Doomed Dynasty Pt. 06

"No and he left my office. He reappeared almost an hour later with a subpoena in which I was instructed to appear here in person this morning and to bring my original report of May 15 in its entirety."

"Did you attempt to discuss this with your superiors?"

"Yes, but the Mayor and chief executive had already left for this hearing."

Mr King thought for a moment and then asked, "Surely the Mayor has the authority to time the presentation of reports and recommendations to Council as he thinks fit?"

"Yes."

At this point the judge interrupted proceedings, and ask Mr King and Matt to approach the bench. There was a short discussion and Mr King returned, walking with his head down slightly, while Matt looked very relaxed.

"I have informed counsel and Mr Curtis that it is my view that we had proceeded far enough in this matter in all but one count, illegally parking on the beach," said His Honour. "Earlier I consented to one major charge being withdrawn. From what the Court had learned this morning the charge of vandalism cannot be upheld as no evidence has been presented to prove the actions of the defendant fell within the definition of vandalism. The charge of endangering the public would clearly fail as evidence established that no other person was in the vicinity, not structures were created which would be a public danger and the abandoned bulldozer which could have provided a hazard was removed on the instructions of the Mayor before any member of the public had arrived on the scene either in a boat or on foot."

"At the outset," said the judge, looking very serious, "I was of a mind to order the withdrawal of the improper use of a vehicle charge because it appeared to be spurious and improper in this particular context. After hearing the evidence thus far I am satisfied that the defendant used the bulldozer skilfully and very effectively to have completed such major excavations and cutting down the shingle bank in such a short time. I find that no improper use occurred."

"I must say that I view seriously some conflict in evidence of one witness over whether or not he had had received profession advice about remedial work at the river mouth before the defendant took the admitted actions which are the subject of this hearing today."

Mayor Rowlands and Mr King had their eyes fixed on the judge.

"In view of my decisions which I am in the process of delivering, I do not proposed to declare Ashley David Rowlands an unreliable witness or to take the issue of his conflicting evidence any further."

The relief on Mayor Rowlands's face would have matched his expression had it just been announced he'd won the top prize in a lottery draw.

"That leaves just one charge, parking illegally.

"Evidence presented satisfies me that signage states that no vehicle apart from council vehicles or emergency vehicles may enter the reserve at the river mouth and along both sides of the river for some considerable distance.

"Counsel told the Court that an audit had established that such signage and the prohibition itself were properly imposed, following all guidelines and a report to that effect was lodged by counsel as exhibit G. However, when I was conferring with counsel and Mr Curtis, appearing on behalf of himself, a few minutes ago, I was told that the defendant was in possession of a legal document that gives the three pioneering families who between them deeded that reserve land to the nation, unrestricted access in perpetuity to the beach. According to the defendant's verbal claim there is no restriction in that document, drawn up in the 1920s I was told, as to how access can be made. Therefore, I am adjourning this case for thirty minutes to give the defendant the opportunity to return and present to the Court that legal document. This hearing is adjourned."

Matt hurried out of the back of the courthouse, taking a shortcut to his solicitor's office. He returned with the document and a copy for Mr King.

The Court resumed and the judge, confirming that Exhibit J did indeed avoid imposing any restricting on the Curtis, Thomas and Whitehead families in accessing the beach, He dismissed the charge of illegal parking.

"All charges against the defendant had either been withdrawn or dismissed. Therefore the defendant is free to go."

People in the Court stood and clapped as Matt walked out with Courtney.

In his chambers, ready to attack chicken pie just delivered from the Riverside Cafe, the Judge smiled. A smart fellow that Curtis chap, he concluded. Probably would have made a damn good criminal lawyer as he thinks like one.

Stepping out into bright sunlight, Matt and Courtney were staggered when the crowd gathered in front of the courthouse went wild.

An old school chum, Brett Wilson, vice-president of the Miranda and District branch of Federated Farmers shouted, "Run for Council at the forthcoming elections Matt."

Laughing, Matt thanked him but said he was not interested.

The retired shearer and builder's foreman, Misfit Jones, standing right in the front line of the crowd, stepped out, turned to the crowd and shouted, "Matt Curtis for Mayor, Matt Curtis for Mayor."

The crowd of some seventy-five people took the heavy-handed hint and began to chant "Matt Curtis for Mayor, Matt Curtis for Mayor."

The noise attracted Mayor Rowlands to the window in the office of his lawyer Reginald King.

The corner of Mayors top lip curled and he wiped sweat dotting his brow.

Reginald came up beside him, summed up what was happening, and commented, "Doesn't look good for you Ashley. Clever bastard, that Curtis. Should have chosen law as his career. Not only did he wriggle out from under us today but he managed to get that little shit of an engineer coming out looking lily white. I would advise you not to take any retaliatory action against your Mr Wellings, at least not until all this has blown over. Shaft him and Curtis will be after our blood."

Reginald looked at the painting behind his chair, a scene from his wife's rose garden painted as if it were on a coastal cliff top, although the sea was two miles from their home.

"Keep it safe, Reggie darling," his wife Liz had cautioned. "I believe it will be judged to be a significant work of an acclaimed artist one day. The artist is Matt Curtis' lovely wife."

'Reggie Darling' looked thoughtfully at the acrylic painting, although not really seeing it at all. Matt Curtis needed to be cultivated to ensure that Bell, King and Isaacs were to retain the contract to do the Council's legal work after the local authority elections later in the year. A light flashed in his head. Got it, Murray Isaac's wife Helen was an art collector. He'd ask his partner Murray to get his wife to nominate one of the Curtis woman's paintings in the Sampson Brewery National Art Awards. That ought to do the trick, especially when he passed on the news to The Bugle and invited them to photograph and publish the painting in his office as an example of the woman's talent.

