Page 62 of Something’s Brewing

“Thanks for meeting with me,” Madison said.

He waited until she sat. “No problem. Happy to help anyone willing to investigate what’s going on at City Hall.”

“Did you ever file a complaint or meet with the city council with your concerns?”

“I filed a complaint,” he said. “Told the city council I had to pull out. They didn’t seem to care. Though I don’t know why, as there aren’t a lot of new home builders in the area. And not to boast, but I’m good at what I do.”

“I drove past a couple homes you built. They’re gorgeous.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

Lily set a small ceramic pitcher of half-and-half on the table and poured coffee into a mug for Madison, then refilled Andrew’s cup. “Did you want to order breakfast?” she asked.

“Just coffee for me,” Andrew said.

Madison nodded. “Same. Thanks, Lily.”

Lily left, and Madison turned her attention back to Andrew. “Can you run me through the building permit process and anything else that seemed strange?”

By the time Andrew listed the numerous drive-by inspections and the payments he’d made, she had started to form a picture in her mind. She sat back in her seat, astonished at his next admission. “You were asked to donate?”

He nodded. “When a drive-by inspection failed and my appeal didn’t make a bit of difference, I was asked to donate money. At the time, I was between a rock and a hard place. My clients wanted into their house, and I needed to close the construction loan. It was my only option. I paid. We closed and my clients are happy.”

“Wow. I get it. But wow.”

“Yeah. I thought that was the end of it, but once the drive-by inspections kept happening, I couldn’t pay anymore. I love building homes, but I need to make a living. All the extra fees were cutting into my profits.”

Madison thanked Andrew for meeting with her and glanced at her watch. She had an hour before she needed to be at the brewery. She drove out to the next person on her list, Mark Gibson, the owner of the gun range in town. She parked in front of a large red pole barn. What she’d gleaned from the paperwork Frankie provided was that Mr. Gibson had applied for a building permit for a new indoor archery range. He later pulled his application. She hoped to find out why he decided against building. A buzzer announced her arrival. She approached the man standing behind the counter. “I’m looking for Mark Gibson. I called earlier.”

“I’m Mark,” the man said. “You must be Ms. Mitchell?”

“That’s me. Thanks for taking the time to answer a few questions.”

“I wondered when you’d get around to me.”

Madison quirked a brow.

“Don’t worry. Small-town folk talk, but something as important as digging into corruption at City Hall is only passed between people we trust.”

“Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“We’re fine to talk freely here. I don’t have appointments for another half hour.”

“Okay. I understand you applied for a building permit but later pulled your application. May I ask why?”

“I attended a couple city council meetings, met with the building inspector and the mayor, but the process was taking too long. Finally, when I inquired about the delay, I was told that they wouldn’t approve my application.”

“What reason did they give?”

“Not much,” Mark said. “The council decided against it.”

“So, instead of fighting it, you pulled your application?”

“No. I had every intention of fighting it.” He strummed his fingers on the counter. “This I never told anyone.”

“I know you don’t know me, but you can trust me. I have the best interests of the town at heart.”

“I believe you. You’ve been vetted.” He winked.