This time, he seized upon the pies that Caldwell's wife was busy baking in her kitchen. When a deal was struck, Caldwell summoned his wife.
"'Hey, woman, come over here and sign this paper.' I thought that was crude, but it was just the way some of these locals addressed their spouse," Mel wrote.
The deliberations concluded, Mrs. Caldwell poured Mel a big cup of coffee and placed three titanic pieces of pumpkin, blueberry and apple pie in front of him.
"I made such a fuss over the room-filled aroma that it was coming back to haunt me," he wrote.
Caldwell loomed over his guest and ordered him to get busy.
"Well, Trimble, you had better make a reasonable effort to devour most of that pie to physically confirm your interests," growled Caldwell.
"I thanked her; and driving away in the car, I remember saying to myself, 'Wow! What a filling lunch.'"
Mel would tell you that in the performance of his job, such things were considered routine, and not out of the ordinary.
