by Fannie Flagg
After they had ridden far enough away, they pulled off the side of the road, hid their bikes behind some bushes, and walked down into the woods. Once they felt it was safe, they found a small clearing, sat down behind a tree, and emptied everything out of their pockets. They’d come away with at least ten hand-rolled marijuana cigarettes, a lighter, and three plastic bags of pills.
The bigger one, Cooter, who thought he was a tough guy, said, “Hot damn. I’m gonna smoke me two of these cigarettes and maybe three.” But Lucas was nervous and kept looking around. “You don’t reckon your brother saw us and followed us out here, do you?”
“Naw. Sling me over that lighter.” Lucas threw the red plastic lighter over to Cooter, and it landed just behind him. When Cooter reached back to get it, he noticed something white sticking up in the leaves. As he looked closer, he suddenly jumped up. “Jesus Christ…it’s a damn arm! Oh, shit, there’s a goddamn dead body here! Let’s get out of here!” And they both took off running as fast as they could. When they reached the road, they were both out of breath and white as sheets. They waved their arms and flagged down the next car that came down the road. When it stopped, they ran over to the driver and said, “There’s a dead body down there, mister! We just found a dead body!”
The car’s driver called 911.
* * *
—
THAT AFTERNOON, LIEUTENANT Geena Hornbeck walked into the snack room at the fire station and found two friends of hers from Search and Rescue sitting at the table laughing about something.
“What’s so funny, guys?”
“Oh, Geena, you missed all the fun. This morning me and Harry got an emergency call, and when we got out to the location, these two skinny kids came running up to us screaming and hollering that they’d just found a dead body, that someone had been murdered and chopped up into pieces. They said there were arms and legs and blood everywhere. One kid was so scared he’d peed his pants.”
Geena said, “Was there a dead body?”
“Wait, this is what’s so funny. So we go down there to where they said the body was, and we see what they’d found. It was some old false arm somebody had thrown down there, laying under a tree.”
“No…”
“Yeah, anyhow we dug all around real good to see if there was anything else down there, but we didn’t find anything but some dope the kids left, and an old mason jar with some papers inside.”
“Where was this?” asked Geena
“Out toward Gate City, down below the tracks. Maybe somebody threw it off the train, or something. I don’t know. How in the hell do you lose a false arm?”
Geena said, “Guys, you’re not going to believe this, but I happen to know somebody who lost his prosthetic arm a couple years ago. And it sounds like it was about in the same location.”
The two guys were surprised. “You’re kidding.”
“No, my husband met him on the train. We even went to visit him at the hospital. Do you still have the arm?”
“Yeah, it’s still out there on the table. Do you remember the man’s name?”
“Yes, his name is Bud Threadgoode, and he lives over in Atlanta.”
“Threadgoode?” Harry looked at his friend and said, “Wasn’t that the name on that paper we found in the jar?”
“Yes. But it wasn’t Bud Threadgoode. It was a woman’s name, like Irene or something like that.”
Geena was curious. “What kind of paper was it?”
“Some old land deed from the thirties. Maybe he had been carrying it with him at the time, who knows?”
“Do you still have it?”
“No. The chief said it looked pretty official, so he sent it over to the records department at the courthouse.”
Geena said, “Oh. Okay. But in the meantime, I’ll try and hunt down his phone number and let him know that we found his arm. I can’t wait to tell Billy. He’s not going to believe it.”
* * *
—
AFTER GEENA LEFT the room, Harry said, “All I can say is this Threadgoode guy must be one strange dude, losing an entire arm and carrying his family papers around in a mason jar.”
“You’re still new on the job. Stick around. Last year, I had to get a guy off the top of a tree who thought he was an eagle. You ain’t seen nothing yet. There’s a lot of wackos out there.”
RUTHIE WAS OVER in Atlanta when her cellphone rang. The call was from Birmingham but it wasn’t Evelyn’s number.
