The Hanged Man's Noose Page 10

  Because this school looked sadly dilapidated, the roof missing more than a few shingles, the windows boarded up, the plywood spray-painted with graffiti, the lawn unkempt, balding patches of grass squeezed out by a field of weeds, the gravel baseball diamond washed away by wind and weather, the basketball hoop rusted and bent, its net missing save for a solitary shred of white rope.

  “The Main Street Elementary School, another two years down the line. If it continues to sit vacant and abandoned,” Stonehaven said, his voice somber. “And it will only worsen as time goes on.”

  Another slide, this one showing the back of the school. More boarded-up windows, more dilapidation, more graffiti.

  “Let’s look at the facts,” Stonehaven continued. “The elementary school property has been vacant for the last two years, because the Cedar County District School Board deemed modernization too costly. It was cheaper to build a new school on the outskirts of town.”

  Emily looked around again. Several people were nodding.

  “But this is nothing new to any of you. I daresay if you have children or grandchildren of elementary school age, you were glad to find them attending a nice, new, modern school with wireless technology and classroom modules that can be customized to fit varying class sizes and curriculums. We’ve all heard the horror stories about mold and asbestos in other schools built way back when. Who knows what could be lurking behind the walls of this tired old Main Street property? Simply put, the Cedar County District School Board couldn’t take a chance.”

  Far be it for Stonehaven to prove there was any air quality or environmental concerns at the Main Street Elementary School, but he’d managed to plant the seed, dark and deep, Emily thought. She watched as Stonehaven seized the moment.

  “That’s where HavenSent Development comes in. Because that’s one of the things HavenSent does. We try to save old buildings, breathe new life into them, resuscitate them if you will. When my team heard about an abandoned old elementary school in dire need of rescue, in a charming community ninety minutes northeast of Toronto, I knew I had to see it for myself.”

  A joyous expression came over Stonehaven’s face. “I fell in love with the town, the building, the property, and historic Main Street. I asked my team of engineers and environmental experts to assess the structure. After weeks of waiting, we got the green light. Now we get to the part where you, the people of Lount’s Landing, come in.”

  Another slide of the Main Street Elementary School, this time bearing the caption “Letting Go of NIMBY.” Except in the artist’s renderings, it didn’t look much like the dilapidated school from the earlier slides, nor did it resemble the school currently sitting vacant and in reasonably good repair.

  It looked like the pictures of the megabox store in the ABCs of Revitalization brochure: the basketball court, the baseball diamond, the playground all paved over to make room for row upon row of parking.

  The cynic in Emily noticed the artist had managed to keep a bit of green space, including the ancient oak on the front lawn, the grounds surrounding it filled with acorns and fallen autumn leaves, a picnic table a few feet away.

  There was no chance that tree would make the final cut, not if Stonehaven’s track record stood pat. There would be some sort of excuse, a disruptive root system, a problem with getting equipment in and out. It was always something. Later, he’d bring in a local nursery, have them plant a handful of blue spruce saplings, make sure the media was there in full force while he spouted off about environmental responsibility and his love of nature.

  At the moment, however, Stonehaven was busy unveiling a new series of slides, each one depicting a cheerful employee clad in a bright red, white, and gold smock, the color scheme identical to the flags shown in the earlier slides of historic Main Street. The employees were directing smiling shoppers and their oversized carts towards aisles packed with merchandise. Each slide offered up some sort of positive message, phrases like “Exciting Full- and Part-time Employment Opportunities,” and “Bringing Business Back to Main Street.” One slide in particular piqued Emily’s curiosity. The one that read “Investment Potential.”

  The presentation ended with one last artist’s rendering, this time of the store’s proposed exterior, the words “StoreHaven: Another HavenSent Solution” superimposed over it, bold lettering at the bottom of the slide proclaiming, “The ABCs of REVITALIZION: Neighbors Helping Neighbors.”

  The screen gradually faded into blackness as the overhead lights came back on, one by one. Stonehaven flashed a brilliant smile and bowed to his audience.

