Nobody Can Say It’s You: A Hadley Pell Cozy Mystery (18 page)

“
H
ey
, how’s Skip?” Hadley asked.

Maury and Hadley and Beanie were volunteering at the wildlife shelter. Maury and Hadley were teaming up to clean out cages. Beanie was in charge of filling water bowls.

“He’s okay, I guess,” said Maury. “He always says ‘fine’ when I ask him. I guess if he told me the truth, he’d have to kill me.”

“Don’t worry, Maury. He’s a good kid,” said Hadley.

“Umm,” said Maury.

“Did you see the article on Button Dudley?” Hadley asked.

“Wasn’t that somethin’?” said Maury.

“They think Button got a hold of some kind of hallucinogenic plant while foraging in the woods,” said Hadley.

“I don’t see how that could happen, Hadley,” Maury said. “Button knew those woods like the back of his hand. He’d been foraging for food since he was a little boy.”

“Well,” Hadley said, “he was old. His eyesight wasn’t what it used to be, I’m sure. And we don’t know how his mind was. If he was suffering from dementia or anything.”

“You’re right,” said Maury. “He kept so to himself.”

“A private man,” said Hadley. “We got a lot of folks like that around here. Nothing wrong with loving your privacy, I guess, until something goes wrong with you. Then, it becomes hard for anyone to know. Can’t get you help if nobody knows you need it.”

“I know,” said Maury.

* * *

H
adley had finished up
. Maury had volunteered to help with the feeding. Ruth would take her home. Hadley went off to find Beanie. She hadn’t seen him in for awhile. She wondered what he was doing.

Beanie was squatted near a cage. He looked like he was making strange movements with his mouth.

“Beanie,” Hadley said, “what gives?”

“What do you mean?” Beanie asked, looking over his shoulder.

“I mean you’ve been there in one position long enough for your feet to go to sleep and fall off,” said Hadley.

“My feet will fall off if they get too sleepy?” Beanie asked.

“No,” Hadley said. “It just a figure of speech.”

“I’m practicin’,” Beanie said.

“Practicing what?” asked Hadley. “How to stare holes in a wire cage?”

“No, silly,” said Beanie. “Smilin’.”

“Beanie, what are you talking about?”

“You told me that I was a grumpy Gus this morning, remember?”

“Well, you came out of the house with a scowl on your face a mile wide. I guess it was reasonable to assume that you got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“I got up on the same side of the bed I always do, Hadley,” Beanie said. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” she asked.

“I dunno, Hadley,” Beanie said. “I didn’t want to tell you I’d flubbed up.”

“What are you talking about, Bean?” asked Hadley. “Did you blow up the washer at the Laundromat?”

“Naw,” Beanie said. “Nuthin’ like that.”

Beanie stood up. He really did look uncomfortable, Hadley thought.

“What is it?” she asked. “I’m starting to break out in hives from the anticipation, Bean.”

“Hot water,” Beanie said.

“Okay. You’re in hot water. Why?” Hadley asked.

“No,” Beanie said. “Well, yes and no. See, I guess you could say I’m in hot water, because I forgot to push the right button.”

“And,” Hadley said.

“You remember how you told me I needed to organize my wash. Get it in these little piles. Lights and darks and all that.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I did just that, Hadley,” Beanie said. “I got all my skivvies and washed them all in one load. I even went into the men’s room and took off the pair I was wearing. I didn’t come out of there naked, though. I ain’t stupid. I had my jeans on, just no skivvies under them. Anyway, like I said, I put them all in the machine and let ’er rip.

“I forgot to push the cold button. So, I’m in real deep hot water, Hadley.

“Somebody before me must have been washin’ a really dirty load. That water musta been boilin’ hot. My skivvies shrunk so much, they’d fit a baby.

“I didn’t get up on the wrong side of the bed, Hadley. I just ain’t myself in this pair of baby drawers. They pinch ’n’ hurt somethin’ terrible. I can hardly walk.

