Gwen soothed her and laid her head gently on the pillow. "It's okay, baby, Momma's here and Uncle Willie's here. Nobody's gonna get you. It's okay, baby."
She wanted Uncle Willie to sit under the window with his gun and the boys to sleep on the floor around the bed. They took their positions. She moaned pitifully for a few moments, then grew quiet and still.
Willie sat on the floor by the window until they were all asleep. He carried the boys one at a time to their beds and tucked them in. He sat under her window and waited for the morning sun.
Jake and Atcavage met for lunch at Claude's on Friday. They ordered ribs and slaw. The place was packed as usual, and for the first time in four weeks there were no strange faces. The regulars talked and gossiped like old times. Claude was in fine form-ranting and scolding and cursing his loyal customers. Claude was one of those rare people who could curse a man and make him enjoy it.
Atcavage had watched the venue hearing, and would have testified had he been needed. The bank had discouraged his testifying, and Jake did not want to cause trouble. Bankers have an innate fear of courtrooms, and Jake admired his friend for overcoming this paranoia and attending the hearing. In doing so, he became the first banker in the history of Ford County to voluntarily appear in a courtroom without a subpoena while court was in session. Jake was proud of him.
Claude raced by and told them they had ten minutes, so shut up and eat. Jake finished a rib and mopped his face. "Say, Stan, speaking of loans, I need to borrow five thousand for ninety days, unsecured."
"Who said anything about loans?"
"You said something about banks."
"I thought we were condemning Buckley. I was enjoying it."
"You shouldn't criticize, Stan. It's an easy habit to acquire and an impossible one to break. It robs your soul of . character."
"I'm terribly sorry. How can you ever forgive me?"
"About the loan?"
"Okay. Why do you need it?"
"Why is that relevant?"
"What do you mean, 'Why is that relevant?' "
"Look Stan, all you should worry about is whether or not I can repay the money in .ninety days."
"Okay. Can you repay the money in ninety days?"
"Good question. Of course I can."
The banker smiled. "Hailey's got you bogged down, huh?"
The lawyer smiled. "Yeah," he admitted. "It's hard to
concentrate on anything else. The trial is three weeks from Monday, and until then I won't concentrate on anything else."
"How much will you make off this case?"
"Nine hundred minus ten thousand."
"Nine hundred dollars!"
"Yeah, he couldn't borrow on his land, remember?"
"Cheap shot."
"Of course, if you'd loan Carl Lee the money on his land, then I wouldn't have to borrow any."
"I prefer to loan it to you."
"Great. When can I get a check?"
"You sound desperate."
"I know how long you guys take, with your loan committees and auditors and vice-presidents here and vice-presidents there, and maybe a vice-president will finally approve my loan in a month or so, if the manual says he can and if the home office is in the right mood. I know how you operate."
Atcavage looked at his watch. "Three o'clock soon enough?"
"I guess."
"Unsecured?"
Jake wiped his mouth and leaned across the table. He spoke quietly. "My house is a landmark with landmark mortgages, and you've got the lien on my car, remember? I'll give you the first mortgage on my daughter, but if you try to foreclose I'll kill you. Now what security do you have in mind?"
"Sorry I asked."
"When can I get the check?"
"Three P.M."
Claude appeared and refilled the tea glasses. "You got five minutes," he said loudly.
"Eight," replied Jake.
"Listen Mr. Big Shot," Claude said with a grin. "This ain't no courtroom, and your picture in the paper ain't worth two cents in here. I said five minutes."
"Just as well. My ribs were tough anyway."
"I notice you didn't leave any."
"Might as well eat them, as much as they cost."
"They cost more if you complain." "We're leaving," Atcavage said as he stood and threw a dollar on the table.
Sunday afternoon the Haileys picnicked under the tree away from the violence under the basketball goal. The first heat wave of the summer had settled in, and the heavy, sticky humidity hung close to the ground and penetrated the shade. Gwen swatted flies as the children and their daddy ate warm fried chicken and sweated. The children ate hurriedly and ran to a new swing Ozzie had installed for the children of his inmates.
"What'd they do at Whitfield?" Gwen asked.
"Nothin' really. Asked a bunch of questions, made me do some tests. Bunch of crap."
"How'd they treat you?"
"With handcuffs and padded walls."
"No kiddin'. They put you in a room with padded walls?" Gwen was amused and managed a rare giggle.
"Sure did. They watched me like I was some animal. Said I was famous. My guards told me they was proud of me -one was white and one was black. Said that I did the right thing and they hoped I got off. They was nice to me."
"What'd the doctors say?"
"They won't say nothin' till we get to trial, and then they'll say I'm fine."
"How do you know what they'll say?"
"Jake told me. He ain't been wrong yet."
"Has he found you a doctor?"
"Yeah, some crazy drunk he drug up somewhere. Says he's a psychiatrist. We've talked a couple of times in Ozzie's office."
"What'd he say?"
"Not much. Jake said he'll say whatever we want him to say."
"Must be a real good doctor."
"He'd fit in good with those folks in Whitfield."
"Where's he from?"
"Jackson, I think. He wasn't too sure of anything. He acted like I was gonna kill him too. I swear he was drunk
bolh times we talked. He asked some questions that neither one of us understood. Took some notes like a real big shot. Said he thought he could help me. I asked Jake about him. Jake said not to worry, that he would be sober at the trial. But I think Jake's worried too."
"Then why are we usin' him?"
" 'Cause he's free. Owes somebody some favors. A real shrink'd cost over a thousand dollars just to evaluate me, and then another thousand or so to come testify at trial. A cheap shrink. Needless to say, I can't pay it."
Gwen lost her smile and looked away. "We need some money around the house," she said without looking at him.
"How much?"
"Coupla hundred for groceries and bills."
"How much you got?"
"Less than fifty."
"I'll see what I can do."
She looked at him. "What does that mean? What makes you think you can get money while you're in jail?"
Carl Lee raised his eyebrows and pointed at his wife. She was not to question him. He still wore the pants, even though he put them on in jail. He was the boss.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Reverend Agee peered through a crack in one of the huge stained glass windows of his church and watched with satisfaction as the clean Cadillacs and Lincolns arrived just before five Sunday afternoon. He had called a meeting of the council to assess the Hailey situation and plan strategy for the final three weeks before the trial, and to prepare for the arrival of the NAACP lawyers. The weekly collections had gone well-over seven thousand dollars had been gathered throughout the county and almost six thousand had been deposited by the reverend in a special account for the Carl Lee Hailey Legal Defense Fund. None had been given to the family. Agee was waiting for the NAACP to direct him in spending the money, most of which, 'he thought, should go to the defense fund. The sisters in the church could feed the family if they got hungry. The cash was needed elsewhere.