Mystery At Riddle Gully (15 page)

The Riddle Gully Town Hall was a chilly place no matter what time of the year. But it was much chillier for Pollo when the only other people in it were Sherri, Viktor and the glowering Mayor Bullock.

Pollo nibbled her thumbnail. Where was everyone? Even her own father wasn't there yet. And more to the point, where was Will? They'd spent the whole day putting up posters and talking to people. Her feet were still complaining and her hands were stained a deathly hue from rolling Blu-Tack. Will had worked just as hard. He wouldn't have suddenly lost heart, would he?

Or maybe Sergeant Butt had pinned the graffiti on him! Was Will in a holding cell somewhere with only a
giant silent tattooed man for company? Pollo shivered. Poor Will.

By the oversized clock on the wall, it was seven-fifteen—only a quarter of an hour before the meeting was due to start. The mayor was seated at the centre of a long wooden table directly across from them, the points of his starched yellow handkerchief spying from his top pocket. He ordered and re-ordered his papers, pausing every now and again to check his gold wristwatch and glare at Pollo. Sherri, meanwhile, doggedly hummed a jaunty tune. Viktor hunched in his coat on his aluminium chair, stroking his chin nearly down to the bone.

Every thirty seconds, Pollo twisted to see if anyone else had by some chance joined them. Each time, the scraping of her chair's metal legs on the wooden floor reverberated around the cavernous space like an angry elephant's trumpet.

The time ticked by, uninterrupted.

She looked at the agenda for the meeting for the third time. The ‘Diamond Jack Experience Tourist Centre' was Item Seven. This time she noticed Item Eight. ‘Graffiti Action Plan'. Her heart clenched. It all became clear to her. No wonder Will was staying away.

At seven-twenty the town councillors began to dribble in, greeting one another and Mayor Bullock like long-lost friends, though most only lived around the corner. To Pollo's dismay, the next person to arrive was Principal Piggott, without her dog. She took a seat in the
row behind, where Pollo could smell her April Violets perfume but not see her. Sherri patted Pollo's knee.

Two minutes later, Pollo's dad bounded down the centre aisle. ‘Sorry everyone,' he puffed. ‘Mare down at Five-Mile had a tricky labour. Mum and filly doing fine now though!'

‘Golly, Joe!' said Sherri. ‘What would Riddle Gully do without you?'

‘You're here now!' said Pollo, jumping up and giving her dad a hug. She introduced him to Viktor. The two men shook hands in front of Sherri. Each seemed reluctant to be first to let go. Eventually Sherri pointed to a chair and suggested Pollo's dad make himself comfortable.

One by one, a few townspeople trickled in. It was seven-twenty-nine. Pollo began drumming her feet on the floor, heedless of the rattling it was setting up along the row of mostly empty chairs. The whole thing was going to fall in a heap! They should have got out there with a megaphone today! There weren't nearly enough people here to sway the council, much less Mayor Bullock. And Principal Piggott would be voting against them.

At least Will wouldn't have to see Mayor Bullock's horrible victory. With a loud click, the last two digits on the hall clock flipped over.

Seven-thirty. Mayor Bullock sneered at Pollo, licked his lips and cleared his throat. He tapped the microphone.

At that moment there was a loud crash as the heavy
double doors at the back of the hall flew open, hitting the wall. Pollo swung around to see Will, his mum and Sergeant Butt jogging up the aisle. They were closely followed by Aunty Giulia and Uncle Pete. From outside, the noise of chattering and cars swinging into the car park filled the hall.

Mayor Bullock looked daggers at Pollo and tapped on the microphone again. ‘I call the meeting to order!'

But his words were drowned in the hubbub. One after another people were pouring down the aisle, bustling and clattering and scraping as they exchanged hellos and took their seats. Pollo, Sherri and Viktor looked at each other. There must have been two hundred or more!