“I was squatted down in front of this possum cage. I heard them rip. I’m real glad they did. It seems to relieve me some. But I was practicing my smilin’ with this possum so you wouldn’t be mad at me.”

“Beanie,” Hadley said, “Come on. We’ll finish up here, and I’ll drive you over to the store to buy you a whole new set of skivvies.”

“But what about Maury?” Beanie asked.

“She catching a ride home with Ruth,” said Hadley.

Hadley,” Beanie said, “are you sure about this? Skivvies ain’t cheap. They’re gonna cost over $20! That’s a lot of dough.”

“Don’t you have a birthday coming up,” Hadley asked.

“Well, sure,” said Beanie. “It comes up about once’t a year.”

“Happy birthday,” Hadley said.

“But I just had it last month,” said Beanie.

“Happy next birthday,” said Hadley.

“Really?” said Beanie.

“Really,” said Hadley. “There’s no way I’m gonna stand around and watch you limp and grimace for another 11 months. The dough I spend today goes a long way to making you happy, Bean. Eleven months of happy into over $20 is just pocket change.”

“If you say so, Hadley,” said Beanie.

“I say so.

T
hy release
and rest I give to thee, dear one. Come not hither down to earth again. For thy everlasting peace I pledge my soul. Amen.

The sin-eater.

Some say he roams these hills no more.

Some say that in this modern age, there is no need for one who pawns his soul for others’ sins.

Some say.

There once was a man who lived far back in the woods. Shunned by all, he was only summoned when death visited the mountains.

The somber line of folks march to the graveyard. The body of the loved one goes with them, laid flat across the bier.

She looks at peace. Her Sunday dress and hat. Her boots polished to a shiny black. Her hand lay still across her breast. She looks at peace.

But is she?

Is it just a ruse she plays? She lays so still. Too still to be alive.

Her body’s cold and waxy. A bluish tint about her lips.

But is this just a ruse?

Her soul has not departed. It is here with us in this desolate place, this graveyard full of stones that mark the ones who’ve preceded us to the great unknown beyond this mortal life.

She is here. Just as much as if she still inhabited the flesh and bones that now lie here before us all.

I feel her. Her spirit. She is looking over our shoulders. Making sure that we do this right and proper.

She is here to oversee her body laid to rest.

The torches flicker in the mist. The night is heavy and bleak, a mirror’s reflection of our souls. We do not speak. We do not smile. This is not the time for such.

She is laid upon the mound of dirt that will soon lie over her.

A cloth is spread across her stomach below her folded hands. A wooden plate holds a piece of bread. It is set upon the cloth. A wooden cup is placed near the plate. The table has been spread.

We turn our backs. I shut my eyes. I do not wish to see what is to come.

But my ears are open. Opened wide. And I cannot help but hear his heavy steps.

For he is coming.

He is coming.

He is here.

The sin-eater is here. I cannot help but hear him. He is so close by. He stops. I know that he is at the body. I hear him grunt. He must be kneeling down, as I’ve been told they do.

I hear him eat the bread. He chews and slaps his lips. He slurps the wine in great gulps. He belches.

I hear speak and know that he is almost done.

“Thy release and rest I give to thee, dear one. Come not hither down to earth again. For thy everlasting peace I pledge my soul. Amen.”

He has taken her sins. They black his soul. He will leave now, burdened with another’s trespasses. It is his call in life. His duty.

His only friends are the unclean spirits who are as unholy as he.

We will not look into his eyes. We do not call his name. He is the leper. The outcast. The unclean.

He may walk among the strangers who live in town. They do not know what he is. They do not care. Non-believers look him in the eye, but he casts his down.

The shadow follows him wherever he goes.

He keeps to himself.

How did he get this way? Why was he chosen?

Did his father take the sins of all upon him to stave off starvation?

The sins of his father are passed down to him.

