Nobody's Sorry You're Dead: A Hadley Pell Cozy Mystery (10 page)

Beanie stood very still in the doorway as Hadley worked. She documented everything, the dirty dishes in the sink, on the counter, and all of the bugs, dead and alive, on the floor and surfaces. She even made sure to get a good close-up of the Shut-In Surprise box, the grimy window over the sink, and the toppled chair on the floor where Eustian’s body was found.

“What have we got ourselves into, Hadley?” Beanie said, as Hadley finished.

“Kinda thinkin’ along those same lines, myself,” Hadley said. “But I was right about Eustian making sure to have a dry roof over his head. I haven’t seen one brown stain from water damage on any of these ceilings.”

“Not much ceiling to see with all this junk piled so high,” Beanie said.

“Yeah, but, what little I do see looks as dry as the Sahara.”

“If you say so, Hadley.”

“I’ll tell you what I do say, Beanie. Just the thought of all this work makes me hungrier than a starving vegetarian locked away in a meat market. Let’s go home and dig into some of those leftovers I was tellin’ you about.”

“Sounds good to me,” Beanie said.

Hadley carefully locked Eustian’s front door.

“I’m being extra cautious, Beanie. I’m not really trying to lock people out because I’m afraid they’ll steal something. What worries me is somebody snooping around in there and getting hurt. I was only joking when I told Maury we might run up on old Mrs. Singlepenny.”

Just then something inside the old farmhouse made a loud thump.

“Jeepers! Did you hear that, Bean?” Hadley asked. “Must be Eustian signaling his anger because we’ve been all through his house.”

Beanie paled.

Pearing into the grimy front door window, Hadley noticed a pile of books that had fallen into the floor. A cloud of dust settled in the fading sunlight.

“Oh, Beanie. It’s not Eustian. It’s just an old pile of books that hit the floor. I was just joking, really. There are no ghosts rattling around in there. A lotta junk. But no ghosts.”

But as she retreated down the front steps toward the car, she looked back at the dead old man’s house.

Maybe it wasn’t such a joke, after all.

“
A
re
you sure you don’t mind, Rayna?” Hadley said, for the second time.

“No, Hadley. I don’t mind at all. Really. I think it’s ghastly the way they handle those women’s meetings at church. Last one in the door is the first one drafted. I know it’s happened to me often enough. We can co-chair this year’s events,” Rayna Croft said.

“That’s fine and dandy with me, Rayna,” Hadley said, relieved that at least some of the burden was off her shoulders.

Rayna Croft was one of the hardest working women in Hope Rock County. And she was a good cook.

“I’ve got so much to do, and I suddenly feel a bit overwhelmed,” Hadley said. “You know, like I’ve got too many irons in the fire.”

“I’ll come over one evening when you’re not busy, and we can divvy up the chores and get ourselves organized. How are you coming along with cleaning out Mr. Singlepenny’s place?” Rayna asked.

“You know about that?” Hadley said.

“Maury filled me in,” Rayna said. “She’s none too happy you’re out there, you know.”

“Don’t I know it,” Hadley said. “And Maury’s none too happy with Bill for suggesting it in the first place. Her panties are so wadded, I don’t know when she ever get them untangled. I how she doesn’t give Bill too much grief over this. I’m glad to keep busy, you know.”

“Busy. Don’t I know what the meaning of that word is,” said Rayna. “Well, give me a ring when you want me to drop by. I think I’ve still got some of the recipes for several for the desserts that were fixed year before last when I was in charge.”

“Oh, good. There’s a double Dutch chocolate cake I want to make and a couple of other goodies I tasted that I can’t wait to bake myself,” said Hadley. “But be sure to make any notes on those things, okay? I know you like to experiment with your recipes like me. Remember those ground nuts you added in the crust of your chocolate chip potato chip pie. A stroke of genius!”

“I’m glad you liked them, Hadley,” Rayna said.

“How did you get them so fine?” Hadley asked. “I’ve tried beating them with a hammer. Tore a hole in my dishtowel. Wasn’t the hammer’s fault though. My dishtowel was worn out.”

“I used the coffee grinder,” Rayna said.

“That is good to know,” said Hadley. “Speaking of flub-ups. Boy, did I ever mess up my chocolate chip pumpkin biscuits with strawberry-vanilla jam when I tried to add some chili powder. Talk about a Pellacious hash of yucky flavors!”

“I remember that one,” Rayna said.

“Boy,” said Hadley, “was that ever one for the trash can! But you never know until you try, Rayna.

