The Mezzo Wore Mink (35 page)

“
I’m going to throttle him,” said Lacie, in disgust.

I nodded. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

“
We didn’t kill her.”

“
I’m not convinced.”

I walked out the door and headed down the stairs. Lacie followed me out as far as the landing. Cynthia appeared in the hallway and called up to her.

“
Chad just called on his cell. He’s on his way home from Asheville and will be back in about an hour. He says he got a great deal on some Burdock root.”

I turned and smiled up at Lacie. But it wasn’t a nice smile.

“
You know what they always say…” I said.

Lacie looked daggers at me. “Never trust the cops?”

“
Nope,” I said. “Don’t leave town.”

“
For how long?”

I wasn’t smiling this time. “I’ll let you know.”

Chapter 23

Downtown St. Germaine was bustling with activity. The ladies of the D.A.R. had blanketed the square with red, white and blue bunting, flags were flying proudly outside all the businesses and Pete had set up loudspeakers outside of the Slab to broadcast Sousa marches throughout the day. There were two registration tables on the steps of the courthouse and they were currently being manned by a couple of veterans sporting their medals and wedge-shaped Garrison caps. It was Election Day.

There was only one polling place for local elections in St. Germaine and that was the courthouse. We didn’t have electronic voting booths, we weren’t computerized, and we certainly weren’t bothered by hanging chads. During state and national elections, we traveled over to Banner Elk to vote, but for local voting, we’d long ago decided that paper ballots were just fine. Of the two thousand or so registered voters, we’d have about twelve hundred show up for any given election. Sixty percent. Pretty good.

There were two items on the ballot—the mayoral election, of course, and the bi-yearly attempt by the city council to raise the property taxes. The second item would fail miserably, as it always did, except for that one year Pete snuck it through by running unopposed and no one bothered to check to see what else was on the ballot and consequently, didn’t show up to vote. The populace wouldn’t make
that
mistake again. Now, Pete always had an opponent, no matter how unlikely, and
The Tattler
always printed a copy of the ballot on the front page two days before the election so everyone could see what those sneaky politicians were up to. This year’s ballot had four boxes. In the mayoral race, one box for Cynthia Johnsson, one box for Peter Moss. Choose one. If you happened to choose two, your ballot was thrown away. If there was any doubt about whom you were voting for, your ballot was thrown away.

The second item was a bit more complicated thanks to the verbal gobbledygook, i.e.

Except as provided in this section, the total amount of municipal tax that can be levied during a fiscal year shall not exceed the total amount approved by the city council for the preceding year by more than a percentage determined by adding the percentage increase in the Federal Consumer Price index for North Carolina from the preceding fiscal year. Etcetera, etcetera.

Once one of the voters had figured out that voting “NO” would increase the property taxes, the word soon spread.

The single person in charge of the whole affair was our election commissioner, Billy Hixon. He’d been election commissioner for twelve years since the last commissioner, Walt Dolittle, ran off to Knoxville with the change girl at the laundromat. Billy would supervise the counting of the votes once the polls closed at six o’clock, then ring the St. Barnabas bell and announce the results from the steps around eight.

Nancy, Dave, and I took turns during the day stomping around the courthouse and looking generally Gestapoesque. I made Dave put on his uniform, but I, being the boss, declined the khaki outfit and dark brown jacket, preferring instead to don the dashing Raymond Chandler hat, a gray, alpaca overcoat, and a red scarf. Meg commented that I looked a bit more Mafioso than law enforcement, but gave me high marks for sex appeal.

“
Have you voted yet?” I asked Meg, who was taking a turn helping at the registration table.

“
First thing this morning.”

“
If you get some time off for lunch, I’d be happy to take you out to eat at the establishment of your choice.”

“
Hmm. How about the library?”

“
The library?”

“
Rebecca’s offering free sandwiches for voters. Well, not free exactly. It’s a ploy.”

“
I’m intrigued. Please go on.”

“
You can have a free sandwich, but there’s a donation basket. She’s hoping to make some money for her summer reading program. She gives away books to underprivileged Appalachian kids.”

“
So,” I said, pushing my hat back and rubbing a thoughtful hand across my chin, “free sandwiches that aren’t free to pay for a reading program I’m not invited to.”

“
Exactly.”

“
I’m in. When do you want to head over?”

Meg looked at her watch. “I have another half hour to do. Can you wait?”

She gave me a smile I could feel in my hip pocket.

“
Oh, yes. I can wait.”

•••

Supper was Reuben sandwiches for everyone courtesy of Mayor Pete Moss. We were waiting in the Slab Café for the election results. It usually took Billy, Elaine, and two others a couple of hours to count the votes. They divided the ballots amongst themselves and counted them, then switched stacks and counted again. They did this multiple times and when the totals all came up the same, Billy announced the winner. Usually, Pete was so far ahead and the tax measure was so far behind that totaling the votes wasn’t that big a deal, but this year, it promised to be close.

