Savannah Law

by William Eleazer

  “You bet. I’ll tell you all about it later. How was the meeting with Professor Nolan? And how are your classes going?”

  “Classes are going... well, that’s about all I can say—they are going. Everyone feels overworked and behind. Misery loves company, so there’s plenty of company. My study group keeps plodding along. Never enough time. Every professor seems to think his or hers is the only class we have. And the Research and Writing course is ridiculous with its time commitment. I have a big research paper due....”

  Jennifer stopped in midsentence. She saw Professor Denis Nolan entering from the alcove and walking in their direction.

  Denis had apparently spotted them as he entered. As he approached, he gave a broad smile and said, “The Dean Search Committee at work. Hello, Scott, and hello, Jennifer. Mind if I join you?”

  Without waiting for a reply, he sat down at their table. “Scott, you must be tutoring her. She’s doing so well in my class that I’m going to offer her a job as my research assistant. And speaking of doing a good job, she’s going to make a great witness for the trial team. I’m really looking forward to watching her performance in Atlanta.”

  The broad smile continued, and he had not taken his eyes off Jennifer since he sat down. “And Jennifer,” Denis continued, “has Dean Adams called you about joining the Dean Search Committee?”

  “No, I haven’t spoken with him.”

  “Well, expect a call. I’m counting on you two.”

  “Denis, could I see you for a moment, over in the lounge?”

  The voice came from about twenty feet away. The three of them recognized Jaak’s voice. and they turned at the same time.

  “Sure, Jaak.” Denis got up, turned to Jennifer, and said, “I’ll be back shortly; don’t go away. I have something special to tell you.”

  Scott and Jennifer remained seated and watched as Denis followed Jaak toward the private lounge. Scott was the first to speak.

  “Research assistant... Dean Search Committee... looking forward to watching you perform in Atlanta. If he was saying that to rattle my cage, he succeeded. I should give him an old-fashioned Tennessee knuckle sandwich, but that would be too messy on his soft, miserable face. Maybe I’ll just knife the tires on his new Lexus.”

  Jennifer turned her head to keep Scott from seeing her failed attempt at suppressing a smile at his outburst. But she didn’t say anything. She didn’t blame Scott for being annoyed; she thought Nolan’s comments were a bit much also. Jaak quickly closed the lounge door and waved Denis to take a seat at the poker table. On the table, face down, was a deck of playing cards. Jaak picked up the deck.

  “Denis, recognize these?” He held the deck in front of Denis.

  Denis cocked his head to the left and seemed to squint with his left eye when he answered. “Do I recognize them? Should I recognize them?”

  “That’s two questions—and neither is an answer,” said Jaak. He then spread the deck face down on the table.

  “Jaak, what is this about? Why the quiz?”

  “These are the cards we played with last Sunday. Look closely. Now do you recognize them?”

  “No, I don’t recognize them. What’s going on with you, Jaak?”

  Jaak picked up a card from the pile, flipped it in front of Denis, face down, and said, “Jack of hearts, right Denis?”

  There was no smile on Denis’s face now. His breathing became shallow and rapid. He did not respond.

  Once again, Jaak repeated, “Jack of hearts, Denis. Right?”

  When again there was no response, Jaak took another card and flipped it face down on top of the first card. “Nine of spades.”

  Still no response from Denis. Then another card.

  “King of clubs,” said Jaak.

  Denis merely stared at the cards; he said nothing. Jaak quit flipping after the fifth card. Finally, Denis spoke. “I don’t know what you’re up to or where you are coming from, Jaak, but apparently you think these cards are marked, and I’m responsible.”

  “Right,” said Jaak.

  “Well, you’re wrong. This conversation is offensive. I’m surprised you would dishonor our friendship with such an insinuation.”

  “It’s not an insinuation, Denis. It’s an accusation. And I’m surprised you would dishonor our friendship—and the friendship of our group—by bringing marked cards to the table.”

  “That’s a lie, Jaak. If those cards are marked, they didn’t come from me.”

