Nobody Can Say It’s You: A Hadley Pell Cozy Mystery

by Green, Jeri

  “Yes, Beanie,” Granny said. “And it is our duty to help Hadley all we can. You and I have a mission. We must not let her waste food!”

  “Amen,” said Beanie.

  “How are the girls, Granny?” Hadley asked.

  “Oh, they’re fine,” Granny said.

  “I hear Dara’s been having boyfriend troubles. Lou Edna ran into her down at Sadie’s a while back.”

  “You’ve confused that one with the other. Dara’s too busy learning all that I can teach her. She is a blessing, that one. It is Chandra who is always into trouble with the boys, and without them!”

  The door opened and Dara and Chandra clambered inside.

  “Children! Shet that door!” Granny said.

  The girls had been out gathering maitake and oyster mushrooms, which could still be found as late as November. Hadley looked at them. It was always jarring how identical those two were. Like a mirror image of the same person.

  “Ya’ll thank Miz Hadley,” Granny said. “She’s one of my dear friends from town. She and her friend, Beanie, have brung us a whole mess a vittles.”

  “Thank you,” both girls said in unison.

  “Hadley, you must not go away empty-handed. Here. This is a jar of my wild strawberry preserves.”

  “Granny, you always remember that they are my favorite.”

  “Would you like some of the mushrooms we gathered?” Dara asked.

  “Oh, no,” Hadley said. “I know they are wonderful. Perhaps, I will come up sometime and you two can take me foraging. We could make supper from all we find.”

  “Well, here,” Dara said, exiting the room but quickly returning. “You can’t say no to this.”

  Before Hadley could say anything, Dara handed her and Beanie two good luck bags.

  “Here,” Dara said. “To ward off evil.”

  When they got in the car, they opened their bags. Each was filled with star anise.

  “Good luck,” said Beanie.

  Beanie stared out the window, suddenly very serious and somber.

  “What is it?” asked Hadley.

  “Oh,” Beanie said, “I wish Ester Blaylock could have some good luck.”

  “What do you mean, Beanie?”

  “Well, Ester Blaylock was talkin’ the other day to Matilda Cletterflug. You know people act like I’m deaf or somethin’. I’m standin’ close by, mindin’ my own biz’ness, but they act like I ain’t even there.

  “Anyways, Ester ’n’ Matilda got to talkin’. Ester Blaylock’s got corns that kill ’er ’n’ yeast that’s drivin’ her crazy. You should hear the way she talks. Well, maybe not. I’d just as soon forget. But the good stuff, I let it stick.”

  “You let it stick, huh,” said Hadley.

  “Yeah,” Beanie said, pointing to his head.

  “I’ll have to remember that,” said Hadley, “and watch what I talk about around you. I don’t want it to stick if I have yeast or corns or whatever.”

  “Hadley?”

  “Yeah, Bean.”

  “Ester Blaylock’s always sayin’ that her yeast is nasty stuff. I don’t think I want none of her bread, you know. She must have a bushel of them corns, too. The way she goes on. No, sir, Hadley. I’da just as soon pass on Ester’s cornbread ’n’ biscuits.”

  “Since you put it that way, Bean,” said Hadley, “so would I.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “If I had my druthers,” Granny Dilcie said, “I’d druther you two went on to bed early, and we all called it a night.”

  “Druther not,” said Chandra.

  “Where you off to?” Granny asked. “It’s cold, ’n’ it’s late, Chandra Elanor. You high tail it upstairs ’fore I take a stick to you.”

  “Like I think she would whip me,” said Chandra. “Granny treats us like we’re 12 years old, Dara. It kills me.”

  “She just doesn’t want you out tonight,” said Dara. “That’s all.”

  “What do you mean? I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

  “Well, what’s so important about going out? It’s not like you have a date with Berth Carlisle.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “Chandra Elanor!”

  “Maybe I do and maybe I don’t. I just hate being locked away like a toddler up here. I want to get some fresh air, Dara. You won’t tell Granny, will you?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to climb out this window and down the oak tree and get me some of that fresh air.”

