Miss Julia Paints the Town

by Ann B. Ross

  “And this is for you,” she said, handing a small box to Latisha.

  The child opened it and pulled out a trinket that made her eyes light up. Then she asked, “What is it?”

  “It’s a snow globe,” Hazel Marie said. “See, you turn it over and snow falls on the Golden Gate Bridge.”

  “Look at that, Great-Granny,” Latisha said, holding it out to Lillian. “I got me a little bridge inside a ball.”

  As we all sat around the table, eating cake and talking over and around each other, Hazel Marie couldn’t keep her hands from Lloyd. She hugged him time and again, patted his hand, looked him over and, in general, displayed how much she’d missed him. Her obvious and ardent love of the child—hers and my first husband’s child, I might add—was the major redeeming factor in my ability to overlook what she’d done to get him. And then, gradually, her sweet nature and guileless heart endeared her to me for herself alone. I just wished she’d tamp down her attachment to Mr. Pickens long enough to rope him in. A cool head in such matters can be much more effective than an overheated heart.

  Mr. Pickens, himself, broke into my reverie. “Where’s Sam?”

  “Downtown, I guess, watching the desecration and destruction of our courthouse. He may even be protesting.”

  “Oh,” Hazel Marie said, “are they really tearing it down?”

  “Yes, they are,” I said. “Courtesy of Mr. Arthur Kessler. And I don’t think I’ll ever get over it, in spite of the fact that Sam tells me the courthouse isn’t worth saving. But as far as I’m concerned, being old and decrepit is no reason to put anything out of its misery.” Seeing the merriment in Mr. Pickens’s eyes, I quickly added, “I am not speaking personally, Mr. Pickens.”

  “Didn’t enter my mind,” he said with a straight face. “So what else has happened since we’ve been gone?”

  “Horace Allen’s home.”

  “What!” Hazel Marie exclaimed, as Lillian’s mouth dropped open. “When? Where was he all this time?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “I just saw him go into the house a few minutes ago. For all I know, he may be back out again, depending on Mildred’s mood at the moment.”

  After we’d discussed all the possible reasons for Horace’s mysterious absence, none of which were satisfactory, I told them of the barbecue soiree that would be held the following afternoon. “Everybody’s invited, and you’ll have your choice of an inside tea with finger sandwiches and entertainment by Tina Doland or a pig pickin’ in the yard with music by the Crooked River Boys.”

  With a straight face, Mr. Pickens said, “I know which one I’m going to. I love finger sandwiches.”

  Latisha, who’d been ignoring the conversation going on around her in favor of creating a snowstorm inside her globe, suddenly looked up. “Me, too,” she said. “Can I go? I wanta hear that woman sing, if that’s what she’s gonna do. I might could help her out.”

  Lillian said, “Hush, chile.”

  “Of course you may go,” I said. “You and your great-granny both. And from what I hear, Miss Tina could use some help. Now, Mr. Pickens,” I went on, turning to him, “you’re probably too tired from the rigors of your trip, but I understand that there’s to be an all-night party around the barbecue pits tonight. No finger sandwiches, but Sam’ll be there and you might enjoy it.”

  After finishing the cake and hearing about the highlights of the trip—several times, in fact—everybody began to disperse into various parts of the house. Mr. Pickens left to check in at his office and to prepare for the men’s party that night.

  “Miss Julia?” Lillian said, as we cleared the table. “Mr. Horace really come back home?”

  “I saw him, Lillian, and talked with him, but I didn’t get much information. Just that he’s been involved in some way with Richard Stroud and he’s lost a lot of Mildred’s money. He was afraid to face her, and it must’ve taken every bit of his courage to get out of the car and go in. He was so pitiful-looking that I almost felt sorry for him. In spite of the fact that he brought it all on himself.” I leaned closer. “But, listen, it was him who tried to break into the house the night we were there. He wanted to get some clean clothes. Have you ever heard the like? All that trouble, plus getting shot at, just for a change of clothes.” I shook my head at the wonder of it. “Of course, he was always particular about the way he looked.”

