Circle of Influence (A Zoe Chambers Mystery)

by Dashofy, Annette

  With Matt nursing a broken leg, Zoe assumed the emergency meeting would be cancelled. However, when she came in from her barn chores that morning, she found his message on her cell phone’s voicemail stating he was home, and the meeting was on. And that she absolutely needed to be there.

  Why? She couldn’t imagine. As she sat in the parking lot staring at the VFW building, a week’s worth of memories flooded her brain. One week. If she could only turn back the clock one lousy week. Ted would be alive. Logan and Allison would be tormenting each other. Rose would still be her best friend. She’d even accept McBirney’s revolting presence in her fantasy. A small price to pay for all being right with the world.

  A knock on her driver-side window jarred her back into reality. Sylvia, bundled in a blue wool coat, cast a tight smile at Zoe through the glass.

  “I’m surprised to see you here.” Zoe slid down from the seat and slammed the door.

  “I was invited.” Sylvia rolled her eyes. “What’s your excuse?”

  “Pretty much the same thing.” She glanced around for Rose.

  “She’s not coming.” Sylvia took Zoe’s arm, and they picked through the slush toward the building. “Rose and her mother are sitting with Allison.”

  “Is she feeling any better?”

  Sylvia shook her head. “If anything, I’d have to say she’s worse. I think we’ll take her to the urgent care center at the hospital if she doesn’t show improvement soon.”

  “Any word from Logan?” The mention of the hospital brought him back to the forefront of Zoe’s mind.

  “No. You know that boy had nothing to do with McBirney’s murder, don’t you?”

  Zoe wished she could give Sylvia the response she wanted. “I just hope he’s okay.”

  Sylvia scowled at her. “That’s not a real answer.”

  “It’s the only one I have.”

  Matt Doaks intercepted them, sweeping along on crutches. He held up his right leg, encased in a plastic and Velcro brace, to avoid the slop. “Hello, ladies. I’m glad you could both make it.”

  Sylvia grunted.

  “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on my being here,” Zoe said.

  He winked. “You’ll see.” Then he swung away, maneuvering the crutches like a pro.

  “I’d like to see him hit an icy spot on those things,” Sylvia said.

  The mental picture of Matt sprawled on his back, crutches askew, forced a snicker from Zoe.

  “You know what’s going to happen here today, don’t you?” Sylvia said.

  They started forward again. “Not a clue.”

  “This is Matt Doaks’ big coming out party. With McBirney gone, Doaks will claim the throne of Chairman. He wants everyone here to witness it.”

  Zoe fought her gag reflex. Matt? Chairman of the township supervisors? Was that better or worse than McBirney? At least he wasn’t the brutish monster McBirney had been. But she had strong reservations about Matt’s leadership skills and judgment.

  She held the door for Sylvia to enter the VFW and then followed. Inside, the crowd wasn’t quite as large as it had been on Monday night. Men and women in coveralls and boots milled about. The soft rumble of assorted conversation filled the room, punctuated by an occasional boisterous laugh.

  Sylvia drew an audible breath. Her face had lost the ruddiness of winter’s chill, and her lower lip trembled. Zoe took her hand and squeezed. She knew what Sylvia was thinking because she felt it, too. Less than a week ago, Ted had been in this room. Two days ago, lunch had been served here following his burial.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” the older woman whispered.

  “You don’t have to. Do you want me to take you home?”

  Before she could reply, several locals surrounded them, offering Sylvia hugs and condolences. Zoe escaped the circle of well-wishers and stepped into line to sign the attendance sheet.

  Howard Rankin and Matt sat at the head table. The two surviving supervisors. Howard, the voice of reason. Matt, Jerry McBirney’s puppet.

  Elizabeth Sunday perched on the edge of a chair at the end of the table. She appeared a bit disheveled. Stray wisps of hair hung in front of her face. She wore a bulky turtleneck sweater and wool pants with flat boots. Not her usual urban chic style.

