Moon Over Manifest (27 page)

“Do you own the spring, Mr. …?”

“Burton. And no, but—”

“Then this is not your concern.” He placed the vial in his briefcase and locked it shut.

“I always knew that mine would kill us all, one way or another,” Mr. Matenopoulos lamented. “Whether it’s black soot in our lungs or contamination in our water, it will get us all in the end.”

The room grew quiet as the weight of his words, as dark and cold as a mine shaft, pressed around them. Mr. Matenopoulos and the others were consumed by their gloom and Burton seemed the only one to notice as the young man drank half the glass of cloudy water.

“Now what?” Burton asked.

“Now”—the man tore out a page of his notebook, placed it into a brown envelope, and slid it into an inside pocket of his jacket—“I have some very important information to deliver at the courthouse.” He laid his suit coat over his arm and lifted the glass of water in salute. “Good day.”

Burton lowered his voice so the others in the bar couldn’t hear. “Now hold on there, son. There’s no need to be so standoffish. Smart young fellow like you wouldn’t drink that water if there was something wrong with it.” He spoke with a smile. “No, my guess is there’s something special about this here water. Is this something like those healing springs in Arkansas and Colorado, where people come from all over to buy the stuff? Healing water, they call it.”

“Well, I can’t speak to that, Mr. Burton. I’ve never been to any of those places.” Then he drank the rest of the cloudy water in one long gulp. “All I can say is I’m feeling better already, and that’s a fact.” He placed the glass on the bar, winked at Burton, and was gone.

Judge Carlson rapped his gavel. “This court will now come to order.” The crowded courtroom grew still. The monthly court date was always a well-attended event, as it provided citizens with a forum to settle disputes, conduct all manner of legal transactions, and hold public auction.

That day’s session, however, was jam-packed. The whole local cast of characters was present. Lester Burton sat in the front row, smiling and confident, while Shady and Jinx sat across the aisle. Arthur Devlin sat a few rows back, holding his gold-tipped cane and stretching one leg into the aisle. The man from the state board of health had himself wedged into the second row, briefcase on his lap, with the still pregnant Mrs. Cybulskis on his left and Hattie Mae on his right. Even Sister Redempta slipped in the back door and stood to the left side of the courtroom while the Hungarian woman stood to the right.

Hattie Mae, pen and paper in hand, was prepared to record all the whos, whats, whys, whens, and wheres and so tried not to notice the handsome man sitting beside her. He, on the other hand, made no attempt to avoid noticing her.

“We have a full slate today, ladies and gentlemen, so let’s keep things moving.” Judge Carlson peered through his half-glasses at the schedule, as if he wasn’t fully aware of the item at the top of the list.

“First off, we have—”

“Your Honor,” Mrs. Larkin interrupted from the jury box, which was being used for extra seating, “there is a matter of some urgency that I insist be dealt with immediately.” She stood. “It has come to my attention that Shady Howard has been producing illegal substances on public property.”

Half the courtroom glared at her. As often as she’d been seen making telephone calls from the post office and frequenting the telegraph machine, funneling who-knew-what information to Arthur Devlin, they still couldn’t believe she would take this opportunity to knock Shady’s legs out from under him.

“Mrs. Larkin.” Judge Carlson rubbed his forehead as if this was going to be the beginning of a very long afternoon. “I assure you we will address your grievance, but the first item on the agenda is the settlement of the Widow Cane’s property.”

Mrs. Larkin sat down, holding her tongue for the time being.

Judge Carlson continued. “As stated, the township of Manifest has the first rights to the land upon payment of back taxes and the land fee in the amount of one thousand dollars.”

Shady stood and spoke for the group. “Your Honor, we are a little short of the thousand dollars and are requesting an extension to raise the remaining funds.”

The Honorable Judge Carlson was just that. Honorable. He was one of the few authorities around who was not in the back pocket of Arthur Devlin. He would come down on the side of the law, wherever that happened to fall. But his
voice couldn’t hide the weight of what he was about to say. Judge Carlson shook his head. “I’m sorry, Shady. The statute is clear. As of October first, if the town doesn’t buy the land, it becomes available for public sale.”

“But, Your Honor, we can pay the portion we have now and—”

Lester Burton stood. “Your Honor. These shysters have been deceiving everyone long enough. Producing illegal alcohol, or their so-called elixir, to raise funds to buy the land. I’d say it’s time to put that land up for sale.”

