Nobody Knows Your Secret (5 page)

“
T
his pot roast
is really good, Hadley,” Bill said.

Maury and Bill were over for the weekly Thursday supper at Hadley’s.

“Thanks.” I added some paprika and cayenne pepper to the spice rub. I figured we all could use a little jazzy pizazzy this late in the week.”

“You got that right,” said Maury. “This is the first night Bill’s sat down to a real supper all week.”

“Kyle’s murder’s got everybody on pins and needles,” Bill said. “I feel like a hound dog chasin’ my tail. You wouldn’t believe how many false alarms have been called in this week. Somebody hears a twig pop after dark, and they’re on the horn callin’ the station. I can’t blame ’em, though.”

“I haven’t slept a wink since Kyle was killed,” Maury said.

“You haven’t slept a wink since you were born,” Hadley said. “But I know what you mean. I’m on high alert, myself. I hate being like this. My radar seems to go up with every unusual sound.

“The house settles, Onus is antsy, and a thousand other little things I never used to pay any attention to have me stopping and listening and wondering if I should be wary. I really hate what this cad has done to our sleepy little village.”

“Well,” Bill said, “our little village hasn’t been as sleepy as you might think for a very long time. It would turn your hair white to know the number of people around these hollows who are users. I go to homes every week where kids are dirty and moms and dads are strung out. Maybe they’ve gotten into a fight that turned bad. It makes me sick to see how these drugs have messed up so many lives.”

“I know,” Hadley said. “When Kyle broke into the garage and stole all that stuff, I was mortified to learn he’d burglarized my home to pay for his drug habit. I knew he was a handful. But I thought it was alcohol. I had no idea.”

“I know,” said Maury. “It’s easy to get lost in our little bubble and forget about the problems so many around us have and are going through.”

“Virgie came to see me,” Hadley said. “My heart broke for her. First, that awful accident at the amusement park.”

“I know,” Maury said. “Claire was such a beautiful girl. I don’t know how Virgie stood it. If something like that ever happened to Skip, I’d die. But a mother’s love is strong. I guess that’s what got Virgie through. She had to be strong for her daughter.”

“But Claire was never the same,” Hadley said. “She quit school. Just sort of drifted.”

“Right into trouble,” Bill added.

“I know,” Hadley said. “Claire getting pregnant with Kyle only added to Virgie’s problems.”

“Don’t you know I was shocked to hear who Kyle’s daddy was,” Maury said. “Cliff McKinney!”

“I don’t think Claire knew who the father was,” said Hadley. “And I don’t think Cliff is Kyle’s daddy. There’s no resemblance at all between them. Cliff’s sandy-haired and blue-eyed. Kyle was dark and swarthy.

“And remember, Claire’s always been easy. Kyle’s daddy could be any truck driver who ever passed through the county. She’s slept with any male who handed her five dollars.”

“I know,” said Maury. “It’s awful to think about.”

“I’m just surprised Kyle was born healthy,” Hadley said. “That’s the miracle, I think. Claire had to be eaten up with every venereal disease in the book.”

“But Kyle grew up as wild as a buck,” Maury said. “I held my breath that Skip wouldn’t get hooked up with Kyle’s crowd. They were older than Skip, but you know how the wild side appeals to kids.”

“We’ve been very lucky,” Bill said.

“Amen,” said Maury.

“Anyway,” Hadley said, “Virgie came by. She wanted me to help her find peace, she said. I told her I couldn’t interfere with an active criminal investigation.”

“Huh,” Bill said. “You could take all the evidence we got, Hadley, and put it on the end of a pin. I know you won’t say anything, but I gotta tell you, whoever did this was smart.”

“Middle of the night,” Hadley said. “No witnesses. In and out and away without so much as a bean-kiss-your-foot. That’s gotta be tough.”

“You said it,” said Bill.

“Where you gonna start?It’s not as if Kyle didn’t have a list of enemies a mile long. Drug dealers, pot growers, druggie friends. It’s not like he ran with the goodie-two-shoes crowd. And what about the people he’s stolen from, owed money to? I don’t know. The list seems endless to me.”

“That pretty much sums up what we’re up against,” said Bill.

