by Linda Lovely
How hard could it be to find out what ugly Ardon County mug was suddenly missing a tooth? True, a fair number of Watsons were likely to be a few incisors short of a full mouth. They weren’t exactly the type of family that flossed together. Still this toothy gap had to be paired with some spectacular black-and-blue bruises courtesy of Rita’s vengeful hooves. I doubted the thug was the type to dust his blemish with tinted face powder.
I sighed. I didn’t like keeping secrets, and I was already on thin ice with Mom. Withholding news of my Hog Heaven visit hadn’t exactly endeared me to her. Still I figured sharing could wait a tad longer. With Eva, Andy, and Paint for companions, I wasn’t afraid of spending another night on the farm.
Am I an optimist or what?
THIRTY-TWO
I finished my bookkeeping chores, then weeded the poison patch and Lilly’s garden. I’d just carried a scrub bucket into the retail shop when I heard a car drive up. Eureka! Dad’s Toyota Highlander stopped next to the cabin. About time. I’d been going nuts waiting for Eva’s return.
I heard my aunt grousing the minute the car doors opened.
“Idiots! First they confiscate my underwear and charge me an arm and a leg for unmentionables that were probably made out of potato sacks, and then they clamp this itch-inducing contraption on my ankle. Someone’s going to pay. They’ll be sorrier than a coyote caught in my hen house when I find out who’s behind this mess. If I’m going to jail for allegedly shooting someone, I may as well do the crime and air-condition his hide with a few well-placed bullet holes.”
I couldn’t see Mom’s face, but I imagined her eyes had rolled so far up in her head she could see behind her back. She left it to Dad to talk his sister down.
“Now, Eva, let Iris handle the legal ins and outs. We’ll sort this out without any need for a shotgun.”
“Legal ins and outs?” Eva fumed. “How can we trust anything legal when Sheriff Jones is trying his dangdest to keep me in the pokey, and old Solicitor Esan Bell a.k.a. Iron Butt appears solidly in his camp?”
I sprinted to Eva and wrapped her in a bear hug. My welcome pushed the pause button on her rant.
“Brie, honey, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” She swatted at her cheek. I spotted the trail of a tear but pretended not to notice. She’d be peeved if I said a word.
“I hear you’ve been entertaining men in the evening,” Eva continued. “Good thing I’m home to protect your virtue. Did you and your gentlemen friends find time to actually do some chores?”
“A few.” I shrugged, and she punched my arm.
Dad bussed Eva’s cheek, and gave me a hug. Mom waved from the car. Now that I had a clear view of Mom’s face, I could see the toll the stress was taking. For a second, she looked as old as grandma in photos taken right before she died. I looked away.
Dad tugged on one of my flyaway curls. “Afraid we need to get back to town.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m hosting a faculty dinner for colleagues from Oxford tonight. Made the commitment months ago. Can’t get out of it. I’ll call after dinner to check on you two. I can drive back out to spend the night.”
“No need, Dad. Andy called an hour ago. He and Paint are on deck again.” I glanced over at Eva. “And I’ll bet Billy will come over to check out Eva’s new ankle jewelry. So we’re plum out of spare beds. In fact, Andy’s bringing the cot he sleeps on when he’s playing nursemaid to an expectant mare. Said he’d sack out on the porch if we ran out of floor space.”
Dad attempted a smile. “Not sure I should worry any less with two strapping young men roaming the grounds.”
“Don’t worry, Howard, I’m here to chaperone,” Eva piped up.
“That’s what has me worried.” His chuckle sounded forced. “I’ll call. Love you both.”
The dogs had gone crazy hearing Eva’s voice. Each big fur ball insisted on a pat on the head and a scratch behind the ears before leaving her side. With the animal welcome home complete, we walked through the milking barn and dairy plant so Eva could make certain everything passed inspection.
I didn’t take it personally. She simply needed contact with all these touchstones to believe something was normal. To know she was truly home.
Eva wanted to end her tour at the horse barn so she could check on Udderly’s batch of newborn kids and pet and coo over the coltish darlings. I convinced her to come to the cabin first for a much-needed chat. I didn’t want her to see the splintered stall door before I filled her in.