  Zoe signed the roster. She checked on Sylvia and saw that she was flanked by friends. The smile on her face told Zoe she’d be fine. So she slipped into an empty seat at the end of the third row. Far back enough to hide. Close enough to the door to make a quick exit.

  The crack of the gavel against the table drew everyone’s attention. Matt stood and cleared his throat. “Find a seat, folks. We have a lot to cover and none of us wants to spend our entire Saturday here.”

  “Most of us don’t want to spend any of our Saturday here,” a hefty man with a scraggly brown beard grumbled as Zoe swung her legs out of the way so he and his buddies could sidle into the chairs next to her.

  Sylvia, escorted by her lady friends, crossed the room to find seats in the first row. After a couple of minutes of chairs squeaking and groaning and clanging against each other, the room settled into near silence, which was broken by the clank of the door opening.

  Pete walked in. He leaned against the wall in his usual spot and folded his arms across his chest. Zoe searched for some sign on his face about Logan, but he was in poker mode.

  “Okay,” Matt said. “I’m calling this emergency meeting of the Vance Township board of supervisors to order. Before we go any further, I’d like to call for a moment of silence for our fallen comrade, Jerry McBirney.”

  The room fell quiet. Zoe shifted in her chair. Fallen comrade? Matt made McBirney sound like a war hero. She looked up and noticed Pete watching her. A hint of smile flickered across his lips, and then he broke the contact. A rush of heat spread across her shoulders and settled around her neck.

  Matt cleared his throat again and thanked everyone. “Now. For our first order of business. Howard and I have been talking on the phone since the news of Jerry’s passing reached us, and we’ve come to a decision. It’s my great honor to introduce to you, our new chairman of the board of supervisors—Mr. Howard Rankin.”

  The crowd broke into a raucous round of applause with a few whistles and whoops thrown in. Zoe wished she could see Sylvia’s face. The bearded man and his pals clapped and smiled. “Maybe there’s hope yet for this township,” one of them said, echoing Zoe’s thoughts.

  Matt sat down, and Rankin climbed to his feet.

  “Thank you. Thank you,” the new chairman said. “Let me just say I intend to pay close attention to the wishes and needs of the residents of Vance Township. I want to keep all lines of communication open. Now, I want to turn the floor over to township solicitor, Ms. Elizabeth Sunday.”

  The attorney stood and faced the audience. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “In keeping with the good news, I am pleased to report that the township is dropping its complaint against Mrs. Sylvia Bassi.”

  The news might have held more weight if the evidence against her hadn’t been stolen. But it brought another round of applause nonetheless.

  “And,” Sunday said, raising her voice above the crowd noise, “on behalf of the supervisors, I wish to apologize for the board’s regrettable actions in this matter.” She turned to Sylvia. “Mrs. Bassi, I’m truly sorry for the pain and stress we’ve caused you.”

  “Don’t that beat all?” the bearded man said to the guy next to Zoe. “A lawyer making apologies.”

  “Ain’t that one of the signs of the apocalypse?” the other man said, and they all chortled.

  “Thank you, Ms. Sunday,” Rankin said as she reclaimed her chair. “Next. We have a seat up here to fill. We’ll hold a special election in May to fill the vacancy, but in the meantime, Matt and I will appoint someone t
o the post for the next four months. We’ve talked at great length about this and have given it much consideration.” He paused and looked at Matt, who smiled and nodded. “We’re in full agreement that we’ve made an excellent choice. The person we’d like to appoint as interim supervisor is Zoe Chambers.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  For a moment, the room fell silent. Or Zoe lost her sense of hearing. She wasn’t sure which. When the applause and shouting filtered into her consciousness, it sounded muted at first, as though she had fallen into a deep lake and was hearing the din through the water.

  Someone clapped her on the back, snapping her out of her fog. The hooting and whooping blasted into her brain.

  What the hell just happened? Supervisor? Her? Was this a joke? She must have heard wrong.

