Wolfheart

by Hallie Lee

  Quietdove cleared his throat, “I know you’re awfully sorry to hear about Miss Peony—”

  “Who?” Jesse asked.

  “The victim. That’s why you’re here. Right?”

  Max moved closer into my office, ensuring his partner of his support.

  “All right.” I stood, gesturing to Jesse. “I appreciate your visit. We’ll take everything you’ve said into consideration. Now if you don’t mind, we’ve got work to do.”

  Jesse didn’t move. “You can’t just kick me out. I’m a citizen. I pay your salary. And yours,” he tilted his head at Max and Quietdove.

  “That may be so, but unless you have evidence in the case, you’re just wasting our time.”

  “Fine then. I’ll get evidence. That shouldn’t be hard.”

  My knucklehead deputies and I glowered as Jesse remained planted in my chair. Eventually, the pressure became too much, and he stormed out of the substation. I could see him through the lobby window, grumbling to his friends in the giant truck.

  After a beat passed, I said, “Okay. On to other business. We need to keep the kids out of the Cozy Corner’s parking lot at night. That is, if we want Charlie Wayne to keep giving us free coffee and donuts.”

  Max nodded. “Copy that.”

  •

  By the end of the day, it had become clear that Wolfheart and his lawyer weren’t coming. Angry that I’d been had, I called Lenny’s cellphone. He didn’t answer. Annoyed, I texted, would you and your lovely wife happen to know why Wolfheart and his lawyer stood me up today?

  The delightful dots of promise danced on my phone. I stared. And waited. Nothing.

  I texted Desi something similar, but the dots didn’t dance at all.

  I thought about calling Luke, who’d bragged earlier about stopping in and updating me, but I was so doggone beat I couldn’t even work up a sarcastic text, much less a phone call.

  “I’m headed home,” Quietdove said. “I’ll see what I can find out when I get to the creek.”

  “Good deal. Be safe,” I noted the skip in his step as he strolled to his truck. A strikingly handsome young man, Quietdove had always been eager to assimilate. Becoming a deputy was testament to that, but I realized I didn’t know much else about him. Was he going home to parents? A girlfriend? A cat?

  The ding of a text dragged me from my curiosity. It was Lenny, chocked full of emoticons, Sorry, things crazy here in anticipation of Robin’s visit—party at our house after we pick her up at airport. Come!

  A blatant teaser, of course. But it had worked. I rifled once more through the taffy bowl on my desk, not fooling around this time and selecting coconut, my personal favorite. I glanced at the time, deciding a quick haircut at Dolly’s Diva Dome might be in order. Then I’d go home to Gerty.

  •

  Dolly’s hair was just as blonde as it had been in high school thirty years ago. Amazing how that worked. When I walked into the salon, she greeted me with a coy smile. “Hey Ricky, you handsome devil.” Her comb paused over her client’s head. “Don’t tell me you want me to cut that gorgeous hair of yours?” I’d learned long ago that most of what came out of Dolly’s mouth was either vague, untrue, or a sad attempt to either cause pain or gain approval.

  “If you have the time.”

  “Have a seat. I’m almost finished with Mrs. Guidry here. Isn’t she gorgeous? She’s so skinny, she’s gonna waste away to nothing.” Case in point. Mrs. Guidry was about two-fifty on the hoof, but I reckon Dolly was just being nice.

  No doubt she’d been dealt a bad hand, but knowing Dolly, she’d probably brought shady cards to the game to start.

  Once Mrs. Guidry was coiffed to perfection, Dolly saw her out to the parking lot. When a vaguely familiar truck honked as it passed, Dolly and Mrs. Guidry raised their hands in a pointed wave. I squinted at the driver of the rarely seen pickup truck.

  Curious, I asked after Dolly sent Mrs. Guidry on her merry way, “Was that Tom and Wanda?” I hadn’t seen Desi’s stepdad and his new wife in ages, and something about their gradual withdrawal from the community unsettled me.

  Dolly’s bracelets jangled as she responded dismissively. “Just Mrs. Wanda. Last I heard Mr. Tom was sick.”