As it happened, Courtney was also beginning to be noticed away from her easel.

She had been selected to go as one of the Miranda branch's two delegates to the inaugural South Island conference of the CFCWO. The other delegate was an automatic selection, branch chairwoman Lucy Lancer.

In Lucy's opinion Courtney would be the obvious choice to succeed her as president so should be groomed to the post as she may even advance to the national executive.

Courtney had told Matt the news about being elected as a delegate to the conference in Christchurch when he came on to the back porch which now was entirely taken up as Courtney's studio.

"That's a credit to you, darling," he said, patting her on the shoulder while looking at the conflict of colours he'd remember being taught at art class at school never to use together.

"Will you come with me to Christchurch? 0ther husbands accompany their wives to conference apparently and have a great time."

"Yep," was the automatic response.

Courtney took that to mean 'Yes unless a better offer comes along', but at least half a yes was better than an outright rejection. She accepted Matt had never been in a subordinate position to a woman, possibly not since late childhood.

Although mildly interested in his wife's mini elevation in the world of country women togetherness and desire to be immersed in culture, Matt was baffled. He was trying really hard to make sense of her current painting. It looked like a real garden scene but yet it still looked to be an utter shambles or what he once had opined as "a distortion of reality." Courtney almost had hysterics when he offered her that interpretation but she since had told him it was rather good description and began to occasionally use it herself to non-artistic people in social conversation when asked to describe her style.

Two weeks later in his new 'town office' at the hotel, Matt read in the just-delivered Bugle that a deputation had called on him to implore him to stand for the mayoralty. "Typical newspaper crap," he muttered. "No deputation has been to see me."

There was a knock on his office door.

"Come!"

Leaning back in his chair, feet on the desk and reading the newspaper, Matt looked up. Instead of Isobel from hotel reception who acted as his secretary, it was that crazy woman Josie from the hair salon, and behind her were Beryl from Fashion Clothing and Jake from Plumbing Wholesalers and others crowded behind them.

The penny dropped. The deputation had arrived. Some smart-arse had given an advance story to catch today's edition of The Bugle.

"Reading Playboy, eh Matt? Josie exclaimed loudly.

She looked strange, being dressed in her best. Usually she wore trousers and T-shirts emblazoned with wording such as 'Too Hot to Handle' or 'Desperately Seeking a Real Man.' There was little formality about Josie.

"We want you as our Mayor Matt. Here's a petition signed by almost 300 people. Three hundred people can't be wrong."

"Smarten up will yah," she continued. The photographer from The Bugle will be here in a minute to photograph us with you and to take back your acceptance speech. Here it is, I've written it for you."

Matt cupped a hand over his eyes, rubbing his forehead, and said, "Oh, hell!"

Just as he looked up under that cupped hand, photographic flashlight filled the room, freezing that pose in time. The Bugle photographer who shot that picture was pleased he had something alternative to the usual cheesy acceptance pose.

Matt did something he thought himself incapable of doing: he capitulated. He blamed that on something that was buzzing around inside his head, the family motto of Curtis men: "Always do what you think is right and to hell with the bigots and missionaries."

It did seem that the timing was right.

He grunted, "Oh, heck, I guess so."

Josie dumped her big frame on to his lap, smothering him with kisses.

The camera clicked again and Matt instantly caught the eye of the photographer who signalled back with a raised hand, "I surrender, it will not be submitted for publication."

At least not until he left town, thought the photographer, looking at Matt's bulging biceps as he easily lifted Josie off him to ease the weight off on his overloaded swivel chair.

The women at Aberdeen came racing out to welcome Matt home. Numerous phone calls to the house had alerted them to the news.

He swung his excited wife into the air and then went to do with same with his mother, who backed off, laughing and said, "Get away from me you fool."

Courtney continued dancing about, whispering to herself, "The Mayor and Mayoress, Mr and Mrs Curtis." Matt seeing her curtsey guessed what was going on in her mind.

"Before you meet the Queen of England and the Commonwealth on her next visit here sweetie, we first have to win an election."

Patricia was immensely proud of her son and told him that no one would have been more proud than his father. She wandered off to her suite to converse, as was her habit as least once a week, with her late husband.

Matt took the women to the Riverside Café for a quiet celebration. But that didn't happen. Instead there arrival created bedlam, with the waitresses carrying meals to empty tables having to call people away from the ring gathered around the Curtis table accepting drinks from the unlimited supply that were being ferried to Matt by the grinning waiter assisted by waitresses.

Matt's women folk, including Vikki who discretely remained in the distance apart from giving Matt a welcoming congratulatory hug, enjoyed the buzz of the spontaneous outburst.

"He'll be the best leader this town's ever had," confided Helen Isaacs, who looked at Patricia and added, "but let's not forget the massive contribution made to this district by your late husband."

She then whispered to Courtney that her painting of Liz King's rose bushes, which hung in Liz's husband's office, had that very day been sent to Wellington to the selection panel choosing the 100 paintings, etchings and drawings to go before the judges of the Samson Brewery national art awards.

"Oh Helen," cried Courtney, who knew her socially. "Why didn't you tell me you had suggested to Liz to do that?"

"Because you may have tried to stop me," Helen replied, sweetly.

"You are so modest and refuse to accept what a great talent you have. I know that the selection panel will accept your work; I just know it will. You will then receive an official entry form and at that point you have the opportunity to withdraw the painting if you wish. But I urge don't do that Courtney. You will find that recognition will drive you on to new levels of achievement."

Walking away from the somewhat dazed Courtney, who was enjoying one of the greatest moments in her life in deep thought, Helen felt pleased with the outcome.

In her opinion Courtney had an outside chance of taking out the top award.

To Be Continued