Miss Julia Paints the Town (20 page)

Then, thinking in for a penny, in for a pound, I crossed myself. I got it a little off-kilter since I'd forgotten to practice. But for better or worse, I made the sign of the cross going from nose to navel and arm to arm, which was as good as your average Presbyterian could do and Mr. Kessler didn't know the difference.

“Maybe you better stay home,” he said. “Too much excitement's not good for you.”

“Why, how thoughtful of you, Arthur. And, yes, I think I shall stay home. I need some meditation time after being given this sighting. It may be that the lady has a message for us, and if so, I'll pass it along. It may have to do with you, since you were here when she appeared.”

“You do that,” he said, and abruptly opened the car door and slid inside.

I stood with my hands clasped in prayer, my eyes turned heavenward, as he sped off. Then I smiled and went inside.

Lillian looked up from whatever she was doing at the sink as I trudged back into the kitchen. “I thought you goin' to watch 'em wreck the courthouse.”

I flopped down in a chair at the table and put my head in my hands. Smiling tiredly, I said, “The lady on the wall told me not to.”

Water sloshed in the sink as Lillian dropped a head of lettuce. “What you say?”

“Oh, I'm just teasing. The lady didn't say a word. How could she? I didn't even see her, but Arthur Kessler thought I did. So he wasn't all that eager to take me down there.” I laughed a little, as much as I could manage under the circumstances. “He suggested I stay home and rest, which means, I hope, that I did a good acting job. Maybe I qualify now as one of his quaint characters.”

Lillian turned back to the sink and started pulling apart lettuce leaves, mumbling, “You one of them, all right.”

I rubbed my hands across my face, feeling more and more sick at heart. “None of it's going to work, Lillian. Even Sam admits it's too late. I've just got to face it. We can fill machinery with dirt every night that rolls around, and they'll still get it running. And I can pretend to be half-crazy, along with the likes of Thurlow Jones, and it won't stop him. That man is bound and determined to destroy our history and put up a monument to himself.” I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “Reminds me of Pastor Ledbetter, and you see how far I got trying to stop him. That Family Life Building stares me in the face every time I step outside.”

Lillian went to the refrigerator and took out a pitcher of lemonade. Without a word, she poured two glasses and brought them to the table. Then, sitting across from me, she said, “Can't nobody get what they want all the time. Maybe you oughtta put something else in yo' mind 'stead of this.”

“Well, what…?” The ringing of the telephone cut me off, so I walked over and answered it.

“Julia?”

At the sound of her voice, I had to sit back down.

“Helen?”

“Of course it is,” she said, as if she hadn't been out of touch for days on end. “I guess you know they're tearing down the courthouse.”

“Yes, I know it, and I've been knowing it. And trying to do something to stop it, too, with mighty little help from anybody else, I might add.”

“Well, you should've called me. I would've helped, because I've been trying to organize a historic association to preserve our heritage for the longest time. I'm surprised you didn't let me know what was going on.”

This was a new Helen Stroud. Never had she spoken to me or to anybody else in such a snippy way for as long as I'd known her. But then, I'd never known her to lean on somebody else's husband as she'd been doing, either.

So I came right back at her. “I tried to let you know, Helen, but when you don't answer your door or return anybody's calls, what am I supposed to do? Camp out on your doorstep?”

“You could've e-mailed me. Did you think of that?”

Well, no, I hadn't, since Lloyd would've had to have done it for me. “No, Helen, I didn't. I figured you didn't want to hear from me. Besides,” I said, wanting her to know I wasn't totally out of the loop, “Sam told me of his visits with you, so I knew how you were doing.”

“Well,” she said, “well, we need to do something about the courthouse.”

“I've been trying, but everything I come up with is either a criminal act or a crazy one. If you have any ideas, I'm open to them.”

“You probably don't know this, but I've done a lot of research on the courthouse, because I thought it was the obvious place to base the historic association. And come to find out, that building's about the third one on the site. The original one burned around the time of the Civil War, and the second was so poorly constructed that it was torn down in the early twenties, and that's when the one we have now was built. Right before the Great Depression, which in hindsight was good timing. Anyway, it has no great historic value, but I'd still like to see it saved.”

“No great historic value? I didn't know that.”

“No, and in fact, it's about to fall down by itself. It has some termite damage and the foundation's settling. It would cost a mint to restore. Frankly, tearing it down is probably for the best, but it breaks my heart to say it, because the building is an architectural jewel.”

“Well, my goodness, maybe I should've done a little research myself. But like you say, it is a beautiful building and I hate to see it go.”

“Well, the county's waited too long to do anything, and, really, Julia, nobody's been all that interested. Which is just a shame.”

That flew all over me, because who had been working her fingers to the bone to discourage Arthur Kessler from his destructive course, and who had been closed off in her own house without a word to anyone? Except to my husband?

“I've been interested, Helen, but I'm at my wit's end. I don't know what else to do at this point,” I said, ready to end this conversation. “Because you're right. If we'd started earlier, gotten better organized, maybe the courthouse could've been saved. As it is, though, I guess we'll have to live with the wreckage.” I took a deep breath and the plunge. “Speaking of which, how is Richard? Have you heard from him?”

“That's something I can't discuss, Julia, on my lawyer's advice. And I'm surprised you'd ask.”

The question I wanted to ask was:
Which
lawyer? But I didn't. Instead I said, “You shouldn't be surprised. Everybody who invested with him is interested, and I'm one of them.”

“Oh,” she said in a strangled kind of way, making me feel ashamed of myself. Still, I saw no reason to pretend that Richard Stroud's actions hadn't affected me.

“Well, be that as it may,” I went on, “it looks as if Arthur Kessler is getting his way, in spite of how we feel. But when you have all the money in the world you can do whatever you want, regardless.”

