The Buzzard Table

CHAPTER

26


The turkey vulture often directs its urine right onto its legs. This urine contains strong acids from the vulture’s digestive system, which may kill any bacteria that remain on the bird’s legs from stepping in its meal.

—The Turkey Vulture Society



We got home to find an extra vehicle parked near the back porch, a white utility truck with the new company logo on the door. When Annie Sue got her electrician’s license last year, Herman had wanted their new logo to read “Knott and Daughter” as a slam at Reese, who’s never been motivated enough to take the exam to get his own electrician’s license even though he’s six years older. Annie Sue was not willing to embarrass her brother like that. Instead they had settled on a simple “Knott Family Electricians” underlined by lightning bolts tied together in loose knots.

In the living room, Lee, Jess, and Ruth were mesmerized by the TV, where that horror movie was building to a climax, but Emma had fallen asleep on the rug.

They waved and said hey as Dwight went on back to our bedroom.

“Where’s Annie Sue?” I asked.

Before they could pull their eyes away to answer, Dwight reappeared. “There’s a pretty young woman sitting on our bathroom floor,” he said and headed down the hall to the guest facilities.

He was right. Although Annie Sue may not be the prettiest of my nieces—Haywood and Isabel’s Jane Ann is generally considered the beauty of the family—none of the kids got hit with the ugly stick, and Annie Sue has been known to start a few male motors racing. Her hair, light brown or dark blonde depending on the season, was in a ponytail that she had pulled through the back of her billed hat that still had Herman’s old logo stitched across the front.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by bits and pieces of a small motor. A piece of cardboard was taped over the hole in the wall above the tub where the exhaust fan had been when we left the house.

“Oh, hey, Aunt Deborah,” she chirped. “I told Uncle Dwight I could take this somewhere else, but he said for me to go ahead and finish here.”

“No problem,” I said. “But you didn’t have to do this tonight.”

“Granddaddy wanted me to reset his motion lights on the barn so Maidie could get home before they clicked off, and as long as I was out this way, I thought I’d take a look at your fan. I’m afraid it’s shot, though.” She began to gather up the pieces and put them in a plastic bag. “It shouldn’t have quit working this quickly, so I’ll bring you out a new one tomorrow and make the supplier pay for it.”

I spotted her needle-nose pliers and brought her my bracelet and the new charm Dwight had given me.

She found an empty link and carefully attached the little engraved head. “It’s so cool that you’re going to adopt Cal. I wish I’d gotten here before he went to bed. I told him I’d bring him some red flex next time I was out so he could make some wristbands.”

She handed me back the bracelet and cut her eyes at me in sudden mischief. “Reese asked me to take a look at that pig sign y’all put in the barn. Pretty cool, but it’s gonna take some time to get it working.”

“Get what working?” Dwight asked, sticking his head around the door.

“Your birthday present,” I said quickly.

He gave me a suspicious look. “My birthday’s not till May.”

“All the more reason for me to get started on it right away,” I said, and gave Annie Sue a wink. “I’m not sure I have enough wool and you know how slow I knit.”

My niece giggled and scooped up a couple of screws that had fallen to the floor when she stood to go. “I can get you a good deal on some dog hair and LEDs if you go that route.”

Dwight shook his head at our teasing. “Y’all’re not going to get me to bite.”

From the living room came sounds of the kids getting ready to leave. Lee pulled his sleepy sister to her feet and Dwight slipped her a twenty that she tried to refuse. “We should be paying you for the pizzas,” she said with a yawn, but he just closed her hand around the bill.

There were hugs all around, a chorus of engines in the yard, then Dwight and I were left in the sudden quiet of the house.

And whaddya know? It was still Valentine’s Day.

(Ping!)



Annie Sue arrived the next morning after Dwight and Cal had left for work and school. She popped the new exhaust fan into the old cutout and had it running in less than fifteen minutes. I didn’t have to be in court till 9:30, so I poured us another cup of coffee and was soon listening to why she had broken up with her latest boyfriend.

“I got tired of his dad’s sniping. He thinks it’s unfeminine for a woman to work a blue-collar trade. He just couldn’t deal with the fact that I have my own truck and that I’m out physically pulling wire through basements and attics. He thinks Andy would be happier with a more girly girl, as he puts it. And better educated. Like a teacher or a computer programmer. Never mind that I’m already making almost twice as much as most beginning teachers.”

I was appalled on her behalf. “He told you this himself?”

“No, but he told Andy.”

“And Andy agreed?”

“Well, you saw where I was on Valentine’s Day. Did you get stuff like this when you first became a judge? All that crap about ‘what’s a pretty little thing like you doing a man’s job?’”

“Not really. Most of the barriers in my profession had been broken by the time I got to law school. Your granddaddy was the biggest roadblock. He didn’t think my delicate ears could stand hearing all the ugly things people say and do to each other.”

She laughed, knowing how he still didn’t like anyone to use language around the women in his family. As if we hadn’t heard it all by the time we were ten.

“And we really have come a long way,” I told her. “I saw a woman working one of those monster bulldozers the other day. Power to the sisterhood!”

“One thing about my job. I don’t have to worry about it going offshore. People are always going to need electricians and plumbers and carpenters. All the same, I’ll be glad when people can take it for granted that we’re as competent in the trades as any man.”

I patted her hand. “All they have to do is look at Reese, honey.”



My first case of the day could have been a textbook for Annie Sue’s complaints. Ronnie Currin, 41, was charged with four counts of assault against his former boss and her other three employees, the “assault” being the adulteration of a food substance with intent to do bodily harm.

When the charges against him were read, I said, “How do you plead, Mr. Currin?”

“Not guilty,” he answered firmly.

For twelve years, Mr. Currin had evidently been a satisfied employee at Braswell Hardware and Seed Store here in Dobbs. Then Leland Braswell died and his wife Linda took over. Mrs. Braswell had worked side by side with her husband and knew as much about seeds and hardware as he did, but when she decided to freshen up the store’s faded appearance, expand the gardening section, and discontinue what she considered was an inferior line of hand tools, Mr. Currin took exception. He grumbled about the extra workload that the plants and hanging baskets caused, and what did a woman know about running a hardware store anyhow?

When Mrs. Braswell made it clear that he could be replaced and the other three employees told him to suck it up, he stopped joining them in the break room for coffee and doughnuts.

“He said coffee had started giving him heartburn, so he switched to ginger ale,” one of them testified.

Soon afterwards, the employees began to notice that the coffee tasted odd.

They changed brands.

The off-flavor continued.

Mrs. Braswell brought in a new coffeemaker. It worked fine for a few days and then the unpleasant taste began again.

Eventually, someone noticed a yellowish liquid around the top of the pot immediately after Mr. Currin had been in the break room alone. Mrs. Braswell had it tested.

Urine.

At that point, the ADA Julie Walsh looked around the courtroom and said, “Any real big coffee drinkers here today?”

When I raised my hand, along with four-fifths of the audience, Mr. Currin abruptly decided to plead guilty and throw himself on the mercy of the court.

I have to admit I wasn’t feeling all that merciful. I sentenced him to five years’ supervised probation and required him to get a mental health exam, pay a $2,000 fine, and reimburse Mrs. Braswell for two coffeemakers.