The Pecan Man (15 page)

“Judge Odell wanted me to give
you some information about posting bail for Mr. Eldred Mims. You have something
to write with?”

“Matter of fact, I do, Clara
Jean. Go ahead.”

I took her instructions
carefully, repeating them back to her to make sure I had them straight. I could
hear Blanche go quiet at the kitchen sink. It’s funny how I did not notice the
noise of dishes being washed and the low wordless tunes Blanche hummed until
both were abruptly stopped. As I finished my call and hung up, Blanche sat down
at the table, drying her hands on the dish towel that hung from the waistband
of her wide apron.

“What’s goin’ on with Mr.
Mims?” Blanche could be downright blunt when she wanted to know something.

“Well, I was going to tell you
about that this morning,” I replied, in no real hurry to do the telling. I
braced myself for her reaction and dove right in.

“I’m posting bail for Eddie
tomorrow morning.”

“You go'n do what?” Blanche
exploded.

“I’m getting Eddie out of
jail,” I repeated.

“I heard what you said,”
Blanche replied. “What I want to know is what in the world you think you’re
doing!”

“I’m helping a friend is what
I’m doing,” I looked her dead in the eye and silently dared her to argue with
that. Apparently dares didn’t worry Blanche one little bit.

“Eldred Mims ain’t no friend of
yours, Miz Ora, and you know that plain and true. Now I want you to tell me
what is goin’ on here.”

I stood then and pulled myself
up to my full five feet plus three very short inches.

“I am posting bail for Mr. Mims
tomorrow morning, after which he will be staying in Walter’s old room. If you
have a problem with that, I’ll be happy to get the room ready myself. Otherwise,
I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

I turned my back on Blanche
then and left the room. I could still hear her muttering as I went upstairs to
do some paperwork. Bravado aside, I planned to stay out of her way as much as I
could that day.

The next morning I stopped by
Citizen’s Family Bank and picked up a Cashier’s Check for $50,000, as Clara
Jean had instructed. The head teller was Seeley Graves. She’d been at the bank
for ten years and was the president of the Junior Woman’s Club. I knew her well
enough to know she was a gossip of epic proportions. Seeley repeated the
information I gave her with a quizzical arch of one perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“It’s none of your business,
Seeley,” I said without humor. “Just cut the check and quit wondering.”

She sniffed disapprovingly, but
presented me with the requested instrument in good time.

“Is there anything else I can
help you with, Mrs. Beckworth?”  Her sincerity was overwhelming.

“As a matter of fact, yes,
there is.” I looked her straight in the eye. “You can remember the confidential
nature of this transaction and keep it to yourself.”

I slipped the check into my
pocketbook and snapped it shut. Then I smiled sweetly at her, but narrowed my
eyes and said pointedly, “If I hear one word that even makes me
think
a
mutual acquaintance knows my personal business, I’ll be on Steve Haskins’
doorstep so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

Walter had been on the board of
directors at the bank and a frequent golfing partner of the bank president.
Seeley knew it was no empty threat.

I knew I was being a bit touchy
about the matter, but I felt no regret at my pre-emptive behavior. The older I
get, the less I care what people think of me, but I care a great deal about
people knowing my business.

I arrived at the Clerk’s office
promptly at 10:00 a.m., paid the bail and signed the prerequisite documents.
Then I took the stairs to Judge Owen’s office on the third floor of the
courthouse. Clara Jean was at the coffee pot when I walked through the door.
Either someone tipped her off as to my arrival or she simply counted on my
punctuality, because she had an extra cup already poured and in her hand.

“Good morning, Mrs. Beckworth,”
she smiled with genuine hospitality and grace. “Cream and sugar, right?”

I was impressed. “Thank you,
Clara Jean.” I smiled and took the proffered mug.

“Judge Odell would like to
speak with you personally,” she continued. “Do you have a few minutes?”

“I’m in no hurry,” I replied.

She returned to her desk and
sat, moving a stack of files to the right, out of her way and out of my sight.

“You all ready for Christmas?”
she asked pleasantly.

“Just about,” I answered. “I’m
having some company this year.”

“Oh, I know,” she said quickly.
“Judge Odell filled me in. I hope you don’t mind.”

“You mean Mr. Mims,” I said.
“Yes, he’ll be staying with me, too, but I was referring to Blanche and her
children. I’ve invited them to have Christmas with me.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” she
blurted. “Why, that’s quite a houseful, isn’t it?”

She meant nothing by it, I knew,
but the incident with Patrice had put me on alert for bigotry of any kind.

“My house has been empty for
years. It will be nice to fill it with family,” I said, trying not to sound
snippy, but not succeeding.

“Of course it will,” she smiled.
“Mr. Beckworth hasn’t been gone that long. I know how hard it is to be alone
sometimes.”

And she did know. I instantly
regretted my wariness. Clara Jean came along late in her parents’ lives.
Clarice died of breast cancer several years prior and her father had a stroke
less than a year afterward. The last I had heard he was still languishing in a
nursing home nearby. Sometimes I could just cut my tongue out.

“We would love to have you join
us, Clara Jean,” I said gently. “We’ll be having a big dinner Christmas Eve.”

“Oh, thank you for asking, Mrs.
Beckworth, but…”

“I understand completely,” I
said.

“No, no…” she trailed off
again. “It’s just that - I haven’t really told anyone yet.”

She looked over her shoulder at
the closed door behind her. I braced myself for the confession of the century.

“I may have a date Christmas
Eve.” I swear she giggled.

“A date!” I can be a little too
loud when I’m caught off guard.

“Shhhh…” Clara Jean warned,
nodding toward the closed door behind her. “He doesn’t know yet.”

“Why would he care?” Lord, I’m
nosy.

