Nobody's Sorry You're Dead: A Hadley Pell Cozy Mystery (5 page)

“
S
o
, Beanie,” Hadley said to the man sitting on a bench outside of Hooker’s Shoe Shop, “are you in or out?”

“I don’t know,” said Beanie. “I really have to give this some thought. You know me. I don’t cotton to stirring up spirits, Hadley.”

“Stirring up spirits! Beanie, you’re a one-armed grave digger, for Pete sakes!”

“Over one and four-fifths, if you don’t mind,” said Beanie.

“Umm,” said Hadley. “You’re exactly right, Beanie. My ignorant miscalculation. Sorry.”

“And Hadley, I know it sounds silly, but,” he continued, “I’m paid to do that. It’s like part of the service. The preacher says his kind words over the hole, and then, I close it up. It ain’t done till I do my part.

“I hear people talking about closure all the time around the graveside. You can’t have closure without me, Hadley. You just can’t. Besides, before I fill up that hole, I get the preacher’s blessing. So you see, closure and a good word to the Man upstairs. That’s pretty good if you ask me.”

“Yes, it is, Beanie. You do your job. And you do it right. Nobody can say you don’t. This is a job I am offering you, too. A good job. And I know that we can do it right together. As a team. A team, Beanie. You and me.

“After we’re done, you’ll get paid, just like you do when you fill up a hole in the cemetery,” said Hadley. “You want me to, I’ll call Preacher Jake, and we can get him to say a nice long prayer for us before we start. You want me to do that, Beanie? I’m sure Jake won’t mind, one bit. He might even come out to Eustian’s house and pray if that would make you feel better about this.”

“But this ain’t one of your normal jobs, Hadley,” Beanie said. “This ain’t mowing a yard or cutting down some bushes or cleaning out some tool shed. This ain’t what we usually do.”

“Of course, it is, Beanie,” said Hadley. “It’s just a job, like all the rest. You’ll get half like always.”

“But this is Eustian’s house you’re talkin’ about,” Beanie said. “Eustian Singlepenny! Ouuwee, Hadley. I don’t know if I wanna do it or not. Eustian Singlepenny! He ain’t no good man. Not a good man at all. I seen how he treated folks around here. I’ve heard people talkin’ when they think I wasn’t listening. And I may be dumb, but I know right from wrong, Hadley.”

“Of course, you do, Bean. Nobody’s not saying you don’t know that.”

“I got a pretty good feelin’ Eustian’s walkin’ on hot coals,” Beanie said. “You know what I’m saying? Though I ain’t judging, mind you. I’m just goin’ by what I know.

“And knowin’ that old man, if there is any way out of that horrible place he’s woke up in, Eustian will find it. He always was slippier than an eel and meaner than a rattlesnake that’s just been stepped on.”

“Nice theory,” Hadley said, splitting her baloney sandwich with Beanie as they sat on the bench.

It was a trick that always worked with her friend. Never would Beanie have accepted her offer of a whole sandwich. He was a gentleman. Better to go hungry, be honorable, and decline. Besides, didn’t Hadley know that Beanie’s mother had taught him better?

No amount of reasoning could convince Beanie he was not taking food out of Hadley’s mouth. So, Hadley circumvented Beanie’s convoluted logic and always packed at least two, careful to cut them in half before she left home.

Beanie had no objections to sharing. His mother had always taught him that’ too.

They each finished off their first half of a sandwich, and Hadley dove into the sack and split the second one with Beanie.

“But, I really don’t think it works that way. See, we’re living in modern times, and science can do wonders. I think by now, if ghosts were real, we’d know it. We’d have seen it in the news. The networks would be sure to report something as important as ghosts are really real.

“And you know scientists, nowadays, are so clever. I mean super-duper smart. Smarter than you and me, Beanie. By miles. They would have found a way to prove that. I mean, if they really did exist. But they never have.

“There’s no such thing. Believe me. No such thing as ghosts. We don’t have to worry that Eustian is gonna rise from the grave and haunt us. You, of all people, should have figured that out by now. Has any one of your customers ever complained once you had him planted in the ground?”