  Emily couldn’t believe her eyes. Not only did the pompous ass take a bow as if he was on stage for some sort of Broadway play, more than half of the room stood up and clapped. She turned around and saw Levon and Shuggie standing at the back of the room. From the dour look on Levon’s face, he hadn’t been any too impressed with Stonehaven’s performance. Arabella also remained seated, her expression stony.

  Emily watched as Stonehaven motioned everyone to sit, a contrived look of humility on his handsome face. At least she assumed it was contrived. He’d never struck her as the humble type.

  “Thank you,” Stonehaven said. “Thank you, all. Now, are there any questions? All I ask is that you stand up and introduce yourself first.”

  Arabella bolted up from her seat, her face flushed.

  “Arabella Carpenter, owner of the Glass Dolphin antiques, and my question is, how will a megabox store like StoreHaven help the businesses on Main Street? How will it result in the kind of transformation your before-and-after slideshow presented?”

  There were a few random mutterings of “yeah, how’s that going to help us?” and similar comments, but the vast majority merely glanced around the room to see what everyone else was doing.

  “Two excellent questions, Ms. Carpenter,” Stonehaven said, with complete composure. “Now I’m going to ask the audience one. Did anyone notice the positive messaging in the StoreHaven slides? The signs that read ‘Investment Potential’ and ‘Employment Opportunities’ and ‘Bringing Business Back to Main Street?’”

  “A lot of meaningless mumbo jumbo,” Arabella said, still standing, her voice icy. “It doesn’t explain how StoreHaven is going to help us. To put it bluntly, I’m not seeing Team Main Street winning against a megabox monstrosity.”

  Stonehaven shook his head, a mournful expression on his face. “It’s that kind of narrow thinking, this ‘us versus them’ mentality, that’s harming this town’s economic viability. Frankly, I expected more from you…Arabella. I would have thought a new shop owner would have a broader vision.”

  “Let’s try to keep this to the facts at hand, Mr. Stonehaven. Oh, wait a second. There are no facts at hand. No wonder my vision isn’t quite as broad as it could be.”

  Score one for Arabella, Emily thought, as the audience laughed.

  “There may not be a lot of dollars available now, but once people start coming here from the Greater Toronto Area, there will be increasing amounts of disposable income.”

  “You’re suggesting a megabox store in Lount’s Landing will bring people up from the GTA?” Arabella gave a dry chuckle. “Forgive me for being obtuse, but I don’t see it. Those kinds of places are a dime a dozen in the city.”

  Stonehaven scowled. “StoreHaven will not be any megabox store, where one corporation owns everything. My concept is a store co-owned by members of the tri-area community, with a carefully appointed management team, led by myself, at least initially, to supervise the overall project and the day-to-day operations.”

  “Supervised by you,” Arabella said. “How bloody convenient.”

  “Please sit down, Arabella, and let me explain.”

  Arabella sat, her face blotchy with anger.

  “Thank you.” Stonehaven turned his attention to the rest of the room. “For a modest investment fee, shops and businesses will be allowed to stock a limited selection of their inventory in StoreHaven, a vignette if you will. The store will be staffed
with professionally trained sales associates, available to sell the merchandise within the store, and to provide them with full information on your shops.”

  “Can you explain what you mean by an investment fee?” For once it wasn’t Arabella doing the asking, it was Johnny Porter. Emily looked around the room and saw a lot of nodding heads.

  “An excellent question, Johnny. Part of the investment fee would go toward the revitalization of Main Street, to turn it into a destination for tourists and local shoppers, a place to congregate and shop for fine things. We could start with sidewalk planters, or by replacing portion by portion of the paved road with cobblestones, at least at the crosswalks. Or sandblast some old brick, add some awnings. This sort of vision won’t happen overnight, but the opportunities for improvement are endless.”

  “Who makes the decisions on how the investment fees are allocated?”

