A gasp rippled across the audience, and he needed to get ahead of that. “There have been no attacks. None. We can negotiate my pay later. For now, I assure you all that I will help get us through this . . . is it really a crisis?”
“No, but it points out a problem the parish has,” Roxie said. “Mayor Martine, when are we going to deal with our animal issues? The sheriff’s department is not equipped to handle animal calls, and we don’t do a good job of it. What happened when the Nichols family found that nest of possums under their porch?”
LaTonya Nichols stood, her bag of popcorn in one hand. “My dad wouldn’t listen to anyone, and he went under the house himself to get them and got himself stuck. It took six hours to get him out, and he needed a rabies shot.”
Zep sighed. “The possum was likely only under the house to have her babies, and she would have been gone in a few weeks. If it really bothered you, I could have relocated them. Possums are also incredibly helpful animals.”
Another man stood. “Yes, they help themselves to my trash.”
He knew exactly how the man dealt with his trash since he had to pass it most mornings on his way to the restaurant. “You have to cover the cans, Lewis. You can’t toss bags in a can without using the lid the parish provided. I’ve told you a thousand times that’s how you attract animals. And the only reason we’re not overrun with ticks is the possum population. You start taking them out and everyone in this county is getting Lyme disease. There is a balance that must be kept.”
“You tell ’em, baby!”
He would love to blame his mother’s enthusiasm on inebriation, but she didn’t drink to excess, and she could be obnoxiously peppy fully sober.
“It’s good we have someone around who understands the balance,” Roxie pointed out. “Mayor, who answers questions about animal issues in city hall?”
Sylvie’s gaze had narrowed. “I believe I know what you’re hinting at, and we would need funding for that.”
“Funding for what?” Zep asked.
Roxie turned his way. “How serious are you about a career working with animals?”
Was she doing what he thought she was doing? “It would be my dream job.”
Roxie went back to staring at Sylvie like they were caught in important negotiations. “If I can find the funding, would you be open to it? There are numerous federal grants available to aid rural governments across the country.”
Armie leaned forward. “My wife knows a lot about that. She could be helpful.”
Sylvie’s lips turned up. “If we can find the funding, he’s got the job, and I will not attempt to pay him in beer. But it wouldn’t be the easiest job in the world.”
“I think you’ll find between his associate degree and his work experience, that he’s highly qualified to run Papillon Parish’s Department of Animal Services,” Roxie said, triumph plain in her voice.
Zep froze. He’d thought she was trying to convince Sylvie to make his consultant position permanent. “What?”
Armie leaned over. “I believe your girl is setting you up to start a whole new department at city hall. If you don’t want it, you should speak up now because let me tell you, once you get into that office, you probably will work there the rest of your life.”
He would have a place. That was what Roxie was offering him. He looked out at the audience because he’d promised his brother he would take over that shop. He didn’t want to upset his brother, but damn, he wanted the job Roxie was trying to create for him.
His brother had a big smile on his face and gave him a thumbs-up even as Luc was climbing all over him.
“I’ll do it.” He turned his gaze to Roxie.
“Excellent,” she said.
“Well, that is great, but it doesn’t explain what happened in my backyard last night, and I’m going to hold the sheriff’s department responsible if my kids turn into werewolves,” Sue said.
“Oh, you hush, Sue. Your children are already little hooligans. Getting them to only misbehave on full moon nights would be a blessing,” Gene said. He owned the grocery store and was the resident conspiracy theorist, though he tended to believe deep state conspiracies, not supernatural ones. “And they do leave their trash everywhere. I told the sheriff your kids have been playing around in the parking lot, leaving those fiery chip things around.”
Something sparked in his brain.
He turned to Armie. “Is that what you meant earlier? You said something about chip bags and finding a new teen hangout spot?”
“Yeah, they didn’t throw their stuff away even though there was a trash can ten feet away,” Armie grumbled.
It was all coming together in his head. “And Sue, you said you saw a flash of something. A flash of light? Dixie said she saw something similar.”