Miss Julia Delivers the Goods

by Ann B. Ross

  Lord, my head was reeling with just the thought that Hazel Marie might give that baby up for adoption. I’d played along with all her proposals for solving the problem so that she would continue to confide in me and so that I would know how to talk her out of some of her more drastic schemes. It seemed to me that her head would be reeling, too, thinking up first one thing and then another and none of them worth a lick, especially when there was a simple, quick, and perfect resolution to everything. I was convinced that if I could get Mr. Pickens delivered before that baby was, Hazel Marie would snap him up and never look back.

  “Hazel Marie?” I said, lowering my voice and leaning close. “If Mr. Pickens . . .”

  She jerked upright. “No. No, ma’am, I just can’t.” Then she covered her face with the Kleenex and folded up on herself. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Julia, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m really sorry. It’s just that I can’t . . . I mean, I don’t want him anywhere around. I just hate him, and he’s no help, anyway.” She lowered the Kleenex and took a deep breath. “It’s my problem, and he doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

  Well, it seemed to me that he’d already had plenty to do with it, but I’d just learned my lesson: Stay off the subject of Mr. Pickens. At least until we could get him here, which had better be soon or she’d be so wedded to the idea of going it alone that not even his black-eyed charm would be able to deter her.

  Chapter 13

  Late the next morning, I was back in Hazel Marie’s room, chatting with her. Trying to keep her spirits up, I described the break-in at Sam’s house and what a trial it was proving to be to get things back in order. She was properly dismayed at the thought of such heedless destruction, but plainly it was not a matter of immediate concern to her. Too much else on her mind, I supposed, even though I was doing my best to distract her by listing off the problems that other people were facing.

  And one of those problems was having everybody in town knowing about the break-in and having to fend off the resulting phone calls. Wouldn’t you know that the Abbotsville Times ran it on the front page? LAW YER’S HOME VANDALIZED the heading read above two paragraphs and continued on the back page. The article said no more than we already knew, namely that the sheriff had no suspects and the investigation was ongoing. The whole thing vexed me because that house was no longer Sam’s home. Since he now lived with me, it was his former home and now only his house. I wished they’d get the particulars right.

  But hearing Sam come in downstairs, I hurriedly went down to join him.

  “Sam?” I said, meeting him in the hall. “You’re home early. Have you finished?”

  “I think I have,” he said, wiping his hand across his face. He looked more tired and dispirited than I’d ever seen him. “It’s no use, Julia, more than papers are missing. I had five cassettes of interviews that weren’t transcribed, and they aren’t there. I doubt I can replace them. Now that this has happened, people will have second thoughts about talking to me.”

  “Oh, Sam, surely not.”

  “ ’Fraid so,” he said with a shake of his head. “I called one woman this morning and she hung up on me. And remember Rafe Feldman? I interviewed him a while back, but his mind is completely gone now. And even worse,” he said, slumping into a chair, looking beaten, “I just spent an hour or so at the courthouse and the records I needed to replace what’s missing are gone, too.”

  I stood over him, unable to take in what I was hearing. “You mean, somebody has taken them from the public domain? That’s not legal, is it?”

  “Hardly,” he said with a rueful smile. “Somebody has been awfully busy wiping out what it took me so long to put together.” He leaned over, resting his arms on his knees. “Actually, it’d be hard to walk out of there with an armload of files, so chances are they’re still there, just misfiled. But Lord, it’d take forever to find them. I mean, we’re talking records from a period of over ten years, Julia, and they were filed some forty years ago.”

  “Can’t you find them on a computer somewhere? I thought that was where everything was these days.”

  He shook his head. “No, they haven’t got that far back yet. Everything current is computerized, but it’s taking years for the clerks to enter the back records.”

  “Maybe you can do without them. I expect you remember most of whatever was in the records.”

  Sam smiled at me. “I need the documentation, honey. I can’t just write what I think, or even know, without backing it up with citations of case numbers, dates, and so on. It’s looking more and more like I’ll have to give it up.”

