by Ann B. Ross
I could’ve felt sorry for him if he hadn’t always been a thorn in my flesh, and if he hadn’t put our lives in jeopardy by peppering bullets all over the place. But I did have a few misgivings, knowing that Brother Vern would have to adjust his entire theological stance after hearing the Lord speak in a woman’s voice.
But misgivings aside, my next task was to get down to the ground before the law got there. Lord, I’d hate to be taken into custody by Sergeant Coleman Bates, to say nothing of being sniffed out and mauled by Deputy Max Von Rippen of the K-9 Corps. I’d be listed in the sheriff’s report in the Abbotsville Times, making me the number one topic of the garden club from now till doomsday.
“Hurry, Miss Julia!” Etta Mae called up through the trapdoor. “Drop down. I’ll catch you.”
I was only too happy to, although if I’d thought long and hard about broken hips and ankles and wrenched backs, I might’ve still been clinging to the parapet. But Etta Mae clasped my lower limbs as I hung from the edge of the trapdoor and helped lower me down. Or, more accurately, she broke my fall.
We ended up sprawled together on the floor of the cupola, ripping off my hood in the process, but with, as far as I could tell, no lasting injury. Etta Mae was a little slow getting up, but that was probably because I’d landed on top of her.
“Hurry, Etta Mae,” I said, grabbing Lady Justice and dragging her to the opening in the floor of the cupola. “You get down on the rungs and I’ll push her through to you.”
With the rack lights from the patrol cars bouncing back from the low clouds and the sirens screaming ever closer, I mentally blasted Brother Vern again. The idea! Discharging a firearm within the city limits! He knew better than that, and all he’d done was create a ruckus and slow down our confiscation of a relic doomed for the trash heap.
As Etta Mae stood on the rungs of the interior wall of the courthouse, I dumped Lady Justice, feet first, through the hole of the trapdoor.
“Oh, my Lord,” I said, ready to cry in frustration when she went so far and no farther. Her outstretched arms, one holding scales and the other a sword, would not go through. “She’s stuck, Etta Mae. What’re we going to do?”
There was a minute’s silence from below, then, “Bend her.”
“Bend her?”
“Yes, she’s only tin, so bend her arms and we’ll straighten her out later.”
So I did. I untied the rope and scrunched both arms of the figure close to her body, thanking the French for their foresight, and pushed her on through. Then I switched myself around and climbed down after her. From then on, it was clear sailing. Down the narrow, twisting staircases we went, hauling Lady Justice with us until we reached the main floor of the courthouse.
Etta Mae trotted out smartly once we were off the stairs. Whispering over her shoulder, she said, “Wonder why somebody was shooting at us?”
“He just wanted to scare us. Probably thought we were vandals.”
“I guess he got that right,” she said with a giggle, as she stopped at the side door that Poochie, in his headlong flight, had left wide open.
“No, Etta Mae,” I said, “we’re just getting what was given to us. That’s not vandalism by any stretch of the imagination. Now hurry on out.”
So far, so good, I thought. But cars screeching to a halt in front of the courthouse made my anxiety soar, and I took a stronger grip on Lady Justice’s feet and pushed Etta Mae, who had her head, onward and outward.
Etta Mae moaned. “We’re gonna be arrested!”
“No, we aren’t,” I whispered, pushing her on. “They won’t see us. They’re looking for a gunman on Main Street, so let’s get her in the car before they change their minds.”
We slipped out the side door into a sudden downpour, absolutely ruining my hair but delaying any nosy deputies on the prowl for a gun-wielding suspect.
We dashed across the lawn to Etta Mae’s car, Lady Justice with folded arms bouncing along with us. “Poochie’s still here!” Etta Mae said in a loud whisper. “There’s his truck and, thank goodness, because this thing won’t fit in my car.”
She was right. I stopped on the sidewalk, quickly surveyed the situation and came to the same conclusion. The only way the statue would fit in her small car would be to fold her up like a letter and stuff her in, a desecration I would not be a party to.
