Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (42 page)

“Let's see, there's one of you and two of them. Want company?"

“Three's a party, four's an orgy,” Frank joked.

“None of my business, Frank, but it beats the hell out of me why you dumped June Dinkins. I took the bitch out last night. Best piece of ass I've screwed in ages."

Frank's smile froze on his face. “You don't get around much, do you Buzz?” was the best response his numb brain could muster. “Just be sure you use a condom. She has a thing going with Tim Dollar too. No telling what diseases that rich bastard has."

Buzz watched Frank load the beer in the bed of his truck.

“Young man, would you please check me out?"

He jerked his head back to the counter where Deborah Andrews was unloading her shopping cart.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Andrews. How are you today?"

“I'll be much better when we have a decent grocery store in Dot, Mr., uh..."

“Buzz. Buzz Adams. I was one of your students in Charlotte four years ago."

“I have taught many students, Mr. Adams. I remember only the exceptional ones."

You damn haughty bitch, Buzz thought as he rang up her purchases. It's time someone took you down a peg or two.

Animated conversation preceded the Monday morning meeting of Dollar Enterprise executives—the inner circle.

“Settle down, everybody,” Tim demanded as he took his place at one end of the conference table. “You're all excited about the incorporation of Dot and so am I, but let's discuss it in an orderly fashion."

He turned to Susan Kimel. “As the legal expert, Lovely Lawyer Kimel, bring us up to date."

Susan opened a file folder and smiled. “Everything has gone according to plan. In fact, it went so smoothly I can hardly believe it."

“I can't believe there hasn't been more opposition,” Vic Kimel agreed.

“Hush, Vic,” Tim admonished. “You'll get your turn."

“By now you all know,” Susan continued, “that the legislature cast the final vote yesterday afternoon and the referendum was approved. The vote for incorporation is set for the third Tuesday in September."

“I feel a little guilty,” Carl Elliott said.

“Guilty about what?” Sandra asked.

“We've let the people in Dot think that the primary purpose of incorporation is to provide county water and sewer services."

“It is,” Tim protested.

“Yes, but we also led the people to believe that wells in Dot will soon go dry and septic tanks will fail."

“It's possible,” Matt Dilson said as he rolled his wheelchair closer to the table.

“Possible, but not likely. Hell, we dug a well yesterday on Lumbermill Road and hit a gusher at twenty feet. What really bothers me,” Carl continued, “is the fact that we have led the people to believe that only those who need county water and sewer will have to tie onto it."

“That's correct,” Vic said.

“Yes, but we left the impression that the system will be voluntary. It's not. Everybody will have to pay for it, whether they tie on or not."

“Yes,” Tim said, “but those who do not tie on will pay a lesser fee."

“Yeah,” Carl said, “an availability fee."

“That's only fair,” Vic rationalized. “Having sewer and water available will increase the value of all the property in Dot, whether water and sewer connections are made or not."

“We all know that the greatest gain is to Dollar Enterprises. Once water and sewer is available, we can build on tiny lots, like they do in Charlotte, and make considerably more money on our housing projects."

“I don't like dissention in the ranks, Carl. Are you with us or not?"

“I'm with you, Tim. I just think we should let the people know about the availability fee before the vote on incorporation takes place."

“No way,” Vic said. “As Susan remarked, we've enjoyed smooth sailing so far. We've promised a low tax rate and voluntary water and sewer services. That's why there has been no organized opposition."

Sandra laughed. “That and the fact that Amos Stone is dead."

The group laughed and in chorus mocked Amos. “No more taxes!” they chanted.

“Let's move on,” Tim said. “Susan, a yes vote will approve the town charter we drew up and will put in office the slate of officers we proposed."

Susan nodded. “The charter calls for a mayor and six council members. The slate we recommended will serve for two years, at which time a general election will be held. Thereafter, council members and the mayor will serve staggered two year terms."

Sean Taylor chuckled as he reviewed his notes.

“What's funny, Sean?"

“I was just looking at the council members—Victor Kimel, Randy Nickels, Rita Holder, Leora Nickels, Carl Elliott and George Bennett. The deck is certainly stacked in favor of Dollar Enterprises."

