by Green, Jeri
“You still don’t believe me,” said Lou Edna. “Well, how do you explain this? Is this a figment of my imagination, too?”
Lou Edna handed Hadley a piece of folded butcher paper. Hadley opened it up. Inside was a chicken bone with a red string tied to one end.
“It was tied to a light fixture near my door. Blood-red powder was all over my steps, too,” said Lou Edna.
“Lou,” Hadley said, “it looks like you made somebody around here awfully mad.”
Chapter Ten
Anna announced the idea of a contest to the group of children who visited the library later that day. They all seemed excited. During part of their time there, the teacher suggested her class write stories to be used on the website.
Hadley’s phone rang.
“Hey,” Hadley said. “How’s it going?”
“I’m really excited about this project,” Anna said. “The teachers and the children are embracing the idea with more enthusiasm than I ever expected.”
“Great,” Hadley said. “Hobie’s agreed to let me video him playing a song I wrote that I want to contribute to your site. He said I was finally good enough with Harry’s old camera that it won’t make everybody sick with the jiggles. I told him I’d use a stand for the video cam. He’s even agreed to let me strum a few chords while he sings it.”
“Wonderful,” said Anna. “But I need your help. I had a class over today. One of the students wrote a story that, well, could you look at it and give me a few suggestions?”
“Sure,” said Hadley. “Come on over after you close up. I’ll be waiting with something nice and hot and homemade right out of the oven. I’ll start baking right now.”
Hadley was setting the blueberry pie on top of the stove to cool when Anna knocked.
“So, what’s the problem with the literary masterpiece you’ve brought me?” said Hadley.
She took the sheet of paper began to read.
* * *
My brother had a birthday party. He is nine years old. Mama went to the store and bought a pack of balloons. I really like balloons. They are so fun. There were over 50 in the pack. We blew them up. My brother decided to hide them like Easter eggs. I thought it was a good idea. But Easter eggs are a lot smaller. They are easier to hide. Balloons are not so easy.
He put them all over the place. He hid them under the covers, under the bed, and even in the outhouse.
My granpappy was the first one to use the outhouse after the balloon was dropped down the hole. My brother and me saw him go into the outhouse and close the door. My granpappy spends a long time in the outhouse. He says he does his best thinking in there.
He’d been in the outhouse a good while, like always, when my brother and me heard a loud POP.
Old Pa, that’s what we call him, let out a holler just like he’d been shot. The outhouse door flew open. Old Pa came running out, his overalls unhooked and flapping behind him. We laughed at Old Pa’s white cheeks shining in the sun.
Old Pa was fit to be tied. He had poop clean up his backside and back and head.
Mama and Daddy were awful puzzled until Mama spied a piece of knotty red rubber hanging in Old Pa’s hair.
Brother and me won’t ever get no more balloons for our birthday.
* * *
Hadley was wiping the tears from her eyes.
“That’s a funny story, Anna,” she said.
“I know,” said Anna, “but if I publish it, Old Pa’s going to be irate. There’s only one man called ‘Old Pa’ within 50 miles of here. Everyone will know it is Reedy Lanier.”
“I don’t think Old Pa will ever see that story on your website,” said Hadley. “Besides, I don’t think neither he nor Verla Amile nor Wilbert can read.”
“But some of their family can,” said Anna.
“All right,” said Hadley, “just leave out ‘Old Pa’ and replace it with ‘Pap.’ We got a million Paps around here. Probably half of them still use the outdoor john. Just put this story in the fiction category. I wouldn’t mess too much with it. We don’t want to spoil this child’s creative efforts.
“I got a sneaking feeling you’re going to get more stories along this line.”
“Me, too,” said Anna. “I think they are charming and funny. I’m just worried that there will be some folks out there who won’t see them that way.”
“There’s always going to be naysayers and party poopers,” said Hadley. “I think you’re off to a great start. Just eat some pie. Things will look better afterwards, I promise.”