  “What are you waiting for?” the bearded man said. “Get up there.”

  Apparently she’d heard right. Zoe climbed to her feet and made her way to the front of room. She caught Pete grinning at her.

  When she reached the front table, Matt motioned to the chair next to him.

  “Don’t I get a say in this?” she whispered loud enough that both Matt and Rankin could hear her.

  Rankin laughed.

  Why was he laughing? She wasn’t kidding.

  She eased into the chair and gazed at the faces before her. They appeared pleased. This was madness.

  As the room quieted, Rankin said, “You all couldn’t hear her, but Ms. Chambers asked if she gets a say in this.”

  “No,” someone shouted, bringing a round of snickers from the crowd.

  Rankin turned to Zoe. “How about you humor us and just try it out for today. So we can handle some official business. If you don’t like the fit, we’ll talk later.”

  Matt leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “It’ll be harder to bitch about our actions when you have a hand in them.”

  She pulled back and eyed him. He gave her the killer grin that had charmed the pants off many a female over the years. In response, she fixed him with a glare, hoping to convey her immunity to his alluring ways.

  “We’ll definitely talk later,” Zoe said loud enough this time so that everyone could hear.

  Another wave of chuckles swept the crowd.

  “Okay, let’s get down to serious business,” Rankin said. “After receiving many questions and complaints from township residents in recent months, I move to relieve Elizabeth Sunday from her duties as township solicitor.”

  “What?” the attorney snapped. “You can’t do that.”

  Suddenly, Zoe liked this new gig.

  “Yes, ma’am, we can,” Rankin said.

  Sunday leapt to her feet and a few more stray wisps escaped her French twist. “Matt. You promised me I’d keep this job.”

  Matt scrunched his mouth together and shrugged.

  Zoe wondered exactly when and where he’d made that promise.

  “I’m sorry, Liz,” Matt said. “I second the motion.”

  “A motion has been made and seconded. All in favor?”

  Silence fell over the room. Then Zoe noticed both Matt and Rankin staring at her. “Oh,” she said. “Aye.”

  “Motion carried,” Rankin said. “We thank you for your service, Ms. Sunday.”

  At that point, he dismissed her and moved to rehire old Reginald Scoffield who had been the township solicitor for decades before McBirney had unceremoniously replaced him. That motion also passed.

  Zoe leaned back in the chair. Maybe this supervisor’s thing wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she could tolerate sitting next to Matt for a handful of meetings until a permanent replacement could be elected. Undoing all of Jerry McBirney’s reckless decisions was the most fun she’d had in ages.

  The door clanked open, and Wayne Baronick slipped in. He claimed a spot on the wall next to Pete.

  Rankin shuffled some papers in front of him and took a swig from a bottle of water before continuing. “Okay. Next. Um. It’s been brought to my attention…” He looked toward Baronick and Pete with an expression Zoe couldn’t quite interpret. Desperation? Regret? Anxiety? “Chief Adams, I’ve been informed that—well—that you have some personal issues with regards to Jerry McBirney’s murder investigation.”

  “Personal issues?” Pete echoed. “What the hell are you talking about, Howard?”

  Rankin’s hands trembled as he reshuffled the papers.

  Zoe leaned toward him. “What personal issues?” she asked in a rough whisper.

  Rankin glanced around the room. Shielding his mouth with his hand he replied, “It’s been brought to our attention that Chief Adams is something of a suspect in the case.”

  Zoe choked. Pete? A suspect? She felt like she had walked into the middle of a movie. And not even the movie she’d purchased the ticket for. None of it made sense.

  Pete pushed away from the wall. “Howard?”

  Rankin raised his voice so everyone could hear. “I don’t want to get into specifics in a public forum. But it’s clear that you should not be working this case.”

  Pete made a deliberate quarter turn to face Baronick who failed to meet his gaze. Pete continued to study the detective, but his words were directed at Rankin. “I’m sure it’s also been brought to your attention that I’m not on the case.”

