Sharyn Mccrumb_Elizabeth MacPherson_07 by MacPherson's Lament Page B

the nineteenth-century robber baron about Mr. Huff, and every time Nathan Kimball was obliged to visit him on legal business, he always found himself wishing that he had devoted his law practice to more mundane villains like car thieves. At least you knew where you stood with the small fry.
    Huff, unconcerned with the tender feelings of his legal adviser, handed him a classified ad taped to a note card. “What do you think of that?” he demanded, dispensing as usual with preliminary civilities.
    Kimball scanned the notice, a house-for-sale ad, with polite interest. There was a grainy photo of a structure reminiscent of Tara and a fulsome description of its amenities, which seemed to consist mostly of historic value, rather than practical accouterments such as air conditioning or master-bath Jacuzzis. Privately the attorney was wondering what he was expected to say. When inspiration failed, he murmured, “It’s—er—quite large. And old. Old and large. Are you thinking of investing in real estate, Mr. Huff?”
    Huff laughed. “I’m thinking of acquiring this place. The price isn’t bad, but I think we might get them to come down a bit anyhow. I particularly like the location of the property.”
    Kimball consulted the ad again. The house was in Danville, Virginia. Where on earth was that? he wondered. On the beach? A suburb of Washington, perhaps? Next to an orphanage? “You know the area then, sir?” he ventured, suppressing a nervous giggle.
    â€œNever been there in my life,” Huff declared. “I suppose I will, though. Only a damn fool buys a piece of property sight unseen, and I am nobody’s fool. I may want to close quickly though. Thought I’d better let you know. Make sure you keep Wednesday open.”
    â€œEr—this Wednesday?”
    â€œRight. I’m going to fly down and take a look at the place. If it’s suitable, we stay until we close. Shouldn’t take but a day or so. The fellow I talked to down there doesn’t sound any too shrewd, so there shouldn’t be any difficulties. Still, I’ll need you to go along. That’s why I have lawyers. I expect you to look everything over, make sure it’s all right. Mostly I want you there to look intimidating. Have you got a better suit, Kimball? And I hate that tie.”
    Nathan Kimball felt his face grow red as he fingered his birthday tie from Mother. He still felt that he was a few hundred yards behind inthis conversation. “You want me to go with you to Virginia, sir?”
    â€œSurely you grasped that,” said Huff with a touch of acid in his voice. “Yes, Kimball, I want you to go to Virginia. Go home and pack your jammies, Kimball, and tell the firm that you’re accompanying me on a business trip. We are going to purchase a historic house. Got it now?”
    â€œBut, sir, I know nothing about Virginia real estate law. Perhaps Mr. Shields—”
    â€œYou went to Yale, didn’t you, Kimball? Surely you can contend with these rubes from Mayberry, whether you know their local customs or not. We’re just going to buy a house, for God’s sake. Think of it as a little vacation.” John Huff bared his teeth in something resembling a grin.
    â€œYes, sir. Wednesday,” said Nathan Kimball. But he certainly wouldn’t think of it as a little vacation, he told himself. More like a white-collar skyjacking. For which he would have to go out and purchase a necktie. As he hurried out of the room, it occurred to him to ask Mr. Huff why on earth he wanted a house in Danville, Virginia. Somehow, though, the question wouldn’t come out of his throat.
    Â Â Â A. P. Hill still felt a little jittery when she entered the jail to confer with a client. As the steel door closed behind her, she always imagined walking into an escape in progress, and gettingcaught in the cross fire between guards and inmates. As usual, though, all was quiet