When The Wind Blows: A Spruce Run Mystery

by Mark Mueller

“I don’t have a good feeling about it,” Ducky cautioned.

  My thoughts exactly.

  “Why not?” I asked aloud.

  “She calls you out of the blue and tells you you’re in her aunt’s will? Something smells fishy about it.”

  “I know it does. But what’s the worst that could happen?”

  “I don’t like it, Mac. She wants something from you.”

  I sighed. “Look, Ducky, I’m wearing big-boy pants now. I can handle myself. Whatever she wants, I’ll deal with it.”

  “Just be careful, okay? Scorned women are a bitch to deal with.”

  “I know, and I appreciate your concern. I’ll let you know what happens.”

  “You do that. But don’t come crying to me when Maddy goes back home and leaves you with nothing but a bad mood.”

  That irritated me to no end. Ducky always knew how to get up my sleeve, even when he was just looking out for me.

  I decided it was time to leave, so I wolfed down the rest of my sandwich in silence and then got up to leave.

  “One other thing,” Ducky added.

  I turned around. “What’s that?”

  “Did you crap in your pants or do you always smell like that?”

  I shook my head and suppressed a smile. He also knew how to make me laugh no matter what kind of mood I was in. “You’re too much, Duck.”

  Chapter Eight

  The first thing I did when I got to the Bugler was to read through the most recent edition that had gone to print the previous evening. I found just two mistakes. Not bad, but it still irked me when I found them.

  As I checked my emails, I heard the front door open on its rusty hinges. A moment later Beth Henry walked into the office. She dumped her bag onto her desk and went over to the ancient Mr. Coffee machine and did her best to cajole the persnikety beast to life. I couldn’t have cared less whether the damned thing worked or not because I wasn’t a coffee drinker, and wasn’t about to spend any money on a new one. Still, it was most amusing to watch Beth curse under her breath as she bitch-slapped the Mr. Coffee to life. Sometimes this place has rewards. And you can’t put a price on that.

  I had hired Beth a week before she graduated from Princeton. Her dad was also from Spruce Run and had won a Pulitzer as a columnist with the Philadelphia Examiner. Writing was in her blood, and it didn’t hurt that she was young and easy on the eyes. When she started working for me, I witnessed in a bemused way that Beth was a flirt, and she used it to her advantage. And I knew that in the right circumstances, that talent could come in handy when running down story sources.

  Though I was confident of my own abilities as a news bloodhound, there were times when I might miss something. At least that’s what Old Man Letts told me when he had hired me. So, I hired Beth as another set of eyes and ears in the Bugler’s newsroom. And as the only full-time reporter on staff, it was Beth Henry’s responsibility to listen to the police scanner and to cover the phones for possible leads.

  The one thing I disliked about Beth was that when she wasn’t flirting her way into getting what she wanted, she spent much of her time in a caustic, sullen mood. So evident was her petulance, it was often difficult to maintain any kind of meaningful conversation with her.

  I knew that part of her insolence was because I couldn’t pay her as much as she said I should. But I couldn’t pay myself what I should, either. The reality of working at a small country newspaper was that there wasn’t a whole lot of money to go around.

  Aside from births, deaths and weddings, there hadn’t been a major story in Spruce Run since the Machine family tragedy. And few businesses in the area were interested in spending on advertising space. It was no wonder the Bugler was barely breaking even.

  I was made aware of what my salary would be when Old Man Letts hired me, and so was Beth when I had hired her. But Beth, I could tell, had some sort of entitlement attitude running around inside her pretty little head. She no doubt believed that since her old man was a Pulitzer prize-winning journalist, she’d automatically score some high-paying plum gig by riding on his coattails. Too bad life doesn’t always live up to what college professors taught. I mean, there’s more to life than making sure your prepositions are in the right places and your metaphors aren’t mixed. There’s also the responsibility of making sure the electric bill is paid every month. And believe me, I learned that the hard way.