  “Yes, but we’ve been told you’re working it anyway. And that can’t be permitted. It’s a conflict of interest, and it puts the entire case in jeopardy. There are too many legal implications to allow you contact with the evidence or the witnesses.” Rankin, who’d been reading from the papers in front of him, looked up.

  Pete said something to Baronick too low for Zoe to hear. A muscle in Baronick’s cheek twitched.

  “I hate doing this, Pete,” Rankin said. “But I’m afraid I must move that the board of supervisors suspend you—with pay—until further notice.”

  Zoe looked at Matt, expecting to see surprise on his face, too. But there was none. He knew about this all along. And he’d dragged her into the middle of it, making her part of the team of henchmen offering Pete up for sacrifice.

  “I second the motion,” Matt said.

  “All in favor say ‘aye,’” Rankin said.

  Matt and Rankin both said, “Aye.”

  “No,” Zoe said.

  “Opposed?”

  “Hell, yes, I’m opposed,” Zoe said loud enough that her voice reverberated.

  “The word is ‘nay,’” Matt whispered.

  For a moment, she visualized jumping to her feet and tackling him. Slug him in the nose. Maybe break his other leg. Instead, she glowered at him and dropped her voice into its lowest, most threatening range. “Nay.”

  “The vote is two for the motion, one opposed. Motion carries. Chief Adams, you are suspended from duty pending further investigation.” Rankin cracked the gavel against the table, and the room erupted.

  The moment Howard read the words, Pete knew who had provided them to him. At least he’d been able to tell Baronick exactly what he thought of him before storming out of the meeting.

  Suspended. Son of a bitch.

  “Pete, wait.”

  Damn it. Baronick had followed him into the parking lot.

  “Pete. Chief Adams. Wait.”

  Pete spun so fast the detective almost slammed into him. “You can’t call me ‘chief’ anymore. I’m under suspension.”

  “For crissakes, Pete. Listen to me. You’re still the chief. I just need you to step aside until I clear this case. At least officially.”

  “What do you mean—‘officially’ clear it?”

  “No. I need you to step aside—officially.” Baronick caught his arm, a move which made Pete consider breaking his fingers. “Look. I’m doing you a favor. The conflict of interest thing is legit. That you might make even a half-ways com
petent lawyer question evidence in the case is fact. You know that. If you use your head and think about it, you know that.”

  Pete knew he wanted to use the detective for a punching bag. But the gleam in Baronick’s eyes sparked Pete’s curiosity.

  “You’re off the case,” Baronick went on. “You’re basically on paid vacation. I’ve seen to it that you have a ton of free time on your hands. What you do with that free time is none of my concern.” He raised an eyebrow. “Capice?”

  Pete understood. He studied the young detective’s grinning face. So that was it. Baronick was behind the whole suspension ruse, but with the intention of giving Pete free rein. Maybe the kid had some redeeming value after all. “Yeah. I got it.”

  “Good. And if you happen to stumble into anything interesting while you’re on vacation…”

  “You’ll be the first to know.”

  Pete heard someone call his name and turned. Zoe sprinted towards him from the building.

  “I’ve got to get back to work,” Baronick said.

  “Good idea,” Pete said. Zoe might just have a bottle of fly spray in her purse, and the detective might well be her next victim.

  She jogged up as the detective ambled away. Her skin was flushed from the cold, and her breath framed her face like a veil. “I don’t see any blood or bruises,” she said. “But I didn’t get a good look at Detective Benedict Arnold. Did you give him a black eye?”

  “No. Not yet. Is the meeting adjourned? Or did you walk out?”

  “It’s over. Firing you was the final bit of business on the agenda.” Zoe’s mouth trembled. “I’m so sorry about that. I can’t believe they roped me into the middle of it. I think McBirney has taken possession of Howard Rankin’s soul.”

  Her indignant rage brought a smile to Pete’s heart. “It’s all right. I’m not fired, after all. Just suspended.”