Free The Grub-And-Stakers Move a Mountain by Charlotte MacLeod, Alisa Craig

they get him safely planted on the Development Commission. This Charlie’s going to get some gangster lawyer he knows who’s on the lam-I believe it’s the lam-anyway he’s going to do the paper work and escape to Tasmania and bang goes the Heart-leaved Twayblade.”
    “Oh, Dittany!” At last Hazel was forced to grasp the hideous reality of the situation. “They could, you know. They did it before when they passed that emergency ordinance to get around the need for holding public hearings and took over that old chicken farm that was supposed to be the high school annex when any idiot could see it was the worst possible place for a school, and when they got it all graded and blacktopped they went through that farce about the bids and now-“
    “And now that’s where McNaster’s sitting with his cronies cooking up another dirty deal,” Dittany finished for her. “I’ve got a good notion to march straight over to Sergeant Mac Vicar and tell him what I heard.”
    “I’m not so sure about that,” Hazel cautioned. “Maybe you don’t remember, but Mrs. MacVicar happens to be Andy McNasty’s mother’s own cousin, though naturally she doesn’t care to have it generally mentioned. And blood’s thicker than water when all’s said and done, and it’s only your word against his and if he’s got Sam Wallaby on his side-Dittany, what are we going to do?”
    “Well, I know one thing we can do because Sam Wallaby himself told me. Not on purpose, naturally, but he was gassing on to this Charlie the lawyer about how he’s an absolute certain shoo-in because nobody filed nomination papers against him and it’s too late now. And he said the only way anybody could possibly defeat him would be through a write-in campaign, which isn’t going to happen because he’s such a sterling character and nobody bothers to vote in town elections anyway. So we’re going to put up a write-in candidate and we’re going to get out that vote and we’re going to lick the pants off that smarmy walrus and spike McNaster’s guns. Look!” She pulled out the twenty-dollar bill. “Andy McNasty gave me this.”
    “Whatever for?”
    “To get rid of me. After I’d heard all this stuff I thought I’d better get a look at who was with him, so I unlocked the door but he came rushing over and held it so I couldn’t see inside. All I could see was his right eye.”
    “That would have been more than enough for me,” said Hazel fervently. “Whatever did you do then?”
    “Pretended I was deaf as a post and couldn’t hear him yelling at me to go away because needless to say I didn’t want him to know I’d been eavesdropping all that time. I started giving him a rigmarole about Mrs. Duckes’s sore leg and my hearing aid’s being broken and was I supposed to clean in there or wasn’t I, and he shoved this money in my hand and slammed the door in my face. Would you call that the act of an honest man?”
    “I certainly can’t imagine Roger doing such a thing. Naturally he’d know the customary rates for maintenance personnel-“
    “Which, whatever they may be, aren’t enough. Hazel, how would you feel about running for Development Commission?”
    “Who, me? Dittany, I couldn’t possibly. I almost fainted dead away when I had to get up at the last annual meeting and read the report of the club’s Ways and Means Committee. Why don’t you run yourself?”
    “Because I’m basically unconvincing. People tend not to take me seriously. I can’t think why.”
    One of Dittany’s false eyelashes had vanished completely, the other was hanging at a rakish angle from her left eyebrow. Her face was an interesting melange of Maiden’s Blush, Pixie Purple, Tantalizing Tan, Frosted Banana, Sultry Sable, and McNaster grime. Gramp Henbit’s sweatshirt caused her mother’s awning striped tent to bulge in odd places. Her fine hair was matted into ducktails from being crammed under the wig, her maroon socks rucked down around her