  “Oh, no, Sam, you can’t do that. You’ve put too much time and effort into it. And, listen, this theft is proof positive that what you’re doing has value. Why else would anybody want to keep you from doing it?” I stopped and sat down beside him. Taking his arm, I went on. “Two things, Sam. One, figure out who wouldn’t want you to write whatever you were writing and that’s your thief. And, two, you really do need Mr. Pickens.”

  “Well,” he said with a pleased smile, “that’s what I came to tell you. Pickens is on his way.”

  I flopped back against the sofa, relief flooding my soul. “Well, thank the Lord.” My relief didn’t last long, for I sat up with a jerk. “You didn’t tell him about Hazel Marie, did you?”

  Sam shook his head. “No, I made him a business proposition and he took it. He’s going to stay at my house while he looks into the case.”

  “Oh, but that’s perfect, Sam. Lloyd will be in and out over there, so he’ll certainly see him. Then he can tell his mother, and you know he’ll tell Mr. Pickens that she’s been sick. So they’ll both get to know about the other. And that way, you and I won’t have a thing to do with it. There’s no way she can be upset with us. Well, with me, since I’m the one who did the promising.

  “Now,” I went on, doing a little distance gazing myself, “we’ll have to think of some way to get them together. I’ve never known Hazel Marie to be so adamant about anything, but she insists that she’s through with him. I mean, ordinarily she’s as pliable as she can be, always willing and eager to please.” I thought about how Hazel Marie had expressed such a sudden and unusual antipathy toward Mr. Pickens. So unlike her normal self. “You know what I think it is? I think it’s all those hormones that women in her condition have to deal with. You may not know this, Sam, but a lot of women are just completely turned off of their husbands the whole time they’re expecting.”

  Sam’s eyebrows went up, but I couldn’t read the expression on his face. “Is that right?”

  “Yes, but the thing is, as soon as the baby comes, why, the mother’s attitude changes right back to the way it was before.”

  “I guess that’s why they generally have more than one baby.”

  “Oh, I think you’re right about that. But what I’m getting at is that Hazel Marie may be one of those women, and if we let her run Mr. Pickens off for good while she’s this way, why, she’ll regret it in nine months. Eight months, I mean, or is it seven? I better find out how long we have.”

  Sam nodded. “Shall we tell Lloyd that Pickens is coming?”

  I had to think for a minute, then I said, “I think not. At least, not right away. Let’s let Mr. Pickens get here, get settled at your house, and firmly involved in the case. Then we can tell Lloyd, or just let him discover Mr. Pickens’s presence on his own. Because you know he’ll run tell his mother as soon as he knows. I don’t want to take the chance on her getting all upset before he even gets here. She might get it in her head to pack up and go off somewhere, or, who knows, she could get so perturbed that the baby would be endangered or marked in some way. You see, Sam, women in her condition have to be sheltered from any kind of distress or strong emotional upheaval.”

  I knew, since Sam and his first wife had had no children, that he was unfamiliar with how to deal with expectant mothers, so I felt it necessary to enlighten him. Of course, I had had no personal experience with such matters myself, but that didn’t
preclude my having heard them discussed at innumerable parties and meetings and in general discussions wherever women gathered together. After all, it didn’t take actually having a baby to know all one needed to know. Just look at all the male obstetricians.

  “So,” I went on, “when is Mr. Pickens supposed to get here?”

  “Tomorrow night. He has to wrap up a couple of things he’s been working on in Charlotte, then he’ll be on his way.”

  I thought for a few minutes. “Shall we ask him to dinner? You know he’ll expect it, since he’s never been in this town without Lillian feeding him something.”

  “No, he’ll be late getting in. But we, or rather, you will have to decide about the following night. Are you going to just spring him on Hazel Marie or will you warn her beforehand?” Sam cocked an eyebrow at me. “Either way, she’s going to have a fairly strong emotional upheaval.”

