The Girl from Felony Bay Page 12

“Yessir. I think maybe they’re looking for treasure.”

  He threw down his pen again. “Why’re you fishing me with this story, kid? What’s in it for you? People buy land all the time around here. They dig holes for perk tests so they can put in septic. Or they dig holes as foundations for houses. Or they dig holes to dig holes. I don’t know, and I don’t see any story here.”

  I was feeling desperate. “Don’t you think taking land away from a poor, disabled lady ought to get people interested?”

  Blackford raised his eyebrows and seemed to think about that. Then he gave his potbelly a little rub and stood up. “Yeah, maybe. Thanks for coming in.”

  I felt a sense of failure as he walked me out to the elevator. I didn’t have the slightest idea what he would do with the information. Probably nothing, I decided. I left without even kicking him in the shins the way he deserved.

  Fifteen

  I took another bus south, going back toward where I had started earlier, getting off at Calhoun Street and walking east several blocks to East Bay, to the offices of the Coastal Conservation League. I didn’t know very much about the CCL, only that they got involved in protecting land and water from polluters and developers and others who wanted to do things that screwed up the environment.

  I didn’t really know what I expected them to do or even what they could do. I just had a vague notion that if they thought somebody might be doing something bad to the environment, they might start trying to find out who they were and why they were doing it. Maybe they could find out who the people were behind FBLC LLC, even if I couldn’t. Maybe they would think it was bad that so many holes were being dug so close to the water. Maybe they would tell them they needed a bunch of permits and at least slow down whatever was happening at Felony Bay. I knew I might be grasping at straws. These people might laugh at me. But what other choice did I have?

  I got a better feeling as soon I went into their offices, because the lady behind the desk was about five times nicer than the one at the Post and Courier. She actually smiled at me.

  “What can I help you with?” she asked.

  “I need to talk to someone about what might be an environmental crime,” I said.

  The woman raised her eyebrows, but she was being serious, not trying to treat me like a dumb kid. “What kind of environmental crime? It will make a difference as to which one of our people I call.”

  “Somebody is digging a bunch of holes along the shore of the Leadenwah River.”

  “Big holes?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And real close to the water.”

  She nodded, dialed an extension, and told the person who picked up, “Someone is here to report what might be illegal digging.” She paused, nodded. “Okay, I’ll tell her.

  “Sheila will be right out.”

  Sheila turned out to be a middle-aged woman with light brown hair and a happy face with deep laugh lines around her eyes. She shook hands and asked me to come back to her office. On the way she got us both glasses of water, and I explained why I was there.

  “You saw somebody digging holes near the water on the Leadenwah River?” she asked as we sat down in her office.

  “Yes, ma’am. They were big holes, and right down near the water’s edge.”

  “Were the people burying anything in the holes?”

  “You mean like waste?”

  “Yes.”

  For a second or two I thought about lying and telling her that I’d seen all kinds of horrible things being buried there, but in the end I said, “No, ma’am. I don’t they were burying anything, just digging.”

  “Were they digging on land or in the water?”

  “I think just on land.”

  Sheila gave me a sad smile. “I’m afraid, based on what you’re telling me, even though it sounds a bit suspicious, that they probably aren’t breaking any laws.”

  “Can you go out there and check it out? Aren’t there some kind of permits they need?”

  “Is there something more that you can tell me?”

  I let out a big sigh. “It’s not really environmental,” I said, and then I told her about Mrs. Middleton and heirs’ property.

  Sheila looked at me sympathetically. “I can understand why you would want to stop this. But we’re an environmental organization. I’m afraid there’s nothing the CCL can do. I’m sorry.”

  I thanked her for her time, but I couldn’t disguise my disappointment. I had started off the day with what I thought were two really good ideas for getting to the bottom of what was happening at Felony Bay. Now I realized that neither one of them was going to work.