  “Is that so? Something serious?”

  Ready to fully devote her attention to me now, Dolly shrugged off my question as if it were frivolous, embracing me with a lingering full-on hug designed to remind me she was a woman. Which it did.

  “When are you gonna take me to dinner in Belle Maison? I know you’ve got an apartment there.” She smiled demurely. “You wouldn’t even have to drive me back to Shady Gully.”

  I cautiously steered the conversation in another direction. “Too busy keeping the peace, Dolly.” She wrapped a cape around my shoulders. “Just thin it out, a little off the ears.”

  She gently ran her fingers through my hair. Massaged my scalp. After the day I’d had, I could have closed my eyes and surrendered to my frustration and exhaustion.

  But Gerty was waiting for me at home. And Robin was coming this weekend.

  “I heard some bad karma finally caught up with those sketchy folks across the creek. Never trusted them, with their crazy names and all—”

  “What exactly did you hear?” Actually, I rather enjoyed their creative monikers. It’s what set them apart, really, since they looked and dressed like everybody else in Shady Gully. “Or have you been talking to your brother?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “It is what it is.”

  Some things changed over time. Improved even. And then there was Dolly…

  I cleared my throat. “Say, you know where I can buy a good pair of khakis?”

  Chapter Six

  Fireman

  Wolfheart

  “W

  here should I put my keyboard?” Bella asked as she glanced around my tiny home, which was essentially an extension to my shop. A kitchen and a small table sat across from a living room big enough to hold a recliner and a small couch, while a loft upstairs provided me a bedroom and a bathroom. My shop, on the other hand, was large enough to house an array of supplies and equipment, ranging from large herbal tools to smaller necessities like measuring scales, grinders, and cutting boards.

  “Anywhere you want, Bella. Your music makes me happy.”

  “Good,” she grinned. “I’ll set it up by your recliner.” Bella’s music grounded her in such a way that despite the trauma of the last several days, she radiated strength. Her brows knitted in concentration as she unfolded the keyboard, placed her iPad on the sheet music stand, and plugged in the microphone.

  Peony and I had put our herb money together and bought her the electronic keyboard system a month ago, and she’d mastered it already. Her lofty aspirations and boundless confidence drove her to challenge the long-standing ways of Shady Gully. Her passion and determination to break barriers was admirable, but because that quest hadn’t ended well for me, I worried.

  “Look,” Bella pointed out the window. “Some of Mamaw’s chickens followed Mama. And some of the cats too. And she remembered my earphones.”

  A profound sense of sadness came over me as I watched the migration of Peony’s lost and displaced critters. “Let’s go help your mama unload.” As we padded onto the porch, I carefully scanned the yard, peering beyond to the dilapidated shed and the winter wood pile at the tree line.

  As the dome light atop Meadow’s old clunker slowed to a lazy swirl, I pored over the items from Peony’s house, all crammed in the back seat amid haphazard mailing envelopes and packing tape. “Hey,” she grumbled.

  “Everything okay?” I grabbed a box. “You have any trouble?”

  “None.” She patted the bulge against her back hip, indicating the gun she carried. “Y’all?” Her eyes, fierce and protective, cut toward Bella.

  “Safe and sound.” I grabbed a
sack of bird feed from the trunk. “Looks like we gained a few mouths to feed. “I don’t even recognize some of these mutts.”

  “Just call me Pied Piper.”

  Bella grinned, putting her arm around Meadow’s waist. “Nope. But I’ll tell you what your name means.”

  When Meadow shot me an exasperated look, I implored her to be patient with Bella’s recent fascination with spirit names and their meanings.

  “Meadow means strong, happy, and graceful,” Bella pronounced.

  Meadow snorted. “I think you’re off on that one.”

  “You’re strong,” I insisted.

  “And graceful,” Bella added.

  “Two out of three then,” Meadow shrugged cynically.

  “Come relax,” Bella tugged. “Uncle Wolf made soup.”

  “Yeah,” I added. “We need to have a family meeting.”

  “About my taking your mail route next week,” Bella piped. “I already talked to Claire at the post office and she said I could.”

