He found a dirty room in a cheap tourist motel near the beach in Biloxi and went looking for Mary Ann Malouf, who was no longer engaged to the guy in Washington. In the past year she had seen a lot of Joel, primarily because he simply would not go away. At Ole Miss, they had sneaked around for late dinners. They had taken two road trips to Memphis, where they would not be seen. He had pressed her to ditch the guy in D.C. and hook up with a real man.
During the summer she was working a few hours a week in a dress store on Main Street, and when he walked through the door she was pleasantly surprised. He hung around long enough to get harsh looks from her boss, then left. They met for a soda after hours and discussed meeting her family. He insisted on it. She was hesitant. Her parents approved of her fiancé and would not understand a new suitor hanging around.
Feeling a bit stiff-armed, Joel bummed around the coast for a few days, trying to avoid both the return home and anything resembling meaningful employment. He knocked on the doors of several law firms, landed two quick interviews but no job offer. The longer he stayed the more he liked Biloxi, with its ethnic blend, cafés offering all manner of fresh seafood, lounges that somehow served alcohol without getting busted, boats rocking in the harbors, and the laid-back atmosphere usually found along the ocean. And the longer he chased Mary Ann Malouf, the more determined he was to catch her.
Burch Dunlap spent the month of August in Montana away from the heat. Evidently, the vacation served him well. He returned to the office after Labor Day filled with energy and determined to make more money. His nearest target was the Banning case.
In chancery court, still and always the unquestioned domain of Chancellor Abbott Rumbold, he filed a lawsuit seeking a judicial foreclosure of the Banning land. He had no choice but to file in Ford County. The law was clear. Indeed, the law was so clear Burch was curious to see how the old judge could manipulate it to favor the Bannings.
A week later he sat down in his conference room to welcome his friend John Wilbanks, who was coming to Tupelo to open settlement negotiations. Or, as Dunlap had confided to his ever-present confidant, Errol McLeish, to beg for mercy.
And there would be none.
John was served coffee and offered a seat on one side of the handsome table. Across from him sat Dunlap, and to his right was McLeish, a man John had quickly learned to despise.
Dunlap lit a cigar and after some small talk said, “You have the money, John. Why don’t you tell us what you have in mind?”
“Of course. Obviously, my clients would like to keep the family land. They are also tired of payin’ me.”
“You’ve done a lot of work that wasn’t necessary,” Dunlap said almost rudely. “We’ve been worried about your fees, frankly. That money comes out of the estate.”
“Look, Burch, why don’t you worry about your fees and I’ll worry about mine. Fair enough?”
Reprimanded, Burch laughed loudly as if his pal had really nailed a great punch line. “Fair enough. Go on.”
“There’s not a lot of cash in the estate, so whatever we offer you to settle has to come from money that will be borrowed against the house and land.”
“How much, John?”
“It’s a question of how much income the farm can produce each year in order to service the mortgage. This year is a disaster. As you know, it’s a risky business. My family has been farming cotton for decades, and I often wonder if it’s really worth it.”
“Your family’s done well, John.”
“In some endeavors, yes. The Bannings think they can borrow fifty thousand against their property and survive the mortgage. That’s the best they can do.”
Dunlap offered a sappy smile as if he’d really enjoyed round one, and said, “Come on, John, they own twelve hundred acres free and clear and a thousand of it is rich farmland. Their home is one of the finest in the county. They have half a dozen outbuildings, fine structures all, plus the farm equipment, and livestock, and how many Negroes?”
“Please, Burch, they don’t own those people.”
“For all practical purposes they do. Fifty is really lowball, John. I thought we agreed to meet for a serious discussion.”
“Well, you can’t be serious if you include the land owned by Florry Banning. That’s half of it, and she’s not involved in the litigation. She’s completely unaffected by all of this.”
“Not so fast, John. Pete Banning farmed his sister’s property just like he farmed his and gave her half the profits. Both sections came from the same source — their parents, and their grandparents, and so on.”
“This is absurd, Burch. Florry had nothing to do with the killing of Dexter Bell and you know it. To imply that her land is in play is ridiculous. If you think otherwise, then try and foreclose on it.”
“We can’t foreclose on anything as long as you keep old Rumbold in your hip pocket.”
John smiled and said, “He’s a brilliant jurist. One of the best.”
“Maybe, but down in Jackson the Supremes are not so impressed. Fifty thousand ain’t flyin’, John.”
“I’ve put a figure on the table. Now it’s your turn.”
McLeish said coldly, “At least a hundred thousand. Frankly, Jackie deserves more because we need to pay Mr. Dunlap.”
Mr. Dunlap said, “One twenty, John. I have this case on a contingency, and I’ve won it fair and square. I’ve done a heck of a job for my client, and I don’t want my fees to come out of her settlement.”
“You’ve done a superb job, Burch, no question about it. But your numbers are far above anything we can afford. No bank will lend more than $75,000 for Pete’s land and the house. Florry’s land is off-limits.”
“Are you offering $75,000?” Dunlap asked.
“Not yet, but would you take $75,000 if it were on the table?”
McLeish shook his head and said, “No.”
Both lawyers were good negotiators, and it was obvious who held the upper hand. When swimming against the tide, John knew it was often beneficial to muddy the waters. He said, “Look, Burch, the kids would really like to save the house, the only home they’ve ever known. You know about their mother and her troubles. There’s the chance that Liza may come home one day, and it’s crucial that she has her place. Can we discuss separating it and the buildings from the farmland? I’m working on a plat that would carve out only four acres that includes the house, the gardens and barns and such, and your client would take the rest.”
“The deed for the farm, minus the four acres?” Dunlap asked.
“Something like that. I’m just exploring alternatives here.”
“How much are they willing to pay for the four acres?”
“The house is appraised at thirty thousand, which is definitely on the high side. These are two fine kids who are trying to hang on to something.”
“How are they going to service a mortgage on the home?”
“Good question. We’ll figure it out. Florry might help them.”
The biggest obstacle to this proposal was one that would not be mentioned. Jackie Bell wanted the house. In fact, she wanted the house far more than she wanted the land. Her boyfriend fancied himself a gentleman farmer and was already counting his money, but Jackie just wanted a beautiful home.
McLeish shook his head and said, “No way. Those four acres are worth almost as much as the farmland. We can’t do it.” He spoke with the air of a man who was entitled to his rewards, in this case the treasured soil of some of the finest people John Wilbanks had ever known. He despised McLeish for his arrogance and his sense of entitlement.
John said, “Well, it looks as though we have nothing left to discuss.”
In late September, on back-to-back days, the U.S. Supreme Court laid waste to a batch of frivolous requests for hearings. On one day it hammered home the final nail in the coffin in the Banning appeal of the verdict in federal court, and on the very next day it brushed aside the Banning appeal from the Mississippi reversal of Rumbold’s ruling.