She picked up. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Caldwell, this is Jim Carder, and I’m calling with what I hope is some good news. I haven’t been able to reach Mrs. Couch as yet, but I just received a call from the county courthouse, and they have somehow just located a deed that states the name of the owner of that tract of land. And it isn’t Ligget.”
“What?”
“No, it was a quitclaim deed that was signed over to another party on August 11, 1935. It was signed over to a Miss Imogene Threadgoode, now deceased, so if we can negotiate a sale or an easement with her heirs, we might be able to pull the project off after all. Isn’t that great news?”
Ruthie was stunned. “You have no idea just how great.”
“So we’ll have to try and locate the current owner.”
“Mr. Carder, the current owner, Mr. James Threadgoode, Jr., happens to be my father, and he’s sitting across the table from me right now.”
* * *
—
LATER, JIM FAXED them a copy of the deed, and Bud looked at it and said, “That’s Aunt Idgie’s signature, all right.”
It had been witnessed, dated, and notarized, so it was legal. Of course, Bud had to produce Idgie’s will naming him as her sole heir, and Jim took that down to the Jefferson County Hall of Records. A few weeks later, an official transfer of the property named James Threadgoode, Jr., as the land’s owner, and it was he who now granted the necessary easements to Couch Properties, LLC. On that happy day, Bud handed the documents over to Ruthie and said, “Here you go, baby. Go and have yourself a ball.”
A week later, his friend Billy’s wife, Geena, the fire-person, had located his number and called to tell him that two of her co-workers had found his arm, along with a mason jar with a deed that had the name Threadgoode on it. She said, “I have your arm, but they sent the deed to the courthouse.”
“Yes, I know,” he said. “They sent that over to me last week. But, Geena, what I want to know is, where did they find that mason jar?”
She told him they’d been digging around and it had been buried under the same tree where they’d found his arm.
Bud had no idea that land had belonged to Aunt Idgie, or even more mysterious, why in the world she had buried the deed in a mason jar. But she had. And just when Ruthie needed it the most, somebody had found it.
That night when he was in bed, Bud couldn’t help but wonder just what had guided him to that particular tree that day. There were hundreds of trees along the track—why that one? Had it been Idgie? If he hadn’t left his arm there, the chances of anybody ever finding that jar would have been one in a million. No, more like one in a billion. It couldn’t have been just a coincidence. After thinking more about it, Bud was convinced that it had to have been Aunt Idgie’s doing. Crazy things like that just didn’t happen in real life. Idgie had loved Ruthie and she obviously wanted Ruthie to have that cafe, and she had made damn sure that she got it.
After all these years, Aunt Idgie was still looking out for them. Bud decided he wouldn’t tell anybody about her guiding him to that particular tree. He’d keep it their little secret.
THE RIVER CLUB
August 11, 1935
IDGIE DIDN’T REMEMBER how she’d wound up in the back room of the River Club at two A.M. Eva Bates had tried to stop her from getting into a game with him, but the man had dared her. The two of them had somewhat of a
history. And now, years later, he still had the little marks in his face as a reminder of when she’d shot him with a full load of buckshot that night he’d been trying to kill her cat. Arvel Ligget had waited a long time to catch Idgie Threadgoode outside of town.
Arvel was hard to look at, and even harder to like. The Depression had hit Alabama hard. People were so bad off, the saying went, that they got married just for the rice. And Arvel Ligget was good at taking advantage of people down on their luck. He ran a fly-by-night loan-shark outfit over in Pell City, and a lot of people were in debt to him. He was also good at cards. Most people around the area didn’t have cash money to bet, and Arvel had won houses, land, and entire farms off of desperate men who had thought they could beat him at the poker table; poor men, with families, that had nowhere to go. But he didn’t care. When they didn’t vacate, he’d have them thrown out by a few of his henchmen.
Arvel had been determined to get even with Idgie, so when he saw her, sitting at the bar down at the River Club, he knew this was his chance. He dared her to go into the back room for a game of cards. At first she told him she didn’t want to, but he’d goaded her. “I just dared you….Are you scared to play with a real man?” Idgie rarely turned down a dare when she was sober, much less drunk and mad. Before she knew it, she was in the back room.
