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She read the letter from the beginning, taking in every word this time, and then riffled through the copy of the lease to read the flagged provision. Was this a joke? She flipped to the letter again and looked at the signature at the bottom of the notice—Richard M. Pinkerton.
The snake. She grabbed her purse and stormed out the door.
…
“Thanks for the update, Shane. I know I speak for the entire council when I say we appreciate the skill and resources you’ve brought to this project.” Mayor Campbell closed the folder in front of him and smiled across the round meeting table at the other members of the council. “I feel safer already.” Then his attention shifted to the wall clock. “Does anyone else have anything to add before we conclude?”
A collective sound of contentment hummed through the room, cut through by the voice he least wanted to hear. “Just one question for Shane.”
He turned to Ricky, who’d been fucking around on his phone the entire meeting. “Fire away.”
“Any word from the water guy? The one holding up the golf course permit?”
Had he not paid attention, or was he just being a douche? Shane took a deep breath before responding. “As I mentioned earlier, I expect it next week at the—”
“Yeah, yeah, next week. Maybe that’s the best timeline you can swing, but I did a little better.” With that, Ricky stood and started sliding documents across the table to each of the council members. “I contacted an expert, and they were able to give an opinion sooner rather than later.” He tossed a copy to Shane. “Feel free to read it at your leisure, but, in a nutshell, it says there’s no problem. You can review the summary paragraph at the end, if you want more detail. Given the expert opinion, I think we can all agree there’s no reason not to put the matter into the planning commission’s hands to make a decision on the permit.”
“Oh, hey. That’s great news,” one of the other members said and tucked the report into his attaché. A couple other council members murmured their agreement. A few of them rose from the table, clearly considering the matter settled and the meeting over.
Invisible boxes were being checked all around him.
Shane grabbed the report. “Hold on.” He scanned the page and started talking, before he lost them completely. “What expert, Pinkerton? I’ve never heard of this firm. Nobody on this letterhead appears credentialed as a certified water resources engineer.” He flipped the page and reviewed the summary. “All this says is, ‘based on the average rainfall over the last twenty years, the proposed bilateral bank build-ups should adequately protect the golf course from seasonal fluctuations in water levels with ‘no negative impact to the aesthetics or integrity of the course or surrounding land.’” He looked up and aimed the next question squarely at Ricky. “Where does it address downstream flood risk?”
Four other heads swiveled toward Ricky.
Pinkerton stood. His chin jutted as he pointed to the report. “It says very clearly, no negative impact to the surrounding land. Seems clear enough to me.”
“What’s the surrounding land? The resort? The parking area? Show me where they define that.” He tossed the report on the table like the piece of crap it was. “This doesn’t address the specific question of downstream impacts. I can’t even tell if they considered anything beyond the perimeter of the property.”
“Look, Maguire, you wanted a report from a civil engineer, I got one, and now you’re insisting it’s not good enough. You know what I think?”
“Gentlemen,” Mayor Campbell interjected, but Ricky didn’t pause.
“I think you wanted a report from your firm’s best buddies, so you could get the findings you were looking for, because you’ve got an old grudge against me. Or maybe because your girlfriend has a problem with people making legitimate use of their land? You should run along and talk to her, because turns out she’s the pot calling the kettle black on that score.”
Shane felt heat crawl up his neck, but he refused to take any bait Ricky dangled. He folded his arms to keep from clenching his fists. “This has nothing to do with what I want. The city needs a thorough report from a qualified expert.”
“Your expert,” Ricky shot back.
“Gentlemen,” Campbell said again, with more force this time. When he was certain he had everyone’s attention, he went on. “Ricky, submit your report to the planning commission, not the city council. The commissioners are perfectly capable of weighing the information and determining whether it answers the outstanding questions. Shane,” he continued and held up a hand for silence when Shane would have spoken, “if your firm’s expert has any additional data or opinions to provide, get that report in before their next meeting.”
“That’s the plan.”
Ca
mpbell inclined his head. “Good to know. Now,” he addressed the entire room, “if there’s nothing else, I’m going to wrap this meeting up. I’ve got another commitment.”
The other members of the council nodded their agreement. “Excellent,” Campbell said. “Y’all know how to reach me if something comes up.” With that, he headed to the door. Ricky shot a smirk Shane’s way and then hustled out as well, hot on the mayor’s heels.
Motherfucker. Shane took his time gathering his things, and letting his temper cool. None of this came as a shock. He’d known going in that Ricky looked a little too self-satisfied not to have some surprise attack arranged. He just hadn’t known what form the undercut would take. Now he knew—although the comment about Sinclair being the pot calling the kettle black didn’t make much sense, but he wrote it off as another cheap shot to suggest personal bias motivated his reaction to the so-called report. Bottom line? He needed to get their expert’s report submitted before the planning commission’s meeting next week, which was already the goal, so other than his blood pressure, essentially nothing had changed as a result of Ricky’s stunt.
He was no worse off than before the meeting. In fact, he was arguably better off, he decided as he strode out of the meeting room toward the exit, because Ricky had tipped his hand. The arrogant prick hadn’t been able to resist showboating at the meeting and shoving his report in Shane’s face, but Shane suspected he’d gotten in enough comments to effectively cast doubt on the reliability of the report. On top of that, he could review the copy Ricky had so graciously provided more closely now and submit his questions and concerns to the planning commission—like any good consultant in his position would do. And hey, if it also bought him more time to figure out a solution for Sinclair while the committee reviewed two reports, plus a set of comments, so be it.
Checkmate, Pinkerton. He pushed through the heavy wooden doors of city hall and reached for his phone to call Sinclair. Hopefully she was back from Atlanta. Maybe he could take her to lunch, and—
Commotion at the end of the walkway drew his eye a second after a very familiar, very furious voice reached his ears.
“You are a morally bankrupt bastard.”