  “I think,” I said, ignoring his last remark, “that I won’t do either one. As far as Hazel Marie will know, I’ve been in the dark as much as she has. Why, Sam, I didn’t have an idea in the world that you were calling on Mr. Pickens to investigate the break-in. You didn’t say a word to me about it, and first thing I knew, here comes Mr. Pickens, all housed and contracted for. And, as far as having him for dinner every evening he’s on the case, why, that’s just my normal, courteous way of doing things.” I looked wide-eyed and guileless at Sam, then broke into a smile. “How does that sound?”

  He laughed. “Sounds fine to me. If you can pull it off, and if she’ll believe you.”

  “Oh, she’ll believe me because I promised her I wouldn’t contact him. And I haven’t, as you well know. Besides, if she can’t bring herself to be in the same room with him, why, Lillian can take her a tray like she’s been doing. At least we’ll have them both in the same vicinity, and Lloyd can carry reports from one to the other, because I’m staying out of it.” I stopped and cogitated for a minute. “Of course, that’s not going to solve anything because she hasn’t told Lloyd about the baby yet. So, for all intents and purposes, he’s not going to have that much to report. You think we ought to tell him?”

  “Us? Tell Lloyd about the baby?”

  “Yes.”

  “No,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. We have to leave that to her.”

  “Well, you’re right, I guess. It’s just that I can see both of them keeping their distance, with neither of them knowing the real reason he’s been called back. How long can that go on? Mr. Pickens’ll solve your case, I have no doubt, then he’ll leave without even seeing her, much less marrying her. We’ll really be up a creek then.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Julia. Let’s take it one step at a time. Have Pickens to dinner as often as you want. Hazel Marie will know he’s here and he’ll know she’s here, so I think we can leave the rest of it up to them. And keep in mind that marriage might not be the best thing for them.”

  “Maybe,” I said, but maybe not, I thought. One thing I knew for sure, if Mr. Pickens came just for dinner every night and Hazel Marie kept to her bed to avoid him, it would be up to me to think of a way to facilitate some movement from one to the other. Marriage might not be the right thing for those two, which I didn’t believe for a minute, but it certainly was for what they’d engendered.

  Chapter 14

  LuAnne Conover, bright and cheerful, showed up at my door later in the day. She was laden down with a huge basket of fruit and a plastic bag full of magazines.

  “My goodness,” she said as she plopped the basket down on the floor. “That thing’s heavy. How are you, Julia? We missed you in Sunday school yesterday, but I saw that you made it to church. I wanted to speak to you but you were out of there like a flash.”

  “Yes, I needed to hurry back to check on Hazel Marie. I felt I couldn’t leave her for more than an hour, which was why I wasn’t in Sunday school.”

  “Well, we were all glad you weren’t. We discussed taking up a collection to buy this fruit basket for Hazel Marie, and it would’ve been awkward if you’d been there. Some,” she said as she walked over to the sofa, “thought a fruit basket was too expensive and we ought to stick to a potted plant. Don’t ask me who they were because I’m not going to tell you.”

  She sat down, and I joined her.

  “I wouldn’t ask for the world,” I told her. “Besides, I can pretty much guess who they were. But I really do appreciate the thought and I know Hazel Marie will, too.”

  “Well, I hope she enjoys the fruit, too,” LuAnne said, “because, believe me, it was expensive. But we all love Hazel Marie to death, and everybody is so concerned for her. But, tell me, Julia, what’s wrong with her? I’ve heard all sorts of things from anemia to leukemia. You know how people are when they begin guessing and speculating.”

  Don’t I ever, I thought. But I said, “I hope you can put a stop to those rumors because the doctor said it’s some kind of condition with a long Latin name that causes digestive upsets. But it’s curable with proper nutrition and bed rest for a considerable length of time. So that’s the good news.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “Oh, there isn’t any, just that she’s lost a lot of weight and feels really tired. But we’re all seeing to it that she gets plenty of rest and isn’t disturbed in any way.”

  “Well, I certainly won’t disturb her. I’ll just tiptoe upstairs and speak to her. Everybody’s expecting a firsthand report from me. That’s why I was selected to bring the fruit basket. I’m so close to her, you know.”