“No,” said Beanie.

“Not one peep. Well, then. I proved my point. Case closed,” said Hadley. “I wish I’da had a tomato to put on this thing. Nothing spruces up a good hunk a baloney like a nice homegrown tomato.”

“It’s a good sandwich, Hadley. Real good. Even without the tomato.”

Hadley had known Beanie Fugate since grade school. His real name was Vesper Wendell Fugate. In school, Beanie had this wonderful talent for making flatulent noises. He pressed the palms of his hands together to make the funniest sounds. At least, his classmates thought so. He was a hit in the lower grades.

But life had not been kind to Beanie as an adult. He had moved away from Hope Rock County and found work in another state at a pulp mill. An accident at the mill had left him minus two fingers with a mangled forearm and a few rocks short of a nice stone wall.

Sometimes.

Beanie moved back home after the accident. He worked as a groundskeeper and grave digger at one of the local cemeteries. Lots of people made fun of Beanie, but Beanie was a good egg. And Hadley tried to help him whenever she could.

Beanie owned no phone. Hadley took the chance she’d run into him in town. Luck was on her side. She had spotted Beanie in front of the shoe store. And she was sure Beanie would agree to help her. She’d brought the one thing Beanie could never resist – baloney for lunch. It had seemed like a foolproof plan. But as she talked to her friend, she began to wonder if it wouldn’t backfire and Beanie would fail to agree to help her clean out the house.

Lunch was over, and even baloney hadn’t convinced Beanie to agree to help her. She kept talking, trying to wear down her friend, trying to spell out her plan in tiny drops, like water dripping down a mountain erodes the Grand Canyon.

“Look, Beanie, Eustian was an old man. Over-the-hill. As old as Methuselah old. Ancient. As old as dirt. Eustian was getting on, Beanie. It was his time. That’s all. He died alone in that big old farm house of his. And that’s just the way he wanted it. I’m not speaking ill of the dead. You know what I’m saying is gospel truth. He wanted to be left alone. And everybody gave him what he wanted.”

Beanie stared silently ahead, taking in Hadley’s points.

“Huh,” she said, “if you didn’t, he’d sue you. Simple as that. Even if you did leave him alone, he still might sue you. Just for pure spite. Eustian was like that.

“He was so mean nobody missed him until he failed to show up for his court date. That’s what Lou Edna told me. I heard that straight from Lou Edna’s lips. And she ought to know. God Himself is the only person, I know personally, who knows more than Lou Edna. Eustian is gone, and nobody’s really too tore up about it.”

Beanie chewed on all Hadley had said.

“He was a hateful, spiteful man,” Hadley said.

“Yeah,” said Beanie. “He was. I still can’t help but feel sorry for him, though. It’s like ‘boom!’ Eustian’s dead, ‘n nobody’s sorry.”

“Well,” Hadley said, “I guess you have a point. There have been lots more folks I’ve cried buckets over. But Eustian’s not one of them. I look at it this way. A man like Eustian Singlepenny is like kudzu and honeysuckle. A real nuisance. Something you just put up with because you have to. He was what he was, and he wasn’t gonna change. Ever. I just bit my tongue and steered clear of him.”

“Well,” Beanie said after he’d had time to process it all, “if nobody cares if he’s dead, why don’t they just bulldoze his place down and be done with it? Rake Jakell could do it. Why don’t y’all ask Rake? He’s real good with that bulldozer. Handles it gentle like it’s a woman.

“I seen him knock down the old Whistler shack. He looked like the big bad wolf, you know. He just cranked up that old dozer, and it huffed and puffed, and Rake just plowed that thing down like it was nothing. Rake would do it, if he wasn’t busy. Why don’t you ask him, Hadley?”

“Because, Beanie,” Hadley said, “they got some folks nibbling at the prospect of getting their hands on all that Singlepenny land. Bill said the calls started coming into his office shortly after the papers came out.

“Eustian owned prime land. And though he was a skinflint in a lotta ways, he always made sure that house he lived in had a good roof. I’m sure it’s bone dry in there. Probably as dirty as a pig’s sty but as dry as a bone. A coat of paint and a good scrubbing inside, and a house like that is quite livable. It’s gotta add value to the whole package.

