“Chances are good, the machines are rigged, and Clancy may have been involved.” Jax waited for the ax to fall.
* * *
Evie biked backto the house in about the same time as it took Jax to return by the highway. R&R, of course, were already there and unloading the machine they’d stolen. They hadn’t bothered to stay and watch the sheriff’s head explode over the Clancy/voting machine theory.
Jax’s aura flared at sight of the stolen machine, and Evie punched his brawny arm. “Don’t. We all know those machines will be trashed,shouldhave been trashed. If Reuben can learn from one...”
“It’s theft,” Jax complained, rolling his Harley to the backyard. “Bad guysbreak laws.Weshouldn’t. I only meant for him to take a look at the insides of one.”
“Is stealing trash theft? And do you think anyone will notice? And if they’ve been stealing votes for years, how is the council or whoever any better than we are?” Evie appreciated Jax’s honesty, but they operated on entirely different philosophies that would never a relationship make. “The machine is evidence.”
“How many people on the council would know if the machines are crooked? We don’t even know for certain that they are.” Jax opened the recalcitrant cellar doors.
Evie clattered down. Reuben already had the machine in pieces on the cellar floor and appeared to be connecting it to computers.
“It’s a DVM machine,” Roark reported from his gaming chair. “From the serial number, probably manufactured ten years ago.” The Cajun spoke in the clipped tones from his university career. “Council bought them before the mayor’s first election, just like the minutes say.”
Evie picked up a cue stick and began playing the balls already on the table. “You’re hacking council minutes?”
“Public record. Discussion notes aren’t here. Just like the contract says, Teddy Swenson was there as rep from DVM. Vote was close. Council doesn’t like spending money. If paper was good for their granddaddies, it’s good enough for dem.” Roark lapsed into lingo in imitation of his fellow citizens.
“Names.” Jax leaned against the table, typing into his tablet.
Roark printed out a sheet. Evie grabbed and scanned it, then handed it over. “Council seats should have term limits,” she grumbled.
“Can I come down?” Loretta called from the open doors.
“You got donuts?” Reuben shouted back from his circle of mechanical parts.
“I can get cookies. I need money for donuts.”
“Kid got pots of gold and can’t buy donuts. Not right,” Roark grumped.
Jax thumped his buddy’s no-longer shaved skull. When Evie had first met Roark a few months ago, he’d sported tattoos on his skull that were now covered with a fuzz of thick black hair. The metal in his eyebrow and ears remained.
“Cookies are good,” Evie called up. “I’ll make more later.”
“You ought to make them eat carrot sticks.” Jax went back to typing names into his tablet.
“I ought to make all of you start a garden. Save money and eat healthier.” Evie returned to sending colored balls into pockets. “In case no one noticed, the men who votedagainstbuying the machines are no longer on the council. And I was just a kid back then, but I’ll make a wild guess that the men whosupportedour crooked Mayor Blockhead and his crooked machines won seats over the next years, giving him a guaranteed approval of anything he wanted done.”
Like stealing homes for parking lots, not that she was bitter or anything.
“Not so wild a theory,” Jax confirmed, reading from his tablet. “That’s the reason you mentioned term limits. Some of these guys—and let us be clear they’re all white males in a town that’s half Black and female—have been around past their expiration dates. Even if elected, your mayoral candidate will not accomplish beans until the next election.”
“I’m pretty sure Larraine knows that. But she’ll be a beacon for others. And if those machines were rigged—”
“They are.” Reuben set down his tools as Loretta trotted down with the cookie box. “Bless you, grasshopper. Now if only you could make coffee...”
Evie whacked his brawny shoulder with a cue. “Buy your own coffee pot or go up and fetch the tea in the fridge. She’s not your servant.”
Loretta looked ridiculously easy to please. “I can go, but I can’t carry pitcherandglasses.”
“Turnip, don’t let them train you to be their slave. Make them teach you what they’re doing. Otherwise, I’ll show you how to play pool. Either way, they can get their own tea.” Evie took the cookie box, helped herself, and set it where the men would have to get up and get their own.
“Damn, you’re a bossy witch.” Reuben scooted over the carpet to the box, grabbed a handful, then stood up and headed for the stairs.
“You’re welcome,” Evie shouted after him.