Killing Down the Roman Line by Tim McGregor Read Free Book Online Page B

with its booths and swivel stools. A universal truth; you couldn’t negotiate a deal under a sign declaring a twenty minute minimum.
    The bell over the door rang as Jim entered but staff and patrons alike were deaf to it now. Jim scanned the tables and spotted Kate in the last booth. Sitting across from her were Hitchens and Tom Carswell, the manager of the Pennyluck Savings and Loan. All three looked up when Jim approached.
    Jim nodded to the two men before squaring his eyes on the mayor. “We need to talk.”
    “Jimmy, sit down,” said Hitchens. “We were just talking about you. And your new neighbour.”
    “Is that so? You know about this guy?”
    “Sit down.” Kate’s tone was conciliatory although her eyes seemed troubled.
    Hitchens slid over and Jim sat. “He said his name’s Corrigan. Where the hell did he come from?”
    “No idea,” said Kate. “John found him on the steps of the county office this morning, waiting for it to open. He filed a claim on the property.”
    “So some yahoo walks in and makes a claim? If I knew it was that easy, I woulda done it ages ago.”
    Tom Carswell clinked his cup back onto the saucer. He had that puffy faced, worn out look some men get sliding down the other side of forty. Swollen looking hands that were oddly dainty holding a cup. Jim had never liked the man, disliking his air of superiority. He guessed that handling other people’s money did that to a person. Carswell spoke slowly. “He had a formal statement of claim. ID, proof. If everything checks out, the property is his.”
    “I thought it belonged to the county.”
    “It’s in trust to the county.” Carswell clucked, the way a school teacher does. “Has been forever.”
    “But it’s still Corrigan property.” Kate shrugged, like everyone knew this but Jim. “Weird, I know.”
    “But there hasn’t been a Corrigan for years. How could it still belong to them?”
    “It’s still in their name. Held in trust” Carswell said, as if this was all over Jim’s head. “The land’s been for sale since Adam but never sold. It’s complicated.”
    Hitchens snorted. “Who the hell would want that creepy old place?”
    Jim zeroed in on Kate, telegraphing a simple message. I want it. He said, “So?”
    Kate folded her hands together. “So the land remained in the Corrigan name. This man, William, is it?” Carswell nodded, she went on. “He filed proof that he’s a descendant of the original family and lays legal claim.”
    “And just like that, you believed him?”
    “We believed his money.” Carswell slurped his coffee. “He paid the outstanding back taxes for the last ten years. Didn’t even blink an eye about it either. Just cut a cheque.”
    Jim sank back into the bench. “So that’s it? It’s his land and how’s your mother?”
    “There’s a process, Jim. Nothing’s written in stone yet.”
    “Yeah.” Jim slid out of the booth, turned to go.
    Hitchens called after him. “What do you care, Jimmy?”
    Kate watched him storm out. She’d explain it to him later when he cooled off.
    Hitchens swung back to the table. “What’s his problem?”
    “Covetousness,” Carswell said.
    “Don’t gossip, Tom.” Kate pushed her coffee cup away. Her sixth and it wasn’t even noon. She looked up to see old Mr. Gallagher staring at them from his perch at the lunch counter. Openly eavesdropping. “Can I help you Mr. Gallagher?”
    “That name,” he said. “What was that name you said?”
    Hitchens looked at him. “You mean Jim?”
    “No, ye idiot.” Gallagher waved his hand as if to shoo Hitchens off. “The other name.”
    Kate was in no mood for the old man’s carrying on but Carswell piped up. “Corrigan?”
    The old man winced as if stung. “That one. What’s wrong with you people anyway? Don’t ever utter that name.”
    Hitchens laughed, looking at Kate and Carswell. The old geezer was in form today. “Why not?”
    Gallagher turned away. “It’s bad luck.”
    ~
    Driving home,