“When did the judge die?” I asked, as I stirred my coffee. We were lingering around the table trying to decide what our next step should be.
“Sometime in the late nineties,” Sam said, consulting his notes. “Anyway, the clerk I was talking to lived fairly close to the Baines, and she told me that he turned into a bitter old man in his last years.” Sam looked up and smiled. “Couldn’t have been much of a change, though, from what he was on the bench. According to her, everybody felt sorry for the daughter, but she never called on anybody for help—just put up with it, I guess. I’ll tell you this, though, I couldn’t find a lawyer in town who’d kept up with him after he lost that last election. It was like he dropped out of sight, and everybody breathed a sigh of relief to have him gone.”
“My goodness,” I said, “it’s a shame when old people get so cranky nobody can stand to be around them. And, Mr. Pickens, no need to look at me that way. I wasn’t speaking of Sam.”
That was worth a laugh from all of us, from me especially since it had gladdened my heart to see Mr. Pickens’s teasing smile and cocked eyebrow aimed at me. He had lately been entirely too despondent, and I wanted to reach across the table to comfort him. As the laughter died away, though, the lines on his face reappeared and I had a great urge to just tell him what he needed to know, then and there.
But I had had time to think over my decision, and a cooler head was prevailing. To be on the safe side of keeping my promise to Hazel Marie—in spite of what I’d taken as a clear release from it—I now thought it best to get Sam to tell him, and to tell him right away. I reasoned that Mr. Pickens would take it better coming from another man—a man whose esteem he valued. Because, see, it had occurred to me while we were eating Lillian’s fried chicken that I had been assuming a lot in thinking that Mr. Pickens would immediately do the right thing as soon as he knew. But what if he didn’t?
What if, as soon as he heard that twin babies were in the offing, he up and took flight? His moving to Charlotte as soon as things didn’t go his way certainly proved his propensity to run from trouble. I was hoping that hearing the news from Sam, rather than from me, would make him think twice before pulling up stakes.
“Well, okay then,” the man himself said, turning us back to the case at hand. “I guess the next thing is to go see this daughter.” He glanced up at Sam. “She doesn’t have a record, does she? I mean, she wasn’t involved with the group you interviewed, was she?”
“Nope, and I looked. There’s nothing on her. Tell you the truth, though,” Sam said, scratching his head, “I never knew he had any children, much less one that took care of him. From what I could gather, she was, and still is, pretty much of a homebody, nobody seems to know much about her.”
“What’s her name?” I asked.
“Um, let me see.” Sam flipped the pages of his notebook. “Here it is. Roberta, according to Lila Boyd, the clerk I talked to.”
“I’ve never heard of her,” I said in some surprise, since I thought I knew, or knew of, just about everybody in the county.
“Me either,” Sam said, “but I wasn’t interested in knowing any more about Judge Baine than I had to. I did get the impression from Lila that she’s a little strange. Which might explain why she’s stayed home all these years.”
Mr. Pickens had been doodling in his notebook, but he looked up and asked, “How old would she be now?”
“I’d guess around sixty or so,” Sam said. “Lila’s retiring this year, and she went to school with her. Rode the school bus together, anyway. So they’d be about the same age. You think she’s worth interviewing?”
Mr. Pickens nodded. “Yeah, I do. But it’ll be dicey. If we go in there implying that her daddy was the reason those records and tapes were stolen, we won’t get much out of her.”
Sam ran his hand down his face. “He’s got to be the reason, though—him or the sheriff. There’s no way around it, they keep turning up, one way or another, in every case I’m looking at.”
“But,” I said, “she may know nothing about any of it. If she never left home and never had any social life, how would she know what her father did in the courtroom?”
“Yeah, well, still,” Mr. Pickens said, “we ought to talk to her. To be thorough, if nothing else. Sam, maybe you should be the one to approach her since you knew the judge.” Mr. Pickens leaned back in his chair, thought for a minute, then went on. “You could say you want to interview her about her father for your book, without making any mention of the theft of the records. In other words, don’t let her think you’re looking at him for any reason other than his prominence in the county.”
Sam nodded. “I can do that. And would’ve done it even if there’d been no theft.” He smiled with some chagrin. “And if I’d known there was a daughter to be interviewed.”
