Peg nodded. “I’m so relieved for the Millers—and for you.”
“I’m still trying to find a place to land.”
Peg held out her hand. “Sit beside me and let me pull you back to earth.”
Mike sat on the couch. Peg put her arm on his shoulder.
“You’re a great lawyer who cares about his clients.”
“It’s easy when you only have one.”
“Quiet. And I’m not saying that because I secretly want you to go back into law practice. Your three years in the ministry have changed you for the better. Even while working long hours on Sam’s case, you spent time with God—and with me. I didn’t feel shut out. I think God liked it, too.”
“But now what?”
“That’s for you to decide.”
“Will you tell me what you think?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be listening.” Mike took her hand and kissed it. “We have a lot of time left on the sabbatical. I could get used to being with you on a perpetual vacation.”
Later that afternoon they went for a walk in the backyard and checked on their flowers.
“What are you thinking about the church?” Peg asked.
“I’ll have to face it soon. The real reason for my exile has ended. The elders will know what happened by nightfall. Bobby will make sure the word gets out.”
“Or you could call Delores Killian right now with the news and ask her to keep it confidential.”
Mike smiled. “I’ve missed her.”
Peg put her hand on his forehead. “Uh-oh, you’re delirious. Don’t make any hasty decisions until your fever breaks. Wait for the elders to contact you.”
“Milton Chesterfield and Barbara Harcourt aren’t going to show up kneeling on our doorstep asking for forgiveness.”
Peg brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. “A simple apology would be a good place to start. You’re totally vindicated by the DA’s dismissal of the charges against Sam. That’s a lot stronger than a not-guilty verdict because it proves Sam was innocent from the very beginning. A cynic could always claim a jury verdict of not guilty was the result of a tricky lawyer’s manipulation of the facts. No one can say that now.”
“If you see a tricky lawyer in the room, kiss him.”
Peg gave him a peck on the cheek. “Do you want to return to the church if it takes a power play on your part to get back in?”
Mike turned his head so he could clearly see Peg’s face.
“It’s not much money, but the job at the church is our security.”
“While you’ve been preparing for the trial, I’ve had plenty of time to get used to the idea of a different direction. We have enough in savings—”
“To buy a few diapers.”
Peg’s face fell, and Mike regretted his comment.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Maybe I need to ride to the top of Jefferson’s Ridge and look into the future. At the moment, you have more faith than I do.”
The phone rang. Peg answered it, then put her hand over the receiver.
“It’s Braxton Hodges,” she whispered.
Mike took the receiver.
“Can I buy you a victory hamburger to celebrate?” the reporter asked.
Mike looked at his watch. It was almost noon.
“I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes.”
“CALM DOWN,” HATCHER SAID TO BUTCH NILES, MOTIONING for the nervous legislator to sit down on the other side of the bank president’s desk. “It’s about winning the war, not a single battle. Don’t blow this setback out of proportion. It’s a strategic retreat. Everything is under control. I have a plan.”
Thirty
MIKE CHANGED INTO CASUAL CLOTHES AND RETURNED HIS DARK blue suit, like a coat of armor that hadn’t suffered a scratch in battle, to its place in the closet.
“What are you going to tell Hodges?” Peg asked.
“With Braxton, I always listen more than I talk. Ken West didn’t ask me to keep the information about Dressler confidential, but I’m not sure I want to unleash a reporter on a fact-finding mission.” Mike slipped a ball cap on his head. “Do you want me to bring you back a couple of cheeseburgers and a large order of french fries?”
“No, thanks. I’ll dip a few raw carrots and uncooked broccoli spears in ranch dressing.”
Mike and Hodges arrived at Brooks at the same time and ordered their food. The long outside table was crowded with customers.
“Let’s go to the park,” Hodges suggested.
A few blocks from Brooks was a public park that contained a swing set, seesaw, and a couple of picnic tables. Both of the tables were vacant.