  There was only one thing left for me to do in town. I walked outside and started toward the Force & Barrett offices to see if Custis had finished getting the answers he had promised yesterday. Even if he had, I knew it would probably be all the information I could get my hands on. My dream had convinced me that time was running out, but I still didn’t have enough facts. I just knew something was about to happen and that it was my job to stop it.

  I wished so badly that Daddy would wake up so I could ask him what I should do. I wanted to know how a twelve-year-old girl could possibly stop anything.

  Sixteen

  When I reached Force & Barrett, I told the red-haired lady in the reception area that I was there to see Custis.

  “Please have a seat,” she said. She gave me a cool look and dialed an extension. “The Force girl is here,” I heard her say.

  Then she hung up the phone and looked at me. “Someone will be right out.”

  I sat and thumbed through a magazine while I waited, expecting to see Martha’s smiling face come through the door at any moment. Even so, I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something wasn’t right. Several minutes went by, and when Crawford Barrett suddenly appeared, I understood why things had felt weird.

  “Abbey,” he said, giving me a big smile.

  I stood and nodded. “Hello, Mr. Barrett. I was actually here to see Custis.”

  “Yes, I know,” he said. “But when Custis told me what you had asked him to do, I decided to sit down with you myself.”

  I tried to fight down a sense of helplessness that verged on panic. “Custis isn’t going to talk to me?” I asked, hearing the tremor in my voice.

  Even as I fought for control, part of me felt deeply hurt that Custis would have betrayed my confidence and gone to Mr. Barrett. The other part of me felt an ice-cold anger.

  “I’m afraid he’s not able to,” Mr. Barrett said. He sat down in the chair beside me and motioned for me to sit again. “A matter came up with one of our clients today. I asked Custis to deal with it, and it required him being outside of the office.”

  “Is Custis in trouble?”

  Mr. Barrett smiled, as if nothing could be further from the truth. “Absolutely not!” he said with a laugh. “But I know you’ve raised some questions about the sale of the Felony Bay parcel, and I thought, since I’m the one closest to the issue, that it would be best if I tried to answer them.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said with a smile, since it was obvious that I didn’t have any other choice. I have found that with certain adults if you say sir and ma’am often enough and smile when you talk to them, they think you agree with them, no matter what.

  “I believe you asked Custis how it was that what we refer to as the Felony Bay tract came to be sold separately from the rest of Reward. Is that correct?”

  “Yessir,” I said.

  “Well, the fact is that while the rest of the plantation has always been a single tract, your father had broken out the Felony Bay tract as a separate parcel.”

  “Do you know why he did that, sir?” I asked.

  Mr. Barrett made a little movement with his hands. “I don’t think the reason really matters now. The point is that when the plantation had to be sold, the members of the firm who were overseeing this on your father’s behalf were able to sell Felony Bay separately, for a higher price per acre.”

  “Because you neede
d to pay back Miss Jenkins, sir?”

  Mr. Barrett gave me a sad look and nodded. “That’s right.”

  “So who bought it, sir?”

  “A partnership.”

  I smiled and nodded. Mr. Barrett smiled back. “Who are the partners?” I asked, forgetting my sir. Since Daddy was a lawyer and didn’t have anybody else to talk to at the dinner table all those years, I was a lot smarter about legal stuff than most twelve-year-old girls. It had probably also made me more persistent in asking questions. Daddy had joked that I sometimes had a tendency to “badger” my witnesses.

  But if Mr. Barrett felt badgered, he didn’t show it. “I wish I could help you, but the names of the partners were not disclosed in the transaction. Under the law there is no reason they need to be.”

  “But there has to be a head person.”

  Mr. Barrett nodded. “Indeed, young lady! You’re a sharp one. It’s called a general partner,” he said. “And it is true that the general partner’s name has to be disclosed on the deed. However, in this case, the general partner is not a person. It is another LLC. That stands for ‘limited liability corporation.’”

  “I know what LLC stands for, sir,” I said. “This law partnership, Force and Barrett, is an LLC. My father is the managing partner.”

