“I know,” Lloyd said, brushing cracker crumbs off his shirt.
“You do? Who?”
“Mr. Poochie Dunn. We saw him on the dome that time our class toured the courthouse. Well, not on the dome exactly, but way up there on that little walkway around it. Miss Spenser got real mad at us ’cause we wanted to watch him instead of a trial. She made us write a paper on justice in America, which I didn’t think was fair.”
“Poochie Dunn,” I said, letting the name roll off my tongue. “I didn’t know he was still alive.”
“Oh, he alive all right,” Lillian said. “Not even a ole man yet, though he look it. He mos’ly wander ’round the streets, not turnin’ his hand to a lick of work.”
“Well, I’m about to give him a job.” And I got up and opened a drawer, looking for the telephone book.
I ended up calling Etta Mae first, mainly because Poochie Dunn wasn’t listed, at least under that name, and because I needed her help to find him.
“Sorry to wake you,” I told her since she sounded as if she’d been taking the nap I’d recommended. “But plans have changed and our focus is redirected.”
“Ma’am?”
“I was just down at the courthouse, and it’ll be a pile of rubble by this time tomorrow, the way they’re going. Now, Etta Mae, there’s still something that can be salvaged from this swath of destruction Arthur Kessler’s bent on making. If we hurry. So, here’s the question: Do you know how to get in touch with Poochie Dunn?”
“Poochie Dunn? Why?”
“Because I want that statue and he’s the only one who can get it for me.”
“What statue?”
“Oh, Etta Mae, you know. The statue of Lady Justice up on the dome. Mr. Kessler’s not making one effort to preserve it, but he said I could have it if it survives the demolition. Well, I have no intention of taking a chance with that wrecking ball pounding away at everything. We’ve got to get our hands on that statue tonight, and Poochie’s the one to do it.”
Lloyd’s eyes popped and Lillian yelped behind me. “Tonight! You not gonna do no such a thing.”
I waved my hand to quiet Lillian, while listening to Etta Mae’s response.
“Well, okay, I guess,” she said. “Poochie’s not always clicking on all cylinders, you know. Maybe that’s why he’s willing to climb that high. Nobody else would do it, that’s for sure. He lives in a boarding house across from the old depot on the street that goes out to the lumberyard. You know the one I’m talking about?”
“I’m not sure. Will you go with me?”
“Sure,” she said, sounding wide awake by this time. “And if we don’t find him there, why, we can just drive up and down Main Street. He wanders around a lot.”
We arranged for her to come by for me in an hour, a delay that didn’t set well with me but I had to accept it. She needed time for a shower and a change of clothes, as well as time for the drive from Delmont. And for several layers of makeup, if I knew her.
“I can’t just sit around doing nothing,” I said, hanging up the phone and turning back to Lloyd and Lillian. “I am so agitated I’m about to jump out of my skin.” My head jerked up at the sound of a car pulling in the drive. “Oh, there’s Sam. He’s a little early today. Now, you two, not a word to him about this. He has enough on his plate without adding Poochie Dunn to it.”
Lillian shook her head. “Well, he oughtta be told what you up to.”
“I’ll tell him, don’t worry,” I said, hurrying to the door to meet him. “But in my own good time.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, opening the oven door to check on the roast, “an’ I know when that’ll be. If it up to you, Mr. Sam won’t know a thing till you get whatever you thinkin’ ’bout doin’ already done.”
I ignored her, pointed my finger at Lloyd and said, “Not a word now.” He grinned, and I opened the door to my sweet, trusting husband.
As always when I saw his eyes light up, my heart lit up, too. “Julia,” he said, and in front of everybody he put his arms around me and kissed me good. I didn’t deserve him, but I was glad I had him. So there, Helen Stroud and all the other women who would snatch him up in a minute if I ever let my guard down.
I disentangled myself, slightly embarrassed, but pleased by such an ardent display of affection. “My goodness, what a nice welcome. But come sit down and tell us what’s going on downtown.”
He took a seat across from Lloyd, spoke to him and shook his hand in greeting, pleasing me with his gentlemanly attention to the boy. Then he looked up at me. “Well, sweetheart, the courthouse is as good as gone. I’m sorry, since I know you wanted to save it.”
“We still have a little time,” I said. “I was there about midday, and they were just tearing down the annex. Maybe something will happen before they get to the main building.”
He shook his head. “No, I was just down there, and the last thing they did before quitting was put a hole in the back of the courthouse. Right through the courtroom where I’ve tried hundreds of cases.”
