Up Jumps the Devil

I suddenly remembered that today was finally supposed to be the probable-cause hearing for Cherry Lou Stancil and Tig Wentworth.

The wheels of justice turn slowly in a death penalty case, which was what Douglas Woodall, our district attorney, said he was going for. It had been set back twice now. First, Doug was waiting for results from the SBI lab, then Cherry Lou’s court-appointed attorney had to argue a case in federal court.

“Don’t tell me Judge Longmire didn’t find probable cause,” I said.

“Oh, they’ve both been charged with first-degree murder all right,” Merrilee said angrily, “but he turned her loose on bail.”

“How’d she raise it? I thought John Claude—”

“Not on the land,” said Merrilee. “On Dallas’s rig. He bought it brand-new three years ago and her lawyer argued that it’s community property till they prove her guilty. And she gets to stay in the house and use Dallas’s bank account till then, too.”

“The law does say innocent till proven guilty, Merrilee.”

“Innocent?” She was outraged. “When everybody in Colleton County knows she bought that shotgun just to kill poor Dallas?”

“Did he set bail for Wentworth?”

“No. Mr. Woodall said he’d made enough threats against Ashley and her brother to be a danger to society and that even if he didn’t kill somebody else, he’d probably try to run off, so they’re going to keep his sorry tail in jail with no bail.”

All those -ail words brought a rueful smile to her lips and made her face look five years younger under its artful makeup.

I glanced at my watch. I’d been out of the courtroom nine minutes and I still didn’t have my cup of coffee. Interesting as all this was, I could probably hear the rest of the details over lunch with Roger Longmire.

“I’m sorry, Merrilee,” I said, “but if you’re wanting me to do something about Cherry Lou’s bail—”

“No, no, it’s not that. What I really stopped by for was to see if there’s some way to put a stop on Uncle Jap’s bank account. Maybe get them to give me his power of attorney or whatever you call it before all his money’s gone?”

For a moment I wondered where Jap Stancil got enough cash money for Merrilee to worry about. Then I remembered the ornamental corn and how his share was probably going to bring him five or six thousand.

“Oh yes. I saw him with the Wall boy a couple of weeks ago. He sounded pretty cogent to me about their business deal.”

“I don’t mean Billy Wall even if Uncle Jap hasn’t seen a penny of the sales yet. The way he’s carrying on though, it’s just as well. Every penny’d be right down the drain.”

“Don’t tell me he’s started drinking again? I thought he swore off for good at the funeral.”

Jasper Stancil had pulled some monumental drunks in his day, but Daddy said he’d already tapered off even before Dallas was killed.

“Allen’s got him started again,” said Merrilee with returning anger. “You know Allen Stancil, don’t you? Uncle Jap’s brother’s boy?”

She paused and I could almost see her mind grasp at the tendrils of old gossip. “In fact, didn’t you date him or something once?”

“Water over the dam,” I said hastily. “What’s he done now?”

“I thought he was just here for a sympathy visit, but he’s settled into Uncle Jap’s spare room like he’s here to stay. He’s got Uncle Jap drinking, got him fixing up that old repair shop, got him thinking he’s forty again. Petey and I stopped by last week on the way to church to take Uncle Jap a plate of my fresh ham and sweet potatoes. Half the time he forgets to eat. I signed him up for meals-on-wheels so he’d get lunch through the week, but I like to make sure he eats on the weekend, too. I thought sure Allen would have gone by now, but there he was, cleaning out that garage—on Sunday, too!—like he owned the place. He’s just as sorry as he ever was and I wish there was some way to get him to leave before he drags other people down with him.”

High heels clicking on the bare tiles, Merrilee was back pacing again.

It didn’t take me but a moment to understand the real reason for her agitation. Like Allen and Dallas, Pete Grimes also had a rough, hardscrabble childhood, only there had been no Miss Elsie to mitigate his father’s drunken rages or to comfort him with a mother’s pitying love. Pete’s trashy mother had fought his even trashier father for the last drink in the bottle and it never worried either of them if the kids went off to school hungry, dirty and ragged. They didn’t care if the kids went to school at all, long as they weren’t being pestered by truant officers.

Even though he drank too much and drove too fast and ran with a rough crowd after he grew up, Pete was never as bad as some of those older Grimes boys and he had a gruff charm that convinced Merrilee he was worth saving. Must be something in their blood that makes Yadkin women such redemptionists: first Miss Elsie, then Merrilee. On the other hand, there’s a reason why so many country songs tell of wild men tamed by the love of a good woman, and Pete Grimes isn’t the first roughneck to run through a couple of bad marriages before taking happily to a well-ordered life. Such a man appreciates regular meals, a tidy house, and a woman who can lead him to Jesus.

In fact, Pete thinks Merrilee’s a saint for loving him and he’ll tell anybody who’ll listen how grateful he is to her. “She raised me up,” he says. “I’d be in jail or dead by now if it wasn’t for her.”

But Merrilee lives in fear that Pete might backslide and she tries to keep him away from bad influences like Allen.

“And now Uncle Jap’s saying he’s going to hire Charlie Holt to come fix that old hydraulic lift like he’s got half the wealth of the world and he doesn’t, Deb’rah. Except for a little bitty Social Security check, all he has is his corn money and what he picks up selling pumpkins and turnip salad at the flea market. But Allen’s going to use him just like he uses everybody and what’s poor old Uncle Jap going to do if he has to go in a nursing home or something? Last time he got to drinking so bad, the doctor said his liver couldn’t hold out much longer.”