  I called the sheriff’s department and then the Spruce Run School for possible story leads. It’s sad that I was doing the calling, considering I was the editor. I should have better things to do, right? Yeah, I wish. But truth be told, I couldn’t get my mind off of Maddy ever since she had called, and the only way I could get her out of my mind was to keep busy.

  I was both intrigued and a little suspicious about why she was contacting me after all this time. I knew that Ducky was trying to protect me from getting burned, but Maddy was the one who made the call. She was the one who reached out, not me. And as a result, my mind was reeling. But even though my relationship with her had ended in disaster, I guess I still carried a torch for her. I could think of little else other than Maddy Wuhrer.

  * * * *

  I sat back on my chair as my mind wandered back in time to my junior year at Kean. Classes were going great, now that I had met Maddy. Thursday was day of our television production class, and was the day to which I looked forward most each week, because it gave me an excuse to see her. Of course, it wasn’t just on Thursdays that I got to see her. She lived across the lawn from me, after all, and because of that I got to see her almost every day.

  My twenty-first birthday turned out to be perhaps one of the best days of my life. I was up at dawn, even though my television production class wasn’t until one o’clock. Still, I was out of the apartment by ten.

  Maddy wasn’t around at that hour because she had an earlier class than the one we had shared. I knew she’d be done by eleven, and we had planned to meet for lunch before our class started.

  I went to the cafeteria and waited. She giggled when she spied me, saying that she knew I’d be there before her. My face turned red, which made her giggle again.

  I didn’t say anything for a while because I was embarrassed. Maddy must have noticed, because halfway through our lunch she held my hand under the table. I looked at her and she smiled, and her face lit up the room. I knew then that if I didn’t watch myself, I’d fall for her.

  When lunch was over Maddy and I went to class. I didn’t remember a single thing we learned that day because I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her.

  When class was over she asked me if I would walk her home. I asked her why, and she replied that she wanted to get to know the neighborhood birthday boy a little better. I froze, and then asked her how she knew it was my birthday.

  A little birdy had told her, she said. I found out later that the little birdy was Ducky.

  The walk seemed like it was over in less than a minute. Maddy told me all about growing up in Tewksbury and I told her all about growing up in Spruce Run. It was unusual that we both had grown up in Hunterdon County and had never crossed paths until now. I guess sometimes a small world isn’t always as small as we think. But, at least we were getting to know each other now.

  When we rounded the corner from Morris Avenue onto Elmora Avenue, I noticed Ducky just ahead of us. When we caught up with him, he asked if I was behaving myself on my birthday. I told him I always behaved on my birthday. He snorted and then asked Maddy if she’d like to join us for dinner at our apartment.

  My jaw gaped in surprise. I couldn’t believe he was inviting her over. Ducky didn’t like having guests he didn’t know over for dinner.

  When we got to our corner, Maddy promised she’d be over right after she changed clothes. When she arrived, Ducky went out of his way to make her feel welcome, but I sensed she was feeling a little self-conscious about being the only female in a room full of guys. I was surprised, considering how confident she had been earlier. Ducky ushered us first in
to the living room and offered Maddy a glass of wine. He then asked her all about her family and about growing up in Tewksbury, and was enthralled by her descriptions.

  After talking for an hour, we went into the dining room. Ducky had ordered spare ribs for dinner and had been thoughtful enough to get me a birthday cake for dessert. Maddy sat next to me and didn’t eat much. I noticed that she didn’t talk much either, other than answering questions. During dessert, I took her hand under the table and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

  When dinner was over, Maddy announced that she had to get going because she had an English Lit exam the next day. She then asked me to walk her home across the lawn. I smiled and accepted. When we got to her back porch, she asked me to sit on the porch swing with her.