I poured us tall glasses of iced tea and set out oatmeal cookies. Cashew seemed as happy to see Eva as me. My aunt scooped her into her lap as I eased into my news report.
Mom and Dad had already filled her in on the unauthorized excavation and missing leg bone. However, last night’s attempted arson offered a new shock. Her beet-red face might have frightened me into thinking she would collapse, except Eva managed to suck in enough oxygen to push out a steady stream of swear words. I filed a few of the more colorful combos away for future reference. My aunt had a not-so-hidden talent for cursing.
“You didn’t tell your parents about last night?”
I shrugged. “I planned to, but I felt you should call the shots. I know you don’t want the sheriff poking around. He has jurisdiction, right? But what about the state police?”
Eva made a sound in her throat somewhere between a retch and a huff. I gathered that was a no. “And what would we tell them? We have no evidence the sheriff’s involved. They’d probably call him five seconds after we hung up.”
“It might help to verify Mollye’s insider info first,” I said. “Find out if the sheriff or some of his stooges are really using a backhoe to dig a big hole on the Nelson farm.”
Eva snorted. “You plan to pay a social call on the Nelsons? They’re related to the Watson clan. All of Jed’s blood relatives avoid me and mine like the plague. Up to now, they’ve never trespassed or tried to do me harm. But I’d say all bets are off now that Jed’s been dug up and I’m charged with his murder.”
I stared down at my iced tea and the jelly logo etched in the drinking glass. “Mollye thinks she can come up with a legitimate reason to visit.”
My aunt’s eyes narrowed. “Well, her definition of legit better not be sneaking over the fence. That’s a surefire way to get your tail full of lead. I won’t have it. Promise me you won’t go there uninvited.”
“Okay, yes, I promise.” I squeezed her hand.
Our exchange seemed to wring the last drop of energy from my aunt. Her eyelids fluttered and her shoulders drooped. Clear advertisements of her total exhaustion.
“Did you sleep at all in the jail?” I asked.
“Not much,” she admitted.
“Go take a nap while I start soup for supper. Sounds like we’ll have a crowd. Andy, Paint, Mollye, and Billy’s coming, right?”
“Yes, Billy wanted to bring me home from jail. He’ll be here soon as he quits work. Maybe I should take a little nap. Wake me if there’s any excitement. I mean it.”
Eva shuffled to her bedroom without further protest—a sure sign she could barely stand. Seeing how the burden seemed to age my young-at-heart aunt made me more determined than ever to see her through this ordeal.
Not knowing the culinary preferences of our dinner guests, I made two vegan soups. One pot of roasted tomato basil and a second of split pea. I rummaged through Eva’s freezer and set out a package of leftover ham to thaw. If the carnivores were going into shock, they could pair their soups with thick slices of ham, cheese, and crusty French bread.
I whipped out my cell and asked Mollye to stop by the bakery for a loaf of bread.
“Will do,” she answered. “But set those soups on simmer. I’ll be at the cabin in fifteen. Got us an appointment with Granny Nelson. A nice-as-you-please invitation.”
“What? How?”
Mollye laughed. “No time to explain. See ya in a
few. Bye.”
Eva was still sleeping when my friend arrived. Since Mollye’s idea of a whisper could wake the dead, I intercepted her on the front porch. She was dressed in full pseudo-gypsy attire. It looked like someone had plopped a turban on her head with a loose end that fluttered in the wind. Her jangly bracelets and earrings were slightly smaller than cowbells. A long purple skirt swirled around her ankles as she scampered up the stairs.
“Quite the outfit,” I commented.
“It’s my woo-woo uniform.” Her eyes twinkled. “Folks ’round here find my visions more convincing if I arrive in full regalia. My mom called Granny Nelson and told her I’d had a vision in which she’d played a starring role.”
“You had a vision?”
Mollye rolled her eyes. “’Course not. I mean I do have the sight now and again, but it’s not like I can call up visions on command. Granny Nelson’s an old country woman, superstitious as all get out. Mom figured she’d invite me over if she heard tell of a vision in which she played the lead. Mom was right.”
“Does the old lady live alone?”
