Stella arrived home on December 21, and that night they decorated a tree while carols played on the phonograph. And they were drinking, a bit more than usual. Bourbon for Joel and Stella, gin for Florry. Nothing for Marietta, who hid in the basement and was convinced they were all cracking up and going to hell.
As gloomy as things were, they tried their best to find the holiday spirit, with small gifts and big meals and lots of music. The two lawsuits facing them and threatening their future were never discussed.
On Christmas Day, they once again loaded into Florry’s Lincoln and drove to Whitfield. A year earlier, they had made the trip, only to be denied access to Liza. Those days were over now because Pete was certainly out of the way and Joel was now his mother’s legal guardian. They sat with her in one corner of a large activity room, and gave her gifts and chocolates sent by Nineva and Marietta. Liza smiled a lot and talked more and seemed to enjoy the attention.
In every corner there was a quiet little family doting on a loved one, a patient with pale skin and hollow cheeks. Some were ancient and appeared half-dead. Others, like Liza, were much younger, but they seemed to be going nowhere too. Was this really her future? Would she ever be well enough to come home? Were they destined for decades of such pathetic visits?
Though Dr. Hilsabeck maintained that he was pleased with her progress, they had seen little improvement in the past four months. She hadn’t gained a pound, and the nurses kept her in a wheelchair so she wouldn’t burn calories walking. She often went for long stretches of time without a word. Occasionally, her eyes had a sparkle, but it never lasted.
Driving home, they discussed whether the trips to Whitfield were worth the trouble.
After Christmas, the music stopped and the cold rains began. Making merry became a chore, and even the pink cottage, with its eccentricities, was enveloped in moodiness. Stella suddenly needed to return to Hollins to finish some vague projects. Florry spent more time in her room reading and listening to opera.
To escape the gloom, Joel left a day early and returned to Oxford. When the law school opened, he eagerly checked his grades and was pleased with his first-semester test scores.
At the end of January, he found himself back in federal court as a representative of the family. A magistrate had scheduled a pretrial hearing and all lawyers were present. Florry, as executrix of the estate of Pete Banning, was supposed to attend, but, typically, she called in sick with the flu. Besides, Joel was already in Oxford and he could certainly handle things.
Joel nervously sat at one table between John and Russell Wilbanks, and kept an eye on Burch Dunlap and his associate at the other table. Just being in the same arena with Dunlap was terrifying.
The magistrate covered the list of all potential witnesses at trial and wanted summaries of the testimony of each. The lawyers politely discussed exhibits, jury lists, the usual pretrial details. The magistrate studied his calendar and announced a trial date of February 24, barely a month away. He then asked if there was any chance of settling the case without going to trial. The lawyers looked at each other and it was obvious they had not yet reached that point.
Burch Dunlap stood and said, “Well, Your Honor, I am always ready and willing to settle, on good terms of course. As you are aware, we have another lawsuit pending in the Chancery Court of Ford County in which we are attempting to set aside the conveyance by the deceased of his section of land to his children. This happened three weeks before the murder. We’ve had the land appraised.” He picked up a binder and sort of waved it at the magistrate. “The land is worth $100 an acre, or about $65,000 total, and we firmly believe this land belongs in the estate of Pete Banning, and is therefore subject to the claim of our client, Mrs. Jackie Bell. The home is appraised at $30,000, and there are other assets.”
John Wilbanks stood, smiling and shaking his head as if Dunlap were an idiot. “Those figures are much too high, Your Honor, and I’m not prepared to argue over them. But any talk of settlement is premature. We expect to prevail in Ford County and protect the acreage. And who knows what the jury will do in this case? Let’s allow the litigation to run its course; then we can have this discussion.”
“It might be too late, Mr. Wilbanks,” the magistrate said.
Listening to Burch Dunlap so casually discuss land that had been purchased, cleared, and plowed by Joel’s great-great-great-grandfather made his blood boil. How dare this gifted shyster toss around values of hard-gained assets and sums of someone else’s money as if bidding at an auction or wagering in a card game. Did he really intend to somehow squeeze the Bannings for everything they owned? And how much of the loot would his sticky fingers steal?
The lawyers swapped comments but made no progress. The magistrate called the next item on his docket. Outside the courthouse, Joel and John Wilbanks walked around the square while Russell ducked into a diner.
“We should at least discuss the possibility of settlement,” Wilbanks said.
“Okay. I’m listening,” Joel said.
“Dunlap is high with his numbers, but not outrageously so. We could offer them $20,000 in cash and see what happens. That’s a lot of money, Joel.”
“Damned sure is. Where would we find that much?”
“There’s about $15,000 in cash in the estate. You and Stella could mortgage the land. My family owns the bank, remember? I’m sure I can arrange a small loan.”
“So you want to offer $20,000?”
“Discuss it with Florry. I don’t need to remind you that the facts are not with us in this case. Your father did what he did and there’s no excuse for it. The jury will be sympathetic to the Bell family, and sympathy is our enemy.”
Chapter 39
Errol McLeish scoffed at the suggestion that Jackie settle so cheaply. Nor would they consider $25,000. McLeish wanted it all — the land, the house, the livestock, the people who worked there — and he had a plan to get it.
Late in February, he and Jackie drove to Oxford and checked into a hotel on the square. Same room, though they were not yet married.
The trial began on the morning of the twenty-fourth. Jackie, the plaintiff, sat with Dunlap and her lawyers, and was attractive in solid black. Florry, on tranquilizers, sat between John and Russell Wilbanks, with Joel right behind her.
When the opportunity had presented itself, Joel spoke to Jackie, shook her hand, and tried to be polite. She did not. She was the grieving widow, out for justice and revenge. Florry loathed her and never acknowledged her presence.
As Judge Stratton went through the preliminaries with the fifty or so prospective jurors, Joel turned and faced them and the spectators. There were a few reporters in the front row. The doors opened, and much to his dismay a class of third-year law students filed in with their professor. It was a federal procedure class, and since the trial had some notoriety, it needed to be studied. He noticed a few other law students in the crowd, watching intently. At that moment, he wished he had chosen another law school on a campus in another state.
The morning was consumed with jury selection, and by noon six had been selected and seated. A seventh would sit as the alternate. Since it was a civil case, four votes would be needed for a verdict. Three to three would hang and cause a retrial.