Road to Nowhere, page 15
Rose thanked him for the compliment, and Joe allowed himself a smile. Rose wouldn’t put much store in a politician’s flattery.
Then it was time for business. Marty shook his head.
“Well, Joe, it’s a mess there in the statehouse. I’m afraid I still can’t give you much of an answer about your road, and I’ve got a lot more questions myself now. But I’ve dug out a few things and I’ll give you the short version of it all.”
“That’s all I’d want.”
“Even the short version’s not real short. I started by asking how that grant got stuck in the Clean Air Act. There’s supposed to be a revision trail so you can answer questions like this. Well, I’ve been through the Commerce Committee to the Technology and Communications
Committee to the Energy Committee to the Transportation Committee, and right back from there to where I started.
“Anyway, there’s this section on research on improving roads to reduce emissions and travel time and congestion. And that’s where the funding for this grant was.”
“Not much congestion around here.”
“That’s what I would have said. Of course this bill doesn’t mention Gold Valley or Wardsville, just the list of qualifications for the project— which is what got you wondering. I’ve never seen anything like it on any transportation funding.
“So I found where the committee reviewed one version of the bill without this specific project, and then later when they voted on it, the section had just sort of magically been added. It was finally the Transportation Committee chairman who remembered anything, and he said he thought it was a request from the Appropriations Committee. And there are eighteen people on the Appropriations Committee, and that’s the biggest snake pit of the whole House.”
A fool mess, and just what anyone could expect from that bunch in Raleigh. “This kind of thing happen very often there?” Joe asked.
“I don’t think so. But I guess I don’t know. I’ve been there twenty years and I haven’t ever seen it done this particular way. But now that I have, I can see how someone could get away with it. It wouldn’t work with an interstate or U.S. route, because the federal government would have to get involved. Even state roads would be more complicated. But county roads are under all those radars. The only catch is you—your Board of Supervisors has to approve it if it’s a county road.”
“I suppose they expected that wouldn’t be a problem.”
“I bet they’d already investigated you and Wade and Mort and decided they’d have a majority. It looks to me like someone’s been through all the angles on this deal.”
“So who would that be, Marty?”
“Right. Someone with some clout in Appropriations. That’s the short answer. That narrows it down to five or six of the eighteen.”
“I’d still be interested to know who it was.”
“The next step is getting to the clerk of the Appropriations Committee and digging around a little.”
“That’ll be up to you.”
“Well, Joe, that’s why I thought I’d stop in for a visit. Part of me wants to follow this through, sort of on general principles. I’m long past trying to clean up the muck at the statehouse, but I still think people shouldn’t get away with tricks like this. There should be a bit of a fuss, at least.
“But, it’s going to take time, and I’ll probably have to assign somebody specifically to do the digging, and I don’t know if it’s really worth the effort when there’s so much else that needs to get done.”
Marty stopped and squinted his eyes and gave Joe a look. “So I thought I’d ask you.”
And Joe took his time to think about that. “I think I’d rather you did, Marty.”
“Now, that’s interesting. We both know that this road is somebody’s underhanded little project, but of course most roads are. And I hear there’s a fight brewing in Wardsville over the final vote. But even knowing all that, I’d still expect you to just shrug and let it work itself out. Sure, you might call me about it, like you did. But at this point you’d say, Never mind. Is there something else? Besides all the usual Raleigh antics?”
Joe took his time to answer that, too. “That might be.”
“With you, that means yes, but you don’t want to tell me yes.”
Joe smiled a little. “That might be.”
“Then I’ll just be quiet and do as I’m told. But are there any clues that would make it easier for me?”
“There’s a man on the board, name of Wade Harris, and he works for a developer who’s building all the houses up in Gold Valley. Charlie Ryder, he says, in Raleigh. Now, you know developers. Wade says this Charlie Ryder is sure wanting the road built. Enough that Wade got suspicious and asked me to make some calls.”
“Charlie Ryder. I’ll look him up. But even if he is, is that what you’re looking for?”
“I have a thought, and it’s bothering me.” He had to stop, to decide what to say. “I don’t care much to know who’s behind the road or how they pulled their tricks or what they even want from it.
“Marty, if you can find who’s behind this road, I just want to know one thing.” Rose had turned around from the stove to listen. “I want to know if they’re evil.”
April 25, Tuesday
“I did it.”
Cornelia looked up from the sofa. “What?”
“I quit.” Wade dropped his briefcase by the front door and then himself onto the sofa next to her. Corny waited for him to stop moving.
“Tell me what happened,” she said.
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know why. Charlie called and we screamed at each other like usual. But this time . . . I don’t get it.”
“I’ll just sit here and listen,” Cornelia said. “And I’ll let you know if I figure out what you’re saying.”
“Okay. This is what he said. He wants to know who’s buying the furniture place. I said I didn’t know, I’d call this Coates guy and ask. No. We can’t let him know it’s Charlie trying to find out. He asked if I could break in.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. That’s what he said. So when I told him to forget it, he said he’ll make his own offer for the building.”
