by Lee Pulaski
“Need me to call any more news stations for you? I think there are a couple of stations left that haven’t been subject to my prank calls.”
Anne Marie chuckled. “No. I guess they’ve finally figured out that I don’t know anything that would satiate their hyena audiences, so they’ve moved on to less elusive prey.”
“Well, we should both probably get going and organize the rebellion. How about you come over for dinner tonight and we can compare notes?”
“I’m meeting my brother, Christopher, for dinner, but I’ll see you at the board meeting. I plan to annihilate that bastard, Jacob Malueg, and show him that Gresham is a bastion for freedom, not a dictatorship.” Anne Marie glanced at the school. “Thanks, Zach. You pulled me back from the abyss. Not that teaching is beneath me, but it would seem like a step back after attempting to keep my dream alive.”
“Glad I could help.”
Anne Marie smiled and walked back to her car. Zachary watched her drive away and head for her home, which was only a quarter-mile down the road. He was glad she stopped short of making a decision she’d regret the rest of her life. He was living his dream with The Literary Barn. He knew that he wouldn’t have been happy if he’d stuck with an office job or in a place where he couldn’t let his vision roam free. Anne Marie would see her dream come true, too.
As long as the Gresham Village Board didn’t reduce it to ashes.
Sigrid picked up the plates from the table. “Do you boys want anything else tonight?”
Zachary shook his head. “I’m dying for a piece of your blackberry pie, but we have to get over to that village board meeting and give Anne Marie our support.”
“I wish I could be there with you guys, but I went and developed this kooky notion of having a supper club, so my dance card is full most nights. I still can’t believe that son of a bitch who sits in the village chairman’s office is trying to ruin yet another person’s dream. There’s just no end to Jacob Malueg’s tyranny, and he needs to be stopped before he turns Gresham into a ghost town.”
“Tell us about it,” Newell said as he put his coat on. “I can’t believe Jacob thinks he can get away with this, even if he believes he can finagle a majority vote from the board. The Reimers were not murdered at the gallery, and the lowest thing at the reception was when Jasper Walters’ painting falling off the wall.”
Sigrid giggled. “I’m sorry, but that painting taking a swan dive was a trifle funny. Here’s your bill. Just pay when you’re ready, and give the chairman hell for me.”
Newell handed Zachary his coat. “Have you noticed that whenever there’s a tragedy around here, Jacob goes out of his way to make things worse?”
Zachary nodded. “Don’t worry. We’re going to knock him off his high horse like we always do. Besides, it’s only one year, and then hopefully someone will run against him in an election.”
“That was a subtle hint.”
Zachary gave a sheepish grin, as he’d never made secret his belief that Newell could be a spectacular leader for Gresham. “Newell, you’re passionate about making this place a better one to live in. You showed that when you were so eager to put on the teddy bear costume after the great and beloved children’s character Patches Sinclair was beheaded. Folks around here seem to like you. I just think you’d make an awesome village chairman.”
“Well, since you’re throwing logic around, tell me how I can run for the village chairman considering we don’t actually live in the village. We’d have to move back into the village and give up the farm, and I can’t tell you how much chaos my family would unleash if I sold off the Krueger family farm. There’d be flying monkeys and gargoyles clouding the skies over Gresham for months on end. It’d give The Shawano Advocate a sweet river of controversy that would boost their circulation and give them enough money to hire more staff to torture us.”
“I know. I can dream, though. The question is, if the next leader of the village isn’t you, who could it be? Somebody needs to end Jacob’s reign of tyranny before he reincarnates Adolf Hitler and Saddam Hussein to be the new Axis of Evil and plunge Gresham into darkness.”
Newell chuckled and shook his head. “You’ve really got to stop reading the books in the urban fantasy section of your store. Next you’re going to be suggesting that Jacob Malueg is going to open a hell mouth next to Anne Marie’s art gallery in order to resurrect Ares, the God of War.”
