by Jeri Green
“I was only trying to be helpful, mind you. I told her to bag up all that bread she was wasting and give it to me. I could make stuffing or something out of it. She just looked at me like I’d peed on her kitchen floor.
“She threw those perfectly good crusts right in the trash can so fast, it would make your head spin. She eyed me like I’d asked her to put honest-to-goodness toilet water in the punch bowl.
“Then, she served those dainty, pale cucumber sandwiches, in those ridiculous heart and diamond shapes, like they were royal delights. Pooh! Little cardboard cereal boxes, if you ask me. A mud pie would be tastier! And more filling!
“Why is it such a social crime to serve something edible at those things, Maury? I always go away so hungry, I can’t stand myself.
“I wish those ladies would unlace their girdles and quit trying to prove they are prim and proper and the star pupil of Miss Manners. I want to laugh out loud at all those little pinky fingers waving in the air when those women drink tea.
“Those are the same pinky fingers that clean toilet, scrub out bathtubs, and wipe their kids’ runny noses. We’re just down-to-earth country people. Why can’t those women be happy in the skin they are in instead of trying to pretend they are some posh country club set? I’d never do it because I’d never hear the end of it from you, Mary Maureen. But do you know what I’d like to do at the next card club party?”
“No,” said Maury. “And I’m afraid to ask. But I will. What?”
“I’d like to serve some sloppy joes,” Hadley said, “meatloaf sandwiches, fried potatoes with onions, or gravy and homemade biscuits. Anything that would stick to my ribs.”
“Hadley Jane Pell! You wouldn’t dare embarrass me like that. Would you?” Maureen asked.
“Of course not,” Hadley said. “Like I said, you’d never let me live it down. But I really wish I could. I never win at cards, Maury. You know I only play for fun. But boy howdy, they don’t. Some of those vampires are out for blood. You are the only one who will be my partner.”
“I know what you’re saying,” said Maury. “It’s just a game. Even if you win, it’s not like the prize is something you actually want.”
“You said it,” said Hadley. “How many snail shell napkin rings does a body need in one lifetime? All those poor homeless snails. It kills me to think about them. Just because some crafty Katie decides to glue their shells into a million and one different cutesy-patootsie, dust-catching knickknacks! Can you just imagine how Imogene Plunkett and Babe Kirkpatrick would react if I served souse meat and collards and watermelon rind relish at our next get together? Or maybe pinto beans and chitterlings and crackling cornbread or liver pudding and melted cheddar on homemade whole wheat buns! Those women would look at me like I’d stood naked in front of the Pope!”
“Hadley!” Maury shrieked.
“Oh, calm down, Maury. I’m just thinking out loud. I’d never serve anything but the cardboard cutouts for your sake. I do love you that much, little sister.”
“Well, thank you for that, Hadley,” Maury said. “I think.”
“And I have no plans,” Hadley said, “to go to Vatican City anytime soon. My blouse is buttoned, and my jeans are zipped. So, relax.”
Hadley could no longer resist the doughnut. She opened the bowl and dove in, devouring it.
“Hadley?” Maury said. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Hadley said.
It was delicious. Totally worth the wait.
Or maybe weight was a better word.
“But back to those jobs, Maury,” Hadley said. “You’re right. I don’t need the money, but I do need to get out of the house and out into the world. You have to understand. These four walls close in on me, sometimes. If I don’t go and do something, I start climbing them. I need to keep busy, and I might as well get paid if I can. What does it hurt?”
“Nothing, I guess. If it makes you happy,” Maury said.
“It does,” Hadley said. “It staves off cabin fever, little sister.
“And promise me, Maury, not a word to Bill. I’m glad he thought of me. My curiosity is so peaked, I feel like Mount Everest. Can you imagine what kind of stuff that old gaffer has hoarded in that house all these years?”
“Do you think you’ll find treasure in all that junk?” Maury asked.
“His mummified mother, more like it,” said Hadley.
“Oh, Hadley!” Maury said. “You’ll give me nightmares!”