“Now you’re kidding.”
“No.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he wants to develop it into a shopping center. It’s the wrong location and it’s too small. I don’t know. But it sounded like someone is pushing him.”
“Pressuring him?”
“Yeah. The way he was talking. So I asked him why he wanted to know, and he wouldn’t tell me. So I told him I’d quit if he didn’t tell me what was going on, and he still didn’t. So I quit.”
“This is for real?” Corny said.
“Yes. It is. I’m not putting up with this anymore. Charlie doesn’t believe me, but I don’t care. I told him end of May. June first, I’m out of that office.”
“What will you do, Wade?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything! But it sure feels great.” Maybe great wasn’t the right word. “Let me just sit. I think I’ve blown a fuse.”
“Everything will be okay.”
He could even close his eyes. “Sure, it’s okay. Now I need a job.” He did close his eyes. “So what do I want to do when I grow up?”
“When would you ever grow up?”
April 28, Friday
“I think we’re half done, at least.” Randy had to stand and stretch, with his back sore from hunching over the table all afternoon and his eyes seeing spots from looking at page after page of the tax ledger book.
“We’ll finish Monday,” Patsy said. She looked a bit bleary herself.
“I suppose most counties do it all with their computers, but it’s not really that much work for just twice a year. And someday we’ll foreclose on some of these. When did the county ever do that last?”
“Eight years ago, we had a lawyer do all the work. Most of them paid and the county only closed on fifteen or so, and it hardly covered what the lawyer cost.”
“That doesn’t surprise me a bit.
He was still standing and thinking it would be so much nicer if Patsy at least had a window down here in the middle of the courthouse basement, when a cloud covered her door.
“Look at you, Randy!”
“We’re just finishing for the afternoon, Luke.”
“Everybody pay their taxes this year?”
“Almost,” he said. “Just a few, like always.”
Luke settled himself onto the desk, right in the middle of all their work. “Here it is, sort of ironic. You make up this list every six months of all the unpaid property taxes in the county and publish it in my newspaper. So the more that haven’t paid, the bigger the advertisement you have to buy, and the more I get out of it. And here I am, hoping nobody pays their taxes, because that gives me the biggest ad.”
“Then we wouldn’t have any money to buy the ad,” Randy said.
“But you have to. It’s state law. Maybe I’d give you a hardship discount.”
“Well, it’s not likely, anyway, as most people do pay.” Randy sat back into his chair, and Patsy stood up.
“What about the Trinkles?” Luke asked. “They paid up this time?”
“They’re not on the list so far, so I guess we haven’t got to them yet. It’ll be a lot, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, Luke. It’s been years since they paid. Isn’t that what you were asking?”
But Luke didn’t seem to quite catch what Randy meant. “Nothing,” he finally said. “Just wondering.”
“And what I’m wondering is,” Randy said, “are you here for any good reason, or just being nosy?”
“Part of each. I wanted to see if you were about done with that.”
“Monday.”
“That’ll be fine. It helps to have some time, since it takes me a while to set it. And as long as I’m being nosy,” Luke said, “I’m counting a few noses. What’s the latest with all of you on Gold River Highway?”
“Now, Luke! That’s the last thing I want to talk about.”
“It’s not the last you will hear about it. I’m just keeping the public informed.”
“Keeping the public inflamed.”
“When it comes to Gold River Highway, those two are the same. Now, I’m saying Joe Esterhouse and Wade Harris are for it, you’re against it, Eliza Gulotsky always votes no, and Louise is trying to decide.”
“I don’t know,” Randy said.
“But you don’t say I’m wrong on any of those?”
“I don’t say anything.”
“Then I’ll quote an unnamed board member, and everyone will know it’s you.”
“Why don’t you just ask each of us?”
“That’s work, and I already know what they’ll say.”
“Then why are you asking me?”
“So I can quote you.”
“Then talk to Wade Harris, so you can quote him.”
“I am, actually. When he’s in town next Monday. And he gives me better quotes than you. Now I’ve thought of another question.”
“Good gravy, Luke. Why don’t you just make up your answer to it?”
“I can’t for this one. Who owns the land on the mountain where they’d build the road? Over on the other side, it’s all Gold Valley Development land, but what about on the Wardsville side?”
“I don’t know. Do you know?”
“If I did, why would I ask you?”
“So you can misquote my answer,” Randy said. “I’m trying to think. Whoever does is going to make some money selling it to the state.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Who’d have thought that old mountainside would be worth anything?”
“That’s the thing about owning land.”
“I wish I owned some,” Luke said. “Just what family you’re born into, I guess.”
But just then there was a clatter in the hall. Patsy had her things to leave, but she backed into a corner to make room for whoever, or whatever, was coming, and Luke finally stood up from the desk.
Kyle came bouncing in as eager as a puppy.
“Dad?”
“Right here, son.” Sue Ann must have told him that he’d be here in the courthouse.
