Hop 'Til You Drop

by J. M. Griffin

  “Who was that?”

  “Della Meeny. I think she’s an unhappy person. Maybe even a meanie of sorts.”

  “Would that be what humans call a play on words?”

  “I suppose so. Della doesn’t sound like a warm, friendly type of person, that’s for sure. Her voice seemed familiar, but I can’t place it. I’m going to check on the rabbits once more for water and such before they’re settled for the night. Are you coming along?”

  “Most certainly.”

  In the barn, I walked the aisles with Bun next to me. I kept thinking of Della Meeny’s attitude. She didn’t give me the impression of a person who enjoyed her job, so why become involved in this town-sponsored affair? I shrugged and filled water bins.

  I’d reached Petra’s hutch and petted her gently while softly murmuring to her. She hadn’t presented her kits, though Jessica and I thought she would do so at any time.

  I withdrew my hand from her luscious fur and closed the hutch door, making sure to flip the latch in place. Walkabout Willy wasn’t the only rabbit in this bunch to figure out how to escape the confines of a hutch.

  After I let Molly know about the purchase she had requested, Bun and I returned to the house for the night. I’d gotten comfortable on the sofa and started to doze when the phone rang.

  “So much for resting.”

  “I know.” I answered the phone on the third ring.

  “Jules, did you get a call from that Meeny woman?” Bailey asked.

  “I did.” Annoyed by Della’s attitude, the same way I had been, she said, “She sounds like a real gem. She even gave me the third degree over what I would use to entertain the kids. Then insisted it be age-appropriate. After that, she ranted on about how Alvin never tells her anything. As if that’s my fault. Good grief. Have you ever met her in person?”

  Okay, so Della had managed to get under Bailey’s skin, which took some doing. I took a deep breath and said, “I’ve never met her, but she does have a way of putting people on the defensive. Don’t worry, if Alvin liked what you presented, then you’re all set. He makes the final decisions. Maybe there’s a power struggle going on in their department. If there is, I want no part of it.”

  “I knew you’d be the voice of reason. Thanks for calming me down. Della was so rude on the phone. I can only imagine what she’s like face-to-face. Thank goodness I’m not working under her supervision. I wish you weren’t.”

  “All I have to do is hide eggs beforehand. I’ll also help other volunteers sign in the families and hand out the baskets when the event begins. That’s it. Are you all set for your show?”

  “My bunny puppets are all prettied up. They haven’t been used in a few years and needed refreshing. I think the show will make the audience happy.”

  “Sounds great to me. I’ll try to catch it if I finish in time.”

  “That would be nice. Let’s get together soon to discuss the possibilities of working out our themes for parties.”

  I agreed and ended the call.

  Bun heaved a small sigh and asked, “Bailey’s not happy with the meanie, huh?”

  “Della certainly has a lousy disposition. It must be awful to live that way.”

  “If she always acts bossy, she might not think she’s rude, but outspoken instead.”

  “Mm, she certainly doesn’t sound like a very pleasant person. I’m surprised her boss doesn’t reprimand her. Though, maybe no one has complained.”

  “We’ll see what she’s like on Saturday. I’m off to bed.”

  I nodded and watched him hop away.

  Now wide awake, I took my laptop from the desk and got comfy on the sofa again. The website for the spinning wheel and weaver popped up on my list on the internet. I browsed various categories before I made a purchase.

  I shut down the site and Googled Della Meeny’s name. I caught my breath while reading up on her. Della had served three months in jail for a misdemeanor, then additional time for misbehavior in the courtroom. The article stated she’d insulted Judge Moore. He’d ordered Della removed from the courtroom. When she refused to apologize for her behavior, Judge Moore had extended her sentence and added one month of community service. Yikes, Della Meeny was a criminal. Well, maybe not that bad, but she certainly had ticked off Judge Moore, who was an easygoing fellow. Could that be the reason Meredith had told me to watch my back? Hmm.

  Chapter 3

  The remainder of the week passed without incident or Petra’s kits being born. Worried by it, I mentioned as much to Jessica.

