Kyla was backing out of the carport when Lillian and I returned from Guntersville and a late meeting with the DA. I stopped as she eased backwards, unaware of our presence. I was still thinking of the District Attorney’s professionalism and her proactive nature. She had promised to touch base with law enforcement folks in New Haven to discuss the likely connection between my home’s burglary and local billionaire Ray Archer. It hadn’t hurt that DA Pam was understanding after hearing of Monday’s altercation at the Lodge and mine and Lillian’s subsequent arrests.
“I’m headed to church. There’s homemade chicken soup in the crock pot.” Sis said as she finally pulled beside my Hyundai. Tonight, was Kyla’s first time to help Jane prepare and feed a hundred hungry teenagers inside First Baptist Church of Christ’s basement kitchen/cafeteria combo. The youth group’s name, Fusion, sounded like something to do with a nuclear power plant.
“Sounds good. I’m hungry.” I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and it was only a bowl of Raisin Bran cereal. Lillian and I had spent the day trying to absorb and digest Kyle’s tenth grade essay, the full version. Thankfully, Ms. Smith had kept her word and forwarded a copy of the complete version my dear friend had written and submitted before disappearing.
“Your Mom’s recipe?” Lillian asked as Kyla raised her window and drove away. “Oh, well.”
I parked near the front of the barn and headed to the house while Lillian stood and watched the five Nubians locked inside the hallway. I was halfway to the front porch steps when my cell rang. It was Rosa. It was a dreaded call.
“Hey Mom.”
“Well, he’s gone.” Over the past several days, Rob’s condition has deteriorated. His brain had bled and had become infected. Last night, despite the craniotomy, the swelling had intensified. Early this morning, after a conference call with the five of us, including Randy, Rosa had decided it was time to remove life support. It was what Rob wanted per the advance directive he’d updated less than three months ago.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll never forgive myself for not being there for you.”
“Lee, I don’t want to hear that. Remember, I’m the one who made you stay. Please never blame yourself.”
I wanted to disagree, maybe to lessen the pain she was feeling, but I didn’t. “Are you still at the hospital?”
“Leah and Lyndell are exploring the best way to transport Rob’s body back to Boaz. I’m in a small waiting room outside the Chapel.” I didn’t ask about the grands, knowing they were safe.
We talked at length about Rob’s funeral after his body arrives. I walked inside and dipped a bowl of soup while Lillian remained intrigued with the goats. Frank probably was showing out for his four wives, and number two fan.
I sat at the kitchen table listening to Rosa argue with herself over the funeral’s order of service, especially which songs Rob would want. Her sudden pivot surprised me. “How’s the haul?” It was an odd way to put it, but I knew she was speaking of the Hunt House.
“Sand Mountain Demolition & Removal Company moved sixteen loads yesterday. Remember, it’s going to take at least a week.” The State Fire Marshall had released the property Monday afternoon around sundown, but it was too late for Sand Mountain to begin work.
I’d been wanting to ask Rosa, but never felt the moment was right. Now seemed the time. “I have a question if you don’t mind me asking.” I burned my lips on my first bite of soup. It was scalding hot.
“Of course, you know that.”
“Why are you paying for the debris to be hauled off if you no longer own the Hunt House?”
I heard a familiar voice in the background. It was Leah. “Honey, give me a few minutes,” Rosa said as Lillian came inside from the front porch.
“Lee, sorry about that. I guess now is as good a time as any to be fully open, but first let me ask a question. How did you find out Rob had sold the Hunt House?”
Before responding, my mind thought of wires and recording devices. Surely, there was no way Kyla’s place was bugged, or the Roanoke General Hospital. “The deed. I have a friend of a friend who works at the Probate Office. He found the deed. It was recorded three days before the fire.”
“Okay. I see. Well, it’s true. Ray Archer owns the Hunt House, or better put, the real estate it once sat on.”