“I wish all our problems could be made better with pie,” said Anna, making sure not to leave one crumb of Hadley’s delicious crust. “You really should open a restaurant, Hadley. People would flock for miles to eat your cooking.”
“I would,” Hadley said, “but it would cut into my other extracurricular activities!”
Both women laughed.
“Keep me posted on this project,” Hadley said.
“I will,” said Anna.
Hadley cleaned up the dishes and wiped down the counters. She was still smiling as she thought about Old Pa running out of that weather-beaten, old outhouse thinking he’d been shot.
Her cell rang.
“Hadley.”
“Yeah, Sis.”
“Don’t say anything,” Maury said.
“I won’t. What is it?”
“Bill let it slip, accidentally on purpose, that the blood on that butcher knife wasn’t human.”
“That relieves my mind.”
“I know. I think Bill was afraid that you and I would freak out at the thought of being so close to a dead man who also had human blood on his butcher knife.”
“Nightmare on my street, all right,” Hadley said. “Did he say any thing else?”
“No,” said Maury. “He hurried off to the office. Plans to be there all day doing paper work. Unless something comes up, that is.”
Hadley rang off. Good thing she’d stocked up at Pixies.
She started in making Bill’s favorite for lunch – homemade chicken salad. She’d worked nonstop, but by lunchtime, it was ready. She dished it up and headed into town. She pulled up in front of the little shingle that said, Sheriff’s Office.
“Well, this is a surprise,” Bill said. “I hope nothing’s wrong, Hadley.”
“Right as rain with me, dear brother-in-law. I just had way too many leftovers, and I needed a little help getting rid of them.”
“Hadley, I don’t care how many times you use that worn-out line, you know that I am just the guy for that job.”
“Is Elwin or Wayman in? There’s plenty here for everybody. You’d think after all this time, I’d have figured out how to cook in small batches.”
“I, for one, am glad you haven’t,” Bill said. “No. It’s just me. They’re both out on patrol.”
“Wipe your face, Bill. You look like the bad end of a chicken-salad eating contest. The butt end, not the beak end.”
“Thanks, Hadley,but I can’t help myself. I always have to dive in face first. This stuff really hits the spot.”
“Well, when you’ve finished with that, there’s chocolate cake in that sack, too,” Hadley said. “And don’t tell Maury, but I’ve got some homemade donuts in there for all of you boys.”
“Did I ever tell you that you were my favorite sister-in-law?”
“At least a million times. And the fact that I’m your only sister-in-law has nothing to do with it, huh.”
“Nothing a’tall.”
Bill looked at Hadley sitting there looking like an innocent dropped down from the clouds. He wasn’t fooled at all.
My guess is,” said Bill, “that you didn’t just make this chicken salad to drop by and see my gorgeous face.”
“What do you mean?” Hadley asked.
“The chicken salad’s not leftover,” Bill said. “It’s still warm.”
Hadley cheeks flushed.
“The cake’s leftover, though,” she said. “I forgot you’re a trained law
man. Should have known you’d catch me in that little white lie. Maury told me that the blood on the knife wasn’t human,” Hadley said.
“It’s not, I’m happy to say,” Bill said. “Did my lovely wife tell you anything else?”
“No,” said Hadley.
“There’s not much else, I’m afraid,” Bill said. “I know that must have been a shock to you both, having a man fall dead at your feet like that. And the fact that he had a blood-stained knife in his hands must have sent you right over the edge.”
“Well, Bill to be honest, it all happened so fast. I really didn’t have much time to think about anything,” Hadley said. “I’m glad no one else was hurt. But I gotta admit it. It was scary. A hooded goblin chased by armed lawmen down Main Street in broad daylight is not something we see every day in our sleepy little hamlet.”
“It is a mystery why the old man was running from us,” Bill said. “Button Dudley is the last person I’d ever think would dress up for a Halloween festival, let alone attend one. That old coot was running like the devil was chasing after his soul.”