  “They will arrive when they’re ready. I might have miscalculated the delivery date. After all, this is only my second delivery. Petra’s going to be fine, and she will let us know when she’s ready to give us those tiny sweeties.”

  “You’re right, of course. Did you speak to your mother about working with you?”

  “I did, and she will. Isn’t that wonderful? I look forward to it; she has a great way with animals and people, too. That must be where I got my ability.” She glanced at her watch and said, “You’d better get going, if you want to arrive at Perkins Park early. Della Meeny won’t be happy if you’re late.”

  I slipped on a cardigan and buttoned it up. “You know Della?”

  “No, I’ve only heard the gossip.”

  “I looked her up on the computer. She spent a brief time in jail because she aggravated Judge Moore.”

  “That takes some doing. He’s a nice person and has empathy.”

  “I thought so, too. Got to run, I’ll see you later.”

  We arrived early. Bun stayed in the car while I went into the information center for directions to the scoop and stash station. The clerk handed me a map with the spot marked with an X.

  I turned to leave and stumbled into a person standing behind me. We both reached out to right each other. “I apologize, I didn’t realize you were there. I’m Jules Bridge, from Fur Bridge Farm.”

  “Nice to meet you. My name is Stacey Farnsworth. I own The Eatery, a soup and sandwich deli in Windermere. Are you a volunteer this weekend?”

  “Yes, are you?”

  “I’m supposed to show up at a place named the eggcellent creation station. Do you know where it is?”

  “I’ve been there, but I don’t know the way from here. I’m heading over to the scoop and stash station and needed directions.”

  She stepped close and murmured, “Della Meeny is running that portion of the hop. Watch out for her.”

  Surprised to hear that advice from a stranger, I said, “So I’m told. Thanks, I’ve got to go.”

  “I’ll see you around.” Stacey stepped up to the counter.

  I got into the car and started the engine.

  “Did you get lost in there?”

  “No, I ran into someone who started a conversation. Sorry to make you wait, Bun.” I read the map and set off toward our station.

  “I’m anxious to get this job underway. It should be fun. I can find wondrous places for you to put the eggs.”

  I swear that if Bun had hands instead of paws, he’d have clapped them together as if to dust them off, thus being satisfied with his part in the job.

  We made tracks from our parking spot across the grounds to the place where a bunch of stations stood. Gigantic tarpaulins pitched on poles that resembled a big circus tarp, sat covered with printed Easter egg sheets of plastic. Wind blew across the wide expanse, ruffling the short tarp skirt.

  Pausing to read the signs as we went, the eggcellent creation station wasn’t too far off to our right. I stopped and wondered why I hadn’t remembered this. Bailey and I had met Alvin here. Filled with volunteers painting wooden eggs in brilliant colors, Bun scooted toward it, leaving me to follow. Everyone laughed and joked as they worked. Sets of huge drying racks sat stacked on a platform at the far end of the rectangular tent. Loaded with eggs that had reached the dried and distribute stage, the colors were brilliant, even from this distance.

  Fascinated by the amount of work it took to produce the hop
, I wandered from table to table, admiring the artistic abilities of those who made painting seem easy. I had no such talent and stood in awe of the teams dedicated to their job. Each table held plastic bins of unpainted wooden eggs awaiting the magic brushstrokes that made them beautiful.

  Bun had gone off to who knew where and then popped up next to me as I lifted a table cover in search of him under the table. Startled at his appearance, I ruffled his fur and admonished him softly for leaving my side.

  “Do you always talk to your rabbit?” an artisan asked as I plucked Bun off the floor and tucked him in the crook of my arm.

  I nodded and said to her, “I talk to all of them. I’m Juliette Bridge of Fur Bridge Farm.”

  “You own the rabbit haven on the outskirts of town, right?”

  “A bit further out than that, but yes, that’s my farm.”

  “My sister spoke of your rabbit program and the kids’ parties you bring them to. You educate people about these creatures, too, don’t you?”