“No. Two grandsons live on the family farm. Mean bruisers. Went to school with them. Fortunately, they work construction in Greenville. Always stop off for a brewsky. Based on sightings at Hog Heaven, they’re never home before dark. Don’t worry. We’ll have a solo audience with Granny.”
“We?”
“Figured you’d want to come along. But we need to hurry.”
I hesitated. “Eva’s sleeping. I hate to leave her alone. And how would ol’ Granny feel about having kin of a hated Yankee invader darken her door?”
“I didn’t plan to hand Granny a copy of your family tree. She’s old. Probably lumps all young women in the same wanton basket. I’ll say I asked you to drive so I’d have a way to get home if I went into a deep trance.” Mollye chuckled. “Hell, I’m good at making up shit.”
“What about Eva?”
“Leave her a note. We won’t be long, and it’s broad daylight. Udderly’s uninvited guests never come calling when the sun’s shining. The Nelson place is right down the road. I’ll give Granny a highlights reel of my vision. We just need an excuse to drive up to the homestead. How long can it take to spot a gaping hole or see if there’s a honking big backhoe parked on the back forty?”
I was torn. Leaving Eva alone worried me.
“What in the devil are you two up to? Mollye, you look like you’re headed to a carnival.”
Eva’s voice startled me. Apparently the nap had refreshed her. Well, at least it had restored her feisty tone.
“I need to run an errand before supper. Stopped by to see if Brie wanted to tag along. But she says she shouldn’t leave you alone.”
“Humpf. I’m not an invalid. I have a gun, and I know how to use it. Go on, Brie, git. Or maybe I’ll plug you for being a ninny.”
I glared at Mollye. My friend could spread lies smoother than frosting on a warm carrot cake. Should I tell Eva where our “errand” would take us?
“Come on, you heard your aunt.” Mollye chuckled. “Let’s head out before she loads her shotgun and sends us off in a hail of lead.”
Eva made a shooing motion. I dutifully followed Mollye to her colorful van. If there was anyone besides Granny on the Nelson homestead, they’d see us coming a mile away.
I sure hoped the old bat was holding down the fort all by her lonesome.
THIRTY-THREE
Mollye’s van bumped over a poor imitation of a bad road. My petite car was still in the shop, and I’d passed on the gas-guzzling loaner the auto shop had offered. Good thing. The country lane’s deep wallows would have done in either ride.
I rolled down my window for the breeze. Big mistake. Dust flew up in choking red clouds as I stared out at the lifeless fields. It hadn’t rained in days.
Not a single bush or tree softened the appearance of the clapboard house, surrounded by a moat of hard-pack clay. I scanned the landscape for some sign of a gaping hole. No luck. A ramshackle shed with canted garage doors stood adjacent to the field. Was it large enough to house a backhoe?
We parked in front of the faded grey farmhouse, the wood so worn it almost looked transparent. If the place had ever seen paint, sun and wind had sandpapered it off. I worried we’d fall clean through the steps on our way to the front door.
I held my breath as we climbed the stairs. Mollye bounced up the five steps, seemingly unafraid of broken legs due to termites or decay. The front porch wasn’t exactly a safe oasis. It sagged like an overloaded hammock.
Mollye winked at me, and then knocked on a wooden jamb that looked only slightly more substantial than the cracked door. A cheery yoo-hoo accompanied her knock. “Mrs. Nelson, Mollye Camp here, come to tell you about my vision.”
Creaking boards announced a body slowly shuffling our way. The door opened a few inches to reveal a woman’s head. Actually, the head looked a lot like a mummified tangerine. Leathery brownish-orange skin puckered around a sunken mouth. Did she have a single tooth? If her grandsons followed her dental regimen, we’d be hard-pressed to tell if one of them had recently lost an incisor.
“Come in. Quick,” she muttered. “Doan never leave the door open. Hornet’s nest unner the porch. Axed my gran’sons to pour gas inna hole an’ light it one night. But they’s afraid. Say it’s too close o’ the house. Might light a bonfire.”
I concentrated hard to understand her. Missing teeth gave her speech a sibilant quality. I shuddered. Who would live like this? A rotting house. Killer hornets.
She toddled over to a rocker and waved us toward the couch. A couple of big butts had left lasting impressions in the spongy cushions. Her grandsons? Clearly not the wizened old lady’s backside.