Pete had the Reubens stacked high on a tray sitting on one of the tables. Complementing the sandwiches were bags of potato chips and coleslaw. Plates of pickles and sliced onions completed the feast.

“
C’mon in,” he said to whoever rang the cowbell as the front door swung open. “Grab a sandwich.”

Meg and I were at a table, along with Ruby, Nancy, and Dave. Noylene and Collette were at another table and Wormy was filling his plate with food. Carol Sterling had come in followed by Bev Greene and Georgia Wester. They took a table by the kitchen.

“
What if we don’t like Reuben sandwiches?” asked Carol.

Pete raised an eyebrow. “Then don’t eat one,” he said slowly, enunciating every word. I could tell he was getting a little testy.

“
I’ll just have some chips,” muttered Carol.

The door opened again and Cynthia poked her head inside.

“
May we join you?”

“
Sure,” said Pete. “C’mon in. But if you win, you have to pay for the sandwiches.”

“
What’s taking them so long?” Bev asked. “It’s already twenty after eight.”

Just then the bell in the tower of St. Barnabas began to ring.

“
That’s it,” I said, getting to my feet. “Let’s go hear the results.”

•••

It was cold. There were about fifty of us gathered around the courthouse steps and our collective breaths hung in the frosty air like the smoke our mountains were named for. Most of us were unmittened and had our hands deep in our pockets. Scarves were pulled tight around necks and hats tugged down over frozen ears as we waited for the announcement.

Billy, clad in an enormous olive green jacket with a fur-lined hood, stepped onto the highest step.

“
I have the results,” he said in a loud voice. “First of all, I’d like to say that this was the closest election in…”

“
Get on with it,” Arlen Pearl hollered. “We’re freezing out here.”

Billy glared at him. “Shut up, Arlen. This here’s a sacred duty and I’m going to do it right.”

I smiled and took Meg’s hand. This was small town America at its finest.

“
All right, then,” continued Billy. “In the matter of the property tax referendum, the people have voted ‘YES.’”

“
Does that mean y’all are going to raise taxes?” asked Arlen.

“
It means that the people have voted ‘YES’ to not raising taxes.”

“
Huh?” said Arlen.

“
We’re not raising your taxes!” shouted Billy.

“
Oh,” said Arlen. “Good.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

“
In the matter of the election of the mayor of St. Germaine—and let me say right now that we counted these votes four times—the results are as follows. Peter Moss, five hundred eighty-three votes. Cynthia Johnsson, five hundred eighty-five votes.”

“
Whooop!” shouted Crayonella. “You won, girl!” She grabbed Cynthia around the waist and swung her around in a circle.

There were the traditional handshakes and clapping of backs. Pete was pensive, but not dejected. When all was said and done, we walked back to the Slab, Cynthia and Crayonella included.

“
It’s the end of an era,” I said, as we shed our coats and hung them over the backs of any chairs that happened to be handy. “I’m just glad I got one last free Reuben sandwich.”

“
I’m really sorry, Pete,” said Cynthia. “Right now I feel just awful.” She brightened. “Tomorrow I’ll be fine though.”

“
That’s politics,” said Pete with stoic resignation. “I should have worn my drawers.”

“
Yeah,” said Crayonella sympathetically.

“
I don’t suppose a recount would do any good.”

“
I doubt it,” said Meg. “Billy always counts the votes at least four times.”

“
Then I guess I have no alternative but to start dating the mayor.” He turned to Cynthia. “How about it? Tomorrow night? Dinner and dancing?”

“
I’d love to.”

“
Jes hol’ on one second!” said Crayonella. “What the heck’s going on here?”

Cynthia giggled. “Well, you might as well know. We’ve been seeing each other since the debate.”

Crayonella’s mouth dropped open and she stared at them both. “You mean…after you looked…and then you screamed…and…”

“
Yep,” said Pete, with a smile. “Sometimes everything just works out.”

Chapter 24

“
Isn’t that something about Pete and Cynthia?” I sat down at my typewriter, laced my fingers together and gave them a crack. That I was wearing my hat and chomping on an unlit cigar was a given. That I was wearing a velvet smoking jacket was something new.

“
What?” said Meg. “You didn’t know?”

“
How would I know?”

Meg just shook her head. “You men don’t notice anything.”

“
I’m a trained detective. I notice
everything
.”

“
You didn’t mention my haircut.”

“
I just didn’t want to say anything in case you didn’t like it,” I said smugly. “I learned that in my self-esteem workshop.”