  “Enough of your crap, Denis. You purchased those cards at the Magic Castle. You paid $149.99 plus tax. They were not in stock. You had to place a special order and wait. And when they arrived, you brought them to the Sunday game.”

  Denis had been seated, but he hurriedly got up from his chair and stood, facing Jaak. Jaak stood also; he was expecting a physical confrontation. It did not come.

  “OK, Jaak. So you know,” Denis said through tightened lips. “But you’ve got to know also that it was all in fun. It was just a lark. I thought someone would catch on to it Sunday night. It was going to be a joke. But no one caught it, so I decided to just play along and wait to tell everyone about it at our next game. I plan to return all the money the gang lost. It was just a joke.”

  Jaak, who stood a couple inches taller than Denis, looked straight into his eyes and said, “You won’t be returning any money here, Denis. I’m sorry it came to this, but you are no longer welcome. If you want me to return the money for you, I will do it, assuming you know how much each lost. I would be pleased to deliver it to each player and tell them what you say happened—and that you say it was just a joke. But if you prefer not to, I understand. In fact that may be advisable.”

  “What do you plan to tell them, Jaak, on Sunday night? I warn you, slander me and my name and you....”

  Jaak interrupted. “Hold on, Denis. Be careful about issuing warnings to me. You are smarter than that. I’m not out to do you harm. I’ll simply tell them that for personal reasons you will no longer be playing. And that will be the truth, because I’m telling you personally that you are not playing. End of discussion. Now, I have some work to do.”

  With that, Jaak walked to the door and held it open for Denis to leave. Denis needed no prodding. He walked out and immediately departed the Library.

  • • •

  Scott and Jennifer saw him leave. “That’s strange,” said Scott. “Didn’t Denis ask you not to go away, he had something to tell you?”

  “He did say he would be back. I think he was addressing both of us,” said Jennifer.

  “He was looking only at you—as he did in Thomas Courthouse. I didn’t like it then, and don’t like it now. He eyes you like you are the only one in the room... and I’m just a potted plant.”

  “Would you like him to eye you and make me the potted plant?” Jennifer asked, laughing.

  “Nope. And I wouldn’t want him winking at me either.” Scott smiled as he looked at Jennifer. “Jen, I’m sure glad to see you laughing. Tuesday night, you were in tears. You said they were ‘happy tears,’ but I’m not so sure. And last night you seemed a bit down. Tonight you are your old sparkling self—you must be getting a handle on the law school time squeeze.”

  “You are very perceptive, Scott.” She hesitated a moment before continuing. “But it’s nothing to do with law school. I’ve been walking around frightened since my trip home last Friday night. It was like carrying a heavy weight on my back, but this morning it was lifted... by what you might call the last straw. I decided I would not run, hide, whine, or whimper. I would not be afraid. I would fight it.”

  Jennifer then began to tell Scott the whole story, beginning with her trip to Marvin’s Foreign Auto, the tailgating by the black Camry, the man and woman at the “quick-stop” store, and her car stalling on the darkened highway. She recalled every detail of Craig’s futile attempt to get her to open the car door and the door slamming on his hand. When she got to the part about the blood spurting from his fingertips and being deliberately spattered a
gainst her windshield, she paused for a moment. The vivid memory of that ghastly sight stirred the same intense emotion that she experienced the first time she saw it. With a deep breath, she finally returned her focus to Scott and continued her story.

  As she described Craig’s head scarf being used as a bandage and the car mysteriously starting and hitting him as she accelerated, it was obvious to Scott that she was still shaken. But the relating of the events of that night was serving as a valuable catharsis for her. He continued to listen intently as Jennifer described finding the envelope with the bloody head scarf inside.

  “That’s when I decided this guy could beat me emotionally and physically if I let him. My choice. I said to myself, ‘Self, I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore.’ I would never be in my apartment, in my car—or anywhere—without some protection. As soon as I got out of my first class this morning, I looked up local gun dealers. Gun City, near Savannah Mall, looked like a good place to start.” Jennifer paused, and her lips tightened into a determined look before she continued.