He wears the iniquity that scars us all.

The sin-eater.

* * *

I
t was
another essay sent to Anna by the same anonymous author. She knew because there was that image at the end. What was it? Anna wondered. There was nothing to do but print it out and study it.

“Hadley,” Anna said, “I can’t believe my luck. I was just wondering if you were busy.”

“I’m returning these books I checked out a couple of weeks ago,” Hadley said. “I want to stay on the head librarian’s good side when it comes to late fees.”

Both women laughed.

“What’s going on down in book land?” Hadley asked.

“Nothing much,” said Anna. “Same old same old. But I got another one of those strange essays. It was sent yesterday. I only got around to opening up the emails this morning. Here take a look.”

“Another one of those strange flowers at the end,” Hadley said. “It’s like a signature.”

“I don’t know what to make of it,” said Anna.

“Can I have this copy?” said Hadley. “I have some stuff to do, but later, I can give it my undivided attention. It’s haunting, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Anna. “I wonder who is sending me these. I feel like there’s almost some kind of message or something.”

Crash!

It was the sound of metal meeting metal, just outside the library’s door.

Hadley and Anna rushed to see what was going on.

“Oh my lord,” Anna said. “It’s a wreck.”

“Is anybody hurt?” Hadley asked.

No one was hurt. It was just a fender bender.

“That light was green!” Beul Fifield said.

“It was red,” said Orvis Noonemacher.

“Yes, it sure was on your side!” Beul said.

Bill was quickly on the scene.

“Let’s let the sheriff sort that out,” Anna said.

“Your right, Anna,” Hadley said. “We didn’t see it happen. And I think that the only thing we’d be in is in the way.”

Anna and Hadley started to step back inside the library.

Hadley turned around. She couldn’t believe her eyes. It was one of the Elanor twins driving Button Dudley’s truck.

“Anna,” Hadley said, “look.”

Anna turned and looked over Hadley shoulder.

“Did you see that?” Hadley asked.

“What, Hadley?” Anna said.

“All I see is Beul and Orvis giving Bill one heck of a time.”

“Strange,” muttered Hadley. “Very strange.”

T
hat was close
. Chandra was running late. She never should have driven Button’s truck into town, but she wasn’t going to walk all those miles on foot. Estill was threatening to cave into Floyd Carlisle’s suit. It was rubbish. The document was legal, but Floyd’s antics were breaking her small piggy bank.

Chandra was at Estill’s when a car drove up. It was one of Floyd’s henchmen. Estill talked with the man for a while. When she came back inside the workshed, she was obviously upset.

“He’s offering me a lot of money,” Estill said. “It’s only a fraction of what that tract is worth, but it’s still a fortune to me.”

“What are you going to do?” Chandra asked.

“I don’t know,” said Estill. “Floyd’s got me over a barrel. It’s not the land itself, it’s the waterfall portal. If I sell out, Floyd will develop Button’s land, and that place will be lost forever.”

“You can’t sell out,” Chandra said.

“I may not have a choice,” Estill said. “Floyd’s got the fortune behind him. If I don’t accept this offer, he’ll bleed me dry. I’ll lose not only the waterfall but my land and home, too. I’ll have nothing. Floyd Carlisle will get both Button’s property and mine thrown in as a bonus.”

“But it’s so unfair,” said Chandra.

“I know,” said Estill. “My magic worked on Button. But I can’t seem to make headway with Floyd. I think he’s protected, somehow. Maybe by Margaret-Dean Angeline.”

“Margaret-Dean is one of the frumpiest housewives in the valley,” said Chandra.

“Don’t let looks fool you,” said Estill.

“Margaret-Dean’s smart. And she’s strong. She was always ugly,” Estill said. “How do you think she landed Floyd? Floyd’s a nice lookin’ man. Always has been. When we were young, I wanted to be Mrs. Carlisle. Didn’t happen. Margaret-Dean saw to that.”