And now, after an hour at the poker table with Arvel, Idgie was on the verge of losing everything she had. Her friend Eva Bates was worried to death, and looked over at her daddy for help. But there wasn’t a thing Big Jack Bates could do about it. He ran a clean game, and Ligget had just won the last hand, fair and square.
Idgie was suddenly in big trouble. She had just lost her car and her watch, and was now in to Arvel for five hundred dollars. Money that she and Ruth did not have.
Idgie wrote out her IOU for the five hundred, and said, “I’m done. You cleaned me out.”
Arvel was disappointed. “Aw, you can’t quit now. Let’s play just one more game.”
“You cleaned me out. I don’t have anything left to bet.” Idgie pushed back her chair and started to stand up.
Ligget said, “Now, wait. I hate to see you go home empty-handed. I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a chance to win it all back, and I’ll even sweeten the pot. Everything you owe me, plus there’s twenty acres of land over in Whistle Stop I won awhile back. Come on. One game. Five card stud. Winner takes all.”
Idgie said, “I told you once, Arvel. I don’t have anything left to bet.”
Arvel smiled. “Yeah, you do.”
“What?”
“You’ve still got that cafe, don’t you?”
Idgie shook her head. “No. I can’t bet the cafe. My daddy gave me that.”
“Your daddy’s dead. And if I don’t get the five hundred you owe me within three days, I’m gonna get that cafe anyway, so you might as well take a chance. Or are you too chicken?”
He had a point. Idgie had no idea where she was going to get five hundred dollars.
Arvel sat across the table rolling poker chips around in his hand, grinning at her and quietly clucking like a chicken. “Just think, Miss Idgie. You might get lucky. And that’s a mighty fine piece of land.”
“But I can’t bet the cafe. Half of it belongs to Ruth. I can’t take a chance on losing it.”
“Why not? If you lose, that pretty little partner of yours can always pick up a little money on the side. I know a lot of men that would pay for a piece of that sweet-lookin’ pie.”
Idgie’s eyes suddenly flashed with anger. “You lousy son of a bitch. I wish I had killed you when I had the chance.”
He laughed. “But you didn’t. And when I do get that cafe, you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna burn it down. You Threadgoodes think you’re so high-and-mighty.”
Idgie felt her entire face and ears burn red with rage. “Goddamn you, Arvel. Deal the goddamn cards!”
Eva Bates let out a wail from over in the corner. Then she looked at Arvel and pleaded, “You know she don’t mean it. She’s drunk on her ass. Let her get on home.”
Arvel said, “Too late. She said deal.”
Eva looked at her daddy, but again, there was nothing he could do to stop it. The game was on. Big Jack walked over and stood by the table, watching Arvel to make sure he didn’t try to pull something. Eva was wringing her hands and said, “Oh Lordy, I’m so nervous my ears is ringin’.”
After Idgie cut the deck, Arvel dealt her first card. She lifted up the corner and looked at it. Jack of clubs. A face card was a good start. Her next card was the eight of spades. Idgie was holding her breath and thinking, “Please let the next one be a jack.” No luck, it was a four of hearts. Then her fourth and next to last card shot across the table. Two of spades. No help at all.
Fear must have sobered Idgie up because she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her palms were sweating.
Arvel threw her last card across the table. Idgie took a deep breath and looked. Eight of diamonds. She had nothing but a pair of eights.
Arvel glanced at his hand again, smiled, and threw in another chip. “I’ll raise you another five hundred,” and waited for Idgie to either fold or call.
Idgie knew he could be bluffing…or maybe not. If she folded now, she wouldn’t get into more debt than she already was, but he would get the cafe. It would mean the end of everything she and Ruth had worked for.
The room was suddenly so quiet they could hear the clock ticking in the next room.
Finally Idgie said, “I’ll see you, and raise you another five hundred,” and threw in another chip.
