John Grisham - A time to kill

Nothing in the Jackson paper. He hoped Richard Flay had reported something. He should have spent more time with him outside the jail. Nothing from Memphis. Nothing from Tupelo. Jake was not surprised, just hopeful that somehow the story had been discovered. But it happened too late yesterday. Maybe Monday. He was tired of hiding; tired of feeling embarrassed. Until it was in the papers and read by the boys at the Coffee Shop, and the people at church, and the other lawyers, including Buckley and Sullivan and Lot-terhouse, until everybody knew it was his case again, he would stay quiet and out of view. How should he tell Sullivan? Carl Lee would call Marsharfsky, or the pimp, probably the pimp, who would then call Marsharfsky with the news. What kind of press release would Marsharfsky write for that? Then the great lawyer would call Walter Sullivan with the wonderful news. That should happen Monday morning, if not sooner. Word would spread quickly throughout the Sullivan firm, and the senior partners, junior partners, and little associates would all gather in the long, mahogany-laced conference room and curse Brigance and his low ethics and tactics. The associates would try to impress their bosses by spouting rules and code numbers of ethics Brigance probably violated. Jake hated them, every one of them. He would send Sullivan a short, curt letter with a copy to Lotterhouse. He wouldn't call or write Buckley. He would be in shock after he saw the paper. A letter to Judge Noose with a

copy to tsucKiey would worn nne. He wouia noi nonor mm with a personal letter.

Jake had a thought, then hesitated, then dialed Lucien's number. It was a few minutes after seven. The nurse/maid/ bartender answered the phone.

"Sallie?"

"Yes."

"This is Jake. Is Lucien awake?"

"Just a moment." She rolled over and handed the phone to Lucien.

"Hello."

"Lucien, it's Jake."

"Yeah, whatta you want?"

"Good news. Carl Lee Hailey rehired me yesterday. The case is mine again."

"Which case?"

'The Hailey case!"

"Oh, the vigilante. He's yours?"

"As of yesterday. We've got work to do."

"When's the trial? July sometime?"

"Twenty-second."

"That's pretty close. What's priority?"

"A psychiatrist. A cheap one who'll say anything."

"I know just the man," said Lucien.

"Good. Get busy. I'll call in a couple of days."

Carla awoke, at a decent hour and found her husband in the kitchen with newspapers strewn over and under the breakfast table. She made fresh coffee and, without a word, sat across the table. He smiled at her and continued reading.

"What time did you get up?" she asked.

"Five-thirty."

"Why so early? It's Sunday."

"I couldn't sleep."

"Too excited?"

Jake lowered the paper. "As a matter of fact, I am excited. Very excited. It's too bad the excitement will not be shared."

"I'm sorry about last night."

"You don't have to apologize. I know how you feel. Your problem is that you only look at the negative, never the positive. You have no idea what this case can do for us."

"Jake, this case scares me. The phone calls, the threats, the burning cross. If the case means a million dollars, is it worth it if something happens?"

"Nothing will happen. We'll get some more threats and they'll stare at us at church and around town, but nothing serious."

"But you can't be sure."

"We went through this last night and I don't care to rehash it this morning. I do have an idea, though."

"I can't wait to hear it."

"You and Hanna fly to North Carolina and stay with your parents until after the trial. They'd love to have you, and we wouldn't worry about the Klan or whoever likes to burn crosses."7

"But the trial is six weeks away! You want us to stay in Wilmington for six weeks?"

"Yes."

"I love my parents, but that's ridiculous."

"You don't see enough of them, and they don't see enough of Hanna."

"And we don't see enough of you. I'm not leaving for six weeks."

"There's a ton of preparation. I'll eat and sleep this case until the trial is over. I'll work nights, weekends-"

"What else is new?"

"I'll ignore y'all and think of nothing but this case."

"We're used to that."

Jake smiled at her. "You're saying you can handle it?"

"I can handle you. It's those crazies out there that scare me."

"When the crazies get serious, I'll back off. I will run from this case if my family is in danger."

"You promise?"

"Of course I promise. Let's send Hanna."

"If we're not in danger, why do you want to send anybody?"

"Just for safety. She'd have a great time spending the summer with her grandparents. They'd love it."

"She wouldn't last a week without me."

"And you wouldn't last a week without her."

That s true. It s out of the question. I don t worry about her as long as I can hold her and squeeze her."

The coffee was ready and Carla filled their cups. "Anything in the paper?"

"No. I thought the Jackson paper might run something, but it happened too late, I guess."

"I guess your timing is a little rusty after a week's layoff."

"Just wait till in the morning."

"How do you know?"

"I promise."

She shook her head and searched for the fashion and food sections. "Are you going to church?"

"No."

"Why not? You've got the case. You're a star again."

"Yeah, but no one knows it yet."

"I see. Next Sunday."

"Of course."

At Mount Hebron, Mount Zion, Mount Pleasant, and at Brown's Chapel, Green's Chapel, and Norris Road, Section Line Road, Bethel Road, and at God's Temple, Christ's Temple, and Saints' Temple, the buckets and baskets and plates were passed and re-passed and left at the altars and front doors to collect the money for Carl Lee Hailey and his family. The large, family-size Kentucky Fried Chicken buckets were used in many of the churches. The bigger the bucket, or basket, the smaller the individual offerings appeared as they fell to the bottom, thus allowing the minister just cause to order another passing through the flock. It was a special offering, separate from the regular giving, and was preceded in virtually every church with a heart-wrenching account of what happened to the precious little Hailey girl, and what would happen to her daddy and family if the buckets were not filled. In many instances the sacred name of the NAACP was invoked and the effect was a loosening of the wallets and purses.

It worked. The buckets were emptied, the money counted, and the ritual repeated during the evening services. Late Sunday night the morning offerings and evening offer-

ings were combined and counted by each minister, who would then deliver a great percentage of the total to the Reverend Agee sometime Monday. He would keep the money somewhere in his church, and a great percentage of it would be spent for the benefit of the Hailey family.

From two to five each Sunday afternoon, the prisoners in the Ford County jail were turned out into a large fenced yard across the small back street behind the jail. A limit of three friends and/or relatives for each prisoner was allowed inside for no more than an hour. There were a couple of shade trees, some broken picnic tables, and a well-maintained basketball hoop. Deputies and dogs watched carefully from the other side of the fence.

A routine was established. Gwen and the kids would leave church after the benediction around three, and drive to the jail. Ozzie allowed Carl Lee early entrance to the recreation area so he could assume the best picnic table, the one with four legs and a shade tree. He would sit there by himself, speaking to no one, and watch the basketball skirmish until his family arrived. It wasn't basketball, but a hybrid of rugby, wrestling, judo, and basketball. No one dared officiate. No blood, no foul. And, surprisingly, no fights. A fight meant quick admittance to solitary and no recreation for a month.