“Mrs. Clark, Mr. Goddard.” The boy nodded to the other adults, polite as his mother had taught him to be. “Dad!”
“What’s after you?”
“Coach put up the list for varsity football.” The boy dropped onto Patsy’s chair, but he was leaning so far forward he was hardly touching it. “I’m quarterback.”
“Well, sure you are.” Randy felt a big smile spreading across his own face to match Kyle’s. “Starting?”
“Yes, sir. Starting quarterback.”
“Congratulations, Kyle.” Randy took hold of Kyle’s hand and shook it. “What I would have given to say that to my dad. But you deserve it.”
“Practice starts in May. And Coach wants seniors for weight training all summer.”
“You’ve got some hard work ahead of you, Kyle. I am so proud of you.”
And at that point, a handshake just wasn’t the right thing, and he stood up, and Kyle did, too, four inches taller than his daddy, and Randy gave him the biggest hug he could.
There was a bright flash, and they both looked around to see Luke and his camera both smiling at them.
April 30, Sunday
Sweet sunset. Wade finally had a minute’s pause, just in time to appreciate it. He’d take a picture, but how many sunset pictures could one person use?
Corny was coming out from the back office. “I took a call,” she said. “Somebody from last month, wanting a second look.”
“It’s a busy week.”
“He wanted Monday evening, tomorrow. It’s the night of your board meeting, but I think it’ll be early enough that you can fit it in.”
“Uh—okay. Whatever. I’m going in to Wardsville for the afternoon, and I was going to meet Joe before the meeting. I’ll figure it out. I’ll just catch Joe afterwards.”
“And I’m out of here,” she said. “I’m thinking stir-fry.”
“Whatever’s easy. I’ll be about an hour.”
“See you at home.”
Off she drove, into the sunset, and Wade settled into his chair. Paper, paper. No job was finished until the paper work was done.
The front door opened.
It was kind of late on a Sunday for a customer, but anything could happen in April. Wade started out to the main room.
Oh boy. This was going to be a disaster.
“Dr. Colony,” he said. “Welcome to Gold Valley.”
“Thank you.”
Calm words, the first Wade had heard from that mouth. Maybe they were going to be adults for the evening.
“I guess you’re not here to look at houses,” Wade said. “But I’d be glad to talk.” He waited. “I’d be glad to try to find some common ground.”
“I don’t think there is any.” Colony had a big bulging thick manila envelope in his hand. “Not here. I want to make you an offer.”
“Okay. Come on back to my office.”
They abandoned the big room. Wade offered a chair to his guest and then sat himself. Then they were facing each other, and Wade waited.
“You moved here to sell these houses,” Colony said. “You aren’t from here. I don’t think you even like it here.”
“It hasn’t been real welcoming.”
“Why don’t you move back to Raleigh?”
That was a question that could mean a lot of different things. From the way he said it, Wade couldn’t tell which.
“My job is here,” he said.
“There must be other jobs back there.” Colony set the envelope on Wade’s desk. “This place doesn’t mean anything to you. You don’t care what happens except to make money. Well, here’s money.”
Wade stared at the envelope. “What are you saying, Dr. Colony?”
“Look at it.”
Wade picked up the envelope and looked inside. Lots of hundred-dollars bills, bound neatly in bank wrappers.
“It’s fifty thousand,” Colony said. “If you’ll leave, or resign, or anything, but just kill that road, then you can have it.”
“It’s worth that much to you?”
“It’s worth that much.”
“I think I’ll have to say no.”
Everett Colony started to blow his top. But he held back.
“Why? Isn’t it enough?”
“It’s a lot.” Wade had to give him points for generosity. “It’s better than the going rate. But I’d make more than that selling houses if the road gets built.”
“Then how much?”
Wade shook his head. “That’s not it. I’d have to trust you, and you’d have to trust me. Not just now, but for a long time. That’s how these deals work.”
“It’s cash. There’s no record.”
“It might be marked. You might have the serial numbers recorded.
There’ll be a record of you withdrawing it from your bank. See, Dr. Colony, you’re an amateur at this stuff. That’s enough of a reason to turn you down.”
“Then how should I do it?”
“Don’t.” Now he was feeling sorry for the guy. It had taken a lot of guts for him to get this far. “I’d get fired anyway.”
Except that he’d already quit. That was where it got complicated. Why not take the money? He could use it, and Colony was taking the bigger risk.
“Besides,” he said, “that still might not kill the road.”
“I think it would.”
Wade pushed the envelope back. “Thanks anyway. But keep it.”
The envelope was snatched and the chair shoved back and then the front door was slammed. And Wade was alone with his thoughts.
May
May 1, Monday
Time to start—already! Poor Byron, left there at the dinner table alone with just a heated up noodle casserole, of all things. That was not going to be enough of a supper.
Joe knocked his little wood hammer on the counter.
And she hadn’t even left him any green beans or . . . or even a glass of milk! They were still in the refrigerator.
