Read Online Trouble in the Town Hall by Jeanne M. Dams - Free Book Online Page B

repairs to the Town Hall
and
build their shoppin’ mall someplace else. And it stands to reason, don’t it, that if we ’as more money, we’ll spend more money, and that’s good for trade, too. And—that’s all.”
    He turned away abruptly to an approving chorus from his mates, and now everyone was eager to speak. A few malcontents grumbled about various aspects of the problem, and a few more wandered far from the issue at hand, arguing about everything from civic government in general to environmental issues to animal rights, but most of the comments reiterated support for Mrs. Dean’s preservation efforts, and the audience grew restive,
    I stopped listening and concentrated on watching Pettifer. His color had returned to its normal hue, but his expression had set in a hard half smile. He had lost this battle, and he knew it, but he hadn’t given up the war. Too good a politician to try to sway a crowd that had so obviously turned against him, he nevertheless sat erect in his chair, looking each speaker defiantly in the eye. Some of them faltered in mid-speech, and Pettifer looked grimly satisfied each time.
    Finally the Lord Mayor decided to call a halt. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I think we have been able to air this matter thoroughly, and I thank you for your time and patience, and for your courtesy in listening to other points of view. You understand, of course, that as the Town Hall is a Grade I listed building, the Secretary of State will make the ultimate decision about its fate, but you may be sure he will have a report of this meeting. I notice, Mr. Thorpe, that you have made no contribution, and wonder if there is anything you would like to say to close the meeting.”
    A bulky sort of man got up and moved back a row or two to the nearest mike, a used-car salesman smile on his face. “I have nothing to add, Lord Mayor. My name, for the record, is John Thorpe, and I am an estate agent.” He said it as John Gielgud might have said “I am an actor.”
    â€œI feel it would be inappropriate for me to comment, since I am likely to be an interested party in dealing with leases for any new mall. I’m sure that all plans put forward today have merit, and simply wish to say, may the best man—or woman—” he sketched a little bow to Mrs. Dean “—win!” He turned away without looking at Pettifer, who was glaring balefully.
    â€œVery well, then, ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all again and declare this meeting adjourned.”
    I creaked to my feet, stumbling a little. A steadying hand caught my elbow.
    â€œAlan! Bless you, I thought my joints were going to give out on me altogether. My bones do not appreciate two hours of this kind of chair. What are you doing here? I didn’t see you when I came in.”
    â€œNo, I drifted in late. I like to keep my finger on the community pulse, you know, especially when it’s getting a trifle feverish—to mix a metaphor. What did you think of the meeting?”
    I shivered a little. “It’s very different from this sort of thing in America, of course. We’d have everybody yelling at each other. This was all very polite, but it was that terrible English politeness that can feel like being slammed into a meat locker. To tell the truth, it scared me a little. I can see why you’re worried. Those workmen were ready to do something drastic, if Barbara Dean hadn’t handled them so well—did you get here in time for that?”
    Alan nodded. “Played them like a violin, didn’t she? Stirring them up to a nice crescendo and then calming them down. A remarkable lady, our Barbara.”
    I shivered again. “And that Mr. Farrell scares me.”
    Alan hugged my shoulders. “You’ve been watching too many old horror videos, is your trouble. How about a drink to take the bogeyman away?”
    â€œAnd a sandwich—I feel in need of