  “That’s right. Rabbits are wonderful animals.” I glanced at my watch and said I had to get to the scoop and stash station.

  “Good luck with that.” The young woman smirked as I walked away.

  Wondering if she’d meant the job itself or the woman in charge of the station, I didn’t dawdle or stop to watch any of the other artists. Instead, I peeked at the painted eggs on the racks.

  Bun hopped out of my arms and said, “I want to look at those, down there.”

  I let him do so and admired a few more eggs. I glanced around and saw Bun near the far end of the racks, his ears standing straight up in listening mode. The sound of harsh voices could be heard, but not what was said. I knew that with Bun’s super hearing, he’d have much to share when we were alone.

  “Psst, psst, come over here,” I whispered to him.

  He raced over to me, jumped into my arms, and we left the tent before being seen by those who were not happy about something or other.

  “Want to know what that was all about?”

  “Not right now, we’ll talk about it later. We’ll be late if I don’t hurry up. Now, stay with me and don’t wander off, okay?”

  With a sigh and a beleaguered look, Bun said, “All right. You do take the fun out of things at times.”

  “I could say the same of you, my furry friend.” We’d stepped inside our station and found buckets upon buckets of painted eggs crowded on tabletops. This wouldn’t be an hour or so job. It would be more like the entire afternoon—good thing I’d brought Bun snacks and water.

  Several other people arrived. They studied the bins of eggs and remarked on them. Bun and I stayed put.

  “Looks like nobody is here to tell us what to do or where to do it.”

  “Mmm.”

  “You’d think with all these eggs to be hidden, that our boss would be present to get us started.”

  Bun no sooner finished his sentence, when the same mean-spirited woman who had kicked me out of the woods, while Bailey had met with Alvin Peterson, crossed the space between our station and the eggcellent one. She stomped her way to us, looking angrier with each step taken. I looked at the other volunteers and said, “Our boss is here.”

  “That’s the woman who made you leave the other day, right? I sense your tension rising.”

  I took a minute to slip the sling from around my waist and positioned it over my shoulder and torso. I leaned down and Bun snuggled inside. When I stood up, I faced the woman who was now under the tent’s canopy. She gave each person a glaring study, then gave us our orders.

  “The buckets of eggs are over there,” she said, and pointed to them. “I’m Della Meeny. I’m in charge of this portion of the event. If you can’t fulfill your promise to hide all the eggs we have here and those in the eggcellent station, you can leave. I don’t need slackers. I need workers.”

  “She’s worse than a drill sargeant.”

  I patted his body through the fabric, then walked over to a table and grabbed a bucket. The volunteers offered each other raised brow expressions and followed my lead. Then I returned to the entrance where Della handed out maps.

  “Stick to your sections. Each one of you has a number on your identification pin, which is the area where you’ll hide your eggs. When these are hidden, return for more and continue until there aren’t any left to hide. Do you all understand?”

  We nodded in unison before one of the volunteers, number six, stepped forward and remarked, “How did you get this job, anyway?”

  “That’s none of your business. What you need to do is stop talking and get going.”

  Appalled by Della’s rudeness, I, too, wondered why she was involved in this event. Her personality didn’t fit with the whole “have fun” atmosphere the council endeavored to portray.

  Unwilling to receive a scathing comment, I kept my mouth shut, left the tent and Della Meeny behind, and sought the peace and tranquility of Tucker Trail.

  Bun wanted out of the sling. I held the opening wide to allow him space to jump out. “She’s a treasure, don’t you think?”

  His sarcasm evident, I nodded. “I’ve never seen such a miserable person, that’s for sure. Let’s get on with our job and leave Della to hers, shall we?”

  “She argued with a man in the eggcellent tent. Angry about a young woman who had canceled at the last moment, Della wanted one of his volunteers. He refused and she said he’d be sorry for having done that.”

  “That was the reason she looked so fearsome when she walked from that tent to ours. I wondered why she had such a stormy look about her.”

  Bun sniffed the air and said, “She gave me the heebie-jeebies.” Then he searched the moss-laden parts of the path marked on our assigned location of the map.

