by Green, Jeri
Nobody Can Say It’s You
A Hadley Pell Cozy Mystery
Jeri Green
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Nobody Can Say It’s You
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Also by Jeri Green
Copyright © 2016 by Jeri Green
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To Jay and Angela and Jennifer
Nobody Can Say It’s You
by Jeri Green
A monster is running down Main Street!
An old mountain hermit, dressed as Death, drops dead at a Halloween festival in Hope Rock County. Nobody knows why. But mysterious forces are at work on the Appalachian ridges. Granny witches and the Ancients. Black witches and sin eaters.
Most folks think the old ways and traditions are a thing of the past. But the past rears up its aged head, and there's more going on here than meets the eye. A lovely tract of land is threatened by developers. Will life in the sleepy little town be forever changed? Can Hadley Pell solve the murder and keep Paradise from being lost forever?
Nobody Can Say It’s You is the third book in the NOBODY mystery series.
Chapter One
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Hadley Pell Book 1 (Nobody’s Sorry You’re Dead)
Hadley Pell Book 2 (Nobody Knows Your Secret)
Hadley Pell Book 3 (Nobody Can Say It’s You)
“Boo!” Hadley said, laughing as Maury’s feet lifted off the ground.
“Where in heaven’s name did you get that awful looking mask?” Maury asked.
“Gotcha good, didn’t I? Ain’t it a beaut!” Hadley said. “Cost me a fortune, but it’s worth it. At least, I think it is. And Anna will be pleased to know, it’s the first thing I’ve ordered off the Internet. Anna’s my techno guru, you know. She helped me out with Harry’s video camera, and she’s showing me the ropes of modern communication via the World Wide Web. I’m that librarian’s star pupil, Maury!”
“Aren’t you a little old to be a star pupil of anything?”
“Nonsense. Lifelong learner, that’s me! And I’m learning a lot, Maury. “Anna’s a great teacher, and she really knows her stuff. She still hasn’t convinced me to give up my flip phone, though. Not that she hasn’t given it her best shot. She’s got some really convincing arguments, but I’m not budging. Gotta take a stand on some things. Besides, I like that little bugger. It fits real nice in my skinny jeans.”
“You don’t own any skinny jeans, Sis,” Maury said.
“Well, if I did,” Hadley said, “it would fit just fine in them. Can you see me in skinnies? With my thighs? Nightmare on my street. But I do love that little phone. I keep telling Anna I don’t want to be tied down to a battery charger every few hours. And I do looove this mask, too. I think it’s the real me. What do you think?”
“I think it’s atrocious,” said Maury. “Absolutely horrible! If I could think of any other words beside horrendous, terrible, outlandish, incredible monstrosity, ghoulish, and just plain ugly, I’d be sure to tell you. I can’t believe you spent your hard-earned cash on it! Hadley, it’s just about the most repulsive thing I ever saw in my whole life. You look like Canute Goosey.”
“Old Canute was about as homely as a mud fence,” Hadley said. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But only while I’m wearing this mask!”
“You’re gonna be up there on the porch of The Band-Aid with Hobie and the Speckled Pups,” Maury said, “and you’re gonna look like somethin’ the dog drug up!”
“Oh, I will not. This thing kinda grows on you, Maury.”
“Like bath tub mold.”
“Oh, hush up. It’s not that bad. Besides, Hobie likes it. He said it reminded him of a third or fourth cousin from Arkansas!”
“Boy,I bet that was a twisted family branch.”
Holiday banners hung above Main Street and fluttered in the breeze.Giant carved pumpkins sat at every shop and business, each decorated with themes relating to the stores. An old ’55 Ford truck was carved in the pumpkin that sat in front of Binkley’s gas station. An owl on top of a stack of books sat near the library steps. A jail cell represented the sheriff’s office. A cornucopia sat at Pixies, and Lou Edna’s face topped off with a pink wig was proudly displayed in front of the hair salon.
The air had taken on the crispness that signaled the season. The leaves had relinquished solid green for a gaudy splash of color. The sky was a crystal clear sea of blue. Ghosts, witches, monsters, and ghouls hung from the porches of the stores along Main Street. Festivity and celebration ran through the town. Costumed children and adults milled about. Frankenstein’s monster handed out candy to the children; witches poured out cups of steaming hot chocolate. Vendors sold crafts. Musicians played on makeshift stages. Candy apples were hawked up and down the way. Everyone was in a party mood.
“Hobie’s gonna help me in the pumpkin carving contest later this afternoon,” Hadley said. “I hope we win. I really do. Can you imagine what I can do with that grand prize?”
“A hundred heads of cabbage!” Maury said.
Maury looked at Hadley like she’d sprouted another head.
“I know. It’s great, isn’t it?” Hadley said. “I think this year’s festival is the best ever. Don’t you? Pixies is sponsoring the contest this year. If I win, I just know Hobie will let me have the whole load. And wouldn’t that be something!