I ran to the back of Poochie’s truck, hauling Etta Mae and Lady Justice with me. “Where is Poochie?” I said. “We need some help.”
Etta Mae stood the statue upright and said, “Hold her while I get up in the truck. Then I’ll haul her in.”
As she crawled into the truck bed, I got my first good look at our prize. My Lord, she was bare-breasted. Well, half bare-breasted in the Roman toga sort of way. Those French, I thought, wondering what else a close inspection would uncover.
“Lift her up,” Etta Mae whispered, as she leaned over the tailgate. “Quick, before those deputies get here.”
I did, and between us we slid the statue over the tailgate and into the truck bed. Etta Mae slung the drop cloth over it, covering our prize from prying eyes. “Where is that Poochie?” she asked, hopping lightly down.
I didn’t have to answer for the truck’s motor started up, spurring me to dash to the cab. Knocking on the cracked window, I called in a loud whisper, “Poochie! Open up. I want to talk to you.”
He rolled the window down, smiled and said, “I ain’t never goin’ up there again.”
“Well, me, either, you can count on that,” I said, wiping the water and my dripping hair from my face. “But I want to know why you took off without us. We could’ve still been stranded up there.”
Still smiling, he shook his head. “I don’t never hang around when they’s shootin’ goin’ on.”
I would’ve rolled my eyes if they hadn’t been too tired, so I just said, “Listen, now, the statue won’t fit in our car, so we put it in your truck bed and I want you to leave it there. Keep it covered and don’t tell anybody anything about this night’s business. Go on home now before those deputies get around here.”
“What about my ladder? Y’all just left it, didn’t you?”
I just stared at him, then I said, “Yes, we did. It was all we could do to get ourselves down, what with being left by ourselves and getting shot at, too.”
“Weren’t nothing but BBs. They won’t do more’n nick you, ’less they hit a eye. You can get blinded that way.”
“It was a BB gun? My land, I thought we’d be killed. But we can’t talk all night, Poochie. We have to get out of here. Those deputies’ll be on us any minute.”
“What about my new used truck?”
I started to tell him that it had just gained a few years of previous use owing to his desertion from the rooftop, but I refrained. He was now the caretaker of what we’d expended so much effort to get, and I needed to keep him happy.
“Tomorrow,” I said, then thinking of the time, “or rather, later today. I’ll come by in a few hours to get the statue, and we’ll go truck shopping.” I looked up across the courthouse lawn and saw the strong beams of official flashlights sweeping the shrubbery and the tops of the trees. “You take care of her, you hear? And don’t go anywhere until I come to get her. Now, go.”
He put the truck in gear and pulled onto the street, while I dashed to Etta Mae’s idling car. Holding the door closed, once I was in the passenger street, not wanting to slam it, I said, “Let’s go, Etta Mae. I don’t want to be questioned about any of this night’s events.”
“I’m with you,” she said fervently, easing the car without turning on the headlights down the street and whipping it around the corner. Sighing with relief once we were out of sight of the courthouse, she switched on the lights and headed toward my house. “Although,” she said with a shaky titter, “there’ve been times when I wished I wasn’t.”
Chapter 39
If I say I was slow getting out of bed the next morning, I wouldn’t be exaggerating. Glancing at the bedside clock as I st
ruggled upright, I was amazed at the lateness of the hour. Lloyd would already be in his first period class—thank goodness for Lillian and Sam who’d gotten him off while letting me sleep in. Of course I’d have to come up with some explanation for lingering in bed, so having had a restless night would have to do. It was all I could think of, plus it had a certain ring of truth about it.
But I tell you, it was a wonder that I was able to crawl out and straighten up, what with all the creaking joints and aching muscles. I’d used parts of my anatomy the night before that hadn’t been called on in more years than I cared to think about. And they were letting me know that I wasn’t as young as I once was.