“I know,” Hadley said. “He only hit town about once or twice a year. He was always been happy to stay up in the hills.”
“His costume, if you could call it that,” Bill said, “was just rags.”
“Umm,” said Hadley.
“He did have something interesting draped around his neck,” Bill said.
“What was that?” Hadley said.
“A string of spices,” Bill said.
“What kind of spices?” Hadley asked.
“Star anise,” Bill said.
“That’s something the old ones use in conjure bags,” Hadley said. “They’ll put a pod in the bag and wear it to ward off the evil eye.”
“I know, but Button had a whole mess of them,” said Bill.
“That must have been where I got mine,” Hadley said. “He bumped into me. Later, I found one on my jacket.”
“You’re lucky that’s all Button gave you,” Bill said. “He just came out of nowhere. We couldn’t catch him. There were too many people standing around to do anything but give chase. If he hadn’t dropped dead, I think he would have run clear out of town and escaped.”
“But he did drop dead,” said Hadley.
“And, thankfully, no one else was injured.”
Bill peered into the bag. He pulled out a big hunk of cake and began devouring it.
“Lou Edna came to see me this morning, Bill. She was all upset. I’m really worried about her.”
“Lou Edna’s brain is fried from sniffing all that hair spray down at the beauty salon, Hadley,” said Bill. “But what is it?”
“She came busting down my door at the crack of dawn. I was up, thanks to Onus. She saw the light on. She had this wild story about going out for a night on the town, ladies’ night, with Ora Lavelle at Sadie’s.”
“Now, that’s one joint I’d just as soon as not go in,” said Bill. “We get a call every once in a while when Sadie’s senior citizens get too rowdy. Throwin’ their false teeth at each other or shootin’ stale peanuts with their trusses. You be surprised at how fast one of them rubbery peanuts can pop a glass. A truss in the right hands is a deadly weapon.”
“Get outta here,” said Hadley. “And thanks a million for putting that picture in my brain.”
“Anytime,” Bill said. “But back to Sadie’s. I’m always afraid I’ll pick up something I can’t get rid of with a shot down at the health department.”
“Not my cup of tea, either,” said Hadley, “but Sadie’s a nice enough woman.”
“Yeah,” said Bill. “She runs a pretty straight joint. If you like your beer watered down and warm and your pretzels soggy.”
“Somebody’s put a curse on Lou,” Hadley said.
“You’re joking,” Bill said. “Hadley, you’re a college-educated woman. You of all people should know that the sort of granny magic practiced for generations comes from a lack of available medical treatment and ignorance. I would have thought we would have moved on by now. But it’s true, some things never change.”
“I know the people in these mountains have not had access to a lot of things folks in the city take for granted. They had to turn to plants and herbal medicine because there were no nearby doctors and hospitals. Even now, a lot of these people don’t have the extra money for a hospital stay. Home remedies are all they have.
“And I’m sure some of their potions are snake oil. But the people who have been ‘cured’ swear by them. Some of their salves and concoctions are as good as any pharmacy could make. I know that, too.
“Add in the power of a person’s belief and, regardless of whether it’s bogus or a real cure, you’ve got a potent medicine. The same thing goes with curses. It’s believing in them that makes them powerful.
“If somebody believes a curse has been placed upon them, they are bound to attribute every negative thing that happens to them to that curse. Likewise, if someone has an extremely long run of good luck, they may think it’s because good karma is on their side.
“The old ways still have a hold over people, Bill. And I’ll be the first to say that I do believe there are a lot of things in this world that are unexplainable. Is it luck, fate, or magic? I can’t say.
“Why did that wild goose choose to come to my rescue in the park that day a drug-crazed fellow held a knife to my throat? Who could have predicted that an animal would have had enough sense to come between me and my attacker?
“I don’t know why he intervened, but I’m awfully glad Sprat decided to flog him. He saved my life. That goose startled that guy and caused him to drop the knife. I’m here today because of something I can’t explain.
