Nobody Can Say It’s You: A Hadley Pell Cozy Mystery (14 page)

* * *

B
eanie had been finishing
up that day. It was sweltering hot. He bent down and noticed there was something in the broken nest. Carefully opening the crack in the nest, he saw a balled up baby squirrel. The baby lay very still. He looked around and saw no sign of the mother. He knew the baby would not survive alone.

Taking off his baseball hat, he eased the baby it.

He began to run back to town. He had to get this baby some help. He hoped he running didn’t injure the squirrel, but he knew he had to act fast. He ran until he felt like his lungs would burst. His heart pounded in his chest like a jackhammer. Still, he ran.

As he neared the first of the two stoplights, he saw a car he recognized. He hoped Hadley would see him and give him a ride to the animal rescue center. He thought if she didn’t, he just might die right here on the street like poor Harry had all those years ago.

Hadley spotted Beanie running for all he was worth. Pulling to the curb, she opened the passenger door and called out.

“What’s wrong, Beanie? Are you all right?”

Beanie ran up to the car and jumped into the passenger seat.

“I got a sick baby squirrel in my hat. I found it at O’dell Deel’s plot. I think it’s still alive. Can we get to Miz Ruth before it dies? I don’t want to have to dig a grave for a baby squirrel, Hadley. I think it would break my heart.”

“Okay, Bean, shut the door and turn up the AC. We will get that baby there as fast as old Betsy can make it.”

After looking to make sure there was nothing coming down the road, she did a quick U-turn and started for MEGA park. If Bill saw her, he would give her a ticket, but she would deal with that later.

She eased up to the security gate and was buzzed in. Together, she and Beanie, cradling the baby in his ball hat, hurried into the center. Ruth met them at the door and gingerly took the bundle from Beanie.

“Let’s have a look at you,” Ruth said as she took the baby squirrel into the exam room.

“Let’s stay out here, Bean, so we don’t get in Ruth’s way,” Hadley said.

They went into the little break room to wait. Hadley went to the vending machine and bought two sodas.

“Here, drink this. You look like you are about scared to death. Did you run all the way back from the cemetery with that squirrel in your hat?”

“Yeah, I knew it needed help, and it was the fastest way I could think of to get it back to town. I’m glad you saw me. I don’t think I could have made it all the way up to the rescue center.”

“I had to make a run to Pixies for more food for Onus,” Hadley said. “I think he’s trying to put on extra fat for spite or something. I’m glad I saw you, too.”

“I’m glad I didn’t fall over dead,” Beanie said. “I might have squished the baby squirrel.”

Ruth came out, and Beanie stood up. He had a worried look on his face that tugged at Hadley’s heart.

“You were right to bring him in, Beanie,” Ruth said. “He got a little banged up in the fall from the tree. He is resting comfortably in a warm bed. I’ve had to set his back ankle. He took some food. I’ll watch him, but I think he’ll be okay. I got him to tinkle, and that’s always a good sign.”

“Can I see him?” Beanie asked.

“Just a peek,” she said.

Beanie went to the recovery and looked into the towel-lined box. The little squirrel was sleeping in his clean bed. His back leg was wrapped in a splint with a bright red bandage.

Beanie watched the up and down motion of the little squirrel’s chest to make sure it was breathing okay. Satisfied that the squirrel comfortable, he turned around and hugged Ruth.

“Thank you for saving my little friend. I don’t have too many, and I like to keep the ones I have.”

“Come on, Beanie,” Hadley said, “I think someone deserves a chocolate cream soda and a cheeseburger at the Spoon. I’ll bet Delta will just swoon when you tell her how you saved a baby’s life today.”

They got back into the car and headed into town. Hadley looked over at her smiling friend and couldn’t help but smile herself.

“
F
loyd Carlisle says
that Button’s will is a fake,” Bill said to Hadley and Maury over dinner.

“A fake,” said Maury. “Law, what’s Estill gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” said Bill.

“Floyd just wants that property to build those luxury homes for retirees,” said Hadley. “He’s had his eye on Button’s land for years.”

“Yeah,” said Bill. “The jobs would help the people in the county, but it’s the people that move into those homes I worry about.”

“I know,” said Hadley. “Change is hard.”

“You said it,” said Maury. “Them Northerners flock down here like birds on migration. Build their fancy homes. Prices go sky high, and pretty soon the locals can’t afford to live here no more.”

Bill just shook his head. It was the way of the world. He was only one man.

It was at that moment that Onus decided to pounce right in the middle of the table and help himself to the leftover pot roast Hadley had placed on her best serving dish.

“Onus!” Hadley screamed.

“I sure am glad I already had seconds,” Bill said.

“Well,” said Maury, trying to hide the fact that she was mortified to see a four-legged beast scarfing down meat she’d forked into her mouth minutes ago, “it was about the best pot roast I ever had in my life.”