  While the bruises on Meadow’s arms and chin had faded to a churn of yellow and green, the shadows under her eyes remained etched with grief.

  “Really?” Meadow was skeptical. “Who knew Claire was so nice?”

  “She’s not,” I warned. “But we need to talk about more pressing matters than that.” I gave Bella a look. “I won’t be able to avoid Ricky much longer. He plans to be at the funeral tomorrow.”

  •

  After we cleared the table, I grinded some lemon balm and hibiscus and made us each a mug of tea. I regarded Meadow as I set the tea down, relieved to see that some of the strain had eased from her face. She returned the scrutiny. “You look tired, Uncle. Drawn.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Better now that you’re both here, and safe. But we need to get our story straight before tomorrow.”

  “We can’t stay here forever,” Meadow said. “Eventually we’ll have to go back.”

  “Why not? It’s cool here,” Bella added sugar to her tea. “Today Uncle Wolf taught me how to infuse olive oil with rose petals and flowers.”

  “You’ll both stay here as long as necessary,” I said. “As long as he’s out there.”

  “I’m telling you, Uncle Wolf,” Bella shook her head. “Madhawk was at the foot of the back steps.” She stirred her tea. “Just like you left him when you went to bury—”

  “How was he—at the end?” Meadow interrupted, wiping a tear.

  “I miss him so much,” Bella’s eyes filled as she started to speak.

  “Don’t say his name.” Meadow warned. “It’s taboo to evoke the ghosts of the dead. Leave the lost one at peace.”

  Just as I’d done earlier with her mother, I silently pleaded with Bella to resist the eye roll.

  “Whatever,” Bella finally shrugged. “I just don’t believe in all the old customs like you do.”

  “Oh, but the spirit names are all fun and games?” Meadow sulked.

  After an uncomfortable, extended moment, they both looked at me expectantly. “He was a brave warrior,” I told them thickly. “As always.”

  “How could Madhawk have just got up and walked away?” Bella wondered. “He was dead.”

  “I don’t know. I checked his pulse before I left. I wouldn’t have left you with him otherwise. Tell me again what you remember. Did you hear anything?”

  “No,” Bella answered. “When you left, we went in and lit the candles. We sat there with Mamaw until we saw the lights from the police and the ambulance.”

  “Okay,” I sighed. “And you said nothing to them about Madhawk?”

  “We didn’t say anything to anybody,” Meadow insisted. “We figured they’d find him right away. I don’t understand how he could have gotten far.”

  “After the funeral, I’m going to get some men together and we’ll do our own search.” I reassured them. “We know where to look. Places the deputies don’t know about like the old Indian mounds and the sacred places in the black lands. We will find him. Dead or alive.”

  “How could that devil not be dead?” Meadow wiped angrily at a tear. “While Mama and—”

  I took her hand. “There will be justice. If not in this world, then in the next. But for now, we must be vigilant. In case he still walks among us.”

  “I think we should tell the truth,” Bella said suddenly. “Sheriff Rick is nice. He’s friends with Micah’s parents—”

  “Bella, you don’t understand how things work around here,” Meadow snapped. “We can’t trust any of them. You didn’t talk to Micah about any of this, did you?”

  “I didn’t, I promise. I just don’t think we did anything wrong. Uncle Wolf?”

  “We did nothing wrong, Bella. Madhawk was the wrongdoer.” I reached across the table, taking her hand in mine. While I didn’t want to taint Bella’s idealism, I understood Meadow’s point.

  Meadow had been raised with the town’s built-in prejudice, and years later, when she’d become a victim, she’d suffered the consequences of their bias. Her cynicism only increased when she’d been denied truth and justice, and surely hearing her daughter spout those lofty ideals now stung a little.

  I too had experienced my share of the town’s scorn, as had my sister, Peony. But nothing like Meadow.

  I squeezed the hands of the beautiful souls on either side of me.

  My true family. The only one I had left. My purpose now was to help them thrive. Contribute to their happiness. And keep them safe.

