The phone rang on Sheriff Hollister’s desk, an insistent, almost demanding buzz. He picked it up on the second ring, his expression unreadable.
“Hollister.”
A booming voice on the other end, unmistakable. Mayor Donald Kincaid.
“Hank, what’s going on down there?” the mayor demanded, skipping any form of greeting. “I’m hearing about an incident at the old millhouse. Arthur Pendelton.”
“He’s fine, Donald,” Sheriff Hollister replied, his voice calm. “We’re investigating a property dispute.”
“A dispute?” Mayor Kincaid scoffed. “It’s a clear-cut eviction, Hank. Julian Croft called me directly. He says Pendelton is trespassing, refusing to leave. He’s got his demolition permits, his plans for the Oakhaven Resort, $4.2 million investment for our town.”
Sheriff Hollister leaned back in his chair, a familiar weariness settling over him. “Demolition permits, you say?”
“Yes! Signed off on personally, just last week,” Kincaid insisted, his voice rising. “This resort means jobs, tourism, revenue, Hank! We can’t let some old craftsman hold up progress.”
“Mayor,” Hollister said, his tone firm. “My office enforces verified court orders. Not unverified commercial promises.”
A pause on the other end, then Mayor Kincaid’s voice, laced with barely concealed anger. “What do you mean ‘unverified’? I signed off on the permits, Hank. It’s all legal.”
“Did you run those permits past the town council for approval, Donald?” Hollister asked, his voice cutting through the Mayor’s bluster. “Or did you sign off on Croft’s resort demolition permit without proper town council oversight?”
Another, longer silence. The mayor sputtered, caught off guard.
“That’s… that’s town business, Hank. Not police business,” Kincaid finally managed, his voice now lower, tinged with a nervous edge.
“Any permit that affects a property under dispute, especially one involving a potential criminal investigation, becomes police business when it influences our ability to maintain order and uphold the law,” Hollister retorted, his words like cold steel.
“I need you to handle this, Hank,” Mayor Kincaid pleaded, his tone shifting from authoritative to almost desperate. “Get Arthur out of there. This resort project is too important for Oakhaven.”
“I understand the economic implications, Mayor,” Hollister replied, his gaze fixed on a faded photograph of Oakhaven’s original town hall. “But my duty is to the law, not to corporate timelines. And right now, the law is saying this situation is far more complicated than a simple eviction.”
He hung up the phone before Kincaid could respond. The mayor’s attempt to intervene, his secret signing off on the demolition permits without proper council approval, only solidified Hollister’s resolve. The promise of a $4.2 million resort was tempting, but it wouldn’t warp the truth in his town.
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