“How does it feel sitting here wearing a golf shirt and eating a burger with nothing to do?” Hodges asked after they were settled.
“Surreal.”
“I came to the courthouse to watch a few minutes of jury selection, and you weren’t there. I thought the world had ended, and you were snatched up to heaven, leaving the rest of us heathens to fend for ourselves.”
“You have an overactive religious imagination.”
“There was a break in the proceedings, and I asked Greg Freeman what happened in your case. He gave me the news that the charges against Sam Miller were dismissed. I tried to get a comment from Ms. Hall, but she brushed me off. I think she was more interested in getting ready to try her case than in talking with the media.”
“It was her first felony trial. Maybe you should write about it.”
Hodges shook his head. “I checked it out. The public isn’t interested in a burglary case involving the employee of an auto parts store who came back after hours to steal the stuff he needed to fix up his 1957 Chevrolet. A picture of the car would be more interesting than an article about the trial. I want the inside story about the Miller case. Eat one more bite, then start at the beginning.”
Mike took an extra long time to chew his food. Hodges ate two bites and looked at him impatiently.
“Come on. You can’t hold out on me. Swallow your food, and open your mouth now that your lips aren’t sealed by the attorney-client privilege.”
“You’re wrong. I can’t reveal client information.”
“I don’t want to know what Miller told you,” Hodges replied with frustration. “I want the scoop about Niles, Hatcher, the Cohulla Creek property, and the illegal payola. Don’t worry. I’m not going to use your name in any article. You’ll be the confidential unnamed source who refused to be identified.”
“There’s nothing sensational to tell. I uncovered a few bits of information, but my primary focus was proving that Sam had nothing to do with the two checks drawn on the Craig Valley church building fund account. I hired a handwriting expert, a former FBI agent, who was going to testify that the checks were typed on an old typewriter owned by the bank then signed using a signature stamp. Sam didn’t own a signature stamp. The connection of the bank’s typewriter to the checks broke the case open.”
“That’s not all,” Hodges insisted. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have subpoenaed Linden, Bunt, and Dressler.”
“I never nailed everything down. I wanted to expose the bank’s motivation to discredit Sam, but the testimony of the others would have been based on innuendo that I’m not sure Judge Lancaster would have allowed. Judge Coberg knows about Sam’s dreams and might have let me color outside the lines. Lancaster would have put a chain around my neck and forced me to try the case in a traditional manner.”
“So you didn’t uncover a smoking gun?”
“No. Dismissal of the charges had nothing to do with Cohulla Creek.”
“That’s a big letdown.” Hodges sighed.
Mike sipped his drink. Hodges had helped him quite a bit with Dressler. He wanted to give him something in return.
“One thing I didn’t mention to you,” Mike said. “There is a memo of a meeting.”
Hodges perked up as Mike summarized the contents of the memo Bobby slipped into the old deed book at the courthouse.
“Yes, I’ll pass it along, but don’t mention me as your source. The person who gave it to me could lose his job if my name is connected to it.”
“Agreed. I found it blowing in the wind on a street corner.”
DRIVING HOME, MIKE WONDERED IF HE SHOULD HAVE TOLD Hodges about his conversation with Ken West. If Dressler had framed Sam Miller, it would be a major news story, but in his gut, Mike didn’t believe the former banker was the prime mover in the plot to destroy the old man. Dressler’s lawyer in Mobile might be a jerk willing to file a groundless motion, but that didn’t make her client guilty of anything but poor judgment in his choice of counsel.
When he arrived home, Mike turned on his computer to check his e-mail messages. Several items from the top, he spied a message line that caught his attention—“From Milton Chesterfield.” Mike quickly clicked it open.
Congratulations on your successful representation of Sam Miller. The elders would like to meet with you and Mr. Miller this evening at 7:00 p.m. at the church. Unless I hear from you otherwise, we will see you then.