  A dozen hidden eggs later, Bun became bored. He jumped up the slope and over the top of it while I worked. About thirty minutes later, I realized his absence was too long. It wasn’t like Bun to go off without me for great lengths of time.

  Returning to the spot where he’d taken off, I glanced at the moss where he might have left tracks when he returned. The soft moss showed nothing, so I looked closer and was startled when Bun flew from the brush on the slope. He tried to stop when he hit the paved path, but skidded to the other side of the trail and ended up tangled in a shrub.

  In a frantic state, Bun struggled to disengage himself and talk to me at the same time. His words sounded like gibberish. His eyes were wide and bulging when he eventually freed himself and hopped about as though he’d gone mad. I kneeled on the ground and spoke softly to him. As usual, the calm tone of my voice brought him to his senses, and he sat in front of me.

  Whatever Bun found upset him enough to send him rushing through the woods to find me. Certain I wouldn’t be thrilled with whatever it was, I knew in my gut that I’d downright dislike it. “Tell me what’s happened.”

  “I can’t. I have to show you. Come on, follow me into the woods.”

  Hesitating when Bun made such a demand is tantamount to refusing to believe anything is wrong. Bun isn’t happy when that happens, and the fallout of such actions on my part, in turn, brings dissension. That’s when I noticed his foot tapping against the pavement.

  “You must come with me right now. Right now, I say.”

  Realizing the futility of refusal, I agreed to follow him off the path and into the brush. We climbed a short slope, trekked through a section of pine trees, then past oaks and maples, to end up at the edge of a clearing. While Bun didn’t rant, he’d talked nonstop about what was ahead as though giving me a tour of the woodland. Goosebumps rose on my arms with every step I took.

  In the clearing, wildflowers grew in patches and green grass popped up around them. A mowed grassy oval lay just ahead and dipped somewhat. Before I could take another step, Bun warned, “Continue carefully, very carefully.”

  A mound of cloth lay in the center of the oval. I cupped a hand above my eyebrows to block the glare of the sun for a better view. When I realized it wasn’t
simply fabric. I gasped out loud, took a step back, and tripped over Bun. I hit the ground hard, spilling the contents of my bucket. Brightly colored eggs rolled away as I gawked at the body of Della Meeny.

  Surrounded with Easter eggs, Della’s chest was laden with stems of lily of the valley blossoms. The garish eggs held no resemblance to the lovely painted ones done by the volunteers. Instead, they were awful, like the woman herself. Unsure of how long Bun and I sat like two blocks of stone, I finally turned to Bun and asked, “Was she like this when you found her?”

  His ears flopped up and down, as his whiskers swayed in the wind. I reached out, smoothed his fur, and said, “This is worse than I had imagined. I’ll call the sheriff.”

  “Don’t you want a closer look? We might find some evidence that will lead Sheriff Carver to the killer.”

  I knew Bun would hound me to investigate, like he always did in this type of instance. He’d been whining about boredom lately, too. I took a deep breath, pulled my phone from my pocket, and called the police department. I reported what I saw and gave directions to our location. Told to stay put until the police arrived, I agreed and hung up.

  “They’ll be here shortly.”

  “Okay, then let’s make the most of our time before that happens.” Bun set off down the knoll. Dragging my feet, I was in no hurry to view Della in this situation or any other.

  Bun stopped and turned his head toward me. “Are you going to take all day, or what?”

  “I’m coming, all right?”

  We drew a few steps closer to the body when a movement caught my eye. I swung toward it and knew my jaw had dropped, leaving my mouth wide open. A tall, two-legged, white rabbit fled into the woods, a sight I never thought I’d see.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Did you see that rabbit?”

  “What rabbit?” Bun swung his head toward the direction I pointed and then said, “I don’t see any rabbit.”

  “He must have been almost six feet tall,” I insisted.

  “Are you feeling all right? Rabbits don’t grow that large.”

  “Maybe it was a person in a rabbit costume.”