Miss Julia Paints the Town

by Ann B. Ross

  “Well, I don’t blame you.” And I didn’t. Emma Sue had never stinted herself when it came to contributing time and effort to church activities. She had always been part and parcel of every mission—home or foreign—that the church supported, so much so that many of us backed away and let her take over.

  “So, will you talk to him?” she went on. “You can talk him out of it, Julia. You and Sam, both. He’ll listen to you, I know he will. Point out to him that he’s too close to retirement to start something new. Tell him it’s not fair to me to lose my home. And, and, Julia, I hate to even think of this, much less say it, because you know I’m not mercenary. But if Larry leaves the denomination, he’ll lose his retirement pension.”

  “He will? Oh, my, that would be bad. Surely he’ll think twice before risking that.”

  “No, he won’t. He says the Lord has always provided in the past and he’ll keep on providing. And I know I’m not showing any faith, but, Julia, all I can see being provided is Social Security, and since I’ve never worked, it’ll be a pittance. Just a pittance!”

  Yes, and if the politicians she and Larry so avidly supported had their way, there wouldn’t be even that.

  Chapter 9

  I promised Emma Sue that I would do what I could to deter Pastor Ledbetter from answering a call he hadn’t yet received, but frankly I was of two minds about it. There had been times when I would’ve rejoiced to see the last of him. Here lately, though, he had seemed somewhat resigned to doing things our way. Although he did change the order of worship, as well as the starting time of the Sunday service, just to prove he still had some authority.

  So I had also become resigned to keeping him on, especially since his retirement wasn’t that far off. And, I reminded myself, getting a new preacher in his place would surely create a new set of problems, which I didn’t want to deal with. A new preacher would undoubtedly be young and untried. He’d be full of modern ideas he’d want to try out on us, like coming up with new names for every activity and adding new committees when we had a Lord’s plenty already. It would take years to calm him down and get him settled into the routine we were accustomed to.

  So as much as I would’ve willingly contributed to a going-away present for Pastor Larry Ledbetter, I came down on the side of sticking with what we knew, rather than risking what could be outrageous fortune.

  “I’ll talk to Sam,” I told Emma Sue, when she finally seemed to have cried herself out. “He’s much better at dealing with the pastor than I am. He’s so sensible, you know, and people listen to him.”

  “But you need to talk to him, too, Julia. I know you and Larry have had your ups and downs, but he respects you. Really, he does.”

  So I promised, though not believing for a minute that I could have any influence over the pastor, since I’d never had any in the past.

  “I’ll see you over at Mildred’s,” I said, as she prepared to leave. “Lillian’s carrot cake should be done by now, and I’m hoping there’ll be news about Horace.”

  “Oh, me, too,” Emma Sue said. “It’s just so awful, not knowing what’s happened to him. But listen, Julia, have you heard from Helen? I couldn’t believe what was in the paper and I’ve tried and tried to get her on the phone, but nobody answers. But can you believe Richard, of all people, being accused of fraud?” She stopped for a minute as her face took on an awed expression. “And they can’t find him, either! You reckon there’s a connection?”

  “Between Richard and Horace? Oh, I wouldn’t think so. They’ve never been particularly close, as far as I know. Besides, Horace is not what you’d call financially experienced, since he’s never had any finances of his own. Still,” I mused aloud, “it is strange that they’re both missing at the same time.”

  “Mark my words, Julia, something weird is going on, but,” she said, heaving a great sigh, “I have enough to worry about. I don’t need to take on anything more.” She stepped out onto the porch, then turned back to me. “I guess I’ll see you at Mildred’s. Just because Larry’s ready to abandon his flock doesn’t mean I have to.”

  After seeing Emma Sue off, I went back into the kitchen where Lillian had her carrot cake ready for delivery.

  “Lloyd call and say to tell his mama he keep on playin’ tennis till suppertime,” Lillian said. “Then he be home. An’ tell Miz Allen I be prayin’ for her.”

  “I will, and I know she’ll appreciate it.” I walked over to the counter to pick up the cake. “You haven’t heard from Sam?”