She looked over her shoulder
again and whispered loud enough for me to hear, “I don’t want him to worry.”

“Poopsie? Worried?”

“Mrs. Beckworth, I have strict
orders to correct you every time you call him that.” Ever on guard, that girl
is.

“You know about our deal then.”
I shrugged. “Am I allowed to call him Harley?”

“You and you alone,” She said
with an amused grin. “Judge Odell has been like a father to me. I don’t want
him to know about my date until I see where it’s going.”

That little bit of information
put to rest any of the rumors I had ever heard.

I got the feeling Clara Jean
wanted to tell someone her news. I suddenly felt maternal. “Well, he won’t hear
it from me. Anything else you want to share about this mystery man? I’m all
ears and no mouth where you are concerned.”

“Well, I’ve known him all my
life, but I hadn’t seen him in years. I ran into him when I took some papers
over to the jail the other day. We got to talking about Christmas and how
neither of us had plans, and I‘m not sure who even asked who, but suddenly we
had a date for Christmas Eve!”

I reached out and put my hand
on hers. “Clara Jean, I couldn’t be happier for you. I hope you have the
merriest Christmas ever.”

Just then the door flew open and
Harley Odell appeared, taking far more than his share of space in the room, as
usual.

“Well, if it isn’t the
ever-punctual Ora Lee,” the honorable judge boomed. “You ready to take care of
this business?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I
allowed with more than a hint of resignation.

“Well, come on in and we’ll go
over a few details before I release Mr. Mims.”

I followed him into his office
and sat in one of the huge leather wing chairs in front of his desk.

“I‘ll get right to the point,”
Harley said, more quietly than I anticipated. “Is there anything else I should
know about Eldred Mims before I place him in your care?”

“Can’t think of a thing,” I
said calmly.

He leaned back then, his
massive chair groaning loudly from the shifting weight. Folding his arms across
his chest he eyed me curiously through his bifocals.

“Nary a thing, eh?” I swear he
smirked then and I hated him for it.

“I don’t have time for games,
Poopsie,” I snapped.

“Uh, uh, uh!” he half-grinned.
“A deal’s a deal.”

“Old habits die hard,” I grumbled.
“I have no idea what you want me to say,
Judge Odell!
He’s a harmless
old man who more than likely was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either
release him to me or let me go get my check back to the bank before I lose a
day’s interest on it.”

“Something’s not right here,
Ora Lee, and I’d be willing to bet my life on that one. But, seeing as how you
aren’t talking, I’ll have to just trust my gut and keep an eye out for
trouble.”

“I don’t think there will be
any trouble, Harley. He’s just an old man,” I repeated with just a hint more
desperation than conviction.

“I’ll have Chip Smallwood bring
him by your house this evening after dark. I don’t expect any trouble out of
Ralph or his deputies; I’ve made sure they know who’s watching them at this
point.”

I nodded once in reply.

“I doubt you’ll have any
trouble from the townspeople, but I wouldn’t be advertising the fact that he’s
staying there if I were you.”

“Hell, they didn’t like it when
I was having him mow my yard. Dovey Kincaid will broadcast it the minute she
figures it out, and I know that won’t take long.”

“Are you sure you’re up to
this?” Poopsie sounded concerned this time.

“I’m sure,” I said softly.
“Besides, I still have Blanche to help me.”

“She’s a good woman, that maid
of yours.”

“She’s my friend,” I said and
then repeated, “my friend.”

“As am I,” Harley said, more
gently than I’d ever heard him be.

Eddie arrived that afternoon. I
watched Chip walk him up my front walk, one hand holding the old man’s elbow,
the other carrying a paper sack which turned out to be the sum total of Eddie’s
earthly possessions.

Blanche helped me deposit him
in Walter’s old room. He looked decidedly out of place in it, uncomfortable
even. He looked around for a place to put his hat and then, finding nothing he
deemed suitable, folded it in half and tucked in his back pocket.

“I hope you’ll be comfortable
here, Eddie,” I said, absurdly. The man had been sleeping in a jail cell for
weeks and outside for who knows how long.
            “Yes’m, I reckon I’ll be fine,” he nodded.

“Is there anything I can get
for you?” I asked, ever the hostess.

“No’m, I’m all right,” he
mumbled and fidgeted quietly. “’Cept…”

“Except what?” I asked.

“I wonder could you show me
where’s the toilet?” he asked.

“Oh!” I blushed furiously.
“It’s down the hall on the right.

He nodded and rocked back and
forth on his feet.

“I’m going to put on a pot of
tea while you get settled,” I said and left the room quickly.          

Blanche had dinner warming in
the oven when she left an hour later and Eddie and I took our first meal
together in the formal dining room. We sat at opposite ends of the long mahogany
table that had once belonged to my mother. Neither of us spoke much. I assume
that Eddie felt the same discomfort I did, but I doubt he was thinking the same
thing, that the table itself seemed like a river of blood between us. We took
all our future meals at the kitchen table.

I had no fewer than twenty
calls that week about my “harboring a criminal.” If only they knew who the real
criminal was, they’d have called the sheriff and not me. Eddie made himself
scarce every time the phone rang. Funny that none of them showed up on my
doorstep like I expected. I guess they truly were afraid of Eddie, as unlikely
as it seemed to me. But they didn’t know what I knew, so in a way I could
understand. I handled the calls as best I could, assuring each caller that I
would not be foolish enough to open my home to the man if I had any doubt
whatsoever about his innocence. Nothing seemed to make a difference to any of them,
though, and eventually I stopped answering the telephone.

I briefly entertained the
thought that a few of the townsmen might show up at my door with shotguns and
ropes in hand, but I soon chided myself for imagining such drama.