While the Spies and Angie made a ponderous ascent to the fourth floor meeting room, dragging the blind as a bat, batty, Jack Austin, behind them, clinging to the hem of Mandy’s skirt, the chief constable and the commander had their own powwow in a room not too far away, and on the same floor. They had a conundrum that they hoped they would not have, but had seen it coming. They had just received word that the planning consent for the redevelopment of the Cricket, Tennis and Golf Club lands would be deferred, subject to a Department of the Environment inquiry.
It was the worst of all worlds; no decision. It was thought by many and known by the chief and the commander, that the Councillors on the Planning Committee had been intimidated by what had happened to the Chairman and so, in a consu