Will flopped into the chair behind Pollo. He leaned forward and puffed, ‘Sorry, Pollo. What a nightmare! Angela insisted I sit through the whole final episode of
Golden Summers
with her. Apparently on Saturday I made some kind of deal. It was torture! Weddings and people nearly dying and kissing all over the place—I thought it would never end!' He looked at the mob settling down around the room. ‘Looks like we weren't the only ones watching.'

Mayor Bullock, his thick lips pursed, opened the meeting. He trawled at snail's pace through the first few items on the agenda. Pollo leaned towards Sherri. ‘Everyone's going to die of boredom before we get to the bats!' As she spoke, an agenda transformed into a paper plane flew from behind them and wafted to the floor in front
of the mayor and his councillors.

People were slumped in their chairs, eyes glazed, by the time Mayor Bullock announced, ‘Agenda Item Number Seven—the Diamond Jack Experience Tourist Centre.' He leaned forward on his elbows, steepling his fleshy fingertips together, and looked along the table from one end of the row of councillors to the other.

He glared at Pollo and began. ‘I think it fair to say that my fellow councillors and I are agreed that any disruption to this exciting development, which I would remind people is due to start the day after tomorrow, would be a reckless waste of tourism potential and a savage blow to the progress of Riddle Gully.'

He droned on for several more minutes, then stacked his papers to move on to the next item. Not looking up, he muttered into the microphone, ‘I'll take comment from the floor.'

Silence. Mayor Bullock smirked and tilted the microphone to his mouth. Just then, old Mr McNutty shuffled to his feet. He lifted his quavery voice. ‘What about the environmental assessment?'

‘I'm sorry,' said Mayor Bullock. ‘You'll have to speak up.'

‘The environmental assessment, Your Worship. What about it? It's not finished yet. You're jumping the gun.'

Murmurs of support buzzed around the hall.

‘We've done as much environmental assessment as the project requires,' said Mayor Bullock. ‘I—rather,
we—have a contract with a construction company to keep in mind.'

Viktor moved to jump up but Sherri clasped his arm. ‘Best to let Riddle Gully do the talking,' she said gently.

‘What about our contract with the wildlife?' came a voice from the back. Everyone craned to see a youngish woman in khaki shirt and shorts, a headscarf and sturdy boots. Her face, one Pollo didn't recognise, looked like it hadn't smiled in quite a while.

‘I think you'll find that all the wildlife have been consulted,' said Mayor Bullock. The crowd tittered and the mayor flushed. ‘That is to say, concern for our wildlife has been at the very heart of negotiations.' He placed his open hand on the right side of his chest then hastily switched it to the left.

‘What about the bats, sir?' It was Ms Ferguson, the softly lisping librarian, newly posted to Riddle Gully.

Mayor Bullock shook his head impatiently. ‘I didn't catch that, miss. You'll have to repeat it.'

A burly youth in overalls got to his feet. He lived a few doors up from Pollo and spent hours every day on his driveway, tinkering with an old Holden. ‘She said, “What about the bats?” The ones in the
Riddle Gully Gazette
today and on all the posters—the ones on the government's critically endangered list?' He glanced across to Ms Ferguson, blushed to his ears and sat down. Ms Ferguson smiled shyly and blinked thick lashes behind her spectacles.

The youth's father, a man held in awe for his wandering glass eye, was sitting next to him. He added in a gravelly voice, ‘The blimmin' animal's right in our own backyard and you're going to build a flamin' car park on top of it! With a ruddy great ugly statue to boot!'

Mayor Bullock checked his toupée with his fingertips and coughed. ‘A car park
and tourist centre
—let's be clear about that. As for the statue, I can assure you it's a work of the highest measure of good taste!'

This was greeted with loud jeers and boos. Mayor Bullock ran his tongue around his lips. He plucked his yellow handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to his forehead and mouth.

Slowly Pollo stood, every eye but one turning towards her. ‘Can I make a suggestion, Your Worshipfulness?' From behind his hanky the mayor's glare narrowed. ‘Isn't there a lot of tourist potential in Riddle Gully being home to a rare and endangered animal species? Why don't we relocate the tourist centre further away from the bats' habitat and extend it to include a Wildlife Appreciation Centre?' Pollo swallowed and continued. ‘We could set up a camping ground so that people can come and see the bats in autumn and spring! Can I, like, move a motion or whatever?'