  “But it’s freezing out there!”

  “I don’t care. I’m going. It’s a free county. I’m not a little girl, Dara. You can be stuck under Granny’s thumb if you want, but not me. I’ve got to get outside. I’m going stir crazy in this tiny bedroom. Go to sleep. Tell Granny you didn’t hear me leave. I’ll back you up.”

  “But what if you get out here in the cold and dark and get into trouble?”

  “That’s my business. It’s my bed of thorns I’m making. I’ll be more than happy to lay in it and not open my mouth. No matter what happens. Don’t rat me out, okay?”

  “Oh, all right,” said Dara. “It’s not like anything I say makes one bit of difference with you. You’re going to do what you want to anyway.”

  “I’m glad you see it my way for a change,” said Chandra. “And don’t worry. I’ll be back in a little while. Just leave the window cracked so I can push it open and get back in. Granny will never know I’ve been out.”

  A wicked smile broke across Chandra’s face.

  “And what that old witch don’t know won’t hurt her one bit,” said Chandra.

  “Be careful,” said Dara.

  “Don’t worry about me,” said Chandra. “I’m the lucky one, remember?”

  “Where you going?” Dara asked.

  “To Button’s,” said Chandra.

  “What on Earth for?” Dara asked.

  “I’m going to borrow his truck,” Chandra said.

  “But that’s stealing!” said Dara.

  “It was when he was alive,” said Chandra. “But Button doesn’t need it now. Besides, I’ve done it plenty of times. At least this time, I know for sure Button’s not going to mind at all.”

  Chandra was laughing as she raised the window. The rush of cold air was like a shocking blast. Dara shivered, in spite of herself. Chandra had slithered out the window a million times before. Like a magician, she was out the window and gone.

  Dara crawled into bed. She pulled the covers tightly under her chin. She made sure she said an extra prayer for Chandra. Something told her Chandra was going to need it.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chandra could find her way to Button Dudley’s with her eyes blindfolded. Good thing. It was blacker than the inside of a witch’s hat tonight. She loved new moon nights. And she loved the cold, clean air of a winter’s night in these hills. She was often heard to complain about her life, but the truth was, she loved this area. It was so enchantingly beautiful. There was no place else like this on Earth.

  It wasn’t the mountains she was tired of as much as the people who lived on it. So many of them were so narrow-minded. Maybe it was the inbreeding. Maybe it was the lack of ambition, education, or a thousand other things she could name. But most of the people she’d encountered really were just dumb hicks.

  At least in her opinion.

  Take Button Dudley. Button was dead and all his estate was tied up because Floyd Carlisle wanted to develop Button’s property. Estill would never let that happen.

  She couldn’t help but giggle when she thought of how she’d met the old geezer that very first time. She’d been with Dougal. They were both bored stiff. It had been a hot summer day, but, thankfully, a shower had cooled things off.

  “Let’s stir up a little excitement,” Dougal said.

  “What do you have in mind?” Chandra asked. “We’ve made love twice already.”

  “Not that,” said Dougal.

  “Okay,” said Chandra. “I’m in. Wh
at do you want to do?”

  They’d been caught in the storm while out in the woods. It wasn’t a particularly bad boomer, and it didn’t last that long. They’d taken refuge in a cave, made love there, and waited out the rain.

  The air was clean. The world around them felt pristine and fresh like a baby after a nice bath. Dougal’s cap sat on his head at a cocky angle.

  “I feel like trouble,” he said.

  They were walking down a dirt road. It was one of those winding back roads that seemed to lead nowhere, but Dougal and Chandra knew just where they were headed. Chandra followed Dougal as he took the fork leading to Button Dudley’s.

  Button had owned two trucks in his lifetime. The last one was an old Chevy. He’d traded for it many decades ago. Button kept his truck running, though he rarely used it anymore. If Mother Nature had an upset stomach and let loose her fierce lightning, his mountain might catch fire one day. Hell fire judgments. That how Button viewed a wildfire that could so quickly spread and eat up everything in its path. There’d been one horrendous fire like that when Button was a boy. His family barely escaped with their lives. To this day, Button was haunted by that awful day, and so, he always made sure his old truck had enough gas in it, and the tires weren’t too bald.