“They’ve already hinted as much to Bill, who was kind enough to ask me if I wanted to tackle the job for $500. Beanie, that’s $250 for you! Two hundred and fifty big ones! That ain’t chump change, Beanie. So, come on. What do you say? I really need your help.”

“But Hadley, are you sure you want me for this?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” Hadley said. “Look, Bean, I really need you. I do. Even with only one and four-fifths wings, you work harder than any other three men I know. And if I’m lucky, Maury will help us with the lighter cleaning for free. After we’ve cleared a lot of the spider webs in that place, and she’s sure the rat’s nests and snakes are gone, that is.

“I know that girl. Maury’s curiosity will get the best of her, and she’ll be begging me for a chance to see inside that house. Nobody’s set foot in there since the Great Flood. This is gonna be like opening up King Tut’s tomb.”

Beanie looked up at the sky, waiting for his answer from above.

“Beanie,” Hadley said softly.

“Yeah, Hadley.”

“There will be baloney sandwiches and homemade potato salad and chocolate cake every day we’re out there. I promise.”

Beanie grinned.

“You know, with all that,” Beanie said, “you can keep the dough, Hadley.”

“No, Beanie. After we’re paid, I’ll drive you to Mr. Winters, and we’ll deposit your half into your savings account.”

“For a rainy day?” said Beanie.

“Yes, Beanie.”

“But Hadley, you always say that. Then, when it rains, I get so mad because I’m soaking wet, I forget to go to the bank and take out the dough.”

“That’s all right, Beanie. You keep that money in there with Mr. Winters. He’s good at watching it for you. He’ll keep it dry for you, too. I’ll let you know when it’s rainy enough to take it out. I want you to save what you’ve got in the bank for a really, really, really bad stormy day, okay?”

“Yeah,” Beanie said. “Hadley?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the smartest lady I know, you know that.”

“Beanie?”

“Yeah, Hadley.”

“You’re the best grave digger I know.”

“Really the best?”

“Really the best,” Hadley said.

Beanie’s smile was brighter than the sun.

Mission accomplished.

Hadley crumpled up the wax paper from the sandwiches and got back into her car.

Next stop, home.

“
W
ell
, I just . . . when I think I’ve seen it all. Hadley, what are you doing?”

It was Luther Abraham, the postman.

“Hey, Luther,” Hadley said. “Smile. Oh, Luther! Stop looking like you swallowed a raw turnip and sprouted a carrot out of your ear! Shoot! What am I doing wrong? You look fuzzier than the fur balls under my bed!

“Harry gave me lessons on how to use this thing years ago. After he passed, I packed it up and forgot all about it. I was cleaning out the attic, and I ran up on it. I stored Harry’s stuff up there, you know. Now, I’m going through some of it. But I gotta tell ya, even now, it’s hard.”

Hadley lowered the video camera from her face.

“Yeah, Hadley. Harry was one of the guys who always wore the white hat,” said Luther, turning away and trying to give Hadley a subtle hint that he didn’t want a camera stuck in
his
face.

“I’m thinking about going into the movies, Luther. You want to be my leading man?”

Luther’s face turned twelve shades of scarlet.

“It’s a joke. Don’t turn all lobster on me. And stop turning away. I’m trying to figure out how to focus this crazy thing! Harry always made this look so easy.”

“Why don’t you use your phone to take movies? Seems to me that would be a whole lot easier.”

“Because, Luther,” Hadley said, pointing the video cam directly up Luther’s nose, “I have a flip phone. I know this setup is a little outdated, but this belonged to Harry. I am using it because I found it and because it makes me feel close to Harry, Luther.”

“Well,” Luther said, “just get the disc or the manual, if it has one, and read how to use it. I find that’s always the easiest way. Saves you a lot of grief and time, too. Usually,” Luther said.

“Well, where’s the fun in that Luther?” Hadley said. “Though, you may be right. I’ve wasted an hour trying to figure it out on my own. All I have to show for sixty minutes of fiddling this machine is an image so blurry you’d be hard-pressed to tell the difference between a gnat in a whirlwind and the Queen in London’s fog.”

