The Good Mayor by Andrew Nicoll Read Free Book Online

I’m late.” And the lush municipal carpet felt as queasy as molasses under Tibo’s feet as he covered the last few paces to his desk. She was watching him. She knew. She could see how he felt. He knew it. But, when Tibo looked back from his doorway, Agathe hadn’t even moved in her chair. She sliced through the last envelope, removed the folded letter inside and added it to her pile. Without so much as turning round, she called, “I’ll bring the post in shortly. Would you like another coffee?”

    Tibo put his jacket on a wooden hanger and hooked it over the hat stand in the corner of his room. “I’ve just had one, thank you,” he answered. And then, “Another coffee? How did you know?”

    He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, took out his pen and sat at the desk. From the other side of the room I looked down at him like a motherly Santa Claus suspended on the town coat of arms.

    “Much help you are,” he told me angrily.

    Agathe overheard him from the door. “Did you say something?”

    “No, I was just talking to myself,” said Tibo. “It’s old age catching up with me.”

    “Sometimes it’s the only way to get any sensible conversation.” She handed him his letters. “The mayor of Umlaut has written. Something about celebrations for the anniversary of their town charter. He’s inviting a delegation from Dot. It’s on top of the pile.”

    Tibo snorted. “That’s as much as my job’s worth. You know how much the Dottians hate the Umlauters. But I’ll have to look at it, I suppose. Thanks for pointing it out. And what did you mean, ‘another coffee’?”

    Agathe realised that Tibo had no idea she was at The Golden Angel earlier and, for some reason, she decided that she didn’t want him to know. “Sorry. Slip of the tongue. Nothing at all. Would you like a coffee? That was all I meant. Any coffee at all? No?”

    “No, thanks,” said Tibo.

    “Right. As you like. You’re on duty at the Magistrates’ Court atten thirty. Just to remind you. The clerk says it’s the usual routine stuff. Mostly drunks and wife-beaters.” Agathe closed the door on her way out.

    Tibo got up, walked the long way round his desk and opened it again. For the hour or so until he left for court, there would be glimpses of her.

    By nine twenty-five, he had gone through the post. Most of it was rubbish and could wait until the afternoon. At nine twenty-seven, he asked Agathe back to his office so that he could dictate some urgent letters. As she sat down and crossed her legs, Tibo looked very hard out the window, studying the dome of the cathedral.

    “To His Honour Mayor Zapf, Town Hall, Umlaut,” he said efficiently. “I need two copies of this. Begins. Dear Mayor Zapf, The mayor and council of Dot have received your invitation to attend celebrations marking the anniversary of the Umlaut town charter. After due consideration, the mayor and council of Dot have decided to reject this thinly disguised insult. You cannot believe that Umlaut’s history of treachery, deceit and double-dealing can be wiped out by the offer of beer and mouldy sandwiches, knocked up in that unhygienic brothel which passes for a Town Hall. Speaking for myself, I would rather be the plaything of a Turkish cavalry regiment than soil my shoes by visiting your sordid little village. However, I understand the Turks are fully occupied with the wives of the councillors of Umlaut. Yours etc. Can you read that back please, Mrs. Stopak?”

    She did.

    “I don’t like ‘brothel,’” said Tibo. “Harsh word. Make it ‘bordello.’ Much nicer.”

    Agathe made a few tiny marks with the point of her pencil. “Bordello,” she said. “Two Ls and two copies.”

    Tibo looked back at her from the window. “Ready for the next one?”

    She nodded.

    “To Mayor Zapf of Umlaut. Begins. Dear Zapf, Thanks for the invitation. Hope to return the favour soon. I’m planning a fishingtrip the weekend after next. Usual place. Bring