“Lou Edna says Virgie was always complaining,” Maury said, “about Claire and all the pills she was on, when Virgie stopped in every week for her wash and set down at the shop. Lou said that Virgie told her Claire used to tell her mama she never understood why Virgie was so upset. Lou said Virgie said Claire just laughed one day and said ‘I’ve got a flash for you, Mama. It’s a dirty little secret. The mailman delivers my drugs. What was the big deal?’”

“I think it’s just too sad for words,” Hadley said. “I really do.”

“The mailman! I’m not surprised. But here’s another thing,” Bill said. “Kids get hooked on the meds that they steal from their parents. Then, when they can’t get them anymore, they look for cheaper highs. For a lot of them, that means heroin. It’s really sad to see so many young lives ruined or ended too soon.”

“It rained late the night Kyle was killed, didn’t it?” Hadley asked. “I remember the rain was pouring so hard, it woke me up. That means tire treads were washed away. Lost in the mud. Gosh, Bill, you can’t have anything to go on.”

“The roast was delicious, Hadley,” Bill said, “but I gotta run. I promised Elwin I’d stop by the office and see if he needed a hand. We’ve been busier than a band of fleas at a dog show.”

“Don’t worry, Bill,” Hadley said. “I’ll drop Maury home.”

“Yeah. Run along, honey,” Maury said. “I’ll help Hadley clean up the supper dishes.”

Bill gave Maury a quick peck on the cheek and headed out the door.

Bill sat in his car. He remembered the encounter he’d had with Candy and her two kids just last week. It was a hot, sunny day. Bill had just left the office to head over to the Spoon for a quick bite. Candy’s kids had gotten away from her. The groceries she’d had in her bags were spilled all over the street. Candy was yelling for her kids to stop running, but the two little imps were deaf to her calls.

* * *

“
H
ey
,” Bill said.

Bill grabbed Candy’s two little children before they could race out into the street.

“Thanks, Sheriff,” Candy said.

The poor mother looked exasperated. Her hair was a mess. Errant strands fell across her face. She had tried to pull it back into a pony tail, but the rubber band, or whatever she was using to hold it in place, was not working.

“You two kids have gotta be careful,” Bill said. “You just can’t go charging out into Main Street. A car could hit you. And where are your shoes?”

Bill looked at the tiny feet. Eight toes on each pair. No, that couldn’t be right.

“Gotta get my specs changed,” he mumbled.

The kids were eager for Bill to let go, but Bill was determined to have his say.

“Candy,” Bill said, “these little ones need shoes. They could cut their feet on a piece of glass or burn the soles of them on this hot pavement. Keep up with them. I know it’s hard, but I don’t want to see them get hurt.”

“I’ll try,” Candy said. “But it’s hard. They both move like greased lightning.”

“Well, you watch them. Mind how they cross the street,” Bill said.

“I will,” said Candy. “Thanks, Sheriff.”

“You have a good day, Candy,” Bill said.

Kids today, Bill thought, watching Candy and her two savages walk down the street. Like as not, he thought, those two little ones would have a hard row to hoe. Wasn’t Candy’s fault. Bill blamed that no account excuse for a father, Kyle Winthrop.

* * *

“
I
’m worried
,” Maury said. “Bill’s working himself to death but doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere on this case.”

“Virgie’s at her wit’s end, too,” Hadley said. “I tell you, Sis, I felt so sorry for her I didn’t know what to do.”

“Oh, let’s change the subject,” Maury said. “If we stay on this line of talk, I’m gonna be cryin’ oceans. How’s the dumpster duty goin’ at Eustian’s?”

“Girl,” Hadley said, “that place is all gaumed up. I never seen such a mess. Beanie and I have cleared a good path to the house. How one human could cram so much useless junk into a house is beyond me. First of all, why do it? Second, after you’ve been so industrious as to keep the stuff out of the dump and in its new home in your home, you’ve got to live with it.

“Roach Motel. Rat rendezvous. Dust magnet. A path. I’m not kidding. A tiny path in all that clutter. And he lived like that for decades. He had to, Maury. You can’t collect that much trash in one year. Or even two! It takes time. It’s gonna take Beanie and me some time to clear it out, but Beanie’s a hard worker.”

“Found any treasure, yet?” Maury asked.

“The only treasure I am looking for is the wooden floor boards. When I see floor, I know we’re on the downhill of cleaning out whatever room we’re in.”

“Still,” Maury said, “wouldn’t it be fantastic to find, oh, I don’t know, a hidden stash of hundred dollar bills, a rare gemstone.”