“Okay,” Mr. Pickens said, “put that on hold for a minute and let me add something else to the mix.” He pulled some papers covered with jotted notes from his briefcase. “Would it surprise you to know that Judge Baine sold a large tract of land to Sheriff Hamilton in nineteen fifty-nine?”
Well, yes, it would, for Sam had a startled look on his face. “How large? Where was it?”
“Couple of hundred acres in the River Bend area. Bordering as near as I can tell from the survey maps that tiny piece that Amelda Tillman sold to the sheriff ten years later.”
Sam and I looked at each other, both of us realizing exactly what that meant. “River Bend,” Sam said, leaning back as things began to fall into place. “That, my friend, is where the River Bend Inn and Country Club are. Along with a gated community of single-family homes and condominiums owned mostly by summer residents.” Sam rubbed his hand across his face. “I missed that because I was concentrating on the sixties, but, wait. That tract wasn’t developed until the late seventies, and I don’t remember Al Hamilton having anything to do with it.”
“He didn’t,” Mr. Pickens said, “except for selling it to a development company in seventy-three.”
“Well now,” Sam said, “his buying a useless piece of land from the Tillman woman makes sense. He was adding to what he’d already gotten ten years before from the judge. Maybe by that time, he saw development on the horizon.”
“I expect he did. Interesting thing, though, Judge Baine missed out all the way around. He sold that land to the sheriff for ten dollars and other valuable considerations, and the sheriff sold it to the development company the same way. But that deed had enough document stamps on it to indicate a sizeable amount of money changed hands. No stamps on the first deed.”
“So,” Sam said, “what that suggests is that the ‘other valuable considerations’ of the Baine sale could’ve been for Sheriff Hamilton’s silence and/or complicity in the dispositions of these cases.”
Mr. Pickens nodded. “That’s what it looks like to me, and eventually it paid off for the sheriff, big time.”
Sam twisted his mouth, thinking it all over. “That puts a different light on things, doesn’t it? I don’t know what, but I’ll certainly have a new chapter to write if I ever get back to writing. But to be thorough, as you say, I’d better go ahead and try to interview the Baine woman. Julia,” he said, turning to me, “will you go with me? I have to run over to Asheville tomorrow afternoon to see a retired judge who knew Baine, so I’d like to see her in the morning.”
Well, there went my plan. How could I get Sam to talk some sense into Mr. Pickens if they were going off in a dozen different directions? But I nodded in answer and said, “She’d probably be more comfortable with both of us instead of a strange man showing up by himself. But wait, Sam, weren’t you going to take Lloyd to get his school supplies in the morning?”
Mr. Pickens’s head snapped up. “I’ll take him. I’d like to, in fact, if it’s all right with Hazel Marie.”
My heart warmed toward him even more. “Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Since she’s been under the weather, we don’t bother her with little decisions like that. And Lloyd will be thrilled. He’s missed you, Mr. Pickens.”
He bent his head to shuffle through his notes, mumbling, “I’ve missed him, too.”
“I’ll have Lloyd make a list of what he needs so you won’t forget anything. Walmart is probably the best place to go and, believe me, I am delighted to let you have it.”
With our plans made for the morrow, Mr. Pickens prepared to leave. I drew him aside in the kitchen while Sam was gathering his notes and files.
“Mr. Pickens,” I said, “I’ll have Lloyd ready to go about nine o’clock, so if you’ll just pull up outside I’ll send him right out. There’s no need for you to come in. That way you’ll save some time.”
He gave me a sick sort of half-smile. “And that way she won’t know I’m taking him, right?”
“Well, the thing of it is, she’s supposed to avoid emotional upsets. And in spite of your thoughtfulness in keeping your distance, your presence just seems to set her off. But I assure you, I am not telling her any stories. I’m just not telling her everything. So you go on with that boy and have a good time with him. He needs you, Mr. Pickens.”
“If you’re sure then.”
“I am sure. You don’t need to worry about it. People in Hazel Marie’s condition are known to be somewhat erratic in their emotions, and we have to make allowances. Hormones, you know.”
“Okay,” he said, the frown between his brows deepening as his black eyes bored into mine. “But tell me this, Miss Julia. Just what exactly is wrong with her?”
