Tax Cut (6 page)

“I’m a shoo-in. I almost reached over with a tissue and wiped the drool coming down Dingo’s chin. You were right; he is a first-class dirty dog. I think my tight red dress did the trick. He pretty much told me I had the job.”

“Well, then, congrats! Did he say when he wanted you to start work?”

“He didn’t say. I guess he needs to confirm it with the hot guy and whatever powers that be.”

“The hot guy?
You mean Bryce?” She nodded. “Didn’t Bryce interview you too?”

“He stopped in to say hello, but that was about it.”

“Let’s celebrate this weekend. Come over for a drink or something.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan.”

Bonnie headed out the door and I decided to try to put those crazy thoughts of murder out of my head. I needed to start working on the new agenda items that had found their way into my in-box and I needed to make sure I didn’t make any mistakes. Marc was already displeased with me and I didn’t want him to think I was completely incompetent.
Maybe the note was just a bad joke
. But before I handled the new agenda items pouring in, I decided to speak with Bryce. It seemed as though I had established a good rapport with him thus far, so I felt comfortable enough to ask him if he was going to agree to appoint Bonnie without interviewing her, like Dingo had implied.

“I don’t have a problem with it.
I’m a pretty laid-back guy. Her résumé looked fine to me. Did I hear you worked with her before?” Bryce asked.

“Yes, I d
id work with her at my last job. She was my deputy clerk,” I told him.

“And she did okay?”

“Yes. She’s very reliable and does excellent work. She’s quite intelligent.”

“I’m good then.
I’ll sign off.”

I smiled at him.
“Thanks so much, Bryce. You won’t regret it!”

He smiled back, flashing the cutest dimples. I
know I had originally told Bonnie that he wasn’t a looker. I guess I hadn’t noticed him at first, but the dimples made him seem kind of adorable. Sort of like a little kid or something. Bonnie was right. He was handsome.

That helped me get my mind off things for about three minutes.
I retrieved my purse from my desk drawer, dug out my keys, and headed out to lunch. I drove to my parents’ house. Being around my parents and my daughter made me feel safe somehow. The comfort food that they always seemed to have in their house could have been part of the reason. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and mac and cheese were on the menu today. I didn’t dare tell them about the note I had found. Being a parent myself, I knew they’d freak out. I did tell them the good news that it looked like Bonnie would be working with me again. I secretly hoped I wasn’t dragging Bonnie into another crazy job.

I returned to work
after lunch, feeling somewhat better than when I left. Particularly because I returned to an email from the attorneys. They attached the zoning ordinance, to my delight. Who would have thought I could have gotten so excited about something as boring as a zoning ordinance? I looked at the calendar. I knew that both the ad for the zoning ordinance and the mailing had to reach their intended audiences at least ten days prior to the ordinance public hearing. I decided to get a jump on things. I drafted the notices that would go in the newspaper and the memo that would need to be mailed. Then, I went over to talk to Bryce again.

I asked
Bryce if he was able to make labels for the mailing for me out of his database of property owners. He said he would. As the tax assessor, I knew he would have a database of all the homeowners in the village and he would be able to sort them by zone for me. The mailing had to go out by both certified and regular mail, so I asked him for four sets of labels. Two for each envelope, one for the large green certified label and one for the small green and white post office receipt. Bryce graciously agreed to my request for four sets of labels as well.

My next stop was in the planning and zoning office.
I spoke with the secretary in the department. Luckily, she had a meeting scheduled for next week, so she could get the ordinance on her agenda. I blew out a sigh of relief. If they didn’t have a meeting scheduled, I’d have to explain to Marc that the planning board couldn’t review the ordinance as quickly as he wanted, and I absolutely did not want to be the target of another one of his fits of anger.

The secretary
also filled me in about how the project was a huge source of controversy at a previous zoning board meeting. The board hadn’t approved a use variance for the project because residents came out in droves. It was the reason the developers now wanted a zoning change. Her zoning board meeting was standing room only. They even had to prevent some people from coming in the room because the amount of people exceeded the fire code. She said some came bearing picket signs and the police had arrested others that got out of control. She told me that various board members received death threats. The crowd was so loud—heckling during the meeting, that the chairman finally took a quick vote to deny the application out of fear that violence would break out. She said it was the most stressful meeting she had ever been to.

