A Wicked Whack: Mad River Series (Prequel)

by Constance Barker

  "Gladys here may be old, but she likes to have fun," Phineas added, patting her on the back. "Her heart might have died first, but her spirit is still very much alive."

  "Who you calling old young whippersnapper?" she sassed.

  "Gladys, do you know what Nancy was doing in here? She has no reason to be out in the mill."

  "I am not entirely sure dear. It seemed she was indeed looking for some cleaner, but for what reason I don't know. You can't trust a gossip. I should know. I am one!" She cackled.

  Gladys was an amusing soul. I came to find out she died during the battle, but of a heart attack at the age of 58. She’d never married, so gossiping was her normal pastime. Her opinion of Nancy struck me as truthful though. Nancy was hard-wired to gossip and was not a very nice person to most of us. What reason she would have to be untrustworthy though I couldn’t figure out.

  "Has anyone seen Jenny in a while? She's around quite a bit usually," I said. "I hope she isn't getting discouraged with all the dead-ends we've hit on her death."

  "Perhaps she's taking a break, enjoying the spirit life a little." Phineas said.

  "We haven't seen her," Jessamine added.

  "Who's Jenny? Where's Jenny! More voices hanging around here? Oh goodness!" Gladys exclaimed rubbing her hands. “More souls to gossip with.”

  I retrieved a broom from the other room where I was normally sweeping up scraps around the cotton gin to clean the mess Phineas caused with the hanging picture. Hopefully no more accidents like this would happen in my mill for the weekend. With the addition of Gladys and Nancy also hiding something, I had my work cut out for me.

  When my day had finally ended, I was one of the last few to leave. The lounge had emptied already as I packed my things into my tote bag on one of the lunch tables. Matthew entered the lounge looking exhausted. He didn’t seem to have any reason to be there. Instead, he merely paced in a circle as if looking for something. He went into the closet, only to come out again looking just as confused.

  "You alright there, Matthew?"

  It took him a while to realize I was talking to him. He let out a few confused grunts before looking my way.

  "Oh...yeah. I guess. I'm just exhausted, Shelby."

  "Jenny's funeral plans?" I asked.

  He nodded lightly. His face looked as if it had aged an extra five years over the last twenty-four hours. I remembered what it was like to plan a funeral. It was certainly no walk in the park.

  "And I guess that fist fight which broke out wasn't helpful either," I said.

  "What fist fight?"

  As usual, my big mouth got ahead of my brain. I guessed Matthew wasn’t kept in the loop. This place was full of more secretive people than I thought, though given how small this town was, word could travel fast. I tried to avoid saying anything else, but with Matthew being my boss, he kept on prying for more information.

  "Jimmy and Mark got into a physical altercation. I think it had something to do with Annabelle," I said.

  "Everyone's on edge. Everyone wants answers. It's no use pointing fingers without being entirely sure. I'm not sure why they would get into a fight over who could be at fault. The police have been working round the clock and we are slowly, but surely, getting answers."

  "Is there any reason to suspect her?" I asked.

  "Everyone's being interviewed accordingly. She didn't seem like she would have any reason to hurt Jenny though. Calinda mentioned a rather heated debate between them over the addition of Jenny's bread baking as being too time consuming, but that seems like a silly reason to be so drastic."

  "Jenny and Annabelle had a good relationship yes?"

  "It certainly always seemed that way," he replied. "It's been a very confusing weekend that's for sure. You think you know somebody right?"

  I finished packing my bag and was merely stalling at this point. I said goodbye to Matthew and headed out of the lounge. I walked down the steps of the main building's entrance into the night's darkness. A soft rustling from the bushes emerged from the adjacent path. If this was a spirit, I was certainly not amused.

  "Shelby, hey."

  A figure emerged from the shadows. I could make out the shape of a backpack hanging over a thickset jacket. It was Nick. He appeared surprisingly chipper for this late in the evening.

  "Let me walk you to your car," he said.

  I walked with him in silence for a bit down the stony path. I noticed he was carrying something long and narrow in his hand.

  "Is that a hunting knife?" I asked.

  "Nearly tripped on it in the back path there by the trees. Heard a clang when I hit my foot by this rock. It was buried under some leaves."

  I didn't venture off into the back path much as it was heavily forested and was near the dumpsters, which of course never smelt great. It was strange that a knife would be buried out there though. My mind raced at what it could have been doing out there.

  "Have the police got you working on this case regarding, Jenny?" I asked.

  "I asked if there was anything I can do, but it seems they want the top dogs to deal with the homicides," he replied, disappointed.

  We drew close to the parking lot and stood near my car. The light from the lampposts bounced off the shiny blade in his hand. That's when I noticed what appeared to be dried blood left behind on it. There was potential for it to be animal blood, but I don't recall anyone ever hunting in the back woods.