  “I told the clerk I was looking for a hand gun, one I could keep in my purse for self-defense. He showed me three or four small pistols. The one I liked was a Beretta 21, but it was four hundred dollars. That was more than I could pay, and I told him so. He asked me a bunch of questions about my experience with guns, and when it became apparent that I had none, he suggested I put a deposit on the gun, take a gun-safety course, and get a concealed-weapon permit. He told me to go to the County Probate Court to apply for the concealed-weapon permit. He then told me he would let me have it for $250.”

  “You bought the gun?” asked Scott.

  “Not yet. But I plan to get it after I take the gun-safety course and get the permit. I’ll probably have to put the safety course off until the end of the semester. The clerk showed me another weapon called a Dragonfire Mace Gun. It shoots mace up to twenty feet, even in the wind, from a cartridge that resembles a shotgun shell. Shoots through eyeglasses, masks, and clothing. It came with a one-shot water cartridge for testing and training. I bought it and tested it at the gun shop. It was easy. I’ve got it loaded now with a mace cartridge. Want to see it?”

  Jennifer opened her purse, and Scott peered in.

  “Looks lethal. Are you sure you can legally carry that in your purse?”

  “I don’t know, but with what I’ve been through, in the immortal words of Rhett Butler, ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.’ I’ve been frightened, abducted, chased, cursed, and intimidated for too long. Like I said, I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore.”

  Scott sat back in his chair with a bemused look on his face. He was proud of this girl. She had spunk. She had come through a series of terrifying events, and she was now ready to take on her tormentor. This on top of one of the most difficult academic challenges anyone ever faces—the first two weeks of law school. Scott visualized how frightened and upset Jennifer appeared after the terrifying tow-truck ride through the streets of Savannah and compared it with the confident, assured Jennifer now sitting next to him, displaying her lethal-looking mace gun. She was going to do well in law school. And she was going to make one super trial lawyer.

  Scott also thought of the man who had terrorized Jennifer. He was still freely moving around Savannah, and he obviously had not given up his obsession with her. Scott was glad that she had taken these self-protective steps.

  “You have every right to be mad as hell,” said Scott. “And I hope it’s helped to work up an appetite. How about let’s go someplace to eat—a special place. I want to celebrate our finally getting to spend some time together tonight.”

  “Scott, you’re not going to like what I’m about to say.”

  “Then don’t say it; let’s just go find a place to celebrate.”

  “But I have to say it. We’re going to have to hold that celebration later. You know this is Labor Day weekend—no classes Monday. Half our study group is leaving town. We met for lunch today, and they all voted to have a group study session tonight. I voted for Monday night, but two of them won’t be back until late Monday. They say they need to go over the outline for the Property class. That’s the one I’m responsible for. They complain that Professor Nolan skips around too much, and they are depending on me to pull it together. I don’t know that I can do that, but I feel I really need to be there. I’m torn. I really wanted this to be our night.”

  She looked at Scott as if she had asked a question and was waiting for his response. But Scott did not have an answer for her dilemma. True, he had a reply—to hell with the study group! Let the study group work it out without Jennifer. Professor Nolan had spoiled the previous evening with that case file. And now Professor Nolan’s “skipping around” is confusing Jennifer’s study group. Professor Nolan was getting to be a real pain in the ass. Jennifer had already said that she would be going home Friday, so when did she expect their celebration to begin? He just sat there, slowly shaking his head. The smile had left his face.

  After a few moments’ pause, Jennifer spoke again. “Why don’t you come home with me this weekend? We have plenty of room. Meet my folks. They would love to meet you. I’ve already told them about you. Say ‘yes’!”

  Scott had never resisted Jennifer’s “Say yes!” command. Certainly not this time. But he would have to modify it. He had promised Grady to meet with him Friday afternoon on the Harrison case. He had additional work of his own, and he knew Jennifer also needed time during the long weekend to study.

  “Yes. But I’ll drive over Saturday morning and stay until Sunday afternoon. OK?”