Arvel looked surprised. But he threw in his chip and seemed happy to do so.
Big Jack said, “All right, Ligget. Show your hand.” Arvel kept smiling as he laid out his cards one by one, and said, “Read ’em and weep. A pair of sevens, high card, ace of spades.” He reached across the table to pull in his chips.
Big Jack said, “Wait a minute, Ligget. What do you have, Idgie?”
Idgie showed her hand, and Big Jack said, “The eights, jack high takes it.”
Ligget’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to losing. He said, “Let’s go again. I’ll throw in another five hundred. And I’ve got a nice little farm I’ll put up.”
Big Jack shook his head. “Nope, that’s it for the night, Arvel. I’m closing down the game. Now pay her what you owe her. I gotta go home.”
A sulky Arvel counted out the cash and threw it at her, along with her car keys.
Big Jack said, “And we’re gonna need the deed to that twenty acres of land she won.”
“I ain’t got it on me. I’ll get it over to her later.”
“Naw, you won’t. Eva, run and get me one of them quitclaim deed documents and my notary stamp. You’re gonna sign that land over to her tonight, and you ain’t leaving here till you do.”
Ligget thought about not signing it, but because of the nature of his business, Big Jack always carried a gun on his hip. He’d never had to pull it much, but he would. He just stood there looking at Arvel, gently resting his hand on the handle. Arvel got the message and signed the quitclaim deed over to Idgie. After he signed, Big Jack dated it, stamped it, and handed it to her. “Here you go, Idgie.” Big Jack then said, “Eva, why don’t you follow Idgie on home, make sure she gets there safe and sound.”
The next morning, Idgie woke up still in her clothes, suddenly remembered what had happened, and broke out into a cold sweat. If Ruth ever found out what she had done—that she had taken a stupid chance on losing everything they owned, everything they had worked for all those years—she would probably never see Ruth or Buddy again. She realized she had to figure out a way to get rid of the evidence fast. She could have her brother Cleo hold the money she’d won, that was no problem. She didn’t care about the stupid land. It was located way across the tracks and wasn’t worth a thin dime. But s
he didn’t want that bastard Ligget to have it, either, so she’d have to hide that deed and hide it good. She didn’t trust that Ligget wouldn’t try to steal it back. But more important at the moment was Ruth. If Ruth ever laid eyes on that deed with Idgie’s signature on it, and saw the date she’d signed it, she would know exactly where she had been, what she had been doing, and when. Idgie knew she wouldn’t be able to lie her way out of this one. That thought scared the hell out of her. She quickly got up out of bed, ran to the shed in the backyard, grabbed a shovel and an empty mason jar, and jumped in the car. With her head throbbing and feeling sick as a dog, she drove out past Double Springs Lake and parked. She walked across the meadow with her shovel and mason jar to the same tree where she always got her honey. Once she got there, with her head still throbbing, she started digging a hole at the base of the tree. As she dug, she could feel the hot morning sun hitting her back and the sweat running down her face, while hundreds of bees buzzed all around her. When she thought the hole was deep enough, she stuck the deed inside the mason jar, closed the lid tight, and buried it where she knew nobody would ever find it. Especially Ruth. Ruth was deathly afraid of bees.
Driving back home to the cafe that morning, still sick and shaky, Idgie vowed that from that day forward, she would give up gambling forever. And she did. Idgie never went to the River Club again. Except to get Buddy’s dog. But she hadn’t gone inside. Just up on the porch.
Buddy and Ruth would never know it, but almost half of his college tuition had been paid for by that one lucky poker game. And as for Arvel Ligget, a few months after Idgie beat him at that game of poker, his luck ran out again, and this time for good. He should have known that gambling with real money wasn’t a safe thing to do. Too many men knew that, before he went home after a game, Ligget had a habit of stuffing his winning cash into his right sock. Not too many people had been surprised when his dead body was found out in the woods, barefooted and with an ice pick stuck in his neck.