“Oh, my goodness,” I said, my hand against my chest. “Why did they do that?”
“To get a jump on tomorrow, I guess, and also to make sure nobody’ll have second thoughts. The commissioners have been getting complaints all day, to say nothing of all the protesters marching up and down the street. They might’ve realized how unpopular they’ve become and put a stop-work order on the demolition. Too late now, though.” He sighed and rose from his chair. “Lloyd, let me change clothes and we’ll go look through the rubble before supper. We’ll be scavengers and see if we can find us a nice souvenir. You want to go, Julia?”
“I think not. I couldn’t stand seeing it. But see if you can find a brick with a date on it, or something like that.”
Lloyd, saying he needed to change out of his school clothes, followed Sam out of the kitchen.
I turned to Lillian and whispered fiercely, “You see? You see what kind of man Arthur Kessler is? He will be the ruination of this town if we let him. Oh, my,” I said, running my fingers through my hair, as a new thought struck me. “With Sam in and out, I better change plans with Etta Mae. And with Mildred, too. I’m not about to honor that man with a soiree, barbecued or otherwise, now that he’s actually struck a blow at the heart of this town.”
With Lillian rolling her eyes and mumbling under her breath, I called Etta Mae again.
“I’m just about to leave,” she told me. “I’ll be by to get you in about twenty minutes.”
“Something’s come up, Etta Mae, so you’ll have to find Poochie by yourself. Sam’s home and I don’t want him to know what we’re doing, and I have to run over to Mildred’s and try to put a stop-work order on the soiree. I don’t want Mr. Kessler to think we’re celebrating him or anything he’s done or plans to do.”
Etta Mae wasn’t too thrilled about going on a Poochie hunt by herself, but I finally talked her into it. When she realized that she would be on her own, she asked, “What’ll I do with him when I find him?”
“Well, I don’t know. If you think we can depend on him to show up, have him meet us at the courthouse about one o’clock.”
“In the morning?”
“That’s the best time, Etta Mae. Sam’ll be good asleep, and nobody’ll be on Main Street. Tell Poochie what we want so he’ll bring the right tools and whatever he needs to climb that thing. He’ll know. He’s done it a dozen times. Just be sure he’ll be there, and I want him sober as a judge. It’s only fitting, given where we’ll be.
“Oh, and Etta Mae,” I went on, “don’t come to the house. We don’t want to disturb anybody’s sleep. I’ll meet you around the corner on Jefferson a little before one. And, listen, when you talk to Poochie, make sure he knows that I’ll make it worth his while.”
I hung up the phone, feeling more than a little anxious about leaving such an important part of my plans in somebody else’s hands.
“Jus’ th’owin’ money ’round like a crazy woman,” Lillian said, plunking a skillet down on the stove. “Mr. Poochie ain’t nobody to be climbin’ no courthouses with.”
“Oh, I’m not climbing anything, Lillian. My goodness, no.” I laughed at the thought. “Besides I’m afraid of heights, but I’m going to be there to be sure Poochie does. And be there to take care of that statue when he gets it down.” I frowned as I thought of the intricacies of moving an art object. “I’m wondering how heavy it is, and how he’ll manage to disengage it and hold on to it at the same time. But surely he knows what he’s doing. Well, I’m not going to worry about that. He’s done it before, so he can do it again. My worry is where we’re going to put it once we get it. Be thinking about that, Lillian. I’m going to run over to Mildred’s and tell her to call off the soiree.”
“No way in the world, Julia,” Mildred said in no uncertain terms. She settled herself more firmly in the wicker chair on the side porch where we were sitting. “Why, we’ve already dug a pit in the backyard and everything. I have a whole pig on order to be delivered tomorrow. It needs to cook all night and all day, you know. And everybody I know’s been invited, and Tina Doland’s been over here every day practicing on my Steinway. No, it’s too late to call it off. Besides, it’s taken my mind off Horace, and I want people to know that I’m not sitting around grieving like an abandoned woman.”
“Well,” I said, stirring a breeze against my face with one of Mildred’s lovely fans. The porch was a pleasant, shady place but it was that still, muggy time of day when the temperature soars. “Well, you’re not going to feel abandoned, come Saturday. You might as well know that I gave an interview to a newspaper reporter this morning and kind of mentioned you were having a barbecue. And that everybody was invited.”
She stared at me for a minute, then reached for a little silver bell on a side table and tinkled it to summon Ida Lee.