  We talked about the day and she asked me about how I decided on Kean. I told her how I wanted to be a writer and that Kean, in my opinion, had the best program. She said it was sweet. After we talked a little while longer, I decided I should get out of her way so she could study for her exam. We got up from the swing and she told me she had a birthday gift for me. I was surprised, since she hadn’t known it was my birthday until earlier in the day.

  Maddy put her arms around my neck. I put my arms around her waist. She felt good in my arms. A hug was very nice. Then, she surprised me again by kissing me. We held each other for a few moments. Neither of us spoke. I kissed her back.

  “Happy birthday, Mac,” she whispered.

  “Thank you, Maddy.”

  It was the best birthday gift I had ever received.

  When I got back to my apartment a few minutes later I went straight to my room and shut the door. I looked out my window at Maddy’s apartment, hoping to see her in the window. I kept telling myself that what had just happened was just my imagination, but I knew it wasn’t. Maddy and I had just kissed each other.

  I couldn’t sleep that night.

  I was in love with Maddy Wuhrer.

  Chapter Nine

  The office phones blasted off, disrupting my reverie. I picked up the blower that was next to my right hand. “Editor’s desk. Start talkin’.”

  “Mac? Is that you?”

  “Yeah, who’s this?”

  “It’s Harry Cassidy.”

  I smiled. “Oh, sorry Harry. I didn’t recognize your voice.”

  Harry Cassidy had been my next-door neighbor my entire life. He was about eighty-five years old and had lived alone ever since his wife passed away about fifteen years before. Harry was one of the most honest people I’ve ever met, and he was also one of the funniest people on the planet. His sense of humor was so dry and witty that more often than not he’s left me scratching my head in bewilderment.

  “What can I do for you, Harry?” He’s always insisted I call him by his first name.

  “I need your help.”

  “What kind of help?” I checked my pockets for a cigar but realized I had left them at home.

  “I was wondering if you would come over after you get home from the paper.”

  “Sure thing, Harry. Everything okay?”

  “Oh, sure. I was just wondering if you could help me move a table.”

  “Sure. I should be home tonight around seven.”

  “I sure do appreciate it, Mac.”

  “Any time.”

  As soon as I cradled the blower, it rang again.

  “Editor’s desk. Start talkin’.”

  “F.O.T.! F.O.T.!”

  “What’s up, Duck?”

  “Anyone there besides you?”

  I looked up and noted Beth Henry sitting at her desk.

  “Yeah, Beth is here.”

  “Good. I’ve got a lead for you.”

  “Cool beans. What’s the skinny?” I grabbed a pen and opened my notebook.

  “An arrest warrant. Some clown from Whitehouse Station has been burglarizing homes over in Three Bridges. We’re going to pick him up.”

  “Did he steal anything during the burglaries?”

  “Yeah, jewelry.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, just some gold and some diamonds. Nothing big.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Yeah, I know, nothing exciting, but at least it’s something.”

  “That’s true. So what’s the address?”

  Ducky gave it to me and I stood up. “I’ll be there in ten.”

  “You’re not sending Beth?”

  “No, you frickin’ horn-dog. I’m not sending Beth.”

  “Come on, Mac.”

  “She’s almost half your age, Duck. Don’t you have any self-respect?”

  Ducky sighed. “You’re no fun, Mac.”

  “But you love me anyway, don’t you?”

  “Just get yourself over there, okay?”

  “I’m on my way.”

  The blower went dead in my hand. Typical Ducky exit strategy.

  “Hey Beth,” I called out as I cradled the blower.

  She swiveled around on her chair and looked at me.

  “Yeah, Chief.”

  It irked me when she called me that, but I let it go.

  “I’m stepping out for a little bit. You’re in charge, okay?”

  “Sure, Chief.” She swiveled back around on her chair.

  At least she was talking to me.

  Chapter Ten

  As usual, the arrest Ducky had invited me to was brief and by the book. The jewelry-stealing clown was one Peter Dalrymple, a pathological kleptomaniac I had the displeasure of knowing. I felt sorry for his family. They were good people.