Hadley messed with the camera a bit more.

“Whoa. This is making me sick. Maybe you’re right,” she said, taking her mail and turning toward the door. “No sense in breaking this before I’ve had a chance to video my masterpiece. Nice talkin’ to you Luther. Excuse me, though. Gotta run.”

“No problem a’tall, Hadley,” Luther said, glad to have the irritating lens focused away from his face. “Good luck on your new career.”

“Thanks, Luther. Hollywood better look out! Well, that is if I can ever figure this contraption out! Oh, Luther, I almost forgot. Here's something for you to post,” Hadley said, handing him the contest form for Sara’s Silver Polish and Stain Remover that had been resting on the porch rail beside her.

“Thanks Hadley. I’ll get this right off for youSee you later.”

Luther’s head was already buried in his mail pouch. He was busy sorting through the mail belonging to the next five houses down the street.

“Good grief,” Hadley said. “Man’s got a profile like a wedge of cheese. Gotta be from all those years of nosing through our mail. Limburger Luther. Hee. Hee. Hadley, you crack me up!”

She liked to laugh at her own jokes once in a while. She felt she had to. Rarely did anyone else ever appreciate her brand of humor.

Hadley climbed the stairs and opened the attic door. Harry always meant to finish the attic and maybe make a little office up there. Unfortunately, he had never gotten around to that project. As a result, the attic slowly filled with boxes of Christmas decorations, filing cabinets full of appliance manuals and tax records, unused furniture, and other things that had outlived their usefulness.

There were no windows in the attic portion of the house. It was a dark and cluttered place. Sliding her hand across the wall inside the entrance, she felt around until she found the light switch. She switched it on.

Yes, the attic was cluttered, but it did seem to have been organized in a logical way. There was a pathway to each area of storage.

Thank you, Harry, Hadley thought.

“Well, Onus,” she said to the bright-eyed, fat orange tabby who watched her indifferently, “looks like it’s time to dive into things and see what we discover. Geez Louise, I hope Harry didn’t throw that manual away.”

Even as she said the words, Hadley knew that he had not. Harry was a stickler for organization. She guessed that the booklet would be filed in his file cabinet on the far side of the attic. And sure enough, there it was, alphabetized under the brand name of the camera, sitting in its own neat little folder.

“Ah, Harry,” Hadley said, softly, “that’s my boy.”

CRASH!

Hadley jumped out of her skin, pitched forward, and fell over an old dress mannequin. Onus had been busy being nosy, noodling about wherever he wished, and he had knocked an old tea kettle from a shelf.

“Onus!” Hadley said. “You scared the life outta me.”

She rolled up onto her knees and grunted and squirmed her way up to vertical. Onus never bothered to look her way.

“I almost put out my eye,” Hadley said, walking over to an old, full-length mirror to check out the damage. “But little do you care. I’m gonna have a nice shiner, after this. What do you think, Onus? Does this make me look tougher?”

Onus was too busy licking his paw to pay his mistress any heed.

“What are you doing up here, anyway? There’s nothing up here but old junk. And since when do you care to keep an eye on the old lady who feeds you and takes care of you?”

“Reow,” Onus answered.

“Following me like I’m a debutante who needs a chaperone. I’m only looking for an instruction booklet. Nothing special to see, I promise you.”

Hadley held the book up for the cat. Onus sat about five feet away, watching her with a look of pure disdain on his handsome feline face.

“You old ingrate. Nobody but me would put up with you, old fellah. I’m tellin’ you. You’d better take better care. You’ll be out in the streets and up the creek without a canoe or a paddle.”

Onus stuck his tongue out at her. She could not help but laugh. Onus could take care of himself. Just one look in those intelligent blue eyes of his would tell you. But still, he had to like her. He’d hung around, hadn’t he?

Onus turned his back on Hadley and began to groom himself.

“You are one aloof bird. You know that? Of course, you do,” Hadley said, switching off the light to the attic and making sure the cat shot down the stairs before closing the door behind her.