Oh great!
I thought. That meant I would have to experience something similar because all these people were likely to attend an upcoming board meeting. Maybe not the next meeting, because no one really knew what was going on yet, but they’d get wind of it for the public hearing on the ordinance and then they would probably be out of control. I made a mental note to be proactive and phone the police department to see if they could hire extra officers for the public hearing of this ordinance. I was hesitant about contacting Marc about anything, after the way he treated me, but I was thinking we should move the location of the public hearing to a larger place. Possibly the old theatre. Call me wimpy, but I opted to wait for now and not suggest anything. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with Marc again at the moment.

I stopped in the
kitchen to see if there was any type of random miracle waiting in there for me to get me through the remainder of the day. A pot of recently brewed coffee was waiting for me, along with some chocolate toffee cookies. That would have to do. I grabbed a mug and poured myself a cup, left it black, grabbed a cookie, and returned to the heap of work waiting for me. I hoped no one minded that I got my coffee from the pot in the kitchen instead of the one near my office. While I was beginning to learn the politics of the village, I certainly was not aware of the office politics as of yet. I walked back into my office and found a pile of labels sitting on my chair, compliments of Bryce.

“Thanks
, Bryce!” I shouted out from my desk.

“You’re welcome,” he yelled back.

It was thoughtful of him to stop what he was doing to print labels to me. I put down my cookie and coffee and went to the supply cabinet where I found the green post office forms that I needed for the certified mailing. I took a handful, returned to my desk, and started labeling the forms. I placed our return address on each form. I weighed a sample letter on the postage machine and recorded the postage amount in the areas where required. I hadn’t even noticed when the hands on the clock pointed to four thirty.

“Are you staying?”
Bryce asked.

“Oh
, geez, I didn’t even see the time. I can’t stay; I have to pick up my daughter.”

“You have a daughter?
How old?”

“She’s two.
A terrible two, I might add. How about you? Any kids?”

“Nah, I haven’t met the right woman yet.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly meet the right man, and I have one.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I
didn’t mean…” Bryce seemed tongue-tied.

I laughed it off.
“It’s a long story, Bryce. I’ll tell you all about it sometime.”

We both smiled and continued to make small talk out to the parking lot.
I liked Bryce’s personality. He was kind and caring. I got into my car and drove away with a smile.
Maybe my new job wasn’t that bad
,
I thought.
I did work with some nice people, like Bryce.
Maybe the note was Vinny being mad at someone one day, like Marc. I could understand if Vinny didn’t like Marc. I didn’t like Marc. And if he spoke to everyone the way he spoke to me, I’d be shocked to learn that anyone liked Marc.

Chapter
6

Daylight hadn’t yet graced the V
illage of Coral Beach. President Marc Coglione cautiously approached the sales office to the new townhouse complex. He stepped out of his car and looked around nervously to make certain no one was watching. He waited patiently. The sleeping neighborhood was silent, except for the chirping crickets. A man arrived.

“
Did you take care of it?” Marc asked.

“Yeah, we took care of it. Cleared the obstacles for Gino to acquire another property.”

“What did you do with the bodies?”

“You pay us to do the worrying about that.”

“Well, maybe I want to make sure my money is being well spent,” Marc said angrily.

The man chuckled and patted Marc on the shoulder. “Marc, my man, you seem stressed. Go home. Make yourself a nice, stiff, screwdriver for breakfast. Learn to relax a little.
But before you do, there is the question of the final payment for our services.”

Marc handed the man a bundle of hundred-dollar bills. “Make sure you give Cal his cut,” Marc said as he hurried back to his car and drove away.

* * *

I arrived at work early the next morning. It was the last Thursday of the month. I had an agenda due and that special meeting tonight. I wanted to make sure I got everything done, and the extra half hour I gave myself this morning would help a little. I placed my purse on my chair while I took off my coat. Having looked down, I noticed the blinking light of horrors illuminated my phone. I cringed.
Was it Babs? Mike Nero?
Almost daily, when my voicemail button had been lit, regardless of who it had been, it wasn’t good news.

I reluctantly hit the playback button.

“Chelsey, this is Marc. Call me immediately.” I felt my shoulders tense up to the ceiling. Marc had a way of making me a basket case. I had originally perceived him in a good light. My perceptions had changed. Although it was still early, I dialed Marc’s number.

“Good morning, this is Chelsey
, returning your call.”

“Chelsey, there is some land we want to condemn.
I need a condemnation ordinance prepared for tonight’s meeting.”

I closed my eyes as tight
ly as I could, and mustered up the nerve to talk.