  “Another excellent question, Johnny. The investors will be put in priority sequence, which means the first investors will have the first say in how the pot is distributed, once sufficient funds have been accumulated. A win-win situation. Neighbors Helping Neighbors.”

  Emily couldn’t believe her ears when people starting speaking at once, everyone asking how they might become an investor. The man could sell air-conditioning for igloos.

  “There’s no need for panic,” Stonehaven said, now smiling broadly. “I’ll be taking appointments to discuss the fine print with any interested investors starting tomorrow, no obligation. Main Street merchants will be given top priority, although I will accept investors from Miakoda Falls and Lakeside until such time as there is no more availability.”

  Stonehaven motioned to the room at large. “Anyone who wishes an appointment can book one through Camilla Mortimer-Gilroy at the Gilroy Mansion, where I have had the pleasure of staying, and where I will continue to conduct business for the foreseeable future. Camilla will be booking appointments daily from noon to five p.m.”

  He turned to acknowledge Camilla, and gave another bow. “In the meantime, enough talk of business and industry. I’ve planned a post-presentation celebration at The Hanged Man’s Noose, my treat. I believe the pub’s lovely proprietor, Betsy Ehrlich, is waiting for us as we speak.”

  Most of the room stood up and cheered while Stonehaven gathered his belongings and strode purposefully out of the conference room. A hoard of people flocked after him, including, Emily noticed, a pale and tense-looking Stanford McLelland.

  “Honestly, there are more horses’ asses than horses in this town,” Arabella shouted over the applause. “How can you people buy what that man is selling?”

  21

  Emily managed to catch up with Arabella in the hallway. “I thought we could go to The Hanged Man’s Noose together. I figured you might need a friend after your showdown with Stonehaven.”

  “Was it a showdown, Emily? I thought I was asking questions everyone had the right to know the answer to.”

  “Stonehaven doesn’t take kindly to having his authority challenged.” Emily thought back to the time her mother had dared to try.

  “Emily’s right, Bella,” Levon said, sauntering up beside them. “This is one guy you don’t want to cross.”

  “So we’re just supposed to let him march into town and bastardize the integrity of Main Street while ripping us off in the process? I don’t think so.”

  “No one’s suggesting that, Arabella,” Levon said. “But I don’t think being confrontational is the answer.”

  “Whatever you say, Levon,” Arabella said, rolling her eyes. “Where’s Shuggie?”

  “I sent him ahead to save us a table. Mention free booze and food and the place will be packed, and good on Betsy for getting Stonehaven to foot the bill. But you need to calm down before we go there. I know how you can get when you’re riled up. Hell, I’ve been on the receiving end a time or two.”

  “I’m not riled up, Levon, and you deserved to be on the receiving end more than a time or two, and you know it.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “And I’m just saying I don’t trust the man, and don’t tell me that you do.” Arabella glared at Levon, then turned to face Emily. “What was your impression, Emily? You must have heard Stonehaven speak before.”

  “I have, plenty of times, but I’ve never heard one quite so investment-focused. Seriously, I don’t know what to think, although it sounds as if Camilla is involved, at least peripherally. What do you think, Levon? You don’t have a business on Main Street. Maybe you can view this through the eyes of an impartial observer.”

  “I’m not sure how impartial I am, Emily,” Levon said, exchanging a look with Arabella. “Do you have any other suggestions?”

  Emily did, but she needed help to pull it off.

  “I do have one idea.”

  “What is it?” Arabella asked.

  “Someone needs to make an appointment with Stonehaven to find out what the fine print is all about. Until we sort that out, we don’t know what we’re dealing with. It could, after all, be completely legit.” Not that Emily believed it for a moment, given her assignment. But she couldn’t tip her hand, at least not yet. “Whatever Garrett Stonehaven is up to, good, bad, illegal, or indifferent, three heads are definitely better than one. We find out the facts, and get together to discuss what we’ve learned.”

  “Sort of like our own little task force?” Arabella asked, her face flushed with excitement.

  “Exactly like our own little task force,” Emily said.