Mike printed the message and showed it to Peg in triumph. “Look at this! They’re not only going to apologize to me, but also to Sam.”
Peg took the sheet from him. “Where does it say that they’re going to apologize?”
“Why else would they congratulate me and invite both of us to come?”
“It would be a major change of heart, but it’s hard to imagine some of the elders humble enough to admit a mistake.”
“I know, but will you let me be ridiculously optimistic for a few minutes?”
Peg smiled. “Okay. Did you call Sam?”
“Not yet. He’s probably mowing a lawn.”
Mike phoned Muriel, who promised to deliver Sam wearing clean clothes to the Andrewses’ house in time for the two men to drive to the Little Creek Church by 7:00 p.m. Later in the afternoon, Mike received a call from Larry Fletchall, the chief deacon at the Craig Valley Gospel Tabernacle.
“I heard what happened in Sam’s case,” Fletchall said. “A lady from the district attorney’s office called and told me charges should never have been filed. It was all a big mix-up. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that Sam didn’t do anything wrong.”
“The system worked,” Mike answered simply.
“And we’d like to celebrate. Could you be our guests at the church on Sunday?”
“Both of us?”
“Yes, along with your wives.”
Mike hesitated. He didn’t want to miss the opportunity for a triumphant return to Little Creek.
“Uh, not this week, but let’s stay in touch. It would be an honor to attend a service.”
SAM AND MURIEL ARRIVED AT 6:15 P.M. SAM’S FACE WAS SLIGHTLY RED.
“Forgot my hat and spent the whole afternoon working in the Blevinses’ backyard,” the old man said when Mike commented on his ruddy appearance. “They don’t have a square foot of shade around that new swimming pool.”
“How long do you think the meeting at the church will last?” Muriel asked. “I’m not sure,” Mike replied. “Normally, I prepare an agenda, but the only notice I received was an e-mail. If the elders want to talk about church business, I’ll recommend that we do it another time. I don’t want Sam waiting alone in the hallway for several hours.”
Mike looked at his watch. “We don’t need to leave for a few minutes. While we’re together, I need to tell you why the charges against Sam were dismissed.” He related his conversation with Ken West.
“What do you think?” he asked Sam when he finished.
The old man shook his head. “I don’t understand all that stuff about stocks and bank accounts. I saw darkness in Mr. Dressler’s heart when we were with him and his wife at the hospital but thought it had to do with their relationship, not me.”
“I know less than you do about Dressler’s heart,” Mike replied, “but I’m not convinced he wrote the checks and stamped them with your signature. When I called Darius York and told him what happened, he had his doubts, too.”
“But are they going to leave Sam and me in peace?” Muriel asked.
“Yes,” Mike said. “That’s the one thing West told me we can count on. If he’d entertained thoughts of refiling criminal charges against Sam, he wouldn’t have been so emphatic about why the charges were dismissed. It’s over.”
Muriel began to cry. Peg came over and put her arm around her. She, too, began to sniffle. Sam looked at Mike and smiled.
“We’ll let you ladies be happy together,” Mike said after a few moments. “We don’t want to be late to church.”
DRIVING OUT OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD, MIKE ASKED SAM, “WHY do you think the elders want to meet with us?”
“I don’t know. I asked Papa about it during the ride over to your house, but I didn’t hear anything.”
They rode in silence down the hill and onto the valley road. Sam sat in the seat with his eyes closed. Several miles passed. Sam groaned slightly. A few moments later he groaned more loudly.
“Are you okay?” Mike asked.
Sam opened his eyes and grimaced. “My stomach aches. I think I put too much hot sauce on my collard greens.”
“Do we need to go back to my house?”
Sam closed his eyes and didn’t respond. Mike continued down the road. They neared the church.
“We’re almost there,” Mike said. “How do you feel?”
Sam opened his eyes and rubbed his abdomen. “My spirit is uneasy.”
“I thought you ate too much hot sauce.”