  “No’m.”

  “Well, James said he went downtown, so maybe he ate lunch there. But if he comes in, tell him to call me at Mildred’s. I need to talk to him, and I can’t understand why he’s always gone every time I need him.”

  “He pretty much around when you do,” Lillian said, always quick to defend Sam, or anybody for whom I had the least tinge of criticism. “An’ you be careful with that cake, and don’t squash down on that tinfoil. I put yo’ name on the bottom of the plate, so we get it back.”

  “Good, there’s so much food coming in over there that it’ll be a wonder if any plate makes it home again.”

  I hurried out to Hazel Marie’s car and set the cake plate down carefully on the floorboard of the back seat. Just as I straightened up and prepared to get behind the wheel, Lillian stuck her head out and called to me.

  “Miss Julia! You got a telephone call, an’ I think it’s that sweet Miz Stroud.”

  “Oh, my goodness.” I hurried back into the house, hoping Lillian had gotten it right this time. Picking up the phone, I said, “Helen? Is that you? I’ve been trying to get you all day.”

  “Yes, and so has everybody else,” Helen said, her voice low and subdued. “I’m not answering the door or the phone, Julia, and I hope all my friends will understand. I just can’t face the questions, especially since I don’t have any answers. I just heard about Horace on the radio and wanted to know how Mildred is doing.”

  “She’s doing as well as can be expected, under the circumstances. When I left about thirty minutes ago, there’d still been no news. They’ve not been able to find him, and I tell you, Helen, she doesn’t know which way to turn.”

  “I know how she feels. Tell her I’m thinking of her, and would love to be there, but, well, I just can’t right now.”

  “I will, but, Helen, you need support, too. Let me come over just as soon as I drop a cake off at Mildred’s. In fact, I’ll ask Lillian to start another one for you.”

  “No,” she said with some firmness. “Thank you anyway, but I can’t see anybody right now. I have to go. Tell Mildred she’s in my prayers.”

  “But…” But she’d hung up. “Lillian,” I said, turning to her, “I didn’t get to ask her where Richard is. My goodness, I didn’t even ask her where she is. I’ll tell you, I’ve never seen so many strange things happening in one day.”

  “It be that way sometimes,” Lillian said, nodding her head as if she’d predicted it all. “I don’t know I b’lieve this, but my granny used to say when the stars line up just right an’ you hear hoot owls at midnight an’ dogs crawl under the house an’ stay there, why, you jus’ better look out for trouble, an’ they’s a owl been flyin in an’ outta that ole barn down next to Mr. Willet Bennett’s house.”

  I started to laugh off her dire predictions, but I didn’t have time for it. “You may be right,” I said and headed out to the car again.

  Cars filled Mildred’s driveway and more were parked up and down the street. Since I couldn’t get near, I went around the block and parked in my own driveway. Then carefully bearing the cake, I walked in the lengthening shadows to Mildred’s house, which was what I should’ve done in the first place.

  I went around the house and in the back door, hoping to avoid the crowd I knew would be in the front rooms. The first person I saw was Hazel Marie, who was slicing a pie before putting it out in the dining room.

  “Oh, Miss Julia,” she said, looking up with a smile on her face. “Just put that down wh
erever you can. Would you believe all this food? We could feed two armies with it. Ida Lee’s going to freeze everything that’ll freeze, so they’ll have it for a while.”

  I made room on a counter, shoving two casseroles closer together, and put down the cake. “Where is she, anyway?”

  “Upstairs, straightening Mildred’s room,” Hazel Marie said, pointing the pie server at the ceiling. “She is really upset over all this, and I tried to get her to lie down for a while. But she won’t do it.”

  “Well, Ida Lee’s very close to the family. She’s been with them for so long. What about Tonya? Any word on when she’ll get in? And I guess I should ask if there’s been any word on Horace, though I expect you would’ve told me if you’d heard anything.”

