linger with them, laughing and buffeting their shoulders before moving on.
A couple of older men were also with Taggett. They had the look of money, even though one, who might have been in his seventies, was wearing baggy khakis and a faded T-shirt. The other was about ten years younger and could have posed for the Wall Street Journal’s Off Duty section: what the wealthy board member wears to community meetings in the summer—linen jacket over open-necked raw silk shirt.
There were a couple of empty seats in the middle of a row. The Off Duty man tapped Taggett on the arm and gestured at the chairs. Taggett gave a command to his support team, who grimaced at one another but buffeted their way across people’s knees to carry the chairs to where the two men directed them—along a wall so they had an easy escape route if they became bored.
Taggett leaned against the wall where the moneymen were sitting, his acolytes still on either side, but standing upright: acolytes cannot slouch in public. Several cops followed Taggett and stationed themselves near the main exit.
Mona got things going, although not quickly: she needed Taggett to know how hard she, Simon, and Curtis were working, and so she detailed the sailing and fishing and cleanup and youth sports SLICK had accomplished recently. Most people, including the moneymen, were focused on their devices, but Taggett, good politician, led the audience in applause.
Finally, Mona turned the meeting over to Leo, to complete the presentation that Coop’s arrival had cut short the last time. “Since we’re graced with Superintendent Taggett’s presence tonight, we thought we should look at the whole picture before we vote on the proposal.”
Leo stood but didn’t move away from the table—he’d learned that he couldn’t hold the computer, push the PowerPoint buttons, and use the handheld mike all at the same time.
Someone dimmed the lights and Leo began flashing images onto the wall at the back of the stage.
He started with a history of the 1930s project that had reshaped the lakefront, when the shoreline was pushed about half a mile to the east. The 1934 World’s Fair had been held on the new landfill, South Lake Shore Drive was built on it. Leo had photos and maps, but he was nervous and clicked through them too quickly for us to admire. By the time he put up the slide showing the current plan, I was only half-listening.
Leo flipped through a series of maps and aerial photos—the current lakefront, projected new shoreline, proposed amenities.
The maps included lists. I could read the headers, but the contents were too small to make out, especially since the paint was peeling on the wall being used as a projection screen. Current park use, anticipated use with the new beach, estimated completion time, estimated costs.
Leo was flipping through the slides so fast that Taggett’s friend in the rumpled T-shirt said, “Slow down, son—this isn’t the Indy Five Hundred.”
The audience laughed, but the criticism flustered Leo. He dropped the laser pointer he’d been using. When he stooped to pick it up, he banged his head underneath the table. Some of Simon’s papers floated off the table; several landed in the audience, which caused renewed laughter, especially when Simon swore and demanded that the presentation stop until he recovered his papers.
Bernie jumped from her chair and gathered the pages to hand to Leo. When he took them, the top one caught his eye and he stared at it, puzzled. He bent over Simon, holding the document in front of the older man, but we couldn’t hear what either man said. Curtis and Mona came over to look at the document.
The mike picked up Leo’s voice saying it wasn’t in the presentation. Mona started an impatient reply, but Simon cut across her, saying it was a preliminary report. “We’ve only asked you to show what we know is in the formal plan.”
Taggett noticed the audience getting restive over the interruption. “Let’s take a breather.” He had the kind of booming baritone that silences a room. “Son, you’ve done a great job. I’m impressed and I’m sure everyone else is, too, but why don’t we let the audience get some questions in.”
A man near the front stood and demanded to know about environmental impact studies. Curtis slammed down his gavel, but Taggett said, with apparent good humor, “Good question. These are early days, and we all know we have a lot more work to do, including getting the feds on