  That last part had probably not been the smartest thing to say, but it just seemed to pop out. It made Mr. Barrett’s smile bunch into something more like a bruise than a happy expression.

  “I know that, Abbey. But he can’t manage very well from his hospital bed, can he?” Mr. Barrett was trying to keep his voice light and easy, but his cheeks were tinged with red. He glanced toward the receptionist, but she appeared to be busy typing on her computer.

  “So,” I said, “bottom line. The land that my father was going to give to Mrs. Middleton because it was heirs’ property and rightfully hers got sold to some partnership.”

  Mr. Barrett held up a hand to stop me. “Hang on there, Abbey. Heirs’ property is a very complicated topic, and ‘rightfully hers’ is as well. We know that your father broke Felony Bay into a separate parcel. Perhaps he believed that Mrs. Middleton might at one point have been entitled to claim that Felony Bay was heirs’ property, but perhaps the reason he never recorded the deed is that he changed his mind. After all, she had moved off the property—”

  “Do you know when that happened?” I interrupted.

  “I believe it was when your grandfather was still alive.”

  “And do you know how it happened?”

  “According to my knowledge, your grandfather was too ill to handle his own affairs, and your uncle Charlie had something to do with it.”

  I nodded. “Mrs. Middleton’s family had lived in that house for more than a hundred years, and in that whole time they’d never been charged rent. Mrs. Middleton was a widow, and Uncle Charlie started charging her way more than she could afford. She had no choice but to leave.”

  Mr. Barrett leaned closer to me. “That may be true, Abbey. But, sadly, it doesn’t matter now. What matters is the fact that Mrs. Middleton moved. By moving, she effectively negated her claim. That means that when it came time to sell the property to repay Miss Jenkins, there was no valid outstanding claim by another party.”

  I felt my own face getting red. I knew I should have buttoned my lip five minutes earlier, but now it was way too late. “So the letter of the law was satisfied but not the intent of the law,” I said. “A poor, handicapped lady’s land got sold to somebody else, but it was legal. Daddy always said that when a lawyer did his job the right way, the intent of the law was what was honored. Sir. Daddy was going to set this right, to give Mrs. Middleton what she deserved, and, after his accident, it didn’t happen.”

  Mr. Barrett glanced at the receptionist. His teeth were clamped together, and his lips were slightly open. If the red-haired lady hadn’t been there, I think he might have tried to bite me.

  “I have continued to try to be a friend to your father because of his circumstances, but let me be very clear about something,” he said, his voice just above a whisper but shaking with anger. “Because of what he did, this law firm found itself saddled with shameful damage to our reputation and a tremendous debt to one of our clients. We did not worry about the finer points when we sold Reward. We worried about recovering enough money to repay Miss Jenkins. We worried about salvaging what we could of the company your father and I built together. Without your father around to help, this is work I’ve been doing all on my own. I know how tough things have been for you since your father’s accident, Abbey, but you weren’t the only one who was hurt that day, the only one left trying to put the pieces of your life back together, alone.”

  I was speechless. I knew that Mr. Barrett and Daddy were friends, but I hadn’t before considered how he might have felt about what happened.

  Mr. Barrett stood up and brushed off his pants as if my questions were like dirt that had somehow gotten on him. “I believe we have discussed this matter sufficiently, and I hope this can be our last conversation about it. I will also tell you that Custis is a junior lawyer here, and it is not beneficial for his career for you to be coming in during business hours and taking up his time with personal matters that are antithetical to the interests of this firm. Good day, Abbey.”

  He started to walk back toward the door that led to the offices.

  I stood up. “What’s about to happen at Felony Bay?” I asked.

  Mr. Barrett came to a stop like he was a car and somebody had just slammed on his brakes. He turned. “What did you ask?”

  “I think you heard me, sir.”

  His eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing that’s about to happen at Felony Bay,” he said. “But if you go onto that property, or make trouble for whoever now owns it, I must tell you that no one here, not Custis or I, will be able to help you.” He watched me to see if that was sinking in.