“No, I won’t. But that fried-green-tomato stew you insisted on serving Bill and me last Thursday night probably will! Stop trying all those fancy recipes from Elegant Manor Magazine. You live in Hope Rock County, for goodness sakes!”
“But it looked so divine in the picture, Hadley. I simply couldn’t resist. I have to admit, though, I was disappointed. It did taste a bit like soapsuds and licorice, didn’t it. “When will you start cleaning it out?”
“I don’t know,” Hadley said. “They have to finish down at Bowey Hill and get Eustian planted in the cemetery, I suppose. Bill said he’d let me know. Paperwork and all that. Red tape.”
“Well, it’s a job I do not envy you, Hadley.”
“You have no sense of adventure, Maury. It is a bit sad, though, when you think about it. Eustian had no relatives. Nobody’s seen inside that house for ages. If I recollect correctly, his mother’s been dead for over fifteen years. But don’t worry if I do run up on old lady Singlepenny, I’ll be sure to tell her, you said, ‘hey.’”
“Hadley, I am hanging up this phone this minute. You are awful! Awful! Awful! Awful!”
“Don’t I know it!” She chuckled. “I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch, Maury. I’m going to fix homemade chicken salad. Tell Bill I’ll fix enough for his lunch bucket. I know he loves it.”
“I will. Thanks, Hadley. I’ll see you, then.”
Hadley dusted off the doughnut crumbs from her blouse and went to the fridge. She spied the baloney.
You always caught more flies with baloney than you ever could with rocks. In just a few minutes, she had all she needed to set her plan into motion. She grabbed her purse and car keys. She was a woman on a mission. A mission to find her partner. And if she was lucky, he’d agree to be just that – her partner in grime, so to speak.
She had never minded hard work, but sometimes it was better to have some help, rather than to go it all alone. She needed someone who did not mind getting dirty and who had a strong back for any heavy lifting that was required. She also wanted, rather than needed, someone she felt comfortable around. Someone who wouldn’t mind if she was a little sweaty and grubby at the end of the day. Someone who she could talk to and who wouldn’t turn his nose up at the thought of Mrs. Pell rummaging around in the belongings of a dead man. A true chum. A real pal. A good buddy.
Hadley knew just who to commandeer. All she had to do was find him.
Cruising down Main Street she whipped into an empty parking slot. She got out of her car. The sign next to the “No Parking” handicap zone read “One Hour Parking.”
More than enough time.
Chapter Six
“So, Beanie,” Hadley said to the man sitting on a bench outside of Hooker’s Shoe Shop, “are you in or out?”
“I don’t know,” said Beanie. “I really have to give this some thought. You know me. I don’t cotton to stirring up spirits, Hadley.”
“Stirring up spirits! Beanie, you’re a one-armed grave digger, for Pete sakes!”
“Over one and four-fifths, if you don’t mind,” said Beanie.
“Umm,” said Hadley. “You’re exactly right, Beanie. My ignorant miscalculation. Sorry.”
“And Hadley, I know it sounds silly, but,” he continued, “I’m paid to do that. It’s like part of the service. The preacher says his kind words over the hole, and then, I close it up. It ain’t done till I do my part.
“I hear people talking about closure all the time around the graveside. You can’t have closure without me, Hadley. You just can’t. B
esides, before I fill up that hole, I get the preacher’s blessing. So you see, closure and a good word to the Man upstairs. That’s pretty good if you ask me.”
“Yes, it is, Beanie. You do your job. And you do it right. Nobody can say you don’t. This is a job I am offering you, too. A good job. And I know that we can do it right together. As a team. A team, Beanie. You and me.
“After we’re done, you’ll get paid, just like you do when you fill up a hole in the cemetery,” said Hadley. “You want me to, I’ll call Preacher Jake, and we can get him to say a nice long prayer for us before we start. You want me to do that, Beanie? I’m sure Jake won’t mind, one bit. He might even come out to Eustian’s house and pray if that would make you feel better about this.”
“But this ain’t one of your normal jobs, Hadley,” Beanie said. “This ain’t mowing a yard or cutting down some bushes or cleaning out some tool shed. This ain’t what we usually do.”