  Chapter 42

  Sam crawled into bed sometime before sunup that night, reeking of wood smoke and other unsavory odors. If sleeping far up into the morning was any indication, he’d thoroughly enjoyed himself in Mildred’s backyard.

  When I later commented on his late rising, he said that he’d needed his beauty sleep. “I have to be fresh for the real party this afternoon.” Then he yawned widely and shook his head. “My social life is about to do me in.”

  The rest of us had been up early, scurrying back and forth between our house and Mildred’s, as Lillian and Hazel Marie helped Ida Lee set up for the indoor and outdoor parties. Lloyd was outside entertaining Latisha and, as I fixed toast and coffee for Sam, I took the opportunity to have a quiet chat. I’d already told him of seeing Horace sitting in a car trying to get up the nerve to enter his own home, but I wanted to know what happened when he did.

  “Let’s hear it, Sam,” I said, sitting beside him at the table, “was Horace there last night?”

  “If he was, he didn’t come out. For all any of us knew, he’s still among the missing.” He bit into the toast and chewed a while. “Come to think of it, Mildred didn’t put in an appearance either. Not that I expected her to, but we were in her yard.”

  “Well, with Horace showing up like that, she probably had too much on her mind to extend a formal welcome. Who all was there?”

  “People came and went all night.” He laughed. “I should’ve went long before I did. I’d feel a lot better now. James was there all night, helping Robert baste the pigs and feed the fires, and Ledbetter stopped by for a few minutes. Not looking too good, either, now that I think about it. He seemed sort of subdued or downcast about something, not his usual outgoing self.”

  I nodded, thinking that the pastor was probably having trouble at home, but I didn’t want to get into that. “Who else?”

  “Well, Pickens was there for an hour or two, fairly late, around midnight or so. And Coleman came by with several other deputies when their shift ended. That’s a pretty wild bunch when they’re off duty, but,” he quickly added, “not Coleman. Binkie and the baby have sure quieted him down. And that Delmont deputy, Bobby Lee something-or-other, came with his guitar. He can really play that thing. Has a good voice, too. Guess who else showed up with a musical instrument?”

  “Who?”

  “Thurlow.” Sam laughed at the memory. “He brought an old fiddle, and when he finally got on the same page as Bobby Lee, they sounded pretty good. I’ll have to admit, though, it was mostly us old geezers who stayed the night, and probably all paying for it this morning.”

  “I wish you’d found out more about Horace,” I said, and since I wasn’t eating, propped my elbows on the table. “We don’t even know if he was in the house or if Mildred had sent him packing.”

  “Well, nobody seemed to know he’d come back at all, so I didn’t bring it up. I expect we’ll find out this afternoon. He’ll either show or he won’t.”

  “I guess so. I’m just surprised that Mildred hasn’t called. Well, anyway, I have to get myself prepared to see Arthur. I don’t know why we’re even having this party, since it was supposed to deter him from doing what he’s already done. I declare, Sam, I wish that man had never heard of Abbotsville, or us of him.”

  “That’s another thing, Julia. Don’t go downtown for the next few days. The courthouse is nothing but a pile of rubble, and you don’t want to see it. At least wait till they clear it off.”

  I nodded agreement, wondering how I would be able to muster up any courtesy at all to Arthur Kessler after what he’d done. Standards have to be maintained, of course, b
ut sometimes I’d much prefer letting somebody have it with both barrels. So to speak.

  “Oh,” Sam said, as he poured another cup of coffee, “did you ever know Poochie Dunn?”

  “No,” I said, jolted by the sudden change of subject. “I mean, yes, vaguely. Why?”

  “He dropped in for a little while last night. I don’t know when I last saw him, but he hasn’t changed a bit. All he could talk about was the new truck he’s getting. Apparently it’s a toss-up between a Dodge Ram and Ford F150, either of which he’s always wanted.” Sam smiled. “Beats me where he’s getting the money. He’s never held a job more than a week at a time.”

  “Well, I think he works odd jobs, so maybe he’s been saving up.” I wanted an end to the discussion of Poochie Dunn, since it was clear that he’d not divulged a word about our rescue operation. Now, if he’d just make it to the soiree with an intact statue and continue to hold his peace, all would be well.