  It was also the reason that he always left the key sitting right where it belonged – in the ignition.

  Button wasn’t the best housekeeper in the world. He wasn’t opposed to eating out of a dirty dish or two, and two dishes were all he owned. He always made sure that a few feral cats were thrown enough scraps to hang around, too. Cats kept the rats out of the house, for the most part. And they made a pretty good stew in a pinch.

  The rats, not the cats.

  Button had seen fierce winters on his side of the mountain. There were times when the snow was so deep he thought his roof might cave in. Food was always scarce. He had a small garden, so he had vegetables in the summer, but he wasn’t always careful about putting up the excess. Most of his efforts in canning had ended up as spoiled slop thrown out for the buzzards.

  He hunted and dried his jerky over an open flame. Near his cabin was a large stone wall. Button would start a fire in his pit. After the flames died down, Button arranged sticks in the ground and over the coals to form a rack to hang his small strips of deer meat on. Over the coals of this open fire, he smoked his meat.

  Snakes and small game were roasted or dried this way.

  From spring to fall, he foraged for plants and wild berries. Occasionally, he drove into town to buy dry staples such as flour, sugar, and salt. But for the most part, he avoided town. Too much bother and fuss. Button Dudley was a born hermit, and he truly believed his own company was better than anybody else’s.

  “Look, Chan,” Dougal said, spying Button’s truck. “I wonder if the old thing runs.”

  “I dunno,” said Chandra. “It’s so old, how do you know the wheels won’t fall off.”

  “That’s what makes it int’restin’,” said Dougal.

  Dougal opened the door.

  “Hey!” he said. “The key is in it!”

  Dougal hopped into the driver’s seat.

  “Get in, Bonnie,” said Dougal. “My name is Clyde Chestnut Barrow. We got us some banks to rob!”

  “You’re crazy,” Chandra said.

  They taught you driver’s ed in school, but nobody taught you that if you had no job or if you lived with an old granny witch in the hills, your chance of owning your own car was about as good as winning the lottery. A girl needed wheels. It might be nice to have a seat that wasn’t shredded wheat, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  And darned if the old goat hadn’t caught them that first time.

  They were so engrossed in their little make-believe game that they failed to see the old man sneaking up on them with his shotgun.

  “Gosh, Doog,” Chandra said, “it looks like the chickens use this seat as their favorite roost. I think I just sat in chicken poop.”

  “Gotta eat a peck before you die, Chan,” Dougal said.

  “That’s disgusting,” Chandra said.

  “Get outta my truck!” Button yelled.

  Dougal and Chandra turned as white as a sheet. Chandra almost wet her pants. It was the first time she’d been caught, let alone stared down the barrel of a real gun.

  “What’s yer name, young fella?” Button screeched.

  “Willie,” Dougal said. “Willie Buchanan Good.”

  “Willie B. Good,” said Button. “Your maw name you that as a joke er on purpose.”

  “On purpose, I guess,” said Dougal.

  “I bet you think ’cause I ain’t got me no tell-e-phone, I cain’t call no law on ye. Old Bett’s the law ’round here,” Button said, patting his shotgun.

  “Sir,” said Chandra.

  “Don’t ya be sirrin’ me. Stealin’ my truck. You ain’t got the manners Gawd give a cockaroach. But me ’n’ old Bett’s aimin’ to learn ya a few.”

  With old Bett pointed right at them, Chandra and Dougal were made to clean out an old barn, clean up Button’s small cabin, and weed his garden. They were bone tired by the end of the day.

  “Now, Mr. Will You Be Good,” Button said, “I want to see you here furst thang tamarrah mawnin’. Bright ’n’ early. That missy of yours needs to wear somthin’ more decent, too. Them breeches she’s wearin’ is way too short. Y’all come back then. This old truck’s yours for the mawnin’. My blessin’. All’s I ask is that whatever gasoline ya run out, ya replace.

  “Key’s always in it.

