Good Year For Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

his like medicine with a scowl and shudder, Morgan, who outdrank Taz two to one, sipped his like fine wine, as though he were tasting it anew with each drink. The two were seldom completely sober. And the two policemen who joined the affable Morgan and Taz were specially chosen abstainers.
    They mumbled introductions and then stood at ease in the small space behind the Aldermen’s chairs. Taz and Morgan sat down.
    â€œGood. Well done. Yes.” Chief Zulp continued with the Master Plan. “Ward two. Alderman Emmett O’Dell. And Alderman F. McKnight Wakeley; Captain, stroke, Major-General.”
    The ward two Aldermen stood up. Wakeley saluted while O’Dell, the bigger of the two, smiled indulgently at the crowdwho, he thought, had yet to live through anything like what he had lived through with his two bright green poodles.
    Emmett O’Dell was a big man, slightly overweight, with a strong chin, sparkling eyes, large, wet teeth and shamefully curly little boy hair. He spoke in a lilting Irish brogue that called up visions of clay pipes, leprechauns, green fields and shamrocks. When he delivered a speech in Council, his voice was a formidable weapon.
    Alderman O’Dell had been brought up in an atmosphere of green beer and maudlin Irish songs. He had been subjected to discussions, magic lantern slides, anecdotes and family histories that praised the Emerald Isle. But he had never been to Ireland. His ward, which contained Corktown, didn’t know this.
    The Alderman’s present wife kept his secret. In fact, the two regularly exchanged presents on March seventeenth. This year, she had given him a too-tight green sleeveless sweater covered with small white harps.
    Alderman F. McKnight Wakeley held his salute until the two policemen for ward two mounted the dais. He had this thing about saluting, or really about anything military.
    Wakeley had joined the Royal Fort York Light Infantry (Reserve) in 1919 as an officer and worked his way up to Captain. He had also volunteered for the thankless position of titular head of a local high school cadet corps that was affiliated with the RFYLI. This gave him the official privilege of holding the rank of Major-General (Cadet). Although his reserve unit met only once a week, spent an annual ten days at summer camp and received a small stipend (usually free street car tickets) it still gave him the right to wear the King’s uniform. This he did often. His favourite walk was from the City Hall to the armouries and back, returning salutes.
    Alderman F. McKnight Wakeley was a past president of the Fort York District Officers’ Institute (no women allowed), a social club for the military where battles were courageously re-fought over glasses of Pimms’ Cups’ #2, and brave stories of VC winners were re-told against the background of clicking billiard balls. He drank only socially, watched his diet and did calisthenics every morning to keep fit—which he was. His picture appearedin the foreground of a recruiting poster for the RFYLI. He was saluting.
    â€œWard three,” Zulp continued.
    Tretheway nudged Jake. The Tretheway boardinghouse was in ward three.
    â€œAlderman Harold Ammerman, and Alderman Bartholomew Gum.”
    At the age of seventy-four, Harold Ammerman was the oldest member of City Council. He still had most of his wits about him, but forgot more appointments now and repeated himself more often than he had when he was younger. When interrupting, he had the habit of starting sentences with the annoying phrase, “If I might interject here”.
    Alderman Ammerman took his job seriously. As head of the Ward Three Recreational Committee, he worked long hours for the Children’s Garden Program. On any clement Saturday morning, Ammerman could be seen gardening alongside groups of small children. He enjoyed an understanding and rapport with them that only the very old can share with the very young. Ammerman was ingenuous, easy