A ripple of excitement ran through the room. Bravo! That would work! Great idea! Pollo sat down to smiles and nods and a volley of pats on the back.

Mayor Bullock pursed his lips. ‘Thank you Miss di
Nozi, but under the by-laws a minor is not permitted to move a motion. Now, if that's all the discussion on the subject ... We have a lot to get through tonight.'

‘Mr Mayor!' Principal Piggott's voice cut through the air.

Mayor Bullock sank in his chair. ‘Yes, Principal Piggott?'

‘I'll trouble you to sit up straight when I'm speaking to you!'

The mayor and half the room sprang to attention. Several people put their hands on their heads.

‘I would like to move a motion. How did Pollo put it?' Principal Piggott repeated Pollo's suggestion, finishing with, ‘Pending a rigorous environmental assessment to be conveyed to the community in full.'

Principal Piggott paused and took in the room, a slight twitch at the corners of her mouth. ‘Nothing, Mr Mayor, is to be swept under
your
—oh, I do apologise—
the
rug!'

Principal Piggott resumed her seat to deafening applause. She caught Pollo's eye and with a twinkle in her own gave her the thumbs up. Pollo, beaming like a lighthouse, turned and whispered behind her hand to Principal Piggott. The older woman smiled and jumped to her feet again. ‘And, for heaven's sake, do away with that dreadful giant statue!'

The roar of approval swelled even louder. Both Mayor
Bullock's hands were groping his head, checking that his toupée was in order. As the applause receded, he lowered his hands, using them instead to straighten his tie. He spread his fingers on the table and stared at them several seconds. Then he smiled, levered himself to his feet and tugged on the cuffs of his jacket.

Sherri leaned across to Viktor. ‘Watch! The magician will now perform his next trick!'

Mayor Bullock cleared his throat. ‘I think that my ancestor, Diamond Jack, would heartily approve of what we have witnessed here tonight,' he said, in a slow, deep voice. ‘The little people have been given a voice! I am so very deeply humbled, ladies and gentlemen, to think that any idea of mine—' at this point he closed his eyes and tapped his fingertips against his heart ‘—has been the seed of such a worthy initiative as what is proposed. It is my great honour to second the motion!'

He slathered a broad smile onto his pink face. ‘Okay, folks! Let's put it to the vote!'

As the secretary intoned the motion to the crowd, Mayor Bullock remained standing, smiling down on everyone like Father Christmas. Pollo herself could almost believe he'd pushed the proposal all along.

‘All those in favour?' Hands waved like a field of wheat.

‘Against?' The mayor searched the room. ‘Motion carried unanimously, all site development work at the current location to be cancelled forthwith and—' here
his voice cracked just a little, ‘—the giant statue to be removed from the plans.' As everyone clapped, Pollo, Will, Sherri and Viktor reached in and clasped hands. In the corners of Viktor's eyes, tears of happiness and relief glinted.

Mayor Bullock resumed his seat, his beneficent beam already slipping. He pulled out his hanky, dabbed his face and shoved it back into his breast pocket. It hung there like a dead canary.

‘Order!' he called, holding up his hand for silence. ‘I know you're all very excited but we need to move on. Now, Item Eight. The Graffiti Action Plan.'

The paper plane launched earlier had belonged to Will, crafted from his crisp, unread agenda. Now, happily rocking on the back legs of his chair, the mayor's announcement hit him like a left hook. He grabbed Angela's and HB's arms, barely stopping himself from clattering to the floor.

Mayor Bullock rubbed his hands together. ‘Sergeant Butt, I realise this is without notice, but would you be so kind as to bring the meeting up to date on this despicable incident?'

Very slowly, HB rose to his full height, clasping his big hands behind his back. Will gripped the sides of his chair.