“Um, we can’t put that on tonight’s agenda,” I informed him.

“What the hell do you mean? You can’t put it on tonight’s agenda?” Marc screeched.

I cringed.

“It’s a special meeting. A special notice went out. Additional agenda items can’t be added to a special meeting.” I waited for the ear-piercing response with the phone slightly parted from my ear by my shaky hands in anticipation.

“Well
, then, get it on next week’s agenda.”
Whew!
A sense of relief washed over me.

“Absolutely, I will. Do you have the block and lot of the property to be condemned?” I asked.

“No!” he said in a booming voice.

My shoulders returned to tension height.

I wanted to know if we had the money budgeted, or if we were in negotiations with the property owner, but I was afraid to ask. I quickly thought of a creative way to find out.

“Should a bond ordinance also be placed on the agenda?”

“That’s for you to figure out,” he said in a sarcastic tone.

“Okay,” I said.
“You have a lovely day.”
Kill him with kindness,
I thought.

He disconnected without another word.
I had no idea what the property was, how much it was worth, nor if we had money to do it. I had gone through the procedures to condemn land at my last job. The procedure, as I had known it, was to negotiate first with the landowner. I was fairly sure there should have been an ordinance to authorize the purchase or condemnation. Then there should have been appraisals on the property. The actual condemnation of the land normally would come later—after a court hearing, and after the landowner refused to agree to a purchase price. This would occur with a second ordinance setting the price. Marc seemed to be putting this step first, since I searched the records, but couldn’t find any documents showing the initial steps had been completed. I wasn’t sure if what Marc was asking for was the correct way to handle things, but I was going to lay low and let the attorneys do their thing.

Normally, all of this would take a considerable amount of time and careful planning. Considering what I had seen so far, this village
didn’t work well with careful planning. I guessed I’d always be flying by the seat of my pants with little planning, so long as I worked here. I tried to look on the bright side…I’d never be bored. And, I supposed, the system had also worked in my favor—I was interviewed and got the job considerably quicker than anyone expected.

I picked up the phone and dialed Mr. Bellini’s law firm.
I explained what little I knew about the ordinance Marc had requested. They said they’d try to help me, and that they’d call me back.

Several hours had passed when an associate of Mr. Bellini’s called me back to inform me they had drafted an ordinance for the condemnation
of the property for the next agenda and they would email it to me immediately, along with an appraisal. I printed both items out when I received the email, and was dumbfounded to see that the property to be condemned was a large oceanfront beach club in the R1 zone—worth millions. I knew the club well. My family once had a membership there, when I was a little girl. I wondered if they had already tried to negotiate with the owners of the club. They had already done an appraisal, so I deduced that this must have been in the works before I started working for the village.

I wasn’t sure why I always felt the need to analyze everything.
A normal person would have done as they were told and put the ordinance on the agenda without another thought. But not me. I felt the urge to know the background about things. There was no real need for me to know, but I wanted to. Fear of being blamed for not being thorough enough was likely my motivation. Making a wrong move without having tenure in my position was another motivation.

I forwarded the email to the finance department.
They would have to make sure that there was money available for the condemnation and they would have to provide me with a certification to that effect before the next meeting. I received an email back from a girl named Diana. “Are they nuts?” she wrote. “We don’t have that kind of money. I can’t certify this amount.”

I sighed.
I typed back. “Bond Ordinance?”

She typed, “That’s the only option.”

I was surprised to learn that we could even bond for that amount. But, I was working in a posh area—many multi-million-dollar homes sat along the beach and the bay. The village had a value that was higher than other municipalities and a great bond rating. I sat back in my chair and pondered my next move to get things rolling. I cringed at the thought of telling Marc the news about needing a bond ordinance. A bond ordinance would take additional time, and he seemed in such a rush to get this done. I thought long and hard about how to word it so that I didn’t get screamed at again. I decided to write him an email, being the chicken that I was. I told him that the ordinance to condemn the beach club was drafted, and I attached it for his review. Then I also told him that a corresponding bond ordinance was also being prepared. I attached a copy of the bond ordinance law, which showed how a bond ordinance took longer to adopt than a regular ordinance due to something called an
estoppel period
, which was a period of time in which a challenge to the ordinance can be filed. An estoppel period started when the legal notice announcing the adoption of the ordinance appeared in the newspaper and it would last for twenty days. After this twenty-day period, the ordinance would go into effect. It is then that the CFO can provide that certification of funds. I asked Marc if he had any issues with the bond ordinance, to let me know.