“May I ask how the sale came about? To be blunt, it shocked me to learn Rob would do business with Ray.” Lillian dipped a bowl of soup and joined me at the table.
“He saw the writing on the wall. I suppose that’s one way of looking at the transaction. Now, looking back, I believe he was contemplating his death, almost like he saw what was coming. So, he took the money to make sure it got to the ‘right’ people, as he described it.” Now I could faintly hear Leah and Lyndell talking in the background.
“Since we’re being open, and don’t think I’m acting greedy, how much was the sales price?” Lillian cocked her head sideways at me and squinted her eyebrows.
“Lee, I know you are not money hungry. And, you would have learned all this if Rob had lived to get back home. Ray paid $800,000.” I had Rosa repeat the number. According to Micaden, it was $500,000. Someone was wrong.
“That’s a lot more than I would have thought given Ray’s last offer.” I quickly realized my statement was inaccurate. I had no way of knowing when Ray made his most recent offer.
“Honey, can you get me a cup of coffee?” I heard both my children agree.
“That’s not the full story. Again, you would know this as soon as we returned.”
“What’s that?”
“Rob persuaded Ray to pay off the cabin and give us what he called, ‘a bonus.’” My shock level skyrocketed. I did not know Rob and Rosa owned the cabin.
“Are you referring to the Roanoke cabin you guys have visited for the last fifteen or twenty years?”
“Yes.” I was hoping Rosa would provide more details. The difference, whether it was two or three hundred thousand, was a chunk of money. Ray’s generosity didn’t fit.
“Let’s go back just a moment and address a legal question that’s got me in tangles.”
“Okay, ask anything you want. Thanks, dear.” Leah and Lyndell had returned.
“My question is mere curiosity, not that it’s important now.” I paused and contemplated my words. I didn’t want to appear insensitive. “Now that Rob has passed.”
“Lee, just ask. Quit being so formal. We’re family and I love you.” Rosa sipped her coffee.
“Thanks. Was the Hunt House titled to Rob, or you and Rob?” I motioned for Lillian to dip me more soup.
“Just Rob. Funny, we had talked a hundred times over the years about putting the property in both our names. I’m sure you recall some of those discussions.” I breathed a sigh of relief. This was one good thing to come out of Rob’s death. Wow, that was insensitive. If Rob had died before deeding the property to Ray Archer, his estate would have to be probated.
“I’ll answer it before you ask. The money from Ray is still in mine and Rob’s joint checking account. Well, other than the check we mailed Wells Fargo Mortgage.” Rosa had just given me credit where none was due. I hadn’t considered that the same probate issue would exist if the money was now sitting in an account titled solely to him.
“Thanks again for your openness. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Rosa’s voice rose but maintained total civility. “Oh Lee, you’re as curious as a newborn tiger, but thank goodness your teeth are not as sharp.” We both laughed.
I heard Leah tell Rosa they needed to be going. The babysitter had an appointment in an hour. “One last question. Back to the demolition and haul bill. I’m still confused about why you are paying for that.”
“We got sidelined, didn’t we? Sorry. Ray asked me to pay for it and promised he’d reimburse whatever I spent.”
Again. Something odd. “Why didn’t he pay for it himself, directly?”
“I really don’t know. Maybe he thought it would look suspicious.” Unfortunately, Rosa didn’t give me time to explore her last statement. She politely ended our call and left me, as usual, confused over things as innocent as words.
I finished my second bowl of soup and shared with Lillian what I’d learned. She presented a good question. Two in fact. How does a missionary couple afford to buy a mountain cabin? And why would Ray suddenly become so generous? The only probable answer to the latter question was that the extra cost to Ray got him something in return.
“The man does nothing for free. Someone always pays a price.” Without comment from me, Lillian stood, walked our empty bowls to the kitchen sink, and announced she had to go check on her place. Even with Ray in jail, I sensed I shouldn’t let her be alone.
Richard L. Fricks 