And, Lord, when I glanced in the bathroom mirror, I thought I’d faint. I looked like the wreck of the Hesperus after sleeping on wet hair. I’d tried to towel it dry when I changed clothes in the pantry the night before, but let me tell you, it was a frightful sight first thing in the morning.
I called Velma before leaving the bedroom and begged her to take me. “I’m in dire need,” I told her. “I’ve got to have some help.”
“I can fit you in if you get here in fifteen minutes,” she said. “I’m booked solid the rest of the day and tomorrow, too, right up to the time of the soiree. Then I’m closing up and going myself.”
“I’m on my way.” I hung up, grabbed a scarf to cover my head and dashed through the dining room and kitchen and out the back door, telling Sam and Lillian that hair had top priority and I’d be back soon. With Lillian calling after me that I needed breakfast, I got in the car and sped toward Velma’s Kut and Kurl. As I crossed Main Street, I heard and felt the thud and crash of the day’s first onslaught of the wrecking ball against the courthouse several blocks away. I gripped the steering wheel and gritted my teeth, feeling the loss of something that couldn’t be replaced. What made it even worse was knowing that Arthur Kessler would be watching with that satisfied smirk on his face.
Finally under the dryer, I had time to think over the night’s escapade and try to plan the day’s activities. And also to take a little nap, my head hanging askew as hot air dried my rolled hair.
One thing I can say for Velma, she’s fast even though she talks a blue streak. While she combed and backcombed my hair, I heard all about last night’s shooting on Main Street.
“Those boys,” she said, referring to the sheriff’s deputies, “looked all over creation and they never did find out who was doin’ it. I mean, they spread out all over the place, rattling doors and lookin’ in alleys and I don’t know what all. It’s the strangest thing, is all I can say. Who you reckon would do such a thing?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” I said. “Spray it real good, Velma, if you will. It has to last through the soiree tomorrow and church on Sunday.”
When I got back home, feeling and looking 100 percent better, Sam was sitting in the living room reading the paper. He looked up as soon as I walked in, Lillian right behind me with coffee and toast and predictions of wasting away to nothing if I didn’t eat something.
“Well, Julia,” Sam said, putting aside the paper and smiling at me, “you flew out of here with hardly a word this morning. Is everything all right?”
“It is now,” I said, sitting beside him and patting my hair. “I just slept wrong and had to get to Velma’s before she filled up. You know how important hair is. A messy head can just ruin your whole outlook.”
“I’ve noticed that myself,” he said, his eyes twinkling, as he stood up. “Well, I just wanted to be sure you were okay. Oh, and by the way, a bunch of us’re going to help Robert barbecue the pigs tonight, so I expect it’ll be an all-night affair.”
“You’ll enjoy that. Who all’s going to be there?”
“Whoever drops by, I guess. We’ll help feed the fires, tell a few tall tales and think we’re having a good time.”
“Um-hmm,” I said, drinking coffee and wondering what they’d be drinking throughout the night.
Sam leaned down and gave me a kiss. “If you don’t have anything for me to do, I think I’ll wander down to the courthouse and watch it come down. I expect the protesters will be out in force as well.”
“I should hope so. In fact, I hope they’ll run Arthur Kessler out of town, but I guess that’s too much to expect. And it’s too late now anyway. Too late yesterday even, what with him putting that hole in the back wall.”
He turned back, giving me a raised eyebrow. “I told you about that, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” I said, my heart jumping for fear that I’d mentioned something I shouldn’t have known. “Remember, you said it was the last thing he did yesterday before quitting time.”
“Oh, right.” He headed for the hall closet, opened the door, then called to me. “Julia, where’s my old bumbershoot? They’re predicting more thunderstorms this afternoon.”
My eyes popped open as I pictured the umbrella lying on the floor of the cupola where I’d left it. Putting my cup carefully on its saucer, I said, “It should be in the closet. That’s where it always is.”
I heard him rummaging around in the closet, mumbling to himself. “Well, it’s not here,” he said, then stuck his head into the living room. “I guess my hair will just get ruined.”