  "Nick, look at the blade. Is that blood?"

  He held it out in front of him to inspect it closer in the light.

  "I suppose it is," he said. "It's definitely not fresh though. This blade must have been out there for a bit."

  "You should take it in for prints. There might be something you can get out of this," I said.

  "It's just a knife, Shelby. It could have been from anything. Matthew was throwing out kitchen supplies a week ago so new ones could be ordered. Maybe this knife went with it?"

  "And with that kind of attitude, you'll never get your promotion if you don't think outside the box!" I exclaimed. It was then I had a thought. It could have been brilliant or crazy, but I was willing to try anything. Harriet's job being strangely one of a kind in this town could get us one-step ahead here. I needed to see some customer records. Someone we already knew could have bought that knife.

  "I have an idea. We should go to Edgewater Hardware," I told him.

  The look on his face read reluctant. We both had to get up early in the morning. Tomorrow was battle day after all.

  "Are you going to make me regret this?"

  "Probably! C'monnnn!" I cooed with enthusiasm.

  Nick strolled slowly towards his car and pointed the hand holding the knife out to me.

  "I'll be super mad if we find nothing," he said.

  "Careful with that hand there."

  He quickly lowered his arm awkwardly, realizing how it looked. I laughed at him before getting into my car and driving off the site.

  Chapter Eight

  I pulled into the parking lot of Edgewater Hardware with Nick in tow. Harriet would be closing the store soon so it was perfect time to do a little bit of research. We met in the parking lot outside the front door. Nick attempted to hide the knife by covering it with his sweatshirt as it sat safely in the back pocket of his jeans.

  I never traveled much into the building, as Harriet would usually bring home anything we needed from there. Edgewater Hardware still looked like it belonged in 1965, covered in wall-to-wall wood paneling and a floor worn down from far too many work boots clobbering it with stones stuck in the rubber or muddy water from a building site. The store was relatively quiet, but the shelves freshly stocked and faced. Harriet probably worked her butt off during the day. I counted all of two customers still left and I could imagine she was dying to get out of here.

  I found Harriet standing near the back office door waiting for the straggling customers to check out. She was startled to see us, as we approached her quietly.

  "What are you two
doing here?" she asked.

  "Can you help us with something?" I asked quietly.

  "So you're going to be like those customers who come in 3 minutes to closing and need help finding a screw? We literally close in five minutes."

  Harriet couldn’t restrain her sharp sarcasm some days. When it was out in the open, it certainly was never quiet. She'd likely had a long day, but I hoped she'd at least help me with this idea.

  "No Harriet, I don't need you to hold my hand to find a box of nails," I said.

  I elbowed Nick in his side, an obvious sign to show Harriet the evidence. He looked around to see if anyone was watching. He carefully grabbed the knife from his back pocket and showed it to Harriet. She looked at it quizzically.

  "Can we check customer records? We can see if anyone from Old Town bought this."

  Harriet smiled. “Ha! Do you see the irony in asking me to breach privacy in front of a police officer? Are you trying to solve this murder yourself Shelby?"

  I could see why everyone was trying to get me to stop meddling in a crime. The more people pushed me to stop, the more I wanted to continue though. I hoped Harriet could at least support me in that sense. We knew what it was like not to have justice in our own family’s loss. She knew how clouded my mind could get with ideas. However, I hadn’t thought about breaching privacy with Nick though. I never really told him what the whole plan was in the first place.

  Nick held his hands up indifferently, as if he was not going to say anything on the manner.

  "I won't tell if you won't tell," I said.

  "I have no idea what you're even talking about," he responded with a smile.

  It was the answer I needed to hear. Harriet ushered us both into the office out of sight, before making a beeline for the door, not caring much for staying open those additional five minutes. Perfect. The game was already on as if I really was Sherlock Holmes. It was somewhat exciting to say the least that I felt like we had a bit of traction going.

  When Harriet returned, she put her cash into the electronic counter, letting it do the work she needed while she closed down the point-of-sales systems for the day. She then jumped on another office computer and began drawing up other databases, which did not appear familiar to me at all. Nick put the knife down on the office desk next to her. She looked at it barely a second and knew exactly what it was.

  "Looks like a Juniper Rock hunting knife. That brand is really popular here," she said. "We don't record names of customers for each sale, but we do take their emails for our newsletter blasts. Something might look familiar."

  Nick and I waited as Harriet tapped on the keyboard to bring up records. A detailed list of names and words popped up. We crowded in closer to have a look. Not every record had an email attached to it, but there were many that did.

  "These are all the notes for the Juniper Rock. Is there any name here that looks familiar?"

  I leaned in closer and read down the list. Rein...Rivers...Sampson...Sharp. Yikes! I knew that name all too well.