“He’s never done that before,” said Hadley.

“Is it a full moon?” Maury said. “They always say the full moon brings out the crazy in everything.”

“Crazy or not,” said Hadley, “he knows better than that.”

“I gotta run,” Bill said. “Thanks for the dinner, Hadley. Me ’n’ Onus thought it was scrumptious.”

“Sorry ’bout that, Bill.”

“Don’t worry about it. When Skip was little Maury caught him playing in the toilet with her best cooking pans.”

“Oh, Bill!” Maury screeched. “You promised you wouldn’t tell a soul.”

“It’s your sister, dear,” Bill said. “She doesn’t count.”

Onus had scampered into some back corner of the house. The small piece of roast he’d stolen had long been chewed and swallowed.

“He’s never, ever done anything like that before,” Hadley said. “I really don’t understand it. It was like he was possessed or something.”

“I tell you what’s the truth, I think there are a lot of mighty strange goings on around here. A man as old as dirt running down Main Street. Lou Edna suffering the plagues of Egypt. I tell you, Hadley,” Maury said, “I’d swear it was Halloween if it hadn’t already passed.”

“I know what you mean,” said Hadley. “I’ve been wondering if Button wasn’t involved in something. Oh, I don’t mean illegal. I mean old.”

“Old like what?” Maury asked.

“Old like sin-eating,” said Hadley.

D
ougal Orner was sitting
in a rough shed he’d built in the woods, wondering if one last shot of his herbal potion might be enough. Dougal possessed the recipe for the flying ointment. His mother had warned him many times not to use it, but he had tried it a couple of times. He felt like crap when he came down from his trip, but that was only a minor inconvenience.

Some of the Ancients used this stuff, too. Dougal had ran into a couple of them in the middle of the night when he was soaring over the trees and mountain tops. He was lucky they hadn’t seen him. Or if they had, they realized he was too much of a novice to bother shooting down from the night sky.

Those old prunes were real territorial when it came to their airspace. Dougal still felt that deathly chill right in the center of his heart whenever he thought about those nights. There was no Southern hospitality in their feelings about having an intruder over their mountains, but they had more important things to attend to than Dougal Orner.

He would have to be very careful. Those old ones had powers he could only dream about. It came from being around so long, he guessed. Maybe, someday, he’d take them all on. If he lived long enough.

Dougal’s favorite role model was James Dean. Rebel. Devil-may-care attitude. It was a crying shame that Jimmy went out so soon, but still, he did it in a blaze of glory. If Dougal had to go out, that wasn’t a bad way to go, he decided. In a fancy sports car going about 250 miles an hour. Yes, sir. Jimmy was on to something, Dougal decided.

Should he use it or not.

The ointment was hard to dose. Even harder to try figure out how it would affect you. The first time had been pretty good. Even the bad trip back down later wasn’t really that bad. But the second time, boy, was that a nightmare. Dougal walked around in a daze for several days. It was hard to tell what was real and what was a figment of his messed-up imagination.

What would the third time be like? Nirvana or hell?

Dougal sat on the three-legged stool and stared out the door of the shed. The night air was keen, but he’d layered up with plenty of clothing. What did he care about a little cold air?

Use it or not? That is the question.

Dougal felt very Shakespearean. How he hated those lessons in school. But he did have to admit, the parts about the witches and what not that Shakespeare guy wrote about was pretty cool. Even if he didn’t understand nine-tenths of what that old guy was saying.

Use it or not?

Dougal sat very still in the old shed trying to make up his mind if the risk was worth it. The sun dropped over the ridge and dusk was creeping into night.

Dougal would have to make up his mind soon. It was a long, cold walk home in the dark.

“
D
id
you read that headline in today’s paper?” Maury asked.

“Floyd Carlisle is making a big stink over Button’s land. He wants to build some kind of resort. A spa and golf course and luxury accommodations on top of Dudley’s Ridge,” said Hadley.

“Sounds like more ka-ching that I could ever scrape up to stay there,” said Maury.

“Me, too,” said Hadley. “Besides, we got our own views right here that are just as beautiful as up on Dudley’s Ridge.”

“For free,” said Maury.

“Exactly, kiddo,” said Hadley.

“You don’t think Floyd had anything to do with Button’s weird demise, do you?”

“I don’t know. After reading that article, he sounds like he’d give his eye teeth, and then some, for that land. People have killed for a whole lot less.”

“It is beautiful up there. Can you imagine how much the property taxes will shoot up around here if the Carlisles develop that ridge?”

“I don’t even want to think about that.”

“Well,” said Maury, “I don’t think we have to worry about it. Button’s will is in his own handwriting. No doubt about it. Still, it wasn’t notarized.”

“I looked up that holographic will thing,” Hadley said. “I was curious. They are legal wills, but they are the easiest to challenge. No witnesses, you know.”