“Oh, you,” I laughed, thanking the Lord again for such a sweet-natured, unsuspecting and trusting man. Wesley Lloyd Springer would’ve been fuming and stomping around half the day. Then he would’ve told me for the thousandth time that everything had its place and everything ought to stay in its place. As if it were my fault that he couldn’t find what he wanted.
But not Sam. Sam simply chose one of the other umbrellas in the closet and went on his way. Of course, this time it was my fault that his bumbershoot was not in its place, but that’s not the point.
As soon as the house fell silent, except for Lillian singing “Beulah Land” in the kitchen, I called Etta Mae.
“Etta Mae? How’re you feeling this morning?”
She yawned. “Is it morning already?”
“Yes, and we have to figure out how to get that statue from Poochie and what to do with it when we get it. You have any ideas?”
“Well,” she said, as I heard the rustle of bed covers, “my car’s out. If it wouldn’t fit last night, it won’t fit today. You think we could lay it down in the back seat of your car?”
“I think we can. It’s only about five feet tall, so it ought to fit. But what’s worrying me is what we’ll do with it then.”
“Um, well, I kinda thought you already had that figured out.”
“Not exactly. I was too intent on just getting it and thought I’d worry about what to do with it when we got it. The thing is, Etta Mae,” I said, unburdening myself on her, “I can’t bring it here. Sam would have a fit if he knew what we did last night. And so would Lillian. They’re so protective, you know. So I’d as soon you don’t mention what we did.”
“Um, well, are you just going to hide her? I mean, like forever?”
“Oh, no. I want everybody to know that Lady Justice has been saved from destruction, and I want her put somewhere permanent so everybody can see her. Maybe the garden club could sponsor her, donate her to the town or something like that. I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“You mean like a garden ornament or something?”
“Well, that’s a possibility, I guess. I’ll have to give it some thought.”
Etta Mae gave it a little thought of her own for a second or two, then she said, “I’m not sure you have a lot of time to think. Poochie’s not the most reliable soul, you know, so I wouldn’t leave it with him too long. He could sell it for scrap metal if it’d bring anything.”
“Oh, my word, don’t say that. Etta Mae, we have to do something to relieve him of that temptation, and that means getting it out of his hands as soon as we can. The thing is, though, we can’t let anybody know that I had anything to do with getting her. They’d tell Sam, sure as the world, and I’d have a hard time explaining to him.”
“If
that’s the case, then,” she said, “I think we can trust Poochie to keep her overnight. Then he can bring her to the soiree tomorrow. You know, like he was the one who got her down. By himself, I mean.”
“Oh, good,” I said, “I’ll gladly let him take all the credit for saving her. But just to be on the safe side, Etta Mae, you talk to him and tell him that getting a new used pickup is dependent on having that statue—in one piece, mind you—at Mildred’s tomorrow afternoon. Tell him I’ve already started calling the used car lots to be sure he’ll have a good selection. Tell him he’ll be driving that new vehicle first thing Monday morning.”
“I think you promised him today.”
“I know I did, but if he got it today we might never see him or Lady Justice again. You know how he is. Remind him that I’m an old woman who’s stove up today from all the exertions he put us through last night.”
“That’ll do it,” she said, “especially when he sees what shape I’m in. My back’s killing me.”
Ah, I thought with some satisfaction as I hung up the phone, it’s not just age that gets you.
Chapter 40
Even putting the phone in its cradle set up an aching protest from my arm to my neck, and I began to wonder how I was going to manage the rest of the day. I could hardly rise from a chair, much less achieve an upright posture to walk across the room. Contemplating a short nap or a long soak in a hot tub of water to recuperate, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to get out of either one.
I didn’t have to decide between them, though, for a clamor at the front door took my attention. Somebody was both ringing the bell and knocking, setting up a din that sent me flying to answer it. I met Lillian on her way to do the same.
“Law,” she said, her eyes wide, “who makin’ all that racket?”