“Of course, it is, Beanie,” said Hadley. “It’s just a job, like all the rest. You’ll get half like always.”
“But this is Eustian’s house you’re talkin’ about,” Beanie said. “Eustian Singlepenny! Ouuwee, Hadley. I don’t know if I wanna do it or not. Eustian Singlepenny! He ain’t no good man. Not a good man at all. I seen how he treated folks around here. I’ve heard people talkin’ when they think I wasn’t listening. And I may be dumb, but I know right from wrong, Hadley.”
“Of course, you do, Bean. Nobody’s not saying you don’t know that.”
“I got a pretty good feelin’ Eustian’s walkin’ on hot coals,” Beanie said. “You know what I’m saying? Though I ain’t judging, mind you. I’m just goin’ by what I know.
“And knowin’ that old man, if there is any way out of that horrible place he’s woke up in, Eustian will find it. He always was slippier than an eel and meaner than a rattlesnake that’s just been stepped on.”
“Nice theory,” Hadley said, splitting her baloney sandwich with Beanie as they sat on the bench.
It was a trick that always worked with her friend. Never would Beanie have accepted her offer of a whole sandwich. He was a gentleman. Better to go hungry, be honorable, and decline. Besides, didn’t Hadley know that Beanie’s mother had taught him better?
No amount of reasoning could convince Beanie he was not taking food out of Hadley’s mouth. So, Hadley circumvented Beanie’s convoluted logic and always packed at least two, careful to cut them in half before she left home.
Beanie had no objections to sharing. His mother had always taught him that’ too.
They each finished off their first half of a sandwich, and Hadley dove into the sack and split the second one with Beanie.
“But, I really don’t think it works that way. See, we’re living in modern times, and science can do wonders. I think by now, if ghosts were real, we’d know it. We’d have seen it in the news. The networks would be sure to report something as important as ghosts are really real.
“And you know scientists, nowadays, are so clever. I mean super-duper smart. Smarter than you and me, Beanie. By miles. They would have found a way to prove that. I mean, if they really did exist. But they never have.
“There’s no such thing. Believe me. No such thing as ghosts. We don’t have to worry that Eustian is gonna rise from the grave and haunt us. You, of all people, should have figured that out by now. Has any one of your customers ever complained once you had him planted in the ground?”
“No,” said Beanie.
“Not one peep. Well, then. I proved my point. Case closed,” said Hadley. “I wish I’da had a tomato to put on this thing. Nothing spruces up a good hunk a baloney like a nice homegrown tomato.”
“It’s a good sandwich, Hadley. Real good. Even without the tomato.”
Hadley had known Beanie Fugate since grade school. His real name was Vesper Wendell Fugate. In school, Beanie had this wonderful talent for making flatulent noises. He pressed the palms of his hands together to make the funniest sounds. At least, his classmates thought so. He was a hit in the lower grades.
But life had not been kind to Beanie as an adult. He had moved away from Hope Rock County and found work in another state at a pulp mill. An accident at the mill had left him minus two fingers with a mangled forearm and a few rocks short of a nice stone wall.
Sometimes.
Beanie moved back home after the accident. He worked as a groundskeeper and grave digger at one of the local cemeteries. Lots of people made fun of Beanie, but Beanie was a good egg. And Hadley tried to help him whenever she could.
Beanie owned no phone. Hadley took the chance she’d run into him in town. Luck was on her side. She had spotted Beanie in front of the shoe store. And she was sure Beanie would agree to help her. She’d brought the one thing Beanie could never resist – baloney for lunch. It had seemed like a foolproof plan. But as she talked to her friend, she began to wonder if it wouldn’t backfire and Beanie would fail to agree to help her clean out the house.
Lunch was over, and even baloney hadn’t convinced Beanie to agree to help her. She kept talking, trying to wear down her friend, trying to spell out her plan in tiny drops, like water dripping down a mountain erodes the Grand Canyon.
“Look, Beanie, Eustian was an old man. Over-the-hill. As old as Methuselah old. Ancient. As old as dirt. Eustian was getting on, Beanie. It was his time