Zachary slapped a couple of twenty-dollar bills on top of the food bill. “Well, let’s get over to the village hall and stop him from making any plans against the gallery, much less anything involving supernatural forces.”
It was a short drive from Sigrid’s to the village hall. Actually, it was a short drive between any two points in Gresham. Still, Zachary didn’t want to show up late, because he wanted the village board to see there were plenty of people willing to step up and defend someone’s rights. Nothing bad had happened at the art gallery, so there was no basis to force the place to close down. The people in the village were not going to let government officials run roughshod over them, and this was just another opportunity to keep the bureaucrats in check.
When Zachary and Newell walked into the hall, Zachary was a little dismayed to see that the meeting room was only three-quarters full. Usually, when Jacob tried to run an event or business out of town, there were people packed floor to ceiling. Maybe because the art gallery was still brand new and not everyone was aware of it was the reason there weren’t more people. That was fine, until Zachary noticed that Anne Marie was not in the audience. Had she decided to give up the battle after all? It didn’t seem like her, but with how disastrous the opening reception had been, followed by the media frenzy after Muriel and Osgood’s murders, it might have been enough to push her over the edge. The day before, she’d been ready to crawl back to her job at Gresham School, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
Zachary was about to fish his cell phone out of his coat and give her a call when the echo of the gavel suggested it would be wiser to take a seat. Jacob sat in the middle, surrounded by the other members of the village board. Felicia Bellwether, one of the board members, sat to the far left of the board, and she was looking at the chairman with a big scowl on his face. It was obvious which item on the agenda had ticked her off. She was the one person on the board that you could count on to fight for the people instead of against them.
Jacob somberly called the meeting to order and proceeded to go through the agenda. The matter involving the art gallery was seventh on the list, so Anne Marie still had time to get there. It was still surprising she wasn’t already ringside, ready to fight. Zachary hoped there wasn’t anything else wrong, like maybe she’d been in an accident.
About twenty minutes into the meeting, Newell leaned over to whisper to Zachary. “Maybe one of us should try to find Anne Marie. I’m not sure who is willing to speak up without her here.”
“You go. If they get to the agenda item, I’ll ramble about something nonsensical until you guys can get back here.”
“You? Be nonsensical? Wish I could stay here and see that.”
Before Newell could get up to leave, the woman in question appeared and took a seat next to Zachary. “Did you all miss me?”
“You could say that,” Zachary whispered. “We were worried you were going to give up.”
“No, no. I just had to get my big gun. That’s all.”
Zachary arched an eyebrow. “Big gun? Anne Marie, what are you up to?”
“That would be telling. Besides, you always love a good mystery. The truth shall be revealed in time, and let’s just say it’ll be something Jacob Malueg won’t see coming.”
Zachary pondered Anne Marie’s words. Was she planning on setting off a bomb or something? Did she set up Jacob’s chair to drop him through a trap door? The anticipation was killing Zachary.
“Okay. The next item on our agenda is reconsideration of a business license issued to Anne Marie White Eagle for an art gallery. It has come to my
attention that the gallery is connected to the horrific deaths of two of our most distinguished Shawano County citizens, and I think we need to take swift action to protect our community from more harm. Can I get a motion on this matter?”
“Instead of a motion, I’ll give you an earful instead.” Felicia, who had been gently reclining in her seat until that point, now sat up and folded her hands on her desk. “I’ve been on this village board for many years, Jacob, and I’ve heard you spew all kinds of crazy ideas, most of them inhibiting progress in this town. This one really takes the cake, though, and it must set some kind of record for speed. I have never heard of a government entity attempting to shut down an art gallery when the subjects were murdered far away from said gallery, especially since it has been less than forty-eight hours since the crime took place. We won’t even mention that you’ve tried to halt the progress of this gallery twice in recent months, with no success, but right now, even having this come up is risking a cultural incident with our good neighbors to the north, the Menominee Nation. Not to mention that trying to shut down a business that has no tangible connection to a crime is, in itself, criminal. You’ve taken it upon yourself to turn this village board into a kangaroo court of hate, Jacob Malueg, and I intend to see that you’re the only one who takes the fall for any of this.”
