Nobody's Sorry You're Dead: A Hadley Pell Cozy Mystery

by Jeri Green

  “I used the coffee grinder,” Rayna said.

  “That is good to know,” said Hadley. “Speaking of flub-ups. Boy, did I ever mess up my chocolate chip pumpkin biscuits with strawberry-vanilla jam when I tried to add some chili powder. Talk about a Pellacious hash of yucky flavors!”

  “I remember that one,” Rayna said.

  “Boy,” said Hadley, “was that ever one for the trash can! But you never know until you try, Rayna.

  “You know, cooking can be such a boring task if you always do every dish the exact same way every single time. That’s why I love to dump cook. And while I’m dumping, I also like to mine the cabinets for some forgotten spice or flavor combination. To me, it’s only fun if you use your imagination and unusual ingredients. I know it’s iffy. Sometimes, I fall flat on my face. So what!

  “Maury is not like you and me. She will not deviate one pinch from the recipe. That’s half the fun. Sure, you might end up with a mess. But, you might come up with a new winner! I swear those State Fair competitions get harder every year. I’ll be sure and give you a call when I catch a minute, Rayna.”

  “Okay.”

  “Bye, now.”

  Onus jumped in her lap.

  “Well, look who’s here,” Hadley said. “Three rub-a-dub dubs and that’s it.”

  She rubbed the cat’s belly three times. Satisfied, Onus jumped down. She would not stroke her cat a fourth time. She had learned that lesson the hard way. He’d swatted her hand with outstretched claws and cried furiously.

  But three, and only three, was a safe number, a good number, and the exact amount of strokes that satisfied her lordly little Prince of Pell Manor.

  Brinkley Daymore wiped the grease from his hands on his grimy rag.

  “The starter’s shot, Hadley,” Brinkley said.

  Brinkley had operated the local service station for over twenty years. One gas pump and a single garage area for repairs, but it served the town's automotive needs. Brinkley was the station’s only owner and sole employee. He was efficient and capable and never hurried. He was like the steady tortoise who always won the race.

  Never rattled, never angered, Brinkley focused on whatever job he had scheduled – waxing, brakes, or filling up a customer’s tank. Finishing that one, he proceeded to the next. Slow and steady. Yet, he managed to get a tremendous amount of work accomplished in one day by keeping distractions to a minimum.

  “How long is she out of commission?” Hadley asked.

  Hadley always referred to any car she’d ever driven as ‘she.’ To Hadley, a car was like Onus – an indifferent beast that was wonderful to own when it behaved but could turn on a dime and torture your soul when it did not.

  “Beg pardon, Hadley,” Brinkley said.

  “The car,” Hadley said. “I need that car, Brinkley. I’ve been hog-tied into chairing the annual bazaar and bake sale. That means a thousand errands. I’ve got jobs lined up. Beanie’s counting on me. He’ll starve if I don’t provide transportation so we can get paid.”

  “Beanie won’t starve. He already has a job,” said Brinkley.

  “Well, who do you think is carrying him to the cemetery to bury Eustian? I need that car yesterday, Brinkley,” Hadley said. “Rent me your truck.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. If you have to keep my car here until you can get it fixed, then rent me that rattle-trap piece of junk you call a truck. I know it’s not much to look at, Brinkley, but I’ve heard you crank her up.”

  “Well, it does purr, don’t it?” Brinkley said, swelling with pride.

  “Ten dollars plus gas,” Hadley said.

  “But Hadley,” Brinkley protested, “I can’t do that! If I was to rent my truck out to you, pretty soon, every Eddie and Freddie in the county will want me to do the same for them.”

  “No, they won’t. Just tell them you sold it to me,” said Hadley.

  “Sold it!” said Brinkley.

  “Yes.”

  “And what am I supposed to say when you bring it back?”

  “Just that,” said Hadley, not missing a beat. “You tell them I tried it out and decided I liked old Betsy better. Tell them I’m just a wishy-washy woman. A typical woman who thinks she wants something until she gets it. Then, she wishes she had what she had in the first place.”

  “Ain’t nobody gonna believe that fish tale,” said Brinkley.

  “Sure they will. We’re talking Hadley Pell, remember.”