“You know, cooking can be such a boring task if you always do every dish the exact same way every single time. That’s why I love to dump cook. And while I’m dumping, I also like to mine the cabinets for some forgotten spice or flavor combination. To me, it’s only fun if you use your imagination and unusual ingredients. I know it’s iffy. Sometimes, I fall flat on my face. So what!

“Maury is not like you and me. She will not deviate one pinch from the recipe. That’s half the fun. Sure, you might end up with a mess. But, you might come up with a new winner! I swear those State Fair competitions get harder every year. I’ll be sure and give you a call when I catch a minute, Rayna.”

“Okay.”

“Bye, now.”

Onus jumped in her lap.

“Well, look who’s here,” Hadley said. “Three rub-a-dub dubs and that’s it.”

She rubbed the cat’s belly three times. Satisfied, Onus jumped down. She would not stroke her cat a fourth time. She had learned that lesson the hard way. He’d swatted her hand with outstretched claws and cried furiously.

But three, and only three, was a safe number, a good number, and the exact amount of strokes that satisfied her lordly little Prince of Pell Manor.

* * *

B
rinkley Daymore wiped
the grease from his hands on his grimy rag.

“The starter’s shot, Hadley,” Brinkley said.

Brinkley had operated the local service station for over twenty years. One gas pump and a single garage area for repairs, but it served the town's automotive needs. Brinkley was the station’s only owner and sole employee. He was efficient and capable and never hurried. He was like the steady tortoise who always won the race.

Never rattled, never angered, Brinkley focused on whatever job he had scheduled – waxing, brakes, or filling up a customer’s tank. Finishing that one, he proceeded to the next. Slow and steady. Yet, he managed to get a tremendous amount of work accomplished in one day by keeping distractions to a minimum.

“How long is she out of commission?” Hadley asked.

Hadley always referred to any car she’d ever driven as ‘she.’ To Hadley, a car was like Onus – an indifferent beast that was wonderful to own when it behaved but could turn on a dime and torture your soul when it did not.

“Beg pardon, Hadley,” Brinkley said.

“The car,” Hadley said. “I need that car, Brinkley. I’ve been hog-tied into chairing the annual bazaar and bake sale. That means a thousand errands. I’ve got jobs lined up. Beanie’s counting on me. He’ll starve if I don’t provide transportation so we can get paid.”

“Beanie won’t starve. He already has a job,” said Brinkley.

“Well, who do you think is carrying him to the cemetery to bury Eustian? I need that car yesterday, Brinkley,” Hadley said. “Rent me your truck.”

“What?”

“You heard me. If you have to keep my car here until you can get it fixed, then rent me that rattle-trap piece of junk you call a truck. I know it’s not much to look at, Brinkley, but I’ve heard you crank her up.”

“Well, it does purr, don’t it?” Brinkley said, swelling with pride.

“Ten dollars plus gas,” Hadley said.

“But Hadley,” Brinkley protested, “I can’t do that! If I was to rent my truck out to you, pretty soon, every Eddie and Freddie in the county will want me to do the same for them.”

“No, they won’t. Just tell them you sold it to me,” said Hadley.

“Sold it!” said Brinkley.

“Yes.”

“And what am I supposed to say when you bring it back?”

“Just that,” said Hadley, not missing a beat. “You tell them I tried it out and decided I liked old Betsy better. Tell them I’m just a wishy-washy woman. A typical woman who thinks she wants something until she gets it. Then, she wishes she had what she had in the first place.”

“Ain’t nobody gonna believe that fish tale,” said Brinkley.

“Sure they will. We’re talking Hadley Pell, remember.”

Brinkley pushed up the bill of his blackened baseball hat and rubbed the part of his forehead that rarely saw the sun. That ribbon of skin was as pale as paper and stood out in stark contrast to the leathery skin on his sunburned face. It made the garage mechanic look naked somehow.

“You do know how to turn a dime, Hadley. I’ll give you that. Most folks’ll buy that story hook, line, and sinker. Especially the ones who know you real good.”

“Don’t I know it,” said Hadley, stuffing a crispy, new $10 bill into Brinkley’s pocket before he had a chance to think about their deal.

“Key’s in the ignition,” Brinkley said. “I’ll send Gopher over later to let you know when I’m done. You mind how you treat my truck, Hadley.”

“I’ll treat your truck like it was a fetus in my womb, Brink,” Hadley said, pulling the ball cap down on Brinkley’s forehead. “Keep that snow patch covered. Sheriff Bill might have to arrest you for indecent exposure.”

Brinkley turned as red as a beet. He stood there wondering what had just happened, confused at his embarrassment, and embarrassed at his confusion.

“Take care of my truck,” he yelled.