  After a few minutes, during which I hoped thoughts of Poochie Dunn were fading from Sam’s interest, I said, “Sam, what do you think Horace meant when he said his present predicament was all Richard Stroud’s fault?”

  “From what you said he said, it sounds as if they’d gone into something that required them both to put up a good deal of money—Horace getting his part from Mildred and Richard getting his from his clients. I’m just speculating here, but that sheet of paper they found in Horace’s car and what he said to you yesterday indicate some kind of connection.”

  “What could it have been?” I mused.

  “Beats me, but whatever it was apparently didn’t pan out or they wouldn’t have gone on the run. Talk about your irony,” Sam said with a lift of his eyebrows. “Maybe somebody scammed them, just as they’d run scams to get the money in the first place.”

  “Sounds more like justice to me,” I said, “at least as far as Richard and Horace are concerned. It’s no justice at all for those people who’ve had their money stolen.” My mouth tightened. “They’ll probably never get a cent of it back.”

  “I expect you’re right,” Sam said, nodding in agreement. “But speaking of Richard, I wonder if Helen’s heard from him, now that Horace has turned up.”

  “Why don’t you call and ask her?” I watched closely to see if he’d been waiting for just that suggestion. It was, however, as far as I was willing to go. “I wouldn’t go over there if I were you. Richard may be coming out of the woodwork, too, and you might run into him.”

  “No, I think I’ll leave that alone,” he said, warming my heart. Not that I begrudged his offering a helping hand to a friend, you understand. It was just that Helen seemed to need more than the hand I was willing to lend her.

  “Well, Julia,” Sam said, standing and picking up his plates to take to the sink, “I think I’ll walk over and see if Robert needs some help this morning. I expect everybody’s cleared out and left it with him.”

  After a quick kiss, Sam left while I continued to sit, thinking and wondering about Horace and Richard and what they could’ve been up to. And wondering, too, if Lieutenant Peavey had been informed that the lost, at least one of them, had been found.

  “Miss Julia,” Lillian said as she came through the swinging door into the kitchen, “that smoke from them pig pits is gettin’ all through the house. Everything we got gonna smell like hick’ry-smoke pork roast from now on. They oughtta done them pigs out in the sticks somewhere.”

  “I thought the same thing myself. I’d be surprised if Mildred hasn’t broken some ordinance or something, but nothing would do than to dig those pits in her yard. I mean, she has the biggest yard in town, but still.”

  “Yessum, an’ I ’spect she have them things dug as far from her house as Robert could get ’em.”

  “Yes, and they’re probably closer to ours than to hers. Well, let’s close the windows and turn on the air conditioner. It’s going to be up in the eighties later today anyway.”

  I walked back to the bedroom, trying to decide what to wear to a social event the likes of which had never been seen in Abbotsville before. There was no precedent that set the appropriate attire for such polar opposite entertainments. And I certainly didn’t intend to confine myself to one or the other. Nor did I think that anyone would. Hazel Marie was going to wear some kind of flowing pants outfit that she said was suitable for both a tea party and a pig pickin’. It had taken her some while to come up with that compromise, though, because she’d really wanted to wear a camisole and jeans.

  “If I’m overdressed,” she’d said, putting the jeans back into the closet, “I’ll just run home and change.” Then she’d said, “Miss Julia, this is when you absolutely need a pantsuit, but since I know you won’t get one, here’s what you have to wear.” And she’d reached into her closet and pulled out a long skirt that looked like a patchwork quilt or Joseph’s many-colored coat or some such, it was so garish. “It’s silk,” she said, “so it’s not heavy, and all you have to do is pick out one of the colors and match a top to it.”

  Since it was either that or a church or house dress, I decided to wear it and hope I wouldn’t be the only one in an ankle-length dress.

  I was standing by the bed, considering several tops, when the phone rang. I answered it and heard, “Julia, it’s Helen. Is Sam around?”

  My hand tightened on the receiver. “Why, no, Helen, he’s out at the moment, and I’m not sure when he’ll be back. May I give him a message?”