“It’s easy to scoff at that incident, to say a goose is a dumb animal and could not possibly know a human was in need of his assistance. Did some spirit move that goose to help me? Is Sprat intelligent enough to figure out I was in trouble?
“I’m sure I was emitting lots of fear scents. I was scared to death. Did that prompt that goose to act on my behalf? I can’t say. But I only escaped with minor scratches and a few bruises. If it was dumb luck that saved me that day, I’ll take dumb luck.
“I like to think of Sprat as one of my guardian angels. He’s my golden goose. I’m forever thankful he acted the way he did that day. If you think I’m silly, then call me silly. Doesn’t change my way of thinking, one bit.”
“I don’t think you’re silly. I’ve lived long enough to see a lot of unexplainable things. I know what you’re saying, Hadley. I’ve had things happen to me that are totally baffling. If I told you, you’d never believe me. They’d be locking me up in the looney bin and assigning me to a padded round room.”
“These mountains are old,” Hadley said. “There’s been a lot of life lived here. Cosmic energy, granny witches, good and evil. I don’t know what you call it. But there are forces out there in those woods.
“Somebody left Lou Edna a message. And it wasn’t good one. They are upset with her for some reason. Maybe it makes sense. Maybe it’s some reason that you and I would deem ridiculous. Button Dudley’s death may be connected. It may not.
“But Lou Edna’s really rattled. She claims she saw Button’s spirit out by Sadie’s. I don’t know what to think. It was dark. She’d suffered a fright. I told her that what she thought she saw was only a product of an overactive imagination. But then she told me someone had left a chicken bone with a string around it and red powder all over her steps. It’s some kind of curse, Bill. But it did its job. Lou Edna’s scared to death.”
“Only time and evidence will tell if there is a logical explanation that connects these things,” Bill said. “But I’m glad you told me. I’ll keep an eye out. Someone is using hoodoo to make her think she’s been cursed.
“Just the suggestion of something like that can shake a person. I’ve seen it happen over and over again. We think we live in a modern world, Hadley, but there is something primordial that still lives in our brains. I
t’s just natural that we respond to our mystic side. We can’t help it.
“I’ve seen grown men reduced to nothing because they thought they’d been hexed. These men would never admit to being superstitious in any form or fashion, yet who do you think is the first to make a charm bag and stick it in their pocket as protection against a curse. They are the first ones to cut a lock of their hair, put a stick and a nail clipping in the bag with a red string. And they’re the first to worry themselves sick if they lose that little bag. Their charm’s gonna be used against them, they’d say to me.
“The power of suggestion is a powerful thing, Hadley. Don’t underestimate it.
“I’ll keep my eye out and run by her place every chance I get. I’m not saying I believe in that stuff or that I don’t. I’m just doing my job, you understand.”
“Thanks, Bill,” Hadley said. “I knew I could count on you.”
Chapter Eleven
What made Button Dudley come running down Main Street like the devil was hot on his trail? Had he suddenly gone crazy, lost his mind, saw monsters in his imagination and tried to run away from them? Had he been poisoned by some toxic food or drink? Did he know Death was coming and simply wanted to go out its way? Was Button running to meet Death on his own terms? Whooping down Main Street in one final, futile blaze of glory before succumbing to the inevitable?
These were questions that kept nagging Hadley like the constant drip-drop-drip from a leaky faucet. She didn’t know the man very well. Nobody did. Button was like a lot of back hill folks. He minded his own business and kept to himself. He wanted no bother, and he bothered no one. Nothing wrong or suspicious about that. It was just the way some folks liked to live their lives.
He was a staple of the backwoods, like the rumors of stills and marijuana farms. But the fact that he’d dropped dead at her feet make her want to know the reason why he died?
And what was the significance of the star anise that had been transferred from Button Dudley to her sweater when he’d rammed into her just seconds before going to meet his Maker?