  “No, to both questions,” Hazel Marie said, as she ran her hands under water from the faucet. “As far as I know, Tonya’s still in the air somewhere, and Mildred’s heard nothing about or from Horace.” Hazel Marie turned off the water and began drying her hands. “Miss Julia, do you think I ought to suggest that she hire J.D. to look for Horace? I don’t want her to think I’m drumming up business for him, but you know how good he is at finding people.”

  “That might not be a bad idea, Hazel Marie,” I said, mulling over her suggestion of putting Mr. Pickens on the case. “And she won’t think you’re drumming up business for him. She probably just hasn’t thought of engaging a private investigator. But, I tell you, if the sheriff hasn’t found Horace by tonight, I would certainly be looking elsewhere. If it were me.”

  “Me, too. Okay, as soon as some of these people clear out, I’ll ask her to think about calling J.D.” She picked up a plate and handed it to me. “Here, fill this up. You haven’t had a bite all day, have you?”

  “I haven’t had time to think about it. Hazel Marie, you wouldn’t believe all that’s happened today. Every time I’ve turned around, somebody else is telling me their problems.”

  “Really? Let’s both fix a plate and go out to the gazebo. Nobody’s out there, and you can tell me everything.”

  Chapter 10

  As warm as the early afternoon had been, it had now turned a bit chilly and I wished for a sweater. Still, it was a fine, cloud-free late spring day. Balancing our plates and glasses, we walked across the side lawn to the gazebo that faced Mildred’s rose garden. Taking seats inside the latticed structure, we had a clear view not only of the formal plantings but also of the array of blooming azaleas that lined the edge of the yard.

  “Okay,” Hazel Marie said as she speared a forkful of asparagus casserole. “Let’s hear it. What else is going on? I mean, besides Horace missing and Richard missing and Leonard walking out and the mayor going off half-cocked.”

  “Well,” I said, somewhat hesitantly since I couldn’t remember how strongly Emma Sue had sealed my lips. “You can’t breathe a word of this, Hazel Marie…”

  “Wait,” she said, looking past my shoulder, “here comes Ida Lee.” And indeed she was hurrying across the lawn toward the gazebo.

  “Miss Julia,” Ida Lee panted, “Miss Mildred needs you. She’s going up to the upstairs sitting room and wants you to come, too.”

  “Well, of course,” I said, rising with plate in hand. Hazel Marie took it from me, saying she would take care of it. “Has she heard anything?”

  “Not yet,” Ida Lee said worriedly, “but the sheriff’s office called to tell her that the lieutenant is on his way to talk to her again.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” I said, stepping out of the gazebo. “That means he has news of some kind. Hazel Marie, I’ll see you in a little while.”

  I followed Ida Lee across the lawn and into the house, where we threaded our way between the knots of people gathered in the public rooms. Hurrying up the stairs, we gained the landing where Ida Lee led me to Mildred’s sitting room. I tapped on the door, then entered to find Mildred sitting in a bergere beside the Adams mantel of the fireplace. The room was an oasis of quiet tones of blue, from the grasscloth that covered the walls to the silk fabric on the sofa and chairs. The Venetian glass chandelier provided bits of color, along with the gilt frames of the mirrors and pictures.

  “Mildred?” I whispered, hesitant to disturb her as she sat immobile, staring at the wall. “You wanted me?”

  “Oh,” she said, turning with glazed eyes to look at me. “Julia. Yes, thank you. The sheriff is sending somebody over to bring me up-to-date, and I need somebody with a level head to hear what they have to say.”

  “Of course,” I said, taking a seat beside her. “They didn’t give you a hint of what they’ve found?”

  “Not at all, which means it’s too tragic to tell me over the phone. I’ve just been sitting here, trying to come to terms with widowhood.”

  “Oh, now, Mildred, you mustn’t jump to conclusions. I doubt they tell anybody anything over the phone.” Besides, I thought to myself, widowhood, in my experience, hadn’t been all that bad. Of course, mine had been a special case and no comparison to the present one.

  There was a tap on the door and Ida Lee stuck her head in. “Lieutenant Peavey to see you, ma’am.” She opened the door wide to allow the large navy-uniformed man to enter. Then she stepped out, closing the door behind her.