“Well,” I said, somewhat defensively, “that’s what you said.”
Before she could answer, Ida Lee appeared with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. She handed each of us a glass, then started to leave.
“Ida Lee,” Mildred said, “Tell Robert to dig another pit behind the pool house and please order another pig from the meat man. Looks like we’re going to have a crowd to feed.”
When Ida Lee left, I said, “Mildred, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have issued a blanket invitation in your name. I overstepped, but you know I’ll help with the expense.”
Mildred heaved herself out of the wicker chair, taking the green and white striped cushion with her. Brushing it off her backside and walking to the edge of the porch, she said, “No, you won’t. It’s my party, and actually, I’m glad. I only hope that Horace hears what a good time I’m having. Wherever he is.” She sniffed in a ladylike manner and leaned over to look closely at a peony bloom. “Bless his heart, I hope he hears about it because he’s always urging me to become more community-minded. He’ll be so pleased. I’m just sorry that he’ll miss it.” Flicking ants off the bloom, she added, “These bushes need spraying.”
I nodded in response and kept fanning, unable to come up with anything suitable to say. There was a lot I could’ve said though. What in the world was the woman thinking, feeling sorry for Horace? After all he’d put her through and was continuing to put her through? He was still among the missing, wasn’t he? I say, bless his heart.
Changing the subject, I asked, “How is LuAnne doing? Have you heard from her lately?”
“My Lord,” she said, straightening up and waddling back to her chair, “that woman is about to drive me crazy. LuAnne’s always been more talk than action, but now she’s over here every day, wanting to help do this, wanting to change that or whatever pops into her head. ‘What can I do?’ she asks a dozen times a day. ‘Why don’t we do such-and-such? Let’s do it this way.’ And on and on. You know how she flits around anyway, but with this soiree, well, I’ve never seen her so excited about anything. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.” Mildred took a long drink of lemonade, then went on. “I finally asked her what her problem was. And do you know, she actually thinks Arthur Kessler is interested in her. I didn’t say anything, but I don’t know where in the world she got that idea.”
I did, but silence seemed the safest course.
By the time I was back home, Sam and Lloyd had returned from their search of the rubble behind the courthouse. Lloyd had found a a short rod of steel which he was convinced had come from a jail cell in the annex. They were both covered in brick dust up to their knees, so supper had to wait while they showered and changed, while I listened to Lillian grumbling about her roast getting as tough as shoe leather.
After she served supper and left for the day, Lloyd went to his room to text some messages or send e-mail or do something having to do with electronics, while Sam and I sat in the living room reading magazines. The television was on, but after the news, which Sam never missed, it was turned down too low to bother either of us.
I turned the pages of a Time magazine, but my mind was elsewhere—specifically, on the night’s business that lay before me. Would Poochie show up? Could I entice him to climb to the top of the dome? Could he get the statue off and then down?
The first order of business, though, was to get Sam in bed and sound asleep. I heard Lloyd walking around upstairs and was relieved when he called down to wish us good night. That, I thought, would bestir Sam, but he kept reading something in the National Geographic, a magazine he’d become attached to ever since, he’d told me, as a boy he’d discovered pictures of naked natives in it. By now, though, I assumed he’d had his fill and was reading instead of looking.
Becoming more edgy and irritated, I flipped through the pages of the Time issue that I’d been trying to read. Hearing a low rumble of thunder off in the distance, I looked up. “Is that thunder?”
“I hope so,” Sam said without raising his head. “We could use some rain.”
Well, I couldn’t. At least not tonight. All I could do was pray that it would hold off until morning. But it was one more thing that was urging me to get down to the courthouse and get our business done.
“I declare, Sam,” I said, snapping through one page after another, “there’re more ads than articles in this thing. And the lead article is on the brain, of all things. I thought this was supposed to be a news magazine. I’m tired of seeing something on health or exercise or how to lose weight or some other such thing every week that rolls around. If I wanted to read such as that, I’d buy a medical magazine, not a Time. I don’t know what those editors are thinking, do you?”
“Uh-uh,” he said, continuing to read without showing one sign of sleepiness.
“Well,” I said, slapping down the magazine and standing up, “I’m going to bed.”
That got his attention. He looked up at me over his glasses, his eyebrows raised. “Really?”
“I’m on my way,” I said, walking toward the bedroom.
Down went the National Geographic and up off the sofa he came. “I’m right behind you,” he said.