The Pecan Man(34)

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.





Eighteen





School was out the week before Christmas and Blanche’s girls were giddy with excitement. Even Blanche managed to suppress her sadness enough to get into the spirit of the season. I think it was hard not to anticipate the opening of all the presents under our tree. The three younger children spent most of their time with us, but Patrice had taken part-time job as a cashier at Winn Dixie and worked most evenings.

It’s funny how, just when you think you’ve settled into a routine and you know what to expect, something seemingly insignificant becomes a revelation.