“Don’t worry,” Hadley shouted. “Get my car running as fast as you can.”

Brinkley felt like the world had just been turned upside down. Had he been bested by a woman? He didn’t know. But one thing was certain. Time was wasting, and the more time he wasted, the longer Hadley Pell would be driving around in his beloved truck.

“
B
eanie
.”

“Hadley? That you? Why are you doing drivin’ ‘round in Brinkley’s old heap?”

“Beanie, come on. Get in.”

“Okay, but Hadley, this ain’t the way to Eustian’s house.”

“We’re not going there. We’ve got an unscheduled stop to make.”

“Hadley, what are you talking about?”

“Beanie, what are you doing? Leave that glove box alone. Your rooting around in that thing will cause me to wreck this junker. It’s already costing me $10 plus gas. At this rate, I’ll be paying Bill to clean out that old farmhouse.”

“Hadley, what are you talking about?”

“What is in that glove box that’s so interesting, Beanie?” Hadley asked. “Does Brinkley have girlie magazines stashed in there?”

“No, Hadley. But he does have some candy corn, two peppermint patties, and a Butterfinger in here. The corn is just floating around among some papers, all loose. Looks like a few kernels got grease or something on them.”

“Beanie, shut the door of that glove box, this minute.”

He did as he was told.

“What’s in the sack beside you?” Beanie asked. “Snacks?”

“No,” Hadley said. “Just some books I’ve got to return to the library.

“I’ll buy you a snack in a little while. Okay?”

“Okay.” Beanie looked out the window. His bottom lip was only slightly protruding.

“Hadley, why are we going here?” Beanie asked, recognizing the road where Hadley had just turned off. “They gave me the day off, Hadley. We got no business in our cemetery, today. Why did you bring me here? This isn’t my cemetery. Harvey says this place is our competitor.”

“I know that, Beanie, but I told Brinkley you were burying Eustian.”

“But,” Beanie said, “Eustian’s being buried in this cemetery. Not mine.”

“I know that, too, but apparently Brinkley didn’t. I was banking on that little fact. You see, Beanie, I sort of twisted Brinkley’s arm to get him to loan me his truck. Well, not loan, but rent it to me. Anyway, I used a sob story that I needed his vehicle. I lied and told him I needed it to carry you to work. I figured it was a pretty safe thing to say.

“Brinkley’s a good grease monkey. I guess it would take a nuclear bomb to blow him away from that garage. Anyway, my ploy worked, but I feel guilty as all get out. You’re not a grave digger today, Beanie. Today, you’re paying your respects like anybody else who attends a funeral.”

“My respects? But that means we’re going . . . oh no, Hadley.”

“Oh yes, Beanie. Now, get out of this truck, and tuck in your shirt. No sense looking like bums if we don’t have to. Stand up straight. You look good. How do I look?” Hadley asked.

“You look like you always do, Hadley,” Beanie said.

“That’s just what I was afraid you’d say. Well, I don’t think Eustian will have any complaints. Do you, Beanie?”

“I hope not.”

“He better not, Beanie. Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Oh, Hadley,” said Beanie.

“Just a joke, Beanie. A joke. Come on. They look like they are about to start.”

“They?” said Beanie. “I only see Preacher Jake.”

“Figure of speech, Beanie. Just a figure of speech.”

“Hadley,” Beanie said, “you said you wouldn’t cry buckets for Eustian.”

“I know I did.”

“Then, why are we here?”

“I don’t know. I just thought since you and I were going to make a few hundred bucks from cleaning up his house, the least we could do is show up at his funeral and pay our respects. And I am paying penance for my little white lie to Brinkley, too.”

“Oh,” said Beanie.

“You don’t mind, do you, Beanie?” Hadley said.

“No. Not at all. But something’s buggin’ me, Hadley.”

“What’s that.”

“I don’t think I got any
respects
, Hadley, but I’m willing to stand beside you while you give Eustian yours.”

The old truck turned off the main road and rattled onto the gravel drive leading to the cemetery. Hadley noted the old headstones as she guided the vehicle along the twisting path to the farthest limits of the graveyard.

The gravestones leaned right and left, at odd angles, as they settled comfortably into the dirt. It was a quiet place, if you liked quiet. The huge trees scattered here and there kept the stones company.

Hadley wondered as she gazed over the gently rolling hills, who lived under the stones? What stories could they reveal?

Maybe, it was better not to know.

The secrets of the dead should remain just that, she decided.

Secret.

Hadley maneuvered the truck along the narrowing pathway and edged off the gravels into the ragged grass. She pushed the emergency brake down with her foot and looked at Beanie.

“Well, Bean, I guess this is it.”