  Brinkley pushed up the bill of his blackened baseball hat and rubbed the part of his forehead that rarely saw the sun. That ribbon of skin was as pale as paper and stood out in stark contrast to the leathery skin on his sunburned face. It made the garage mechanic look naked somehow.

  “You do know how to turn a dime, Hadley. I’ll give you that. Most folks’ll buy that story hook, line, and sinker. Especially the ones who know you real good.”

  “Don’t I know it,” said Hadley, stuffing a crispy, new $10 bill into Brinkley’s pocket before he had a chance to think about their deal.

  “Key’s in the ignition,” Brinkley said. “I’ll send Gopher over later to let you know when I’m done. You mind how you treat my truck, Hadley.”

  “I’ll treat your truck like it was a fetus in my womb, Brink,” Hadley said, pulling the ball cap down on Brinkley’s forehead. “Keep that snow patch covered. Sheriff Bill might have to arrest you for indecent exposure.”

  Brinkley turned as red as a beet. He stood there wondering what had just happened, confused at his embarrassment, and embarrassed at his confusion.

  “Take care of my truck,” he yelled.

  “Don’t worry,” Hadley shouted. “Get my car running as fast as you can.”

  Brinkley felt like the world had just been turned upside down. Had he been bested by a woman? He didn’t know. But one thing was certain. Time was wasting, and the more time he wasted, the longer Hadley Pell would be driving around in his beloved truck.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Beanie.”

  “Hadley? That you? Why are you doing drivin’ ‘round in Brinkley’s old heap?”

  “Beanie, come on. Get in.”

  “Okay, but Hadley, this ain’t the way to Eustian’s house.”

  “We’re not going there. We’ve got an unscheduled stop to make.”

  “Hadley, what are you talking about?”

  “Beanie, what are you doing? Leave that glove box alone. Your rooting around in that thing will cause me to wreck this junker. It’s already costing me $10 plus gas. At this rate, I’ll be paying Bill to clean out that old farmhouse.”

  “Hadley, what are you talking about?”

  “What is in that glove box that’s so interesting, Beanie?” Hadley asked. “Does Brinkley have girlie magazines stashed in there?”

  “No, Hadley. But he does have some candy corn, two peppermint patties, and a Butterfinger in here. The corn is just floating around among some papers, all loose. Looks like a few kernels got grease or something on them.”

  “Beanie, shut the door of that glove box, this minute.”

  He did as he was told.

  “What’s in the sack beside you?” Beanie asked. “Snacks?”

  “No,” Hadley said. “Just some books I’ve got to return to the library.

  “I’ll buy you a snack in a little while. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Beanie looked out the window. His bottom lip was only slightly protruding.

  “Hadley, why are we going here?” Beanie asked, recognizing the road where Hadley had just turned off. “They gave me the day off, Hadley. We got no business in our cemetery, today. Why did you bring me here? This isn’t my cemetery. Harvey says this place is our competitor.”

  “I know that, Beanie, but I told Brinkley you were burying Eustian.”

  “But,” Beanie said, “Eustian’s being buried in this cemetery. Not mine.”

  “I know that, too, but apparently Brinkley didn’t. I was banking on that little fact. You see, Beanie, I sort of twisted
Brinkley’s arm to get him to loan me his truck. Well, not loan, but rent it to me. Anyway, I used a sob story that I needed his vehicle. I lied and told him I needed it to carry you to work. I figured it was a pretty safe thing to say.

  “Brinkley’s a good grease monkey. I guess it would take a nuclear bomb to blow him away from that garage. Anyway, my ploy worked, but I feel guilty as all get out. You’re not a grave digger today, Beanie. Today, you’re paying your respects like anybody else who attends a funeral.”

  “My respects? But that means we’re going . . . oh no, Hadley.”

  “Oh yes, Beanie. Now, get out of this truck, and tuck in your shirt. No sense looking like bums if we don’t have to. Stand up straight. You look good. How do I look?” Hadley asked.

  “You look like you always do, Hadley,” Beanie said.

  “That’s just what I was afraid you’d say. Well, I don’t think Eustian will have any complaints. Do you, Beanie?”