“Think of all the coleslaws, Maury! Tropical, buttermilk, everything coleslaw. There’s cabbage with pasta and stuffed cabbage. I could make kraut. I could boil it or fry it or disguise it in a casserole. How about cabbage chips? Could be the next big thing! A little olive oil, a dash of seasoning, dry them out, and throw them in a zip bag. They would probably last forever. Or maybe, I could have Krautfleckerl.”
“You could have your head examined,” said Maury. “What in the world is . . . whatever you sai
d?”
“It’s a cabbage dish,” said Hadley. “The cabbage sits in salt for 30 minutes. Cook some pasta. Squeeze out the excess water from the leaves. You fry up some onions and caraway seeds in some oil and season them. Throw in your cabbage. I think some polish sausage wouldn’t hurt. I’ve been meaning to try it since I ran up on it while surfing for recipes. There’s so many ways to eat up a hundred head of cabbage, Maury! Just use your imagination!”
“Think of your digestion! Forget that, I’m your sister. I’d have to help you eat up all that cabbage! Think of my digestion, for goodness sakes!
“It’s a contest,just a contest! You’re not going to win a Caribbean cruise! But listen to me,” said Maury. “I am wasting my breath. The way you are over any contest, it wouldn’t surprise me if you put on that stupid mask you’re wearing and paraded naked down Main Street on a swayback mule just to be awarded the grand prize of 500 gallons of sludge!
“It’s your competitive nature. You can’t help it! I saw it in you when we were kids, and you had to go over twice in Mrs. Mulrooney’s yard to steal rocks because the first one you picked up was dog poop. Yep, I can just see you on that mule. You’d do that in a second. I know you, Godiva, remember?”
“Don’t be silly,” Hadley said. “How much sludge did you say?”
Hadley acted like she was going to unbutton her jacket.
“Hadley!” Maury said.
“Oh, Maury,” Hadley said, “I couldn’t do that, anyway. Even if I wanted to. A long, flowing Godiva wig would ruin the whole effect of this spectacular mask! I’ve really never seen anything like it! It’s so supple. The way it fits your whole head, it feels like a glove. The rubber is hot as blue blazes, though. The way my face is sweating under this thing, my cheeks may lose 20 pounds.
“Do you think it will give me the Marlene Dietrich look? You know, they say the studios made her pull her back teeth out to achieve that hollow- cheek effect. I wouldn’t go that far because I like my teeth, but a little sweat might go a long way, you know. What do you think? Am I on to something?”
Maury, who only had a small, black, robber’s mask covering her eyes, screwed up her mouth and stuck out her tongue at her older sister.
“On something might sum up what I’m thinking right about now,” said Maury.
“Oh, where’s the little kid inside you?” asked Hadley. “Mine never left me.”
“I know,” said Maury.
“I might have a block party and barbecue 30 or 40 heads,” Hadley said. Wouldn’t that give the neighbors something to talk about? That would be all I had on the menu! I’d make them eat them with their bare hands. No forks. No plates. A little liquid soap might not be a bad idea.
“But I still bet I’d draw a crowd. Free food draws ’em like flies to a church social.”
“You’re not right,” said Maury.
“I’m just getting wound up,” said Hadley. “There’s cabbage rolls and soups. I can think of a million ways to use them up. But you are right, I’d have to scarf down a whole lot of leaves before they spoiled. Well, that’s all right. And if I run out of ideas, there’s always endless recipes on the Internet.”
“You and your Internet,” said Maury. “You’re getting as weird as that tabby cat that lives with you.”
“Onus would turn his nose up at cabbage,” Hadley said, “no matter how I tried to jazzy it up for him.”
Maury’s attention was drawn to a commotion up the street.
“Hey,” said Maury. “What’s this?”
“I don’t know,” said Hadley. “I don’t think it was on the festival agenda.”
Down Main Street ran a screaming goblin. Its voice was high and thin. Eerie. It was hard to tell whether the goblin was screeching or screaming.
Nobody could begin to guess who it was.
The creature was tall and dressed in black rags. A hood covered its head. In one enormous claw, it held a sickle, just like the Grim Reaper. In its other hand was a bloody butcher knife.
Chapter Two
Most of the people at the festival were wearing masks and costumes, but those who weren’t wore shocked looks on their faces. It wasn’t every day their boring little Main Street jumped with such activity. Now it looked like chaos had busted out of the chute.
That knife looked real. And so did the red stuff on the end of it.
Seconds later, the goblin, or whatever it was, let out another whoop. Sheriff Bill Whittaker and his two deputies, Wayman Hoke and Elwin Dollie, were hot on that thing’s heels. It was obviously a flesh-and-blood being because the masked boogie man stumbled, bumping into Hadley, before falling to the ground with a thud.