“A gold doubloon!” said Hadley. “Beanie and I have about as much chance of finding something valuable in the rubbish as you do of winning the lottery.”

“Oh, I know,” said Maury, “but it is fun to dream.”

“Eustian has quite a view of the old amusement park,” Hadley said. “I never realized just how much of the tumbled-down property can be seen from his porch.”

“I’ll bet when that park was opened,” Maury said, “it was like watching a circus side show. Can you imagine? Better than television.”

“Yeah,” Hadley said, “it would have been quite a show. But I don’t think Eustian was into being sociable.”

“Not that old goat,” said Maury. “He was into being crabby and cantankerous.”

“Still,” Hadley said, “you’re right. Beanie and I might stumble upon some secret Eustian’s had hidden in that house full of junk forever. You never know.”

“I’ll wash,” Maury said. “You dry. You know where everything goes.”

“Deal,” said Hadley. “And thanks for the elbow grease.”

“It’s the least I can do,” said Maury. “Your invitation got Bill to sit down for 30 minutes. He never refuses your cooking, Hadley.”

“Then,” Hadley said, “until this case is solved, I’ll just have to start inviting you two over more often. Bill can get a good meal with a little rest thrown in at no extra charge.”

V
irgie wanted to cry
.

Cleve was acting strange ever since Claire and Kyle had that big blow out. She remembered that awful day.

Claire swore Kyle was stealing her medicine again. Kyle told his mother off. It was a horrible, horrible scene. Cleve had stuck his nose in, tried to come between the two, and Kyle had socked him one in the kisser.

Cleve hit the ground like a rock.

He looked up at his grandson, nose pouring blood, and swore that if Kyle ever laid a hand on him again, he’d kill him.

“Just try old man!” Kyle screamed. “I’ll put you under the ground so fast it will make your head swim!”

“I’m gonna kill you, you snot-nose brat! Nobody talks to me that way! Nobody!”

Virgie had helped Cleve up and dusted him off. Cleve hadn’t said a word for three days. He wore a dark scowl, and his black eyes had a crazy look in them.

“The likker’s muddlin’ his brains,” Virgie said.

She’d seen it before. Too many years of hard drinking turned a man’s mind to mush. That had to be what was wrong with Cleve. She wished Cleve and Kyle could get along. Was that so much to ask?

They had always got along like oil and water. Virgie thought the two were so much alike they couldn’t stand each other. And now, their hatred had come to blows.

Kyle’s two kids, Luke and Emily, were running around screaming like wild animals. Nothing unusual about that. Virgie had never seen two more irritable little sprats in all her life. Both tykes had the attention span of a dust mite. They tore up every toy they ever had within 10 minutes of getting it out of the box, and when one wasn’t screaming or hitting the other, both were crying for unknown reasons.

Virgie blamed the drugs.

She’d heard on television about how they messed up kids’ behavior. Kyle was always high. Dang drugs! Prescription or street variety, they were all evil. And what about birth defects! Kyle’s two rug rats had that webbed second and third toe on both feet just like their daddy.

But still, if Virgie could have had her druthers, she’d have liked it if the kids hadn’t witnessed their daddy and grandpappy fighting like that. So much commotion! Between Cleve, Claire, Kyle, and those two kids of his, Virgie could never see a minute’s peace.

She knew it was awful, but, sometimes, she wished Kyle had never met Candy. The instant he’d seen her he was besotted. Besotted was the only word Virgie could think of that came close to describing the obsessive feelings Kyle had for Candy.

Maybe it was a foot fetish, Virgie mused.

She’d seen Candy’s feet in sandals. They looked just like Kyle’s. Funny how things like that happened. But whatever drew Kyle to Candy, it overpowered him. The attraction was beyond explanation. Candy was flesh and blood like everybody else. It was real and powerful and pulsed on a vibe all its own. Intense. Atomic. Irresistible.

Unnatural came to mine, too.

But Virgie kept these thoughts to herself. Cleve would backhand her a good one if she’d breathed one word of how she felt. Virgie knew that she and Cleve were only going through the motions. The fires of their lust were quenched long ago.

Virgie tolerated her husband’s loutish behavior and drinking because that was what a good wife did. She made excuses for Cleve’s laziness. She ignored his insults. There were only two loves in Cleve’s life: himself and booze.