  When I returned to the Bugler later that afternoon, I found Beth Henry still sitting at her desk and looking bored out of her mind. I wondered again why I had hired her. With the news cycle around here as slow as it was, it was getting tougher to justify paying someone to do little more than babysit the phones and the police scanner. To tell you the truth, I could do this job all by myself. But, I felt a sense of loyalty and responsibility toward Old Man Letts, so I dropped the subject.

  “Anything happened while I was out?” I asked.

  “No,” Beth replied. “I was beginning to think the police scanner was broken.”

  “How about the school? Anything?”

  “No. It’s summer vacation, remember?”

  “Yeah, I know. Still, it never hurts to ask.”

  “You know,” Beth continued. There’s the fireworks at the VA tomorrow night.”

  “I remember. Can you cover it?” I loved watching fireworks and was planning to go, but I hoped Beth might want to work for a change.

  Beth pouted. “I was planning on going out with my boyfriend.”

  I shook my head in resignation. “No problem, Beth. Have a good time.”

  “Thanks, Chief.”

  “Okay, then. I guess I’ll be shoving off.”

  “Will you be back?”

  “No, I’m done for the day.”

  “Okay. Have a good night.”

  “Thanks, Beth. You, too. Don’t forget to lock up when you leave.”

  Chapter Eleven

  When I got home, I parked in the driveway and walked next door.

  “Thanks for coming over, Mac.” Harry Cassidy said as he opened his door for me.

  “Any time, Harry. So what’s up?”

  “Tomorrow is the Fourth and my kids are coming over. I was hoping you could help me bring up my picnic table from the basement.”

  “No problem. Should take just a couple of minutes.”

  “I thought so, too.” He pointed me to the basement steps that lead down from the kitchen. “Why don’t you go ahead down and look for the table with a blanket on it? I’m just going to open the back door so we’ll have a direct route for the table.”

  I nodded and headed down the basement steps. My eyes started to water as soon as I was about halfway down the steps, and I felt like I was about to gag.

  Harry’s basement reeked. It was downright gross. It had that wonderful fresh-fragrant pungency of flatulence, as if someone had just le
t a big one rip, cut the cheese, sliced the Gouda, pick your cliché. And there weren’t any windows to exhaust the putrid stench.

  I didn’t know how long I could tolerate the foul aroma, so as soon as I hit the floor I started looking around and at once found the table with the blanket on it. It appeared that something else was on the table as well, but was covered by the blanket. I shrugged and pulled the blanket off.

  A cremation urn was perched on the middle of the table.

  Needless to say, I was startled. It wasn’t something I was expecting. Talk about an unusual way to bury your past.

  I heard footsteps coming down the steps, and as soon as Harry stepped onto the dirt basement floor he must have noticed the look on my face.

  “Oh,” he observed. “I see you’ve met the Missus.”

  I grinned and bit my tongue. Harry Cassidy kept his deceased wife in a cremation urn in his basement. No one would believe me if I told them.

  Harry moved the urn to a shelf, and then we carried the table up through the kitchen and out into his back yard.

  “Thank you, Mac. I appreciate your help,” he said when we were done.

  “No problem. Anything you need, just call.” Daylight was fading fast and I wanted to get home.

  “Why don’t you come over tomorrow for a hotdog or two?”

  “Thanks, Harry, but I have to work.” The Bugler was always my safety valve when I needed to get out of something I didn’t want to.

  “On the Fourth of July? You need to take some time off.”

  I smiled and shrugged.

  “How about tomorrow night? There are the fireworks at the VA.” Harry knew I had a weakness for fireworks, and the Veterans Administration hospital in Lyons offered a huge display every July Fourth.

  “You got it,” I promised. I was already looking forward to it.

  “Great! How about if we ride over together? About seven-thirty? That way we can find a good place to sit.”

  “Sure thing, Harry. I’ll see you then.”

  “Thanks again, Mac.”