  "It's definitely been purchased by a Sharp," I said. "Looks like Matthew purchased it about a month ago."

  "Well that makes sense. If it was a tool used on the property, of course a Sharp would’ve bought it," Nick said. "He then threw it out because, like I told you, a bunch of new tools were bought this month."

  "It might’ve been bought by anyone in that family. They all use Matthew's email I think for work purchases," Harriet added.

  "You should check it for prints at the station," I said.

  "You're kidding." Nick turned to Harriet. "Is she kidding?"

  Harriet leaned back in her chair. "C'mon Nicky, you know her well enough," she chirped as a silly smirk spread across her face.

  Nick put his hand to his head as if exhausted by the thought of a wild finger print goose chase into the middle of the night. Part of me felt bad for doing what I did. We really should hang it up and go home to bed.

  "Its animal blood you buffoons!"

  Another voice in the room emerged, sounding exactly like my unseen tormenter from Mad River Old Town. I didn’t think spirits could travel that far or wanted to anyway, but I had had enough of him doing this. I looked around the room and low and behold standing in the corner was an old raggedy man with a beard Santa Claus would’ve envied. His eyes read tired and he was skinny as a rail. I yelped upon seeing him for the first time, his first appearance surprising. Harriet looked over at me. She knew what was wrong. Nick watched me staring off into the corner dumbfounded at my surprise. I wanted to look at my once form-less tormentor dead on, but keeping Nick from asking questions had to be priority.

  "You okay, Shelby?" he asked. He turned to Harriet. "Do you have mice in here or something?"

  "Maybe we should get going. We have what we are looking for," Harriet said.

  "Let me....let me print this off and I'll meet you by the front door," I told them.

  "Animal blood Whitaker. Animal blood!"

  I flinched each time he shouted in my direction. I had trouble hiding the fact I was on edge. Nick watched me respond with a quizzical look on his face, but Harriet ushered him out quickly with the knife before he lingered too long. The door clicked shut and I could finally settle this once and for all.

  "So here you are finally, showing yourself in all your glory. And you followed me out of my job. Why would you reveal yourself here? And what bones do you still have to pick with me?" I asked. "You know..." I stopped mid-sentence. I let my emotions get the best of me and my voice had risen too loud. I quickly hit the Print button on the computer to create an additional noise distraction in case Harriet and Nick were still close to the office door. "You know, you've caused a lot of anxiety for me these past few weeks. Why did you appear here?"

  "I had to come out now, because here is a safe place for me to do so. Now that you can see me though, you're going to see me a lot."

  "You comfort me greatly with statements like that,” I said sarcastically. “Who are you anyway?" I asked.

  "You're silly, Whitaker. That blood belongs to a boar, which was skinned for a demonstration."

  "So I shouldn't take it in for prints?"

  "You've got the wrong lead. Give it up. The evidence you need is something you knew about all along. Remember what I told you. Focus!"

  I could not figure out what he was talking about. It was safe for him to appear here? The evidence I knew all along? I noticed the printer had spat out a few pages from the computer. I went to shut it down.

  "Can you tell me anything more? How about your name?" I asked.

  When I had turned around ready to leave the room, I was alone again. The mysterious old tormentor had left me.

  I exited the office, meeting with Nick and Harriet at the front. I still had the papers with me, but a change of heart.

  "We shouldn't test it for prints.”

  "Really? Wh-"

  I cut Nick off, "Let's just ask Matthew directly. I'm sure we'll get all the confirmation we need. It's probably just...animal blood."

  Harriet and Nick's faces dropped in confusion. I stood my ground on this one. Perhaps it was time to stop digging where there was nothing and go with the evidence that seemed real. For those I knew on the other side, it was hard to be a good liar.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning my alarm rang for eight am. I didn’t have to be at work until ten, but I needed to make the most of the plans I had for the day. If I was not going to get the answers I wanted directly from the man who tormented me from beyond, I would seek them out in other ways. The first step was figuring out who he was and I imagined a trip down to the library would do that.

  Harriet was already at the front door putting her shoes on for work as I shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen.

  "What are you doing up this early?" she asked.

  "Uh..."

  She stopped, put her unlaced booted foot on the floor and waited for an answer. I was not sure whether I should explain to Harriet what happened in the office
after she ushered Nick out. Part of me suspected she knew, but didn’t care to ask, as it was really a means of just letting me be while I dealt with the "issue" at hand. Of course, these were things she didn’t care to deal with head-on if she didn’t have to.

  "Seriously, what are you doing? Was coming off your crazy evidence high all just a ruse?"

  Boy she was in a mood today.

  "Oh...no. No, I still stand by what I said. The knife didn’t need to be tested. It’s just animal blood and I got ahead of myself."