  “Treat ’er like she’s yours. Don’t brung ’er back awl busted up. I’ll let ya teke ’er ever onc’t in awhile, jes to keep her runnin’. A good machine needs to run onc’t in awhile, ya know. Too many cobwebs ’n’ rust’ll kill ’er.”

  Dougal and Chandra thanked the old man.

  “Can you believe that?”

  Chandra only smiled and rubbed the string necklace she always wore with her lucky quartz crystal woven tightly with small beads.

  “Yes,” Chandra said. “I can.”

  * * *

  That had been a couple of years ago. As Chandra walked through the woods, she was guided by her ‘second’ sight. She was like a cat, sleek, agile, and independent. She had popped a few seeds before venturing into the woods. They never failed to work for her.

  The landscape glowed with an eerie luminescence that showed Chandra the way, even on the blackest nights. No one could see her. No human, that is. So black was the night that it felt like you could cut the darkness with a knife. Chandra spied a red fox. She knew it was lurking nearby. She’d heard its high pitched scream only a few minutes before.

  It was calling for a mate.

  Chandra felt like screaming back. There was something pulsing inside her. Wild and savage. These woods felt like Time had been turned back. There was a primordial, ancient element in the air. Her footsteps trod lightly on the leafy carpet laid for her in the woods from a hundred falls and winters. The air was so cold. Biting. Yet, she felt no chill. Her heart raced inside her chest, pumping fiercely to warm her body.

  She felt electric. Alive.

  As much as she hated to admit it, Chandra had slowly fallen under the mountain’s spell. How could that have happened? She wondered. But deep inside, she knew. Part of it was mountain that was pulsed through her blood. She had been planted in her mother’s womb by her father, but something from the generations that had come before both her parents was planted alongside that seed.

  The other part was because of what Estill was teaching her.

  Chandra smiled in disbelief. She’d been so ignorant then. She’d wandered into Estill’s work shed on a whim. Dougal wasn’t home. Estill said he was off hunting.

  The door to the shed was ajar. Estill had been working in there earlier, but now she was up to her eyeballs in dirty laundry. The washboard would have Estill’s undivided attention for many hours.

  Chandra peeked inside. The dirty windows let in just enough light
to see the magical work room. From the ceiling hung herbs of every variety. Rough wooden shelves lined the walls. Each shelf was filled with crudely labeled jars of mysterious items. Dried frogs, black and leathery. Feathers, stones, and many things that Chandra could not identify.

  In the far corner of Estill’s shed was a book on a stand made of tree limbs with a bark table. The wood was dark and charred.

  The book was beautiful. Its thick goat-skin pages were brightly illustrated. The edges were brown with age. Chandra was spellbound. She leafed through it. There were spells and potions and prayers.

  A rose abloom and red like fire.

  Warm my lover’s heart with true love’s desire.

  Okay, Chandra thought. I need this.

  Dougal had been inattentive, lately. It wasn’t like him at all. Was he growing tired of her? This might just be the answer to her problems.

  She took the book home. Granny and Dara were out weed hunting. That’s what Chandra called it. She grabbed a composition book and began to crudely copy the pages of the book. With luck, she thought, she might be able to sneak it back into Estill’s shed before she missed it.

  She worked diligently. But the book was long, and it was going to take her a few days to copy it.

  What if she was caught? No matter, she decided. A treasure like this was worth it. Besides, what could they do to her? Dougal would defend her. She’d find a spell to make him do her bidding.

  There in the tiny upstairs bedroom, Chandra worked. It wouldn’t be long now, she thought. Not long at all.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Dougal Orner!” Estill had said angrily. “I know you took it. Don’t deny it. Do not lie to me. I mean it, Dougal, just give it back. I want you to put it back where I had it this instant.”

  Dougal stared at his mother like she had three heads. He had no idea what had put her on the warpath this time. There was absolutely no telling. The old hag was crazy, he thought. Stark-raving, bug-eyed, off her rocker. And what was she accusing him of stealing this time? If it she wasn’t so paranoid, she’d enjoy life a lot more, he thought.