Cleve made love to his beer bottles every night, drinking himself into a stupor before going off to snore the night away. His slim waistline abandoned Cleve like a mariner deserting a sinking ship. He’d been a right smart handsome fellah when Virgie first saw him down at Cotton’s Mercantile so many years ago. Young and tall with a thick head of shiny, black hair, Cleve turned more than a few heads, then. Virgie wasn’t so bad herself back then, either. She had all her teeth and a luscious mane of auburn hair that cascaded over her shoulders.

Both Cleve and Virgie were from hard-scrabble, poor mountain stock. They married and set up housekeeping. Cleve had several jobs, but his main occupations, even then, was drinking moonshine or drinking beer. Cleve came from a long line of hard drinkers. He grew up thinking no man was worth his salt ‘if he couldn’t hold his likker.’

Cleve was all man when judged by this measure.

Virgie tried hard to do her duty. She became pregnant three times, but miscarried. On the fourth try, she carried the fetus to full term, delivering a lovely little girl that Cleve named Claire.

Virgie was secretly hoping that Cleve would allow her to name the baby because he had told her the baby’s name would be Hortense Nelly, after his mother. After the baby was born, and the midwife said it was a girl, Cleve came into the bedroom.

“I declare if she ain’t about the purtiest thang I ever laid eyes on.”

From that moment on, she was Claire.

Claire was a beautiful name, and Virgie decided she’d bring the couple luck. She was a happy child. Virgie had two more stillborn babies after Claire. All those little ones, she often brooded, looking out at the little rocks marking each grave in her backyard, and one living. A dark cloud would come over Virgie as she wondered when she would be looking out her window at the rock that marked Claire’s plot of ground.

But unlike so many children from the backwoods, Claire made it through those first few years. Virgie did not have much education, but she knew enough to know that fevers and maladies stalked the smallest and weakest.

She made sure Claire was kept warm, and she fed her the best of whatever scarce food was in the house. Cleve’s erratic work habits meant that he was often fired. Even in the hardest times, Virgie made sure the milk cow was fed and kept in the ragged shed Cleve called a barn. Claire needed milk. Virgie’s had dried up shortly after Claire was born.

And now, Virgie’s beloved daughter was 15. Hard to believe so much living had been compressed in such a short time. It seemed like only yesterday that her little girl was knee high to a grasshopper. She remembered that graceful tyke scampering about the yard chasing lightening bugs or making flower petal necklaces. Virgie had spent many an hour, her cracked calloused hands fashioning corn husks into dolls for her beautiful baby girl. Virgie secretly savored the sound of her little baby’s sparkling laugh that brightened her otherwise dull, work-filled days.

Not only was her girl pretty, she was smart, too. Claire was doing well in school. There was talk of a scholarship. Maybe even a year or two at college. Her daughter’s future looked bright. Virgie was so proud.

Then, Cleve got it in his head that the best birthday present of all would be a family day at that amusement park. Virgie thought the idea was ridiculous. She and Claire had planned to bake a special cake for Claire’s birthday. Three layers with pecans and icing.

But Cleve insisted Claire’s birthday would be spent riding rides and eating cotton candy. Claire would rather have stayed home and baked that cake. She had no interest in Ferris wheels. She was afraid of heights. She didn’t want to ride the swings. Going round and round in circles would probably make her sick. And the thought of rocketing up and down on that roller coaster, being slung first one direction and then the other, filled her with dread.

Virgie had bought three yards of material and sewn Claire a new dress. Claire wanted to wear that dress to the Bluegrass Festival the following week, but Cleve insisted she wear it to the amusement park. As Cleve sucked on his beer, Claire wanted to tell her father that she’d rather do anything than accompany a half-drunk redneck to an amusement park, but like her mother, Claire decided to go along with her father’s plans and not cause a fuss. It was her birthday, after all, and it would wonderful if she could just get through the day without hearing arguments and having a bottle thrown across the room in anger. Maybe her mother and father could manage to get along this one special day.

Cleve was working at the coal mine then. It meant a 40 mile drive one way, and the work was dangerous and dirty, but he was making more money than he’d ever made in his life, and he was proud of that fact.