The knife flew up and clattered onto the pavement. The scythe clanged. The two women heard a grunt as the strange black apparition that seemed to appear from nowhere twitched, and then lay perfectly still near their feet.
Maury jerked off the burglar’s mask she was wearing to get a better look. Her eyes were wide, the whites showing like huge plates in their sockets. Her mouth was wide open, too. She was as pale as a ghost.
“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” Hadley asked.
“No, I’m fine. Is he dead?” Maury asked, obviously shaken.
“I don’t know,” said Hadley, “but I’m not gonna kick the tires to see. He might jump up off that street and attack me.”
Bill and Elwin and Wayman cleared a space in the street around the prone figure. Their guns were drawn. They were taking no chances that this devilish ghoul in black would rise up and escape. The shocked crowd had backed away, quickly creating a void around the fallen figure
Hadley and Maury stepped back from the body, too.
“You two all right?” Bill asked.
“We’re fine,” said Maury. “Shaken like a martini, but otherwise okay.”
Hadley was pulling at something on her arm.
“What are you doing?” Maury asked. “I thought you were okay.”
“Nothing,” said Hadley. “Something’s stuck on my jacket.”
“What is it?” Maury asked.
“A spice. A star anise,” Hadley said. “I guess I got it when that thing bumped into me.”
Bill and his deputies holstered their guns, and the tension began to fade. Hadley and Maury watched as Bill carefully eased up close enough to place his fingertips on the jugular vein of the person.
“Go get Finley,” Bill said to Wayman, “right this minute.”
Finely Eubanks was the coroner of Hope Rock County.
“Hadley,” Maury said, “that means whoever is in that costume is dead.”
“I know,” said Hadley. “I wonder who really is under all those rags.”
“We’ll know soon enough,” said Maury. “Gosh, this is the worst thing I think I’ve ever seen.”
“It is scary,” said Hadley.
Chapter Three
“What are we gonna do?” Elwin Dollie asked. “We got more people in this one little area than Mother Hubbard had kids.”
“Rope off the area and shut down the festival,” said Bill.
“We’re gonna have a bunch of unhappy hillbillies on our hands,” said Wayman.
“Just do it,” said Bill.
The deputies started cordoning off the area. After the scene was processed, the body would be taken to Bowey Hill for autopsy. The crowds in the street dispersed as Bill shielded the body lying there from curious eyes. The coroner arrived and stepped under the crime scene tape the deputies had used to cordon off the area for their investigation. He declared the person dead.
It wasn’t every day somebody ran down Main Street with a bloody butcher knife whooping like a madman and dropped dead in their tracks. A small knot of onlookers hung around, waiting and watching, trying to process what they had witnessed.
Hope Rock was a small community. It had been named the county seat, partly because it was located in the center of Hope Rock County and partly because it had named itself after the county. Most locals referred to both the county an
d the community as Hope Rock County, using the names to mean either their community or the actual county. The courthouse was located there, as well.
Not much happened in Hope Rock County. Bill Whittaker was the sheriff. He had two deputies to help him maintain law and order. The occasion drunken brawl or dispute between disgruntled neighbors were the usual things that the sheriff’s department dealt with.
The small knot of folks that lingered and mulled about was unusually quiet and somber. How odd to see adults and children dressed as ghouls and spooky creatures silently walking about, saying little. It was probably the most well-behaved group of costumed zombies, mummies, witches, ghosts, and banshees on record.
“Nothing like a corpse to dampen the spirit of a Halloween festival,” said Hadley.
“Looks really pitiful, don’t it,” said Hobie Stricker.
“I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything like this,” Hadley said.
Hadley Pell was looking out over Main Street. Even the banners hung across the thoroughfare were sagging. Somberness was contagious.
The festival had been organized to bring in tourists and locals and to get the word out about Tthe Band-Aid. The Band-Aid was a shop where craftsmen and artisans could display their wares and sell them. A small portion of their sales went toward Ruth Elliott’s Wildlife Rescue Center. The center, located in an abandoned amusement park Ruth had inherited, took in sick, injured, or orphaned wildlife and rehabilitated the animals for release back into their natural habitat.
The headliner on the festival’s center stage was none other than Hobie Stricker. Hobie was a local legend. His band, The Speckled Pups, were some of the best blue grass musicians to come out of that area in a long time. Hobie had a small shop at Windy Creek where he fashioned handmade guitars and other stringed instruments. He’d sold his instruments to musicians all over the world.
His instruments and his band made sweet mountain music that touched fans of all ages. Hobie was an all-round good guy, generous with his time and talent. He knew that the mountains he loved would be a lonely, uninviting place without the wildlife. He had supported Ruth in her efforts to treat and rehabilitate sick and injured animals. He had often given of his time and talent to further the rehab center’s efforts to help the animals.