  “I hope not.”

  “He better not, Beanie. Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

  “Oh, Hadley,” said Beanie.

  “Just a joke, Beanie. A joke. Come on. They look like they are about to start.”

  “They?” said Beanie. “I only see Preacher Jake.”

  “Figure of speech, Beanie. Just a figure of speech.”

  “Hadley,” Beanie said, “you said you wouldn’t cry buckets for Eustian.”

  “I know I did.”

  “Then, why are we here?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought since you and I were going to make a few hundred bucks from cleaning up his house, the least we could do is show up at his funeral and pay our respects. And I am paying penance for my little white lie to Brinkley, too.”

  “Oh,” said Beanie.

  “You don’t mind, do you, Beanie?” Hadley said.

  “No. Not at all. But something’s buggin’ me, Hadley.”

  “What’s that.”

  “I don’t think I got any respects, Hadley, but I’m willing to stand beside you while you give Eustian yours.”

  The old truck turned off the main road and rattled onto the gravel drive leading to the cemetery. Hadley noted the old headstones as she guided the vehicle along the twisting path to the farthest limits of the graveyard.

  The gravestones leaned right and left, at odd angles, as they settled comfortably into the dirt. It was a quiet place, if you liked quiet. The huge trees scattered here and there kept the stones company.

  Hadley wondered as she gazed over the gently rolling hills, who lived under the stones? What stories could they reveal?

  Maybe, it was better not to know.

  The secrets of the dead should remain just that, she decided.

  Secret.

  Hadley maneuvered the truck along the narrowing pathway and edged off the gravels into the ragged grass. She pushed the emergency brake down with her foot and looked at Beanie.

  “Well, Bean, I guess this is it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Hello, Hadley and Vesper.”

  “Sir,” Beanie said, obviously ill-at-ease to be standing by a grave without a shovel in his hand.

  “Good day, Preacher,” Hadley said. “We were just passing by and saw you here alone. Thought we’d stop and keep you comp’ny, if you don’t object.”

  “Certainly not. I think it is mighty neighborly to pay your respects to Mr. Singlepenny.”

  “I ain’t got none,” said Beanie. “But Hadley’s got enough for both of us, Preacher.”

  Pastor Jake was at a loss for words. Hadley just smiled. Beanie was harmless. You just had to go with his flow.

  “Looked awfully lonesome up here, Jake. Beanie and I thought we’d give you a little moral support.”

  “Well, Hadley, I’m grateful for your consideration. I really felt a bit absurd standing here with no one to talk to, but I’d made up my mind, I’d talk to myself, even if it made me look like an idiot.”

  “Well, you’re not one of that bunch,” said Hadley.

  “I am,” said Beanie, quietly.

  Both Jake and Hadley let that one pass without comment.

  “That’s a really funny looking casket,” Beanie observed, looking down into the grave.

  “It’s a cardboard box,” said the pastor.

  “Guess that explains why they didn’t bury him in my cemetery,” Beanie said. “Harvey wants anyone planted in Memorial Gardens to be in one of those caskets from Sheffield's. Harry was buried in one of Sheffield’s finest, Hadley.”

  “I know, Beanie,” Hadley said. “I wrote the check to Harvey.”

  “Oh,” said Beanie.

  “The cardboard box was all Eustian would pay for,” said Preacher Jake, “I guess we better start. Orville said Singlepenny forbade any embalming either.

  “An expensive waste of good money.

  “Orville said those were Eustian’s exact words several years ago when Singlepenny wrecked his tractor and thought he might die. Orville said you could have knocked him over with a feather when Eustian showed up wanting to talk burial arrangements. And this is all that the old man wanted. Nothing fancy. Just a hole in the ground, a cardboard box, and to be left in peace.”

  “Well, Eustian’s certainly got his wish way out here,” said Hadley. “This is the farthest plot in this place. Out in the boonies. Not even a nice shade tree to lie under. Guess these spots go for pennies on the dollar. Not like the popular ones by the big Jesus statue.”

  “I suppose,” said Preacher Jake.

  “Don’t you wanna wait and see if somebody else shows up?” Beanie asked.