Well, there it was—the perfect opportunity to tell him and be done with it, my decision about Sam doing it notwithstanding. I opened my mouth to do just that when Lloyd walked into the kitchen.
“You leaving, J.D.?”
“Yep, it’s been a long day. But I’ll be back in the morning. Nine o’clock on the dot, so you be ready.”
The boy’s eyes lit up. “Where’re we going?”
“To Walmart,” I intervened. “To get your supplies since Sam has some work to do. Now, Lloyd, let’s not bother your mother with our little arrangements of who’s going with whom, unless she out and out asks, of course. I wouldn’t want you to tell any stories.”
“Oh, okay,” he said, but his eyes flitted from one to the other of us.
He knew there were problems between his mother and Mr. Pickens, and he probably suspected that there was even more going on than he knew. He was too smart not to have figured that out, and if we let things go along as we were doing he would soon figure out what that
more
was.
All the more reason to clear the air once and for all. Enough of hiding things from those who needed to know. Enough of walking on eggs for fear of upsetting somebody. Enough of being afraid to open my mouth.
And to that end, I opened my mouth and said, “Mr. Pickens, sometime tomorrow afternoon when you’re back from Walmart and Sam’s gone to Asheville, Lillian wants to talk to you.”
Chapter 36
As soon as Lloyd came downstairs the next morning, I had my plans laid out for the day. Pursuant to those plans, I suggested that he go to the pool or find someone to play tennis with after Mr. Pickens brought him home. “I want you to enjoy the last Saturday of summer,” I said, for I, myself, had some big fish to fry that afternoon and didn’t want him around to witness whatever the outcome might be.
I watched as Lloyd hurriedly ate breakfast, excited about his forthcoming shopping trip with Mr. Pickens. My heart ached at how much the boy cared for him. “Tell Mr. Pickens,” I said, “that he’s welcome to have lunch with us, unless the two of you want to eat downtown.”
As soon as Mr. Pickens’s rumbling car turned in the drive, Lloyd went scurrying out to meet him. I was pleased that Hazel Marie was still sleeping and unaware that her son was consorting with the enemy. If she asked, I told Lillian to just say that Lloyd was getting his school supplies and leave it at that. I don’t believe in upsetting anyone unnecessarily.
Having gotten everybody settled to my satisfaction, I slid into Sam’s car beside him, fastened my seat belt and took note of my handsome husband in one of his summer suits—seersucker with blue stripes, set off with a handsome tie. Sam always dressed well and to the season, making me proud to be with him. My only request soon after we married was that he forswear bow ties. They had been Wesley Lloyd Springer’s trademark adornment, and it would’ve suited me never to have to look at another one again. Not long after making that request, I noticed that James began sporting bow ties even when he was mowing Sam’s lawn.
I made myself comfortable as we started out, anticipating a nice drive with Sam and a pleasant visit with the judge’s daughter.
“So,” Sam said, as he pulled the car onto Polk Street, “Emma Sue’s throwing a surprise going-away party for Hazel Marie.”
“Yes, and it’s a surprise to me that you remember.” I reached over to touch his arm. “You were half asleep last night when I told you about it.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised at what all I remember.” He smiled and released one hand from the steering wheel to hold mine. “How’re you going to handle it?”
I sighed. “It’s brought me right down to the wire. What I’m going to do is make sure that Mr. Pickens knows everything there is to know before Monday night and pray that he’ll take matters into his own hands. And, to that end, Sam, I want you to be prepared to tell him if something else rears its interfering head and Lillian’s not able to.”
“Lillian?” Sam’s eyebrows went straight up to his hairline. “Why is she telling him?”
“Well,” I hedged, “she’s better at these things than I am, although not as good as you. See, Sam, I’ve thought it all out. Hazel Marie let it slip that she really wants him to know, and Lillian and I were going to do it this morning while you and Lloyd went to get his supplies. But then this visit to the judge’s daughter interfered. So after thinking about it, I decided it’d be better for all concerned to wait till this afternoon and let you do it. But then your trip to Asheville came up. I kept having to change my plans, because, see, it can’t be done when Lloyd’s in the house, so I have to work around him. There’s no telling what Mr. Pickens’s reaction will be, or Hazel Marie’s, and I don’t want him anywhere around while it’s going on. It could be traumatizing.”