Virgie held her breath that the call-in sick day would not prove to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, as far as Cleve’s job was concerned. She kept telling her husband that if he kept lying out of work at the drop of a hat, all he’d end up with his empty hat stuck out for folks to throw a pauper’s penny into. Begging would be the only option Cleve had left. He’d worked in every mill around. He had a reputation as a hot head, and what his temper didn’t do to get him into hot water with his superiors, shooting off his mouth did.

Cleve was always in trouble one way or the other.

But he turned a deaf ear to Virgie’s protests. His little girl was fast growing up. Cleve felt the hands of Time running out. Soon, Claire would marry and leave the nest. It was now or never, he determined. And he made up his mind that Claire’s birthday would be spent making memories at the amusement park.

Virgie would forever regret going along with Cleve’s harebrain idea of going to that amusement park to celebrate Claire’s birthday. She had kept silent, just to keep peace. But after what had happened, she decided peace wasn’t worth the high price they had all paid.

* * *

H
ardison Branwell hawked and spit
. He was about as disgusted as a man could get. Candy was going out with that no good clod of mountain gulley dirt called Kyle Winthrop.

Again.

It was the third time this week. Sixteen, going on 30, Hardy noted. He hoped she didn’t turn up pregnant. That would be just his luck.

The same thing had happened to Hardy Branwell when he’d met Candy’s mother, Willie Mae. Hardy had done the honorable thing and married the woman he had gotten pregnant. Some men just fathered children and left the mother to raise them on her own. Nowadays, folks didn’t bat an eye at such. But Hardy detested the thought of his flesh and blood being branded illegitimate.

Claire Winthrop had gotten pregnant and bore her son, Kyle. She didn’t marry his father. He bore the surname Winthrop, like his mother, Claire, and his grandparents, Cleve and Virgie. Kyle had no idea who his father was, just like about everyone else in Hope Rock County.

But Hardy had married Willie Mae just to give Candy his name and a decent home. Not that he regretted having his little girl, one bit. But it was a bitter pill to swallow when you were a father at 17. He was still a kid, but he had buckled down, done the right thing, and tried to be the best father he could be.

Willie Mae had never taken to the responsibilities of motherhood and family. When Candy was eight, Willie Mae skipped town with a truck driver she had met at the truck stop at the county line. Hardy never heard from Willie Mae again. That meant Hardy was a single parent with a young daughter when single fathers were not all that common.

Good thing Hardy’s mama lived so close by. She’d been a godsend, helping raise Candy while Hardy made a living. Hardy had kept his nose to the grindstone, paid for their trailer, and managed to save a little for a rainy day.

Then, overnight puberty struck. Candy changed in an instant, and all Hardy’s plans and dreams went swirling down the drain. The boys liked his little Candy. And Candy returned their favors. Hardy was mortified. The more he tried to keep his daughter on a short leash, the harder Candy pulled away. Hardy had that sick,sinking feeling that he was in the middle of a no-win situation.

It was bad enough when Candy was dating the whole football team. Then, she met Kyle Winthrop. What a plug nickel that boy was. Illegitimate. Not worth the cost of the bullet to put him out of his misery.

Hardy knew Claire, Kyle’s mother, from way back. Claire was pretty enough before the accident, but afterwards, she was lost to depression and prescription pain medicine. The pills kept her high, so Claire was fun to be with at parties. The drugs tore down any inhibitions Claire did about anything, so she was a blast in the sack, and popular despite her handicap.

Everyone looked liked a movie star when the lights were off. And Claire had a real nice voice. Her laugh was silky and fluid like mercury. She had the cutest little mole just below her left breast, and a ladybug tattoo on her right buttocks. She could have made some guy a nice, sweet wife – if drugs hadn’t messed her up so badly.

Such a waste.

Then Claire had turned up pregnant. She delivered a baby boy and decided she was going to keep him and raise him on her own. Claire had let Kyle run loose. It was easy when you were lost in the haze of synthetic opioids. Kyle ran with the wrong crowd early on. He’d gotten into trouble at an early age and just seemed to stay there, like a cow mired stomach deep in mud.

Not that Hardy didn’t feel sorry for Claire. She had really been dealt a bad hand. But this was Candy that Kyle had his eye on. Hardy’s little girl!

When Candy told Hardy she feared she was pregnant, Hardy lost his head.

“He’s gone over to Claire’s to beat Kyle up,” Hardy’s mama told Candy.

Candy got in her car and spun gravels.

The two were in the yard going at each other like two tom cats.