“Yes,” she said, clearing her throat, “from what's going on down there today, it looks like we've lost that battle. But, uh, Julia, as a matter of curiosity, where does Mr. Kessler's money come from?”

“I really don't know,” I told her. “He speaks of his company, whatever that is, and implies that he's done a lot of developing in other places. He sort of brags about this new building being the crown jewel of his company—that's what he's going to name it—the Crowne, with an
e,
Plaza. To give it an English flavor, I guess.” I paused, then went on. “Come to think of it, though, he's mentioned partners a few times and laughed about them taking all the risks. So either he has a lot of money not being used or he doesn't have any and has to use other people's. It'd be interesting to find out which it is, wouldn't it?”

“I guess so, but it wouldn't matter. Either way, I expect that courthouse is coming down. But, Julia, there is something that ought to be and can be saved, something that does have historic value.”

“What?”

“The figure of Lady Justice on top of the dome. From what I've found out, it was made in France in the late 1800s and shipped over here for the building that was put up after the original burned. It was a gift to the town from the family of a certain Andrew Milsap, who'd moved here to recuperate from tuberculosis around 1885. He died, but the family was grateful to the town, I guess, for making his last days comfortable. Anyway, the figure was saved when the second courthouse was razed and put on the dome of the new one. I mean, the one that's now the old one, since we now have another new one.”

“Well, I say,” I said. “I didn't know that. Well, Helen, there's no reason in the world we can't save that statue. Surely Arthur Kessler won't deny us that. I'll speak to him about it right away.”

After hanging up the phone, I turned to Lillian. “Well, if that doesn't beat all. That was Helen Stroud, and she as good as told me that I've been spinning my wheels all this time for nothing.”

“Huh. Nothin' new 'bout that. What she say Mr. Stroud doin' with all them other people's money?”

“She wouldn't talk about it. Some lawyer told her not to, and she wouldn't even say that she had nothing to do with what Richard did. Not that I think she did, but I wish she'd come right out and say it. It'd make me feel better, if nothing else.”

“You want a sam'ich? It about lunchtime.”

“Not yet, thank you. It's still a little early, and I need to go see Mr. Kessler.”

“What for? I thought you had enough of him this morning, or him enough of you, one.”

“Well, that's true of both of us, I expect. But, if I can't save the whole building, I can save an important part of it. Where's my pocketbook?”

I picked my way through the spectators who lined the side street as they watched the parking lot being gouged and broken up. As I drew closer, a thrill ran through me at the sight of a line of protesters held back by sawhorses and yellow tape. It did me good to know that I wasn't the only outraged soul in town. A few sheriff's deputies, looking somewhat embarrassed by the duty, strolled in front of the objectors who, other than bobbing their signs up and down, were a well-mannered lot.

I glanced at some of the signs as I threaded through the crowd. Several read:
SAVE OUR COURTHOUSE
, others:
PRESERVATION NOT RUINATION,
and more than a few:
DEVELOPER
,
GO HOME.
A low chant of “Don't tear it down” began and gained in strength as a huge crane with a wrecking ball dangling high above it was unloaded on the far side.

I gathered, as I sidled through the onlookers, that that's what they were waiting for—to see the ball make its first mortal hit on the courthouse. I tried not to think about it, just moved on through, searching for Arthur Kessler, the architect of destruction.

I finally spotted him, standing with his hands in his pockets, surveying with a satisfied look on his face what was being done on his authority. A few commissioners stood behind him, watching just as raptly, as slabs of concrete were wrenched from the parking lot and diesel motors growled and a worker began to climb up into the cab of the crane. I wouldn't have shown my face if I'd been a member of the county commission.

“Mr. Kessler? I mean, Arthur?” I tapped him on the shoulder, fearing he couldn't hear me for all the noise.

He jerked around with a menacing frown on his face. Then, seeing me, it quickly turned into a pleased-with-himself smile. “Decided to come watch the excitement, huh?”

“Not really,” I said, although I had to practically lean against him to be heard. “I want to ask you something. See that figure up on the dome?” I pointed above one of the huge trees still standing and beyond the tip of the crane. “See how she's holding out scales in one hand and a sword in the other? And she's blindfolded? That's because she represents justice, balancing truth and lies on her scales and cutting through all the lawyerly obfuscation with her sword. It's an image of Lady Justice and it has an important history that ought to be preserved. Could you tell them to be careful of it and not ruin it? It would be a lovely gesture if you'd donate it to the county. I mean, since you're planning to wreck it, anyway.”

He threw his head back, shading his eyes with his hand against the glare of the midday sun. “You mean, way up there on the top?”

As I nodded, he looked back at me. “Mrs. Murdoch, there's not a way in the world to save that thing. Not without a lot of extra time and money it would take to send somebody up there to get it. Sorry, it'll have to come down with the dome and the rest of the building. But, sure, you can have it,” he said with a careless shrug, “if it survives.”

“But, Arthur…”

“We better step back,” he said, drawing me with him. “They're about to tackle the annex.” And sure enough, the crane cranked up to a deafening roar and began to turn slowly on its tracks toward the addition on the back of the courthouse.

As I opened my mouth to argue some more, he glanced at me with one of his know-it-all smirks. “I think you've got images and figures or whatever on the brain. Seeing something on a blank wall this morning, and now worrying about something sticking up on the dome. You're a nice lady, Mrs. Murdoch, but you need something else to occupy your mind. I don't have time for this.”

I turned on my heel without a word and parted the crowd before me as I walked away from there, my face flaming and my head held high.
A nice lady,
I thought to myself,
I'll show him nice.

As I reached my car, I heard the crash of the wrecking ball, then the splintering of wood and the clattering of bricks as the first blow against the annex was struck.