“George Bennett and Leora Nickels are not connected to Dollar Enterprises,” Tim said defensively.

“Excuse me, Tim,” Rita Holder said with a gleam in her eye. “Leora is. Since Randy is the CEO of the Dollar Publishing Company, his mother certainly isn't going to favor any proposal that is detrimental to Dollar Enterprises."

“That may be,” Tim said, “but Dudette and I made this town what it is today. We deserve consideration."

“Dude,” Sandra said. “I think we may have made a mistake by recommending Deborah Andrews as the candidate for mayor."

“Hell, Dudette. She's the perfect choice. She has a doctor's degree in education, is young enough to still be an attractive public figure, has no husband or children to occupy her time, is wealthy and well respected as the principal of the Dot School."

“We may have a hard time keeping her alive,” Vic said with a smile on his lips. “If she ever gets caught outside in a thunderstorm without an umbrella, she'll drown, the way she keeps her nose stuck in the air."

Amid the chuckles, Rita Holder said, “I ate supper at the Korner Kafe last night. Mrs. Andrews sent her steak back three times. The first two times it was too rare and the last time it was overcooked. Maggie Skinner was fit to be tied."

When the laughter died down, Sandra said, “That's my point. When we selected her, we didn't know how damn arrogant she is. People may respect her, but they don't like her."

“It's a moot point, Sandy,” Susan commented. “The legislation is set. The candidates cannot be changed at this point."

“We'll have to work on her,” Sean suggested. “You know, make her more user friendly. Does she have a close friend we could engage to try to take off some of her rough edges?"

“As far as I know,” Rita Holder said, “she doesn't have a friend in the world—or want one, for that matter."

“Sandy,” Tim said as he searched his pockets for a cigarette, “you're elected. Work on her. You remember her reaction when we initially talked with her about becoming Dot's first mayor?"

Sandra smiled. “She nearly wet her pants."

“Exactly. I think she views this as an opportunity to add to the accomplishments she can use to bolster her superiority complex. Let her know that her aloofness from the rank and file can cost us the whole incorporation effort."

“If that doesn't work,” Matt suggested, “Perhaps we can downplay her importance—keep her out of public view."

Tim nodded his agreement.

“Tim,” Susan said. “I have a suggestion I think you and Sandy will not like, but I believe it is important."

“If it's Vic's idea,” Tim said smiling, “you're probably right, but if the idea comes from his lovely bride, I'll at least give it careful consideration."

Susan returned his smile. “It's my idea, but Vic agrees and has helped me with it. We think ... I think ... that our smooth ride may be over when news of the incorporation vote is published in the
Dot Courier
this Thursday. When people realize that incorporation has moved beyond the talking stage, organized opposition to taxes and the water and sewer thing is sure to surface."

“Having Mrs. Andrews as our mayoral candidate is not going to help matters,” Sandra added.

Susan nodded. “We feel that we need a big gun to hold in reserve until perhaps two weeks before the election."

“I suppose you have a suggestion as to what that big gun should be?"

Susan nodded again. “The big gun needs to be Dollar generosity."

Tim looked at Sandra who shrugged her shoulders.

“Your turn, Vic,” Susan said.

“Tim, Sandy,” Vic began. “Take a deep breath. You are not used to me suggesting anything that spends Dollar Enterprises money unnecessarily, but I have researched our proposal, and Dollar Enterprises can use the big tax break it will give us."

“Will you please quit apologizing and get on with it,” Tim said irritably.

“We think a last minute announcement that Dollar Enterprises will donate a town hall and a sizable amount to the town treasury will swing the vote in our favor. If it turns out that Susan and I are wrong, that no opposition surfaces, the gesture need not be made."

“Hell, we're already funding the incorporation effort. How much is this town hall going to cost us?” Tim asked.

Carl Elliott slid down in his chair as Vic looked at him.

“Carl estimates we are talking about a million dollars for the town hall,” Vic replied.

“Damn!” Tim exclaimed. “And what size cash contribution do you suggest we make, another million?"

Vic nodded. “You can write it off your taxes, Tim."

Tim looked at Susan. “For your sake, dear, I will consider your suggestion, but at the moment I feel Dollar Enterprises has already done enough for this community."

