Read Online Trick or Treat Murder by Leslie Meier - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leslie Meier
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Private Investigators, Maine, Arson, Stone; Lucy (Fictitious Character), Halloween stories
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Mulligan. The regional board is somewhat more..." he paused, searching for the right word. "Au com-x-ant," he finally decided, gave him a chance to show off his French and roll his Rs.
"Next on the agenda," said Miss Tilley, with a bang of her gavel. "We have Mr. Lenk. Good evening, Randy."
Randolph Lenk had not bothered to dress for the occasion, observed Ted. He was still wearing the same oil-stained work clothes he had worn all day. In fact, he had probably worn the same clothes all week. A three-day stubble revealed he hadn't shaved recently, and the lines and creases in his hands were filled with grease. Lenk owned a small, ramshackle Northstar gas station that had been an eyesore on Main Street for years.
The fellas at the comp'ny say I gotta remodel," began Lenk. They've drawn up plans—even want a canopy and a convenience maht. They say I gotta do it, or I can't sell their gas anymore."
"I, for one, am glad to hear it," said Doug Durning. "It's long overdue. That place of yours is an embarrassment to the town. Damned valuable property, too. Are those plans you've got there? Let's see 'em."
Lenk shuffled forward and handed up a roll of papers. Durning took them and eagerly began unrolling them, distributing them to the other board members.
"My, my, my," said Jock Mulligan, clucking his tongue.
"It looks like a space ship!" Miss Tilley shrieked.
"There does appear to be an awful lot of plastic and glass," said Hancock Smith, shaking his head. "And that sign. It could be seen for miles."
"That's the idea," agreed Lenk. "Cut down a few of these trees, and folks 'll be able to see it from the Interstate."
"You're planning to cut trees?" Miss Tilley was aghast.
"You know," said Bill, "there's a new appreciation among preservationists for vernacular architecture. It may well be that Mr. Lenk's existing gas station is worth saving. I'd be very surprised if it wasn't a good example of roadside construction from the early Age of the Automobile."
Miss Tilley's eyes widened and she gave Hancock a wry smile. She was beginning to suspect that Bill's appointment might not work out the way she had hoped.
"Since this is such a large project, and it affects so many people, I think we really ought to hold a public hearing," Miss Tilley said. "As proposed this will really change the appearance of the whole town. Especially if trees are cut."
"Are you saying I can't cut trees on my own prop'ty?" Lenk was ready to defend his rights as a landowner.
"We're not saying anything, Mr. Lenk," observed Hancock Smith. "What Miss Tilley has suggested, very wisely, I might add, is that the entire matter be discussed in a public forum. That way, all the interested parties can be heard."
"Who's interested? It's my land. I can do whatever I want." Lenk was beginning to get agitated.
"Your land is in the historic district," explained Doug Durning. "Special rules apply."
"I've got rights," insisted Lenk, raising his voice. "I'm payin' taxes on that land. What happened to democracy? "
"Mr. Lenk," began Jock Mulligan. "Let me assure you that America is indeed, still a democracy. What we must do here, is weigh the rights of the individual against the r-r-rights of the community. Your neighbors also pay taxes, and they have an interest in the appearance of their town. Do you understand?"
"Can I tell Northstar to go ahead, or what? 'Cause if you say no, you're all gonna be sorry. Real sorry." Lenk was at the end of his rope; he was bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, and rhythmically clenching his hands.
"Nothing will be decided tonight," said Miss Tilley, in the voice that had maintained silence in the Broadbrooks Free Library for more than thirty-five years. "We'll schedule a hearing for next week. Is the board agreed?" Miss Tilley received nods of assent from the other members. "We'll see you next week, Mr. Lenk. Bring whomever you want. Lawyers, company representatives, plans— we'll go over everything.
"Next on the agenda," said Miss Tilley, with a bang of her gavel. "We have Mr. Lenk. Good evening, Randy."
Randolph Lenk had not bothered to dress for the occasion, observed Ted. He was still wearing the same oil-stained work clothes he had worn all day. In fact, he had probably worn the same clothes all week. A three-day stubble revealed he hadn't shaved recently, and the lines and creases in his hands were filled with grease. Lenk owned a small, ramshackle Northstar gas station that had been an eyesore on Main Street for years.
The fellas at the comp'ny say I gotta remodel," began Lenk. They've drawn up plans—even want a canopy and a convenience maht. They say I gotta do it, or I can't sell their gas anymore."
"I, for one, am glad to hear it," said Doug Durning. "It's long overdue. That place of yours is an embarrassment to the town. Damned valuable property, too. Are those plans you've got there? Let's see 'em."
Lenk shuffled forward and handed up a roll of papers. Durning took them and eagerly began unrolling them, distributing them to the other board members.
"My, my, my," said Jock Mulligan, clucking his tongue.
"It looks like a space ship!" Miss Tilley shrieked.
"There does appear to be an awful lot of plastic and glass," said Hancock Smith, shaking his head. "And that sign. It could be seen for miles."
"That's the idea," agreed Lenk. "Cut down a few of these trees, and folks 'll be able to see it from the Interstate."
"You're planning to cut trees?" Miss Tilley was aghast.
"You know," said Bill, "there's a new appreciation among preservationists for vernacular architecture. It may well be that Mr. Lenk's existing gas station is worth saving. I'd be very surprised if it wasn't a good example of roadside construction from the early Age of the Automobile."
Miss Tilley's eyes widened and she gave Hancock a wry smile. She was beginning to suspect that Bill's appointment might not work out the way she had hoped.
"Since this is such a large project, and it affects so many people, I think we really ought to hold a public hearing," Miss Tilley said. "As proposed this will really change the appearance of the whole town. Especially if trees are cut."
"Are you saying I can't cut trees on my own prop'ty?" Lenk was ready to defend his rights as a landowner.
"We're not saying anything, Mr. Lenk," observed Hancock Smith. "What Miss Tilley has suggested, very wisely, I might add, is that the entire matter be discussed in a public forum. That way, all the interested parties can be heard."
"Who's interested? It's my land. I can do whatever I want." Lenk was beginning to get agitated.
"Your land is in the historic district," explained Doug Durning. "Special rules apply."
"I've got rights," insisted Lenk, raising his voice. "I'm payin' taxes on that land. What happened to democracy? "
"Mr. Lenk," began Jock Mulligan. "Let me assure you that America is indeed, still a democracy. What we must do here, is weigh the rights of the individual against the r-r-rights of the community. Your neighbors also pay taxes, and they have an interest in the appearance of their town. Do you understand?"
"Can I tell Northstar to go ahead, or what? 'Cause if you say no, you're all gonna be sorry. Real sorry." Lenk was at the end of his rope; he was bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, and rhythmically clenching his hands.
"Nothing will be decided tonight," said Miss Tilley, in the voice that had maintained silence in the Broadbrooks Free Library for more than thirty-five years. "We'll schedule a hearing for next week. Is the board agreed?" Miss Tilley received nods of assent from the other members. "We'll see you next week, Mr. Lenk. Bring whomever you want. Lawyers, company representatives, plans— we'll go over everything.
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