  “Who makes the appointment?” Levon asked.

  “I think it has to be Arabella,” Emily said. “You don’t operate a storefront on Main Street, and I’ve been reporting on Garrett Stonehaven’s activities for years now. Unless it’s for an interview, he’ll view my request with suspicion. Besides, after the fuss Arabella made, he’ll be expecting her call.”

  “Emily’s right,” Levon said.

  “Since when was asking questions considered making a fuss? Though I have to admit that what you say makes sense.”

  “So you’ll make an appointment?” Emily asked

  “First thing tomorrow.”

  “Perfect. I’ll do the same thing, except I’ll set it up as if it’s an interview for Inside the Landing.”

  “So what’s next?” Levon asked.

  “We head over to The Hanged Man’s Noose, and enjoy some free food and cocktails,” Emily said. “They’ll taste all the better knowing that it’s Stonehaven’s dime. Eat, drink, and be merry, guys. If we play our cards right, we might win this one.”

  The Hanged Man’s Noose was buzzing by the time they arrived. Shuggie had managed to find a table crammed into a corner softly lit by a neon sign advertising Labatt’s Blue Light. Emily suspected the table had been added at the last minute to accommodate a few more people. The laminate top didn’t fit with the rest of the nineteenth-century saloon-style décor.

  Betsy saw them walking in and waved enthusiastically, a wide smile crossing her gamin-like face. She was wearing a black turtleneck, black leggings, black leather over-the-knee boots, and a blood red apron. Her dark brown hair had been twisted back into a bun, revealing diamond-studded ears and a long, thin neck. She was quite lovely, reminded Emily of Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady. It had been her mother’s favorite old movie musical. The two of them had watched it over and over again.

  Emily looked around the room. Everyone had a blue drink in a martini glass, along with small plates of appetizers. She noticed Chantal and Ned were sitting at a table with a morose-looking Gloria. Johnny was sitting with Poppy and Camilla, the three of them deep in conversation. There was no sign of the man of the hour.

  Emily was considering how to best approach Gloria when a server came by with a tray of appetizers and four blue drinks in martini glasses. “This should get you guys started. Shuggie had me wait until you got here before serving him, such a gentleman.”

  “Thanks,” Emily said. “But what’s with the blue martini?”

  “It�
��s Betsy’s secret concoction. She calls it a Treasontini. Came up with it specifically for Stonehaven’s post-presentation celebration, says every good bar needs a signature drink.” The server laughed. “I sure hope you guys like blueberries.”

  “She had me sample a Treasontini last week,” Arabella said. “It’s quite good. Betsy told me it was made with blueberry vodka, triple sec, and blueberry juice. But I’m sure we can order anything we want. Betsy wanted to do something special. I have a feeling she’s sleeping with Stonehaven, not that she’s said anything. But I’ve known Betsy long enough to know the signs.”

  “He does have a way with most women,” Emily said, taking a tentative sip of the blue martini. “But I don’t get it. Why Treasontini?”

  “That would be Betsy’s idea of humor,” Arabella said. “She’s quite a history buff, although most folks around these parts know the basic story. Lount’s Landing is named after Samuel Lount. He was a blacksmith and a farmer, but he was also a political activist. Not exactly a safe career choice in the nineteenth century. He was hanged for treason in 1838.”

  “Treason. Treasontini. Cute,” Emily said. “But why would anyone name a town after a traitor?”

  “He’s not considered a traitor anymore,” Arabella said. “He’s considered a patriot, and an important part of Upper Canada’s history. You see, Lount was also a member of a Quaker sect called the Children of Peace. They were known for their fair dealings with the First Nations and their strong stand against slavery. Lount was revered in the community, although he resisted public office for a long time. His compassion for the poor and disenfranchised ended up getting him killed.”

  “Now Arabella, that’s not entirely accurate,” Levon said. “Lount’s desire for justice is what led him to William Lyon Mackenzie’s Reformers.”

  “Yes, but that decision ultimately led to his death.”