We sat. Mollye didn’t introduce me, and the woman gave no indication she cared. Seemed she just wanted to hear this vision and go back to whatever she did with her time. Roasting small children? Feeding poison apples to anyone fairer than her?
Mollye didn’t wait for a welcome, launching immediately into her spiel.
“Mrs. Nelson, I don’t want to frighten you, but Ma thought I ought to share my vision. Since my visions are sometimes warnings, she thought it might spare you some heartache.”
Granny didn’t comment. She just rocked and inclined her head, maybe an inch.
“I saw the earth open up.” Mollye’s voice took on a sing-song quality.
Wow, Mollye was good. Bet she could get paid to host séances.
The old lady’s chair rocked faster. Her eyes narrowed.
“The hole in the earth was on your farm. I saw it from the air, like I was a hawk soaring overhead. A big mechanical monster chewed at the ground. It put me in mind of a rabid dog the way it growled and tore at the dirt, madly pawing for bones. That’s when I saw blood. A man fell in the hole, and the mechanical dog mauled him to death.”
The old lady stopped rocking. Her claw hands tightened on the rocker.
Mollye’s voice grew louder. “I can still hear his screams as that monster shredded his flesh. Then everything went black. Until you appeared, Mrs. Nelson. I stood by your side as you looked down into the fresh grave. You wore widow weeds. Preacher Jackson mumbled a prayer as a shiny mahogany casket was lowered into the hole.”
“Who?” Granny croaked, her voice a coarse whisper.
Jumping Jerky. Mollye’s performance raised goosebumps up and down my arms and I knew it was a scam. I’d swear she’d had a vision of a gaping hole, a steel monster, and a forlorn gravesite.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Nelson. I don’t know who died,” Mollye answered in her regular voice, not the sing-song chant of her fake vision. “Mom thought if someone was digging holes on your property, you could warn them. Tell them to be careful.”
The woman nodded. “I warn my gran’sons. Tell ’em you’s here. Tell ’em ’bout your vision.”
Uh-o
h. Had Mollye thought this through? The old lady might buy into this vision. But I doubted her mean grandsons would be as gullible. The woman fixed Mollye with a stare, her watery blue eyes unblinking inside the mass of wrinkles. Uh oh, had Mollye even taken in the old lady? Maybe her parting words about her gran’sons carried a warning—“I ain’t buying your baloney, honey, and I’m going to rat you out to my grands.”
“Sees yourselves out,” the old lady muttered. “Hard for me to get around. Ain’t gettin’ up again.”
I didn’t need to be asked twice. Neither did Mollye. We practically sprinted to the door. As soon as we cleared the stairs, Mollye began speed-walking around the side of the house. I ran after her. I wanted to yell, “What the hell are you thinking?” But I feared ol’ granny would hear.
The backhoe was tucked up close to the back porch. Invisible from the front of the house and the dirt entry road. About a hundred yards beyond the house a giant pile of red clay sat like a huge fire ant mound.
“Let’s get the hell out of Dodge,” I whispered.
“You betcha,” Mollye agreed. We ran like screaming banshees nipped at our backsides. I risked one backward glance at the old farmhouse and froze. Nicotine-stained lace curtains had been yanked aside just far enough for beady eyes in a shrunken head to track our every move. The old lady lied. She’d definitely left her rocker.
Yes, and we were off our rockers. Never should have come. No siree.
Was Granny Nelson as accomplished a liar as Mollye? If so, my friend might have just added her own name to the Hooker clan’s endangered species list.
Mollye parked her van in front of Aunt Eva’s cabin. We were still huffing and puffing like we’d run a marathon.
“She’s gonna tell her grandsons,” Mollye said. “That old bag knew my vision was a bunch of hooey. We’re toast.”
I nodded. My friend’s fake tale didn’t prompt the old woman to gasp and admit there was a mechanical monster and a big hole directly behind her house. She’d seen through the ruse. Missing teeth didn’t mean missing marbles. The old bat would rat us out. The only saving grace? The Nelson grandsons wouldn’t be home for hours, and Mollye never introduced me. Of course, it wouldn’t take a genius to puzzle out my identity.