Judge Carlson’s gavel wavered for a moment. “Very well. Let’s get on with it. Since the township cannot make payment in full at this time, then in accordance with public statute, the aforementioned tract of land is now open for public bids.”

Lester Burton looked around the room, defying anyone to bid against him. The crowd remained still. “Your Honor, since there is no stipulation that the land be sold in one piece, I’d like to first bid on the section including the spring from the tracks to the stream.”

The room ignited with a buzz of murmuring voices. Judge Carlson banged his gavel.

“I thought the mine wanted the whole tract of land.”

“The part I want doesn’t involve the vein. That pertains to the mine. Right now, I’m not bidding on behalf of the mine. I’m bidding for myself and all I’m interested in is the spring. I’ll start the bidding at fifty dollars.”

Shady tried to figure what Burton was up to. Jinx snuck a look at the government man sitting in the second row. “Shady, that fellow from Topeka never said the water was
contaminated. He just asked if it was near a mine,” Jinx whispered.

“So?”

“What if that’s a good thing? What if that’s why people were getting better?”

“You mean it might be healing water?” Shady pondered the idea. “Like in those spas in Arkansas and Colorado?”

“Yes, and folks come from miles to drink, even bathe in it. Burton will make a fortune.”

“Going once.…” Judge Carlson looked around the courtroom.

“You can’t just let him buy it,” Jinx whispered.

“But it’s the town’s money.”

“Then the town will own the spring. You’ll all still have a chance to get out from under Burton and the mine,” Jinx urged.

“Going twice.…” The gavel hovered.

“One hundred dollars,” Shady said softly.

“What’s that?” Judge Carlson asked, trying to find the source of the bid.

Shady stood. “One hundred dollars.”

Burton turned on Shady. “I don’t think you want to do that, Shady.”

“I think I do.”

“Two hundred dollars,” Burton counterbid.

“Three hundred.”

The bidding went back and forth, a hundred dollars at a time, until it reached seven hundred dollars. That was when Lester Burton knew he was getting close.

It was Shady’s bid. “Seven hundred twenty dollars.”

“Seven thirty.”

Shady’s hands were trembling. He looked like he’d have paid seven hundred dollars for one stiff drink, just to take the edge off. “Seven hundred forty dollars.”

The courtroom was silent, as if there was not a breath left. Everyone knew he had done all he could. And everyone knew it wasn’t enough.

“Seven forty-one.” Burton waited for the counterbid that wouldn’t come.

Judge Carlson raised his gavel like a man ready to put a dying animal out of its misery. “Going once. Going twice. Sold.” He rapped his gavel lightly. “Mr. Burton, if you’ll sign the papers with the county clerk, we’ll move on to the rest of the Widow Cane’s property.” Burton whipped out a pen and signed the papers with a smirk.

“Your Honor?” It was Mrs. Larkin again. “About that property …”

“Yes, I know, Mrs. Larkin,” Judge Carlson said. “I assure you we will address your matter in due time. Now please be seated.”

“But, Your Honor …” Mrs. Larkin stepped out of the jury box. “As my husband, the late Eugene Larkin, was the county appraiser, I have access to his maps relating to public and private land use in this county. The land just purchased by Mr. Burton …” Without asking to approach the bench, Mrs. Larkin whipped out a map and unrolled it on Judge Carlson’s desk. “See here? It’s this northeast corner.”

“Yes, I see. However, where Shady makes his alleged concoctions doesn’t change the fact that this land is now up for public sale. So, if you’ll return to your seat …”

“Oh, but it does, Your Honor,” Mrs. Larkin argued. “You see, now that Mr. Burton has purchased that section of land, it reduces the amount of land that has back taxes due. And actually, now Mr. Burton owes an amount in back taxes.”

A host of mystified stares focused on Mrs. Larkin. Even Judge Carlson was at first unable to respond.

Lester Burton recovered first. “What difference does that make? They still don’t have enough, so let’s get on with the sale.” He was clearly rattled by his nearly devastating mistake.

Mrs. Larkin continued. “Actually, Your Honor, there’s more.”

“Of course there is.” Judge Carlson sat back and crossed his arms.