  “Oh, LuAnne, I’m so sorry, but she really can’t have visitors. Why, they even put a NO VISITORS sign on her door at the hospital, and Dr. McKay was very firm about it when he let her come home. And, you know, if I let one person go up, everybody else will expect to, too. Please understand, because Hazel Marie would love to see you even though she can’t.”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” LuAnne said, preparing to get to her feet. “Why don’t you go up with me, and I’ll just stick my head in the door and speak to her. Surely that wouldn’t disturb her.”

  Lord, what else could I say to head her off?

  I took a deep breath. “Well, LuAnne, if you want to know the truth, one quick visit from you probably wouldn’t do any harm. But she has felt so bad for so long that she hasn’t been able to keep up her appointments with Velma.” I leaned toward her and whispered, “See, she hasn’t had color for so long that all her dark roots are showing.”

  LuAnne laughed and settled back onto the sofa. “Well, bless her heart, I can certainly understand that, and I wouldn’t embarrass her for the world. Besides, if she’s well enough to worry about hair color, then I can give a good report on her condition. Now, listen, Julia,” she went on, picking up the plastic bag she’d brought, “I did this on my own, so I want you to tell her that it’s from me and not from the class. I wasn’t sure what to get, so I brought her two of my favorites and two that I know she likes.”

  LuAnne pulled out two magazines: People and Vanity Fair, and placed them on the coffee table. “These shouldn’t tax her strength too much,” she said, “unless she starts reading some of the long articles in Vanity Fair about murders and drug use and so forth. You might caution her against those, but generally it’s an interesting magazine, although the print’s so small you can hardly read it.”

  “I’m sure she’ll love them. You’re very thoughtful, LuAnne, and I’ll see that they’re right beside her bed.”

  “Well, I’m not through. See,” she said, pulling out two more magazines, “here’s Modern Bride and Martha Stewart Weddings, because I know she loves to plan her wedding, even though it’s doubtful she’ll ever have one. But everybody needs a dream, don’t they? I do hope hers will come true someday.”

  “Oh,” I said fervently, “so do I.” More than you know, I thought.

  “You know what I was tempted to buy? The Examiner, The Globe, and The Star, because I’ve seen her at Velma’s and that’s all she reads. But,” LuAnne said with a long-su
ffering sigh, “I knew you wouldn’t approve, so I didn’t.”

  “Why, I wouldn’t care, LuAnne, even though they’ve been sued up one side and down the other for false reporting. But anything that would lift her spirits is fine with me.” Although gossip-spreading tabloids were not my cup of tea, I knew that Hazel Marie loved them. In fact, along with wedding and decor magazines, they were about the extent of her regular reading material, but you can’t expect everybody’s taste to run along the same lines as your own.

  “Well then,” LuAnne said, “if that’s the case, tell her I’ll bring the new ones as soon as they come out. In a couple of days, I think it is. And you, Julia,” she continued with a smile, “can keep your opinions to yourself. Now, I better get on home. Leonard’ll be waiting for his lunch.”

  I thanked her again, then saw her out. Picking up the magazines and the fruit basket, which was indeed heavy, I struggled up the stairs to tell Hazel Marie how I’d averted an unwelcome visit to her room.

  “You told her what?” Hazel Marie’s face lit up with a smile, the likes of which I hadn’t seen in some while.

  So I repeated the tale of the dark roots, and we had a good laugh about it. But then she sobered and ran her hand through her hair.

  “I do need color,” she said. “I just hate it when I let it go so long. But I can’t face going to Velma’s, even if I felt like it.”

  “No, you’re not up to it and you shouldn’t go. I mean, Hazel Marie, nobody would ever guess that you’re expecting. It’s much too early for anything to show. But physically you’re too weak to be gallivanting around town. And if you did, everybody would think you’re well and expect you to resume your usual activities.” I watched her carefully as she lay in bed, propped up by a couple of pillows. It pulled at my heart to see how gaunt her face was and how thin her arms. “Were you able to eat much breakfast?”