“I think that’s what Floyd hopes will pitch the case in his favor,” Maury said. “He’s claiming parts of it aren’t Button’s handwriting. I think it’s ridiculous. I think the court will throw it out. And with all this junk he’s stirring up, I’m beginning to wonder if he didn’t have a hand in old Button’s weird exit from this life.”

Bingo.

Hadley didn’t say anything to Maury. She thought Floyd Carlisle might stand better than an ice cube’s chance in Hades because Floyd had the best lawyers and the money to tangle things up for a long time. Estill could be bankrupted just on legal fees alone if Floyd chose to drag the case out.

And as for Floyd Carlisle’s hand in Button’s death, Hadley had to give that a lot more thought. The jury was still out on that one.

E
still was looking
out the window at her garden, not her vegetable garden, but her special one. She could hardly wait until spring came. She was already planning what to add next. The belladonna she’d grown from seeds last year had done wonderfully well. She sewn the seed early in flats and nurtured them. They’d grown over a foot and a half and had the loveliest blooms she’d ever seen by last September. She looked at jars of dried belladonna on her shelf and smiled.

She wanted as much variety as possible. She’d planted poppies, coleus, daturas, fennel, henbane, oleanders, hydrangeas, and night-blooming jessamine. This year she’d add Madagascar periwinkle.

She’d saved some morning glory seeds, although her special garden was always full of wonderful blooms. She’d made the mistake buying some morning glory seeds that had been treated with insecticide. Of course, she’d failed to read the package. She’d started vomiting and had diarrhea when she’d eaten some of the seeds. Too late, Estill had learned some companies treated their seeds with fungicides and other toxins to discourage their use as hallucinogens.

She hoped Dougal heeded her warnings. These seeds could be deadly or permanently damage his mind. But Dougal was so strong willed. It was a constant worry for Estill. But Dougal was a young man, and if he did not heed her warnings, it was his own fault.

She’d had much success growing passionflower in her garden. Before the frost last fall, she’d been able to cut down whole vines and dried lots of the herb. But it was a perennial, and Estill looked forward to seeing the vine with its white flowers gracing her hallucinogenic garden again.

Estill would have loved to have been able to grow a few acres of tobacco. Uncured tobacco, Estill knew, was powerful. You could pass out after smoking only one cigarette. She’d warned Dougal over and over again because he’d be more likely to die smoking this type of tobacco than become addicted to it, but he liked to use it to talk to the deities.

She had always had a large vegetable garden, but when she’d decided to start her special garden over two decades ago, she’d picked a place on her land that afforded her many different kinds of growing areas. There was a stream. There was full sun and shade. If a certain plant preferred a certain kind of soil, Estill added whatever was needed to accommodate her plants. And she encouraged the “good”’ weeds like pokeweed, rhododendron, skunk cabbage, Virginia creeper, lily of the valley, poison ivy, blood root, daffodils, trailing wolfsbane, and stinging nettles to grow with abandon.

All of these plants were poisonous and were welcomed to thrive in her dark, special garden. She could use their bulbs, roots, leaves, stems and flowers in various potions and hexes for the knowledge in her sacred book gave her the ability to cook up or dry a cornucopia of evil.

She’d built a large outbuilding to store her herbs and, using her sacred book, now had a large store of dried herbs, ointments, and salves for a multitude of uses. Utilizing belladonna and the products harvested from her poppies, Estill could induce twilight sleep. How many nights had she used it to treat her insomnia?

She remembered when Dougal first became interested in her life’s work. She’d wanted to beat that little stinker’s tail for stealing her sacred book. She smiled. It was just after puberty had turned her little boy into a man. He’d become obsessed with the Elanor twin. That Chandra was nothing but trouble. With a capital “T.”

She was smart, Estill knew from talking to her, but it seemed she only had one thing on her mind and that was s-e-x. Estill had worked like the devil to keep that girl from getting pregnant by her son. How much of her energy had she expended on that project? Hexes, charms, and all kinds of curses and spells.

And all her hard work had been successful. No babies in all the time Dougal had been going with Chandra. Estill was good at her kind of magic. It would have been nice if she’d been gifted with second sight, though. Being able to see the future would have been something she could have put to her own good use. But you didn’t get a whole cup of anything in life.

The book had been gone for more than six months. Dougal had denied taking it, but Estill could guess what he’d wanted it for. Love charms and potions to make that twin be his forever.

He’d taken it a few times over the years, but only for much shorter periods. She knew about those times. He’d either admitted to “borrowing” it or she’d caught him with it. Oh, well, Estill thought. It was good he showed an interest even if she’d had to go without her sacred instructions for awhile.

It looked like Dougal had been busy again. The door to her work shed had been tampered with and some of the herbs had been moved around on her shelves. She was certain some of them were missing. At least, the sacred book was over in the corner on its little stand.

She wandered over to the book and flipped a page.

“Oh,” she muttered, “exactly what I need!”