Jacob rested his head on his fist. “Felicia, there is a lot more to this than you might realize, and to accuse this board of malfeasance and hate is poor judgment on your part, and I intend to have the village attorney look into whether censure or other action is appropriate.”
“I’m sure the attorney will agree that you should probably listen more to Mrs. Bellwether and less to those high-pitched ninny voices in your head.”
Everybody turned their heads to see who dared to speak that way to the village chairman. A large black woman in a business suit carrying a briefcase walked down the aisle and took a position at the podium where citizens usually came up to speak.
“Who’s that?” Newell whispered, a look of confusion plastered on his face.
“That would be my big gun,” Anne Marie replied, a wicked grin spreading across her face like wildfire. It took a moment, but Zachary finally realized why the woman could be considered a big gun, no matter what social setting she was in.
“My name is Anna Versary. I’m an attorney representing Miss White Eagle, and I would like to request an immediate cessation of further proceedings against my client, lest you proceed into territory that would prompt an immediate lawsuit.”
Most of the folks in the room were looking ill at ease, knowing full well that Anna Versary had a reputation for crusading for right and having great success in getting it in a courtroom. Having her as your attorney was the same as your cards total twenty-one in a game of blackjack; it was basically game over for anyone who tried to oppose her.
Then again, Jacob Malueg was arrogant enough to say “Hit me” when he was playing with a hand of twenty. He looked Anna in the eye and said, “Ma’am, this is a village board meeting. If you’d like to throw your legal weight around, I’d suggest you go find a courtroom in Shawano. We’re here to do the people’s business.”
Zachary felt sorry for Jacob, knowing the thrashing that inevitably was going to hit him for saying something stupid like that to Anna Versary, of all people. Zachary also wanted to kick himself for not bringing a video camera to capture the moment.
“Mr. Chairman, if you were truly doing the people’s business, you would not be discriminating against a woman who has done nothing but good things for this community. This is bordering on harassment, unless you can prove you’ve arbitrarily shut down other businesses in this village. If that is the case, how is that doing the people’s business, by chasing potential commerce away? I await your explanation.”
Bennett Carmichael, a new member of the village board elected a year ago, spoke up. “I move to go into recess to allow the village chairman to consult with an attorney to confirm or deny Ms. Versary’s claims.”
Felicia quickly seconded the motion, and Jacob, with a reluctant look, took the vote. He was the only one who voted against the recess, for obvious reasons. He was caught, and he knew it.
While the board was in recess, Anna took a seat in front of Anne Marie and turned around to speak face to face. “Well, I think that went fairly nicely, don’t you?”
“Very much so. Anna, I’d like you to meet my friends, Zach and Newell. Zach owns that bookstore near the gallery, and Newell operates the local feed store.”
Anna held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you both. I trust you’re both here supporting Anne Marie against the evil empire.”
Zachary chuckled. “A very apt description, although it mainly applies to Jacob. I know Anne Marie has put her heart and soul into starting the art gallery, and it’s bad enough to have the subjects of your first show pass away, but then to have the bad press and Big Brother working against you. Believe it or not, we are good people. We just elect stupid leaders.”
“I can’t argue with that, and that’s saying something, considering I pride myself on being able to argue anything.”
“Just out of curiosity, how did Anne Marie manage to get you as an attorney so quickly?”
Anne Marie held up her hand to speak. “I didn’t, actually. The tribal chairman got a hold of my brother once word got out about the meeting, and the tribe actually hired Anna to represent me.”
“So why did you almost not get here in time? I was about to send Newell looking for you.”
“Oh, that. I found out about Anna about forty minutes ago, and I had to bring her up to speed rather quickly.”