  “Nah,” said Hadley. “I think this is gonna be about it, Bean. Let’s let the preacher get on with his service. Eustian’s gonna be left alone after we three leave.”

  “Think he’s gonna be lonesome, Hadley? Nobody’s sorry, remember?” said Beanie.

  “Don’t worry about old Eustian, Beanie. He was a born loner,” said Hadley.

  “Now, he’s gonna be a dead-alone born loner,” said Beanie.

  “Don’t fret, Bean,” Hadley said. “This is exactly the way Eustian wanted it. Weren’t you listening to Preacher Jake. Orville is carrying out Eustian’s wishes.”

  Beanie had a deep crease in his forehead. Hadley knew he was still stewing about Eustian alone in this end of the cemetery.

  “Tell you what, Bean. We’ll stop by The Creamery for an ice cream soda when this is all over.”

  “Okay,” said Beanie, now standing stock still and dreaming of a strawberry double-decker chocolate syrup, three maraschino cherries, and four scoops of homemade pink goodness floating in soda and topped with homemade whipping cream.

  “We are gathered today to remember our brother, Eustian Singlepenny. It is not often a man like Mr. Singlepenny comes our way.”

  “And,” added Beanie, in case Preacher Jake forgot to mention it, “we are truly glad about that.”

  “Beanie,” said Hadley, “strawberries and cream.”

  “I’ll be good, Hadley. Not another word,” said Beanie.

  Preacher Jake said a few more words. Unless the pastor went off on a long list of Eustian’s slights and trespasses and the many, many injustices and wrongs that this one man had committed against the good folks of Hope Rock County, there wasn’t much left for Jake to say. He recited a few verses of scripture.

  “Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. We commend your spirit to this ground. May you rest in peace, Eustian Singlepenny.”

  “Amen,” said Hadley and Beanie.

  Beanie looked around.

  “What’s the matter?” Hadley asked.

  “I was just looking for a shovel,” Beanie said.

  “Come on, Bean,” Hadley said, “let’s see if we can get this old truck in gear. You and I have a date at The Creamery. Remember?”

  “Yeah, Hadley. That’s right. We do.”

  “But first, I’ve got to drop off these overdue books to Miz Anna down at the library.”

  Chapter Fifteen
r />   Hadley parked the truck in front of the library.

  “Beanie,” she said, “do you want to go in with me or wait out here.”

  “I’ll wait here, if you don’t mind, Hadley,” Beanie said. “All them books in Miz Anna’s library sitting on them shelves staring me in the face make me feel dumber than a tree frog yodeling in a cricket choir.”

  “Beanie,” Hadley said, “those books aren’t there to make people feel dumb. They are resources. They are symbols of knowledge waiting to teach hungry souls who thirst after their treasures. All those choices, all those words, all those pages.”

  “Really,” Beanie said. “Boy, Hadley. You must go treasure hunting a lot.”

  “No. I haven’t darkened the door to Miz Anna’s library in ages. Harry was the bookworm in the family. Not me. He wanted me to get a computer, an iPad, anything that would bring me into the Internet Age. But I refused. I’m an old stick in the mud.

  “He never mentioned it again, even though he used those gadgets in his job all the time. When I think about it, Bean, Harry was a lot like me. We were just two old sticks.

  “Even though he was connected, as they say, he still loved his books and newspapers. I think Harry liked the feel of real paper pages between his fingers. I think Harry liked going old school, every now and then. That’s why he was always paying Miz Anna a visit. But you do have a point. Maybe I need to start visiting Miz Anna more often. Keep the old brain cells hitting on all cylinders.”

  “My brain cells are just fine,” Beanie said. “Trying to read all them pages Miz Anna’s got in that place would give me a my-brain headache. Not to mention wearing out my eyes.”

  “Now, Beanie, if I were going to read all of the books Miz Anna has in that library, I’d wear my eyes out, too. But here’s how it works: you pick and choose. A couple books here. A couple later.

  “That’s how Harry did it.

  “Gives the old eyeballs time to rest and the my-brain time to go away. And that’s why we’re here. I’m going to say ‘howdy’ to Miz Anna. These are books Harry signed out before he died. I found them when Onus and I were cleaning out some stuff in the attic.”