  “I don’t think I should need to tell you this,” he went on after a few seconds, “but given what happened with your father, a judge would not look kindly upon you breaking the law.”

  By the time he finished, my cheeks were burning, and tears were bunching in the corners of my eyes. I told myself I would not cry in front of Mr. Barrett, no matter what. I started to say something to excuse myself, but it was unnecessary. Mr. Barrett opened the door leading back to the offices. He walked through and disappeared without looking back.

  The red-haired receptionist was watching me, her face unreadable. I said nothing to her as I walked out the front door and down to the sidewalk. What Mr. Barrett said had hurt, but it wasn’t nearly as upsetting as the fact that, once again, I was all alone in trying to figure out what was really going on.

  Seventeen

  It was almost five o’clock, and I was in a black mood as I caught the bus back toward Leadenwah. I felt utterly defeated, because every single place I’d gone seemed to be a dead end. The city turned to suburbs, and the suburbs turned to country, but my eyes didn’t register anything, and when I got off I used the pay phone to call Ruth to ask if she would pick me up.

  “What are you doing at the bus stop?” she demanded. I could hear the television in the background.

  “I went to see Daddy,” I said, leaving out the other meetings.

  “Well, I’m very busy.”

  “I know. I’m sorry to ask you.”

  She muttered something under her breath, then said, “Okay, I’ll be there when I can get free. It’s going to be a while.”

  I knew it meant that she’d come when her show was over, but having no other choice, I thanked her and sat down to wait.

  As I was watching the early-evening traffic roll by, I was surprised to see Grandma Em’s car go past. Instinctively I raised my hand to wave. I saw Grandma Em turn her head in my direction, and a second later her brake lights went on as she pulled over to the shoulder. Bee climbed out of the passenger seat with a big smile. “Want a ride?” she called.

  I was already on my feet heading in her di
rection. “Please,” I shouted back.

  When I climbed into the backseat, I asked, “What are y’all doing home so quickly?”

  Grandma Em turned. “Bee’s doctors’ appointments went so smoothly that we had no reason to stay. She told me we had to get back right away, so I changed our flight.”

  “You want to have dinner with us?” Bee asked. “Grandma got flank steak and fresh corn on the cob, and she’s going to make tomato-and-mozzarella salad.”

  I hadn’t had lunch, and my stomach growled at the mere mention of Grandma Em’s food. “Thanks,” I said. “I’d love to.”

  I was dying for Bee’s company and her help with all my jumbled-up ideas, but I also knew I wouldn’t be being a good friend unless I found a way to tell her that I needed to go after the mystery of Felony Bay on my own. I had no idea how I was going to do that, but every time I thought about my dream, I became more convinced there was something dangerous going on. I was increasingly certain it had to do with both Daddy and Mrs. Middleton, and I knew I had no choice but to keep digging. I had to find a way to explain all that to Bee, and a good meal might help me think.

  On the way back I borrowed Grandma Em’s cell phone and called Ruth to tell her I didn’t need a ride after all. She sounded relieved and didn’t even ask how I was getting home.

  When we drove into Reward, I got out of the car at the foot of Uncle Charlie’s drive and walked up to the house. Rufus ran off the porch to greet me, and we walked around the house and found Ruth in back, now reading a book in the shade of a live oak. The book was one of those paperbacks with a shirtless guy with long hair and a woman with a low-cut dress on the cover. She managed to hold back her sorrow when I told her I wouldn’t be around for dinner.

  “You still need to do the dishes when you get home,” she said. “Just because you don’t eat here doesn’t mean you can skip your chores.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And I told you before: Don’t get used to it. You don’t live there anymore.”

  I didn’t even try to come up with a response. I went up to my room to change my clothes and heard Uncle Charlie come home just as I was ready to leave. Instead of walking out the front and taking the chance of meeting him on the porch, I went along the hallway to the kitchen and out the back door.