Anna chimed in. “Her people were very determined that she not lose her gallery because of these murders. Anne Marie is a tribal member in very good standing, and considering that law enforcement already has a Menominee man in their sights for the murders, they did not want any residual racial persecution.”
Zachary nodded. “I know. We’re all very good at saying there is no racism around here, but we all have these little things—these prejudices—that keep us from fully embracing diversity.”
“Apparently your village chairman took extra helpings when they were dishing out little prejudices. How can you all put up with this man’s shenanigans? Trying to end Applefest, trying to drive away drag queens. What next? Only blonde haired and blue eyes white folks welcome?”
Zachary ran a hand through his brown hair. “In that case, I’m glad I’m no longer living in the village limits.”
“Here. Something to snack on while we wait for the fearless leader to get his tongue lashing.” Scotty Glenn, the owner of the Gresham Bakery, held a tray full of fruit pastries as an offering.
“Thank you, Scotty.” Anne Marie grabbed a cherry Danish. “Say, have you met Anna…”
“Anna Versary, yes. I read about you in the Appleton newspaper all the time. You’re a force of nature to some folks there. I’m glad you’re on our side in this case, so to speak.”
Anna laughed as she grabbed a jelly donut with strawberry. “I’m on the side of equality and justice. You’d be surprised how little of either of those is out there in the real world.”
Zachary grabbed a lemon Danish for himself and a cherry one for Newell. “So are you catering the village board meetings now, or is this just a special occasion?”
Scotty harrumphed. “These are the pastries that our local grocer hasn’t bothered to pick up for the last three days, so my apologies if they seem a little stale.”
Zachary stopped in mid-chew, surprised at the news. He swallowed and asked, “Miles La Rouche hasn’t been getting pastries in the last three days?” The timing seemed eerily close to when Muriel and Osgood were murdered.
“On the bright side, the folks who go there for donuts and stuff have been filtering over to me as their supplies have been running out, but still it’s impolite to ask for pastries and then not pick them up. Have we, as a society, just given up on good manners and civility?”
&
nbsp; “Well, I don’t know if it makes you feel any better, but this Danish doesn’t taste stale. If you like, I’ll buy some off of you after the meeting if there are any left. That’ll take care of breakfast in the morning.”
“Hear, hear.” Newell seconded the idea.
Scotty’s face brightened. “I’ll see you after the meeting.”
Zachary pondered the latest bit of information he’d received. Miles was not getting pastries from Scotty as usual. Had he found some other vendor, or had he disappeared just like Sajen? Could Miles have something to do with the grisly demise of the Reimers? He’d admitted that he’d held a lifetime unrequited attraction to Muriel, but would he really go so far as to shoot her and her husband dead? It didn’t seem to quite fit the mild-mannered grocer’s personality, but then the killers around Gresham seemed to be the ones you’d least expect.
Zachary was about to ask Newell for an opinion when Jacob returned to the chamber, looking like he’d just been told his identity had been stolen by cyber thieves. He sat down slowly in his seat and beat his gavel to bring the meeting back to order.
“At this time, I will make a motion to postpone any action on the business license indefinitely. Do I have a second?”
Felicia smiled. “I will second.”
The board voted unanimously in favor of the postponement, bringing the matter to a conclusion. Most of the audience started to filter out. As promised, Zachary purchased a half-dozen Danishes for him and Newell in the morning and then stepped outside to join his friends.
“So, Anne Marie. Now that the village board isn’t storming the doors, what are you going to do about keeping the gallery open?” Zachary asked as he wrapped his scarf around his neck.
“I’m still juggling a bunch of ideas. I’ll have to figure out a way to draw people in. Despite the fact that the murders took place at Muriel and Osgood’s home, their departure from this world has cast a pall on the exhibit. It’ll take me a day or two, but I’ll figure out a way to get the gallery fully reopened by this weekend.”