  “Sure. We’ll celebrate at Hilton Head.”

  • • •

  Juri usually closed up on Thursday nights. Thursdays were not busy nights at the Library, but tonight was unusually quiet. He had spent most of the evening behind the bar talking with a couple of regulars. At ten, he released the one cook still on duty and walked to the storage room to check on needed supplies. He came back by the lounge and was surprised to see Jaak still there, seated at the poker table, with the Rider Back deck of cards spread in front of him.

  “Jaak, I thought you had gone home. I just told Millie to start closing up. Something on your mind?”

  “I suppose so,” said Jaak. “Just a disappointing week. You think you know people, and then you realize you only know their shadow. And it’s a dark shadow.”

  “You must be talking about Nolan. Have you seen him since Sunday night?”

  “Saw him earlier this evening.”

  “How did it go?”

  “About as expected. At first he denied any knowledge of the cards. Then he admitted he brought them, but it was all part of a joke. Says he was planning to pay them back this Sunday.”

  “And you don’t believe him?”

  “Juri, get real. I already knew he was a cheat. Now I know he’s a liar, too. If he said Monday followed Sunday, I’d have to check a calendar. Of course, he got angry when I told him he was no longer welcome. It’s just disappointing. And I liked the guy. Our Sunday-night gang liked him, too.”

  Juri stood silently for a few moments. He could see that his older brother was troubled by the affair, but he could think of nothing to say.

  Jaak broke the silence. Smiling for the first time, he picked up the marked deck of cards and said, “Hey, Juri, want to see a card trick?”

  Juri laughed, and they quickly locked up the Library and went home.

  CHAPTER 31

  Sunday, September 3

  All the regulars except Denis arrived for the Sunday-night game by seven. The chips were counted and distributed by Rench Renshaw, the self-appointed banker for the games. Rench had served as banker since the first game and rarely missed.

  As he was counting out the chips, he turned to Jaak and asked, “Is Denis coming?”

  “Denis won’t be coming. He’s giving up on our poker game. Personal reasons.”

  “Giving up—you mean for good?”

&nbs
p; “Yes, for good,” replied Jaak.

  “Sorry to hear that,” said Jimmy. “I’ll miss him.”

  “You’ll miss the money that he showered on us like Old Faithful,” said Pete.

  “Yeah, that too, but he seemed to be an OK guy. I met his dad once,” said Jimmy.

  “Howard Nolan? He owned Effingham County, didn’t he?” asked Pete.

  “Just the timber and good farmland; he let us own the swamps and pin oaks. I met him while deer hunting with a buddy one day in December about twenty years ago.”

  “He was a deer hunter?”

  “No, but I was,” said Jimmy. “I was on the Savannah River, on a big high bluff near where Ebenezer Creek empties into the river. My buddy took a deer stand a couple hundred yards down from me. It was cold, and, I guess he just got tired of waiting and not seeing anything, so he built a fire. I saw the smoke and pretty soon heard some loud talking, so I went to see. The man identified himself as Howard Nolan. I knew who he was because I had seen a photo of him a couple times in the Savannah newspaper. Pretty well-known guy, even then. He let us know in no uncertain terms that it was his property, and we were trespassing. Of course, we knew that. We had walked right past his house. I guess it’s Denis’s house now. Big block and stucco house surrounded by a tall chain-link fence. We gave him the old, ‘Yes, sir; sorry, sir; lost our way, sir; we were just leaving, sir; won’t happen again, sir.’ That always works when you get caught hunting on someone’s property. Got to give them at least five ‘sirs.’ He didn’t call the sheriff, and we appreciated that. I’m really sorry to hear Denis is leaving the table.”

  Bill Northorp, the architect, entered the conversation. “Maybe he’s just up to his ass with that cemetery monument business. I hear it’s not going well.”

  “What ‘cemetery monument’ business?” asked Pete.

  “The one over in Bonaventure. His architect has been hassling with—maybe hassled by—the city for over a year.”

  “Never heard about it,” said Pete.