  “Let me think on it.” I eyed Bella as I rose from the table. “But now, I have to think about what I’m going to say at Peony’s funeral tomorrow.”

  •

  Bella’s church music never failed to chase the demons away. As Meadow slept upstairs, the house was quiet except for the calming, melodic voice of my beautiful great-niece. While I watched her graceful fingers sweep lightly along the keyboard, I prayed for the words—and the strength—to eulogize my sister.

  “What?” Bella suddenly stopped playing. “Was I too loud?”

  “No,” I signaled her to stay silent. “I heard something.” Instinctively, my fingers clasped the handle of the weapon I’d used since I was a child.

  I’d found the ancient knife while hunting arrowheads near the Indian mounds when I was seven years old. Immediately drawn to it, I’d claimed it for my own, and now the bowie with the distinctive double-edged blade was like an appendage to my body.

  Although inclined to argue when I directed her upstairs, Bella disappeared without much resistance. I quietly made my way to the door, and listened. I heard small steps. Little strides. As if someone was slow. Or injured. I yanked the door open, positioning my blade to strike—

  “No, wait! Please.”

  Not slow. Not injured. But a child.

  “My granny sent me.” The small boy I’d seen at Peony’s the morning of her death presented himself. “She’s hurting, and I didn’t know where to go. Now that Miss Pe—” He stopped mid-sentence. Like Meadow, he was afraid of disturbing the ghosts of the dead by uttering their name.

  “It’s okay.” I opened the door, inviting him in. “It’s very late, and dark, for a young boy to be out.”

  “I’m not a boy,” he raised his chin in defiance. “And I’m not scared.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Littlefire,” he said. “But some call me Littlefry.”

  “And which do you prefer?”

  Again, with the chin. “Fireman.”

  “Very well. What’s wrong with your granny, Fireman?”

  The boy fought back a smile. “Her joints hurt. Around her knees. They’re big like this,” he gestured with his hands. “And she coughs a lot too. But I’m mostly here because of her joints. They hurt so bad she cries.” He paused, as if sizing me up. “And Miss…your sister... said your medicine was even better than
hers.”

  The vestige of my sister’s praise flooded me with a wave of profound grief. Healer, teacher, sister, grandmother, mother. Peony meant so much to so many, and she was taken from us in such a senseless, unfair way. “Have a seat, Fireman. I won’t even have to go to my shop. I have everything we need right here. I’ll show you what to do.”

  I pulled turmeric, burdock root, and ginger from my herbal cabinet. Showed Fireman the differences in the herbs, and the way to grind them. “All of these will help her joints. Do you know why?”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re anti-inflammatories.”

  He nodded. “Keeps the swelling down.” Taking care of his granny had seasoned the boy.

  “That’s right. And this one has a funny name. It’s called cat’s claw.” He grinned as I labeled the bags and filled them with the ground herbs.”

  We looked up as Bella tip-toed down the stairs, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Hello.”

  “Bella, this is Fireman. He’s here to get medicine for his granny. Fireman, this is Bella.”

  Fireman gazed at Bella, as if mentally recording her features. “You’re very beautiful,” he squeaked.

  Bella giggled, twenty-three but still easily flattered. She shook Fireman’s hand and offered a proper bow. “Thank you very much, Fireman. Nice to meet you.”

  “And this will help her cough,” I told the boy, although it was clear I’d lost my audience. “It’s called horehound.”

  “Would you like some soup to bring home?” asked Bella.

  “Yes, please.”

  Bella fixed a large Tupperware of soup as I wrote out the recipes for his granny’s medicinal tea. “You fix her some tea when you get home. She’ll sleep well tonight.” We stepped onto the porch with the boy, now armed with soup and herbs. “Are you going to be okay?” I asked, “I can walk with you—”

  “I’m not scared,” he frowned. “I do this all the time.” He eyed Bella, emphasizing his fearlessness. “I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

  When Bella and I exchanged looks, he explained, “At the funeral.”

  Once Fireman left and I was convinced no one was lurking in the woods beyond my house, I settled into my recliner, comforted first by the sounds of water running upstairs, and then silence as Bella settled into bed next to her mother.