ellie. Lucy couldn’t help noticing her voice suddenly sounded a lot brighter than it had before Curt Nolan arrived.
“Good.” Curt settled himself in the chair, planting his feet firmly on the floor and letting his knees splay apart. His hands rested easily on his denim-covered legs.
Lucy checked her watch again—it was a quarter past. Time for the selectmen to appear. A side door opened and Lucy slid down in her chair, hoping none of the board members would notice her as they marched in and took their places behind the raised bench. Last to enter was Howard White, the chairman, who walked briskly across the room to