“Don't worry about it, Susan,” Sandra said. “Tim knows it is a good suggestion and he'll come around. But, damn it, if anyone mentions this possibility outside this room, your ass is mine."

Deborah Andrews slipped out of her Mercedes and studied her front lawn as she walked to the door. That man was supposed to cut the grass today, but it hasn't been touched, she thought. Good help is so hard to find.

She placed the key in the lock and opened the front door.

“Vera! Vera!” she screamed.

When the cleaning lady continued to push the roaring vacuum cleaner, Deborah yanked the cord from the wall receptacle.

“Afternoon,” Vera said vacantly.

Deborah placed her hands on her hips. “How many times must I tell you?"

“Tell me what, ma'am?"

Deborah ran her finger across the coffee table, leaving an almost invisible line in the light coating of dust. “You must dust first, then vacuum."

“Don't see that it makes no difference,” Vera says. “Been cleanin’ folks houses for nigh onto twenty year. I reckon I know what I'm doin'."

“If you wish to continue your employment with me, you will do it my way."

Vera nodded her head. “Yes, ma'am,” she said. “Next week."

“Not next week, Vera. You will clean my home properly or I will not pay you for today's work. You will simply have to come back tomorrow and do it right."

“Can't. Cleanin’ Mr. Bennett's house tomorrow."

“Then you will stay tonight until the job is completed properly. Is that understood?"

“Yes ma'am."

Deborah covered her ears. “What is that racket?"

“Sounds like a lawnmower to me, ma'am."

Deborah threw open the front door and her eyes glazed with anger as she watched Frank Skinner back a riding lawnmower down the ramp from the bed of his pickup. She hurried down the steps, waving her arms and shouting.

Frank saw her and shut off the engine as she approached.

“What do you think you are doing, Mr. Skinner?"

“Mrs. Andrews, I told you I would cut your grass today."

“Not with that monster you won't."

“I don't understand."

“Mr. Skinner, you advertise expert lawn care. Any idiot knows that a huge riding mower like that rips grass up by the roots. You must cut my lawn with a push mower of no more than eighteen inches with razor sharp blades, and the lawn must be cut in a crosshatch pattern."

“Mrs. Andrews, this mower does have razor sharp blades—three of them—and it collects clippings in the attached bag. It would take me twice—four times as long—to cut your grass with a push mower."

“I see you have a push mower on your truck."

“Yes. I use that for trim work."

“You will care for my lawn properly, Mr. Skinner, or not at all."

Damn, Frank thought. I wish I didn't need her business so badly. “Mrs. Andrews, I know you are a highly educated lady, but my family has been in the business for four decades. I will care for your lawn properly, and I will do it with this riding mower."

“You will do it my way, or not at all, Mr. Skinner."

“If I do it your way I will have to charge you four times the quoted rate because it will take me four times as long to cut your grass."

“We have a contract, Mr. Skinner."

“Yes, we do,” Frank said, trying to control his temper, “but the contract does not specify what kind of equipment will be used."

“Mr. Skinner, I repeat. My way or not at all."

Frank locked his eyes on hers and defiantly said, “I hate to lose your business, Mrs. Andrews, but it will be
my
way, or not at all."

He cranked the engine and backed the mower up in preparation for driving it back up the ramp.

He may be bluffing, she thought, but there is no one else available.
I
had to cut the damn grass myself these last two years. She shouted over the engine noise. “If I find one tuft of grass ripped out of my lawn by that monster, Mr. Skinner, you're fired.” She turned and stomped back to her house.

Frank smiled as he watched her trip on her long, flowing skirt. I won that one, he thought, but it might be better if I had lost. That woman is bad news.

“Come on in, Buzz,” June said, flinging open her apartment door.

“Evening, June Bug,” Buzz greeted. “I brought a whole case of cold ones, right out of the cooler."

“Need help with that?” Maggie asked while June helped herself to a bottle.

“Hi, Maggie,” Buzz said as he headed for the kitchen. “I can manage."

“I hope you don't mind me barging in,” Maggie said, following him. “June told me today that you are teaching her how to dance. I've danced a little in my time, but I thought I could use a lesson or two myself."