Up Jumps the Devil

“Oh?”

“And somebody’s dogs were around the garage after the rain stopped.”

“Lot of dogs still run free,” I observed. “See any footprints?”

“Just yours going back. And the dogs, of course. And I had somebody walk that lane all the way to the creek.”

“It wasn’t Adam,” I said.

“Never said it was. I’m just thinking that somebody was mighty lucky with that many people all around the place that morning—Adam, Mr. Kezzie, Cherry Lou, Dick Sutterly.”

“For what it’s worth, G. Hooks Talbert and a couple of his friends were out there, too. Hunting.” I gave him an edited version of that meeting. “They could’ve seen someone.”

Dwight smiled, knowing that Knotts and Talberts are polar opposites. “You’d love it if G. Hooks was involved, wouldn’t you?”

“Wouldn’t break my heart”

“Whoever did it probably didn’t go there planning to,” Dwight said thoughtfully. “Say somebody dropped in on Jap and maybe he bragged about how much money his corn brought. The killer might’ve just acted on the spur of the moment.”

“Carpe diem,” I said. It was the motto on a coffee mug Dwight had given me when I first filed for judge.

“Exactly,” he said. “Seize the damn day. Smash an old man over the head and burn open his safe and take his money. So what do you think, Deb’rah? Was it Allen?”

“If it was, it’s the second dumbest thing he ever did in his life. Mr. Jap planned to spend all that money on him, Cherry Lou Stancil was going to sign her half of the farm back over on Monday, and what I bet John Claude didn’t tell you was that he was also supposed to sign a will on Monday.”

“Huh?”

When I told him the terms, Dwight frowned. “If he dies before the will’s signed, Allen gets it all?”

“If Cherry Lou’s convicted.”

He waved aside the possibility that she might not be. “So with a will, Allen gets half; without one, he scoops the lot. How much you reckon we’re talking about?”

I shrugged. “Ninety acres of land with good frontage, say five thousand an acre and that’s on the low side. Say another fifty thousand for the house, garage and equipment—that’s half a million right there. Then all those old classic cars sitting around under the sheds and shelters? Everybody says they’re worth thousands in mint condition, but I couldn’t begin to say what they’re worth as is.”

Evidently Dwight hadn’t done the math in a while either. “Raw Colleton County farmland’s going for five thou an acre?” he shook his head in amazement. “I don’t think Mom and Dad paid more than three hundred when they bought their place.”

“Welcome to the twenty-first century,” I said.

By the time we left to pick up our pizzas, Dwight and I had sketched out a rough list of possible killers.

He wanted to put Allen at the head, I opted for Cherry Lou’s two kids.

“After all, they connived at Dallas’s death. Who’s to say they really understand inheritance laws? Or maybe they do, but think Avery Brewer’s going to get their mother off.”

“After they’ve cut a deal with the DA to testify against her?”

“They haven’t testified yet,” I said. “Put ’em down.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he wrote down Ashley Wentworth and Bradley Fletcher. “But if they go on the list, so does Merrilee Grimes.”

“Waste of time,” I told him. “She gains only if the will’s signed.”

“But she gains if he dies before Cherry Lou gives the farm back because she’s no kin to Jap.”

“Merrilee wasn’t one real drop of kin to him before.” I was getting a little tired of explaining how the laws of inheritance work. “All you people keep thinking it goes back to Dallas and starts again with Dallas’s heirs. It doesn’t. We’re still looking at Mr. Jap’s heirs—Allen or Allen’s children.”

“Yeah?” There was a mulish look of disbelief on Dwight’s big homely face.

“I’m a judge,” I told him. “I know the law.”

“Then maybe I ought to list Allen’s children, too.”

“Makes as much sense as having Merrilee there.”

“And to be strictly fair, I’ve got to list Adam.” Before I could protest again, he said, “Good as Adam’s doing in California, I grant you he’s the most unlikely one of the bunch, but he was out there alone during the relevant time.”

No way could Adam kill somebody, I thought, but that still didn’t mean I was going to tell Dwight about my brother’s current financial problems.

“Who else could we make a motive for?” Dwight mused.

I hesitated. Daddy had asked Adam and me not to mention Mr. Jap’s plans to sell, and even though he seemed to think it was okay to confide my secrets to Dwight, I couldn’t bring myself to go against him completely.

“Well, Dick Sutterly’s been trying to get Adam or Mr. Jap to sell. Maybe he thought he’d have better luck picking up the Stancil farm from Mr. Jap’s heirs than from Mr. Jap?”