  Lieutenant Peavey stood there in all his muscular glory, hat in hand, looking out of place in the silken room. It didn’t seem to bother him, though, as I recalled his supreme and distant professionalism in previous encounters. “Mrs. Allen, ma’am, sorry to bother you, but I need to go over a few more things with you.”

  Mildred had bestirred herself, leaning forward in the chair, anxious for news. “Have you found him?”

  “No, ma’am, we’ve not. At least, not at the accident site.”

  “Have a seat, Lieutenant,” I said, standing to vacate the chair nearest Mildred. He glanced at me, then his eyes flickered just the least little bit. Lieutenant Peavey, I remembered, had a mile-wide streak of suspicion in his nature. But he nodded and proceeded to the chair, leather appendages creaking with every movement.

  “That’s why I need to speak with you again,” he went on, as he rested his hat on his knee and removed a pad and pen from a pocket. “We’ve searched every inch of the mountainside, and we’re confident that Mr. Allen is not there.”

  “That’s good news, Mildred,” I said, patting her shoulder.

  Lieutenant Peavey glanced at me. “Maybe. And maybe not. The question is, where is he? Which is what we’re dealing with now. So,” he said, turning his full attention to Mildred, “you told us that the last time you saw him was yesterday around noon. That’s a little over twenty-four hours ago. What I’m trying to do is track his movements from that point on. Do you have any idea where he might’ve gone or who he might’ve seen immediately after he left here?”

  Mildred closed her eyes in thought, or so it seemed, then said, “He might’ve gone to the bank, Lieutenant, the Mountain Trust, which is where he has an account.”

  “Good,” Lieutenant Peavey said, jotting down the information. “That’s something we can follow up on. Do you know if he intended to make a withdrawal?”

  “I wouldn’t think so. I assume he would be making a deposit. At least, I hope he was, since he left here with a check for a few thousand dollars.”

  Lieutenant Peavey’s eyebrows shot up. “A few thousand? How many, exactly?”

  “Six, I believe,” Mildred said, as if she wrote so many checks of that size that she couldn’t quite remember. “I can confirm that by my checkbook.” She took her lower lip in her teeth for a second. Then releasing it, she went on. “I suppose it might be relevant to tell you that that was the third check I’d advanced him in the past week.”

  Lieutenant Peavey blinked at this news. “How much in all, would you say?”

  Mildred waved a languid hand. “Close to twenty thousand or a little more. But I told him that was the last check I was giving him until next month. He was already into me for much more than that, always needing an advance on his allowance, always co
mplaining about his creditors.” Mildred looked down at her hands in her lap. “He’s never been good with his finances, and even worse here lately. I have to say that I reminded him of that rather forcefully.”

  Lieutenant Peavey wiggled his pen in his fingers, letting the silence build in the room. I expect he’d never come across anything like the relationship between Mildred and Horace, and hardly knew what to ask next.

  “So,” he finally said, “can we say that Mr. Allen had a greater than usual need for money in the last several days?”

  “Over the past month, I would say,” Mildred said. “And I don’t mind telling you that I had had enough. I told him yesterday that there’d be no more.” A tear trickled down Mildred’s face. “We argued, Lieutenant Peavey, on what might’ve been the last day of his life, we argued. And he left the table, angry and upset with me. Called me selfish and miserly. And I…well, sharp words were spoken, and now my poor Horace is gone forever.” She reached up and took my hand where it rested on her shoulder. “Julia, take a lesson from me, don’t let the sun go down on your wrath. Value Sam and let him have whatever he wants. Within reason, of course.”

  I nodded, while Lieutenant Peavey looked exceedingly uncomfortable at Mildred’s sudden gush of tears. I gave her a handful of Kleenex from the box on a side table and patted her again.

  Attempting to bring the interview under control, Lieutenant Peavey asked, “Instead of depositing that check, do you think he would’ve cashed it? Do you know if he was in the habit of carrying large amounts of cash?”

  “Well,” Mildred said, wiping her eyes, “it’s possible. Horace liked to be prepared for emergencies, but I don’t know what you mean by a large amount.”