“No, this ache is coming from another place.”
“We’re here.”
Mike turned into the church parking lot. The sun had just dipped below the hills in the west, but there was plenty of daylight to clearly see the property. So much had happened to Mike since he’d last been there that he saw it with fresh eyes. It felt right to return. The parking lot in front of the administration building was empty. Mike looked at his watch.
“We’re only five minutes early,” he said. “But it’s not usual for people to be late. Come inside. I’ll show you where we’ll meet.”
Sam moaned again as he unbuckled his seat belt.
“Can you do this?” Mike asked with concern.
“Yep, but I may hold you to your promise not to let the meeting go too long.” They entered the building and went into the conference room. Mike turned on the lights.
“I’ll brew a pot of coffee. If you need to use the restroom, it’s down the hall on the right.”
Mike returned with the water and filled the coffeepot. As it dripped down, he checked his watch. Sam sat in one of the chairs with his eyes closed.
“I’ll look outside and check the parking lot,” Mike said.
Dusk had darkened when he opened the door and peered out. No one had arrived, and Mike began to wonder if he’d misinterpreted the message from Milton Chesterfield. He returned to the conference room.
“I’m calling Peg.”
Peg answered on the second ring. “We’re alone and it’s ten minutes after seven,” Mike said. “Did anyone phone to cancel the meeting?”
“No.”
Mike thought a second. “I didn’t bring the e-mail from Milton. It’s on the table in the kitchen. Please read it to me.”
Mike waited then listened to Peg repeat the words he already knew were on the paper.
“It couldn’t be any clearer,” Mike said. “What do you think happened?”
Sam raised his hand. “Mike, I need to leave. My stomach and left arm are really hurting.”
“We’re coming back to the house,” Mike said to Peg. “Sam is sick.”
Mike closed the phone, and Sam rose unsteadily to his feet. Mike turned off the coffeepot.
“Is it your heart?” Mike asked anxiously.
“I’m either going to fa
int or throw up.”
“Should I call an ambulance?”
Sam shook his head. “No, let’s go. Muriel can put a cool rag on my head. That always makes me feel better.”
During the ride home, Mike kept glancing at Sam, who sat with his eyes closed and breathing irregularly. Each time Sam didn’t take a breath, Mike worried it might be the sign of a heart attack. As they drew closer to the house, Sam sighed and stretched out his hands.
“It’s passing,” he said. “I could feel the snake turn loose of my belly.”
“Snake?”
“That’s the best way I can describe it. I was getting squeezed from front to back. Thanks for praying for me.”
“I did more worrying than praying.”
Sam managed a slight smile. “Papa can recognize compassion no matter how it’s dressed.”
They turned into the driveway. Sam exited the car without difficulty and walked beside Mike into the house.
“What’s wrong?” Muriel asked as soon as they stepped into the kitchen.
“I’m not sure, but it was trying to kill me. My stomach, chest, and left arm were paining real bad.”
“Should you go to the emergency room?” Peg asked.
“Nope. I’m okay now.”
“How can you know?” Mike asked then turned to Muriel. “Has he had spells like this in the past?”
“Never exactly like this,” Sam answered. “I guess it was one of those big snakes trying to smother the life out of me. What do they call them?”
“Pythons?”
“Yep. But it’s slithered back into its hole.”
Mike shuddered at the image. The phone rang. Peg answered it and held it out to Mike.
“It’s Bobby Lambert.”
“Good,” Mike said. “Now, we’ll find out why the session meeting was canceled.”
He picked up the phone.
“Where are you?” Bobby asked in an excited voice.
“Standing in my kitchen. Check the number; you called my house.”
“But where were you thirty minutes ago?”
“At the church waiting for you and the rest of the elders to show up for a meeting. What happened?”
“A dispatcher with the fire department just called me! The old sanctuary is on fire! There are two fire trucks on the scene, but they’re not going to be able to save it!”
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