“Mr. Burton’s property includes a spring, which is considered a public resource, therefore it is required that the taxes on that land go to the nearest township. In this case, the township of Manifest.”

“Meaning?” Judge Carlson asked, growing genuinely interested.

“Meaning that if, in fact, the town of Manifest has raised seven hundred and forty dollars—by whatever flagrant and nefarious means”—she looked over her glasses at Shady and Jinx—“due to Mr. Burton’s purchase of the spring, they now have the money to buy the rest of the Widow Cane’s property, with eight dollars to spare. The county clerk can verify.” She handed the map and calculations to the clerk.

“This is preposterous,” Burton spluttered. “They had their chance to buy the property. Now it’s up for public sale.”

Arthur Devlin rose from his seat, his puffy face splotchy with rage. “Sit down, Burton,” he roared. “You’ve done enough to botch this affair. I bid five thousand dollars on the rest of the property, Carlson. Let’s get this thing over with.”

“Mr. Devlin.” Judge Carlson leaned forward, his voice even. “With all this hubbub, I think you may be a bit confused. You see, we are not in your mine. You are in my courtroom and you may refer to me as Judge or Your Honor.”

Arthur Devlin’s eyes narrowed and he plopped himself back into his seat.

“Now”—Judge Carlson lowered his spectacles—“you should recall that the first step of this process is not an auction. The statute clearly states that the township of Manifest has first right to the land in question as long as they can pay the back taxes and land fee by October first. Then and only then is the land put up for public auction. Mr. Devlin, according to my calendar, it is still October first, and if everything Mrs. Larkin said checks out”—he glanced at the county clerk, who gave a nod—“then, since your own Mr. Burton has graciously provided the township of Manifest with some unexpected money, by law they are still allowed to acquire the remaining land, which includes the vein.”

Devlin crushed his cigar to a pulp, but being a businessman through and through, he knew when he was defeated. He mustered three words. “Burton, you’re fired.”

“Fine with me,” Burton said. “You’ll all be coming to me for some of that healing springwater. And you can bet it won’t be cheap.”

The crowd rumbled. What was he talking about? Was that why Shady had bid on the spring?

“That’s right, folks,” said Burton. “Just ask our friendly government visitor from Topeka. He’s got his report all ready about the high metal content in the water and how it has healing properties. Go ahead, son, make your presentation.”

All eyes turned to the young man sitting in the second row of the courtroom.

Finally, Hattie could look at him head-on. She held her pen, poised to take note. The man waved his hand. “I don’t really think this is the time and—”

Burton fumed. “You came all the way to Manifest to deliver some important information, did you not?”

“I did, but—”

“Then I’m sure the judge won’t mind bumping you up on the list.”

The man looked at Judge Carlson.

“Go ahead. Let’s have all the surprises out at once.” Judge Carlson waved him on.

“Very well.” He took the manila envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to the bailiff, who passed it to Judge Carlson.

Judge Carlson opened it and examined the contents with great interest. “This is fascinating material, young man, but I fail to see how recipes for pumpkin pie and raspberry marmalade can have much bearing on the proceedings of this court. Would you mind clearing up what this is all about, Mr. …”

“Macke. Fred Macke. Those recipes are for my aunt Eudora.”

Hattie Mae, the hardball reporter, dropped her pen, staring up at the man. He grinned at her and winked.

“But,” Burton sputtered in disbelief as he realized something had gone terribly wrong. “This is an outrage, Judge. I retract my bid on the grounds that I have been tricked, manipulated, and lied to. This man is a charlatan. He told me he worked for the government.”

Mrs. Larkin stepped forward. “He does work for the government, Lester. I’ve bragged on him a million times. This is my sister’s boy. He works in the governor’s office … the assistant to the assistant.” She placed her hand proudly on his shoulder.

“But the water …,” Burton continued. “You checked the water, you made it fizz, and then you drank it. It was healing water.”

Fred Macke’s eyebrows went up. “That powder? Oh, that was just some seltzer powder. I’ve got a sensitive stomach.” He gave a sideways glance at Jinx.

Eudora Larkin spoke up in his defense. “My nephew wouldn’t lie. He’s honest as the day is long. Perhaps you just misunderstood, Lester.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or maybe your greed got in the way of good judgment.” She turned her attention back to her nephew. “Now, Fred, you give my best to your mother and tell her thank you for the recipes.”