  “Could you track him down for me? Now that I’ve made up my mind, I really need to speak with him.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to start, and we’re all busy here helping Mildred get ready for her big do. As soon as I see him, though, I’ll tell him you called.”

  There was a long moment of silence, then I heard a clear sob as she said, “Lieutenant Peavey and some government agent just left. They’ve been after me and after me, Julia, convinced that I know where Richard is. And now that Horace has come home, they’ve started in on me again. Would you believe they wanted to confiscate my passport? And I don’t even have a passport.”

  “Well, my goodness, Helen, do they think you’ll leave the country?”

  “I guess they do. There’s been somebody sitting in a car watching my house every day since Richard’s been gone. I think they either suspect or know that Richard is out of the country. And if he is, you know what that means, don’t you?”

  “He doesn’t want to get caught?”

  “Well, yes, but what it really means is that he’s not coming home, and the only way to make them believe that I’m innocent is to divorce him. And that’s what I’m going to do. I can’t live like this any longer, and I want Sam to recommend a good divorce lawyer.”

  “I thought you already had a lawyer in Asheville.”

  “I do, but he doesn’t do divorces, and I’d trust Sam’s recommendation over his any day.”

  Well, so would I, so I couldn’t fault her for that. But I didn’t know how I felt about having Helen running around town, free as a bird after a divorce.

  “I’ll tell him,” I responded. “But, Helen, have you heard anything more about Horace? I know he got home yesterday, but I don’t know any more than that. Not even how Mildred’s handling it.”

  “I haven’t talked to her. All I know is what I gathered from the questions they asked me this morning. And,” she said with a considerable tightness in her voice, “it sounded as if Horace has put whatever they were up to all on Richard. He used only Mildred’s money, so apparently he has only her to answer to, whereas Richard…Well, I guess you know about that.”

  I wanted to say, You better believe I do, since he did it with some of mine, but I didn’t. All I said was, “What do they think Richard did with the money?”

  “Absconded with it, Julia!” she said, more sharply than I was accustomed to being spoken to. “Why else are they turning my life upside down, as if I helped him do it?”

  “I know that, Helen. Everybody in town knows that. It’s obvious that Hora
ce wasn’t in on everything or he’d have stayed gone, too. I meant, what did Horace think they were going to do with it?”

  “I don’t have any idea. Some kind of real estate venture is all I know, and I don’t know that for sure. Julia,” she went on with a catch in her voice, “I’ve got to go. It’s all too much for me.”

  I felt a stirring of pity for a woman I might have recently misjudged. She had been a steadfast and trusted friend for many years, and now in her hour of need I had turned my back on her. Not without some reason, of course, but I’d been known to be wrong on occasion.

  “Helen,” I said, “why don’t Sam and I pick you up and you go to the party with us? I promise you that no one will say an unkind word to you, because one of us will be by your side the whole time. And this might be a good time for you to show the town that you are free of Richard and of anything he’s done. And, also, it would give you a chance to get Horace alone and find out what he knows. If Mildred has let him stay, that is.”

  She cried for a minute or so, then said, “Thank you, Julia, but I just can’t. I can’t face anybody until this is settled and everybody knows that I’m in the dark as much as they are. And a divorce is the only way to do that.”

  She was probably right, although, divorced or not, it’d be a long time before she’d be able to buy anything without somebody suspecting she was using their money to do it.

  “Well, if you change your mind,” I said, “just give me a call. I’ll tell Sam to call you, but it may be tonight after the party or tomorrow.”

  “That’s all right,” she said, sounding resigned to not getting started on her divorce right this minute, it being Saturday and all. “Just whenever he can. Oh, and, Julia, do one thing for me, if you will. Don’t say anything to Pastor Ledbetter about this. He’d be after me worse than Lieutenant Peavey, telling me how I’m sinning if I divorce Richard. As if Richard hasn’t sinned against me ten times over.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” I assured her. “I know how he feels about divorce, especially if it’s a wife who wants one, and I’d be the last person to give him an opportunity to start in on it again. I’ve heard all I want to hear on that subject.”