The 'Cousins'

Part Eighty-One: Consternation.

“Good Night Your Honour.” 

                                           *    *    *

Harvey Denton sat alone in his office in the Town Hall long after he had heard the Town Hall clock strike the hour of seven. He fidgeted with his pipe-cleaning tool, rattling it between his finger and thumb on his desk blotter, creating two walls of tobacco and ash that he had spilled onto it from his pipe. The overfilled ash-tray bore testament to his confusion and discomfiture. 

The prospect of Mitt Fawley staging a challenge against him at the forthcoming elections scared him. Fawley had threatened to oppose him at every past election he had fought. They had come to nothing and like everybody else he had considered the man’s candidature as no more than a joke, since he never completed the procedure to put himself forwards for election. This time it was different. Now that he had the Eastside unemployed rooting for him, Fawley seemed serious in his intent and that added to Denton’s unease and growing fear.

“And all because of that damned English pervert. Is this guy a saint or a damned devil? And I know what I think?”

He tossed his pipe-cleaning tool angrily onto his desk and watched it skid from the blotter across the polished oak onto the floor. He sat deep in thought, with his elbow on the desk, cradling his jaw on his fist and searched his brain for ideas for his best next move.

                                                   *   *   *

Chuck Armstrong was still in his office at the Community College an hour after the school secretary had left. He too was scared for his position after speaking to Sheriff Donovan following his interview with Jesse White that morning and the sanctions imposed on him; banning the boy keeping company with Mitchell. 

Donovan had frightened him by saying his sanctions were both improper and actionable. He hoped Leon Druce had passed on his message to White that the ban was lifted and only said to frighten Jesse White.  He did not want Greg Mitchell hearing about these sanctions, since by banning the boy’s association with him, they also worked against the man.

Armstrong kept a volume of his postage stamp collection in his office at the school to consult in moments of relaxation. It lay unopened on his desk and his fingers drummed on the hide binding to show his irritation and fear.  “Damn the man! Why did his journey have to stop here?”

He had thought over his speech at this morning’s meeting with Jess time and again during the day and, like the judge, had ended each time with increased feelings of concern for himself. He closed his hand and tapped the volume heavily with his knuckle.

“I only want that boy to pay what he owes and keep my accounts clear and my reputation and that of the school unimpaired. Is that too much to ask? Am I to be constrained because of a man, one seen physically abusing the boy, has more money than me with which to pay for fancy lawyers?” 

Armstrong recognised Greg as a man of action, one who would not hesitate going to law to redress his grievances if Jesse White told him of the restrictions placed upon him.  

Armstrong slapped the book with the palm of his hand. The sharp crack sounded extra loud as it reverberated around the otherwise silent office, amplified by the stillness of the administration wing beyond the office doors.

“I need to get that debt paid before the end of the semester.”

Armstrong licked his tongue over the dryness of his teeth as thoughts of his predecessor’s downfall entered his head. Sloppy accounting had prematurely ended, what in other respects, had been a long and successful teaching career at the College.