Marc
’s response to my email was, “No issues.” I took that to mean I should go forward with the bond ordinance. I called Diana back and asked her to have our bond counsel go forward with preparing the paperwork. I wasn’t sure if Marc understood that this meant the condemnation ordinance could be introduced, but not adopted until after that estoppel period, but I would deal with that later—if I had to.

I put
these two new ordinances out of my head for the time being. I needed to finish the other agenda items for next week’s meeting and continue working on the mailing for the zoning ordinance. I worked on the mailing for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening—until it was time to set up for that evening’s meeting. It was good that I had asked my parents to watch my daughter until after the meeting. It gave me extra time to ensure that everything was set up properly and that the recording equipment worked.

The board members began to enter the room.

“Hi, Winifred,” I said as she strutted in with her inappropriately low-cut blouse and see-through white skirt. She snubbed me and didn’t say hello back. Marc at least gave me a nod of his shoe-polish head to acknowledge my presence. On the other hand, Joe, Aspen, and Jamie were very nice and asked me how I was making out on the job.

I noticed that Gino Righetti and Cal Zamboni entered the boardroom bearing briefcases, architectural boards, and their own portable
easel. They seated themselves near the front, at the end of an aisle, presumably so they could easily maneuver themselves to set up the presentation on their project, which was going to require a change to the zoning ordinance.

Village Attorney Bellini
walked into the boardroom and placed his briefcase at his seat. He then proceeded to pass out the zoning ordinance plus a map that went with it. He carefully placed each package at the proper spot for each board member. I thanked him again when he handed one to me. He reminded me that since this proposal was not included in the master plan for the village, it would need a mailing to everyone within the R1 district and everyone within two hundred feet of that district. I told him I knew and that I had started on the mailing already. To my chagrin, he informed me that he changed the ordinance slightly. That meant I had to make new copies of the ordinance, then rip open all the envelopes I had already prepared and replace the pages inside. Nothing like doing double the work. I sighed.

The meeting
began. I noticed that audience members were at a bare minimum. The public wasn’t aware of what was happening yet. They would know soon enough. As soon as they received the mailing. I hated that my name was on the mailing. They’d all be calling me with complaints.

After the
Pledge of Allegiance, Gino went to the microphone and started his speech while Cal set up the presentation boards. The first board showed an aerial view of the R1 zone. Gino pointed out the area where his company wanted to build. The next board showed a depiction of what seemed to be a pipe dream to me. They called it a “Village Pier,” similar to the “Pier Village” that was erected in Long Branch, New Jersey, but with the words reversed. I had to admit, I liked the Pier Village in Long Branch each time I had been there. I had eaten at great restaurants there, some of which overlooked the beach and ocean, and I had visited the unique stores and coffee shops. It was one of the few places in New Jersey where palm trees decorated the beach.

Gino proposed a long boardwalk leading up to the village amusement park. He spoke about the
possibility of contemporary restaurants, high-end apartments, shopping, hotels, and even a casino. He was, by far, an incredible salesman. I marveled at the idea, but wondered how on Earth he would convince all the beachfront, mini-mansion owners to give up their properties. Perhaps he’d be offering big bucks. It had been my experience at my last job, that the mini-mansion homeowners were wealthy. And those wealthy people I had encountered had a different way of handling controversial situations. They threw money at everything. Money for attorneys, money for private investigators to dig up dirt on governing body members to hold against them, money for campaign contributions as a means of coercion. Money, money, and more money than us regular people would know what to do with. But maybe, just maybe, money would work for Gino as well. The question was, who had the bigger pockets?

I finally knew the reason to condemn the beach club.
The owners probably weren’t planning on selling. It was suddenly all making sense to me. I wasn’t sure why the village would be offering to buy it, instead of letting Gino get it on his own. I wondered if there was a piece of information I was missing. Like, what was going to be located at the beach club property? Something for municipal purposes? A lifeguard station? Public restrooms? If so, what was Righetti getting out of it? Just the money to develop it? I was thoroughly confused. If it was municipally owned, I didn’t think a developer could just be hired. I would have thought the project would have to be put out to bid. Maybe Righetti would own part of it and the government would own a different part. Righetti had talked about a casino, restaurant, and hotels. Maybe he would own those things, and Coral Beach would own the beachfront and boardwalk. I had too many questions, but no answers. What was wrong with me? Why did my curiosity always get the best of me?