"Then it's over?"
"Sadly, no. She's just one vote. We'll have to see how the rest of the council votes. This meeting is so they can see which way people in town are leaning."
Jack nodded. "Then I guess we'll see. And if the council votes them in, but we find out UltraShopMart isn't on the up-and-up, we'll have to do something about it."
Orange-feather lady turned and scowled. "Shh!" Then she blinked. "Why, Tess Callahan, boys, I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"
"Oh, Mrs. Hamilton! I didn't realize it was you. How are you?" Mrs. Hamilton had been the secretary at the high school forever, and she was a sweetheart. She and her wife had the best garden in town, so it was no wonder the animals were snacking there.
"I'd be better if our science teachers quit blowing up banks and causing gargoyle stampedes," she said, with a firm nod that sent her orange feather quivering.
"Shh!" said someone further down our row, and I gave Mrs. H an apologetic smile and sat back.
On the stage, Craven was droning on. "—benefits of having such an outstanding company as UltraShopMart in your community. For three of the top reasons," he held up a hand and ticked off fingers. "First, jobs. Second, jobs. And third, of course, jobs."
He paused, as if waiting for applause, but the auditorium was eerily silent. To be honest, I'd expected more of an uproar—either of applause or catcalls. I glanced around and saw only grim determination or supportive nodding.
"I don't like this," I whispered to Jack. "Dead Enders only get this quiet when something is about to explode in a big way."
"Don't say explode after the bank last month," he murmured, a grin quirking the edges of his lips. "But, yeah, I get what you mean."
Craven cleared his throat, and a whine of microphone feedback underscored his next words. "—screech—but let's talk about the other benefits of having UltraShopMart as your newest and friendliest neighbor."
I heard scoffing noises behind me, but didn't turn around.
"We pay taxes. Lots and lots of our tax dollars going into your community." He threw his arms out, palms up, and flashed an enormous smile. "We've paid enough in taxes to other small towns like yours that they could build and staff a medical clinic."
This time, I heard more positive-sounding murmuring around me. The lack of a clinic in Dead End had long been a serious problem for Dead End's chronically ill and elderly.
"You can upgrade and maintain roads," Craven continued, warming up to his theme as he realized he was pulling people over to his side. "You can improve schools and hire more teachers."
"Yeah, but do we need to name the high school football stadium after UltraShopMart?"
Laughter swept through the room, and I turned my head to grin at Lorraine, the former mayor and current troublemaker. She was standing in the middle of the first row across the aisle, splendid in a neon-yellow cardigan.
"We know all about UltraShopMart and their corporate taxes, Mr. Craven," she called out. "We've done our research. Funny how often the big money trickles away into nothing after you build the store, and then you hire your fancy lawyers to find loopholes, isn't it?"
A hint of red touched Craven's cheeks, but his smile remained steady. "Mrs. Packard, I understand your concern, and I promise you we at UltraShopMart have investigated every single incident of overreaching local lawyers taking it upon themselves to—"
"Oh, so it's the local people to blame, is it?" This time it was Judd. "You'll run small business in town into the ground, quit paying taxes, and then blame the folks in Dead End for your corporate greed?"
A few people in the audience stood.
"Yeah!"
"You tell 'em, Judd!"
Craven said nothing until the shouts of support died down, and then he leaned toward the microphone, an expression of calm benevolence on his face.
"He must take acting lessons," I muttered to Jack.
"Yeah. He's good. To look at him, you'd almost believe he means what he's saying." Jack shook his head. "No wonder they pay him a million dollars for every store that opens."
"We will promisein writingthat the tax dollars will continue to flow into Dead End," Craven said. "And you can even specify what you want to spend them on or just accept the monies into your general fund."
"We could use some money to beef up the police force," some guy I didn't recognize yelled from the other side of the aisle. "All these crimes going on around town, and our sheriff isn't even here to deal with it."
I winced. Poor Andy. But being able to afford another deputy or twowouldtake some of the pressure off him and Susan.
