Even with the waning daylight, the townsfolk had not slowed. The laneways kept their frenetic pace, and I was shocked to remember there was no curfew here, not like the ones imposed elsewhere. Even so, a particular buzz wove its way from conversation to conversation as we passed.
“Jack, are you headed to the meetin’?”
“Meetin’s at eight, you dunce, not seven!”
“Another meetin’? Not that I’m complainin’.”
I frowned. “What meeting?” I said without looking at Patrick.
“Town meeting,” he offered. There was a cigarette between his lips that he lit with a flourish. “At the hotel.”
“Run by you?”
His eyelids seemed heavy. Smoke billowed from his lips. “In lieu of the chairman.”
“And what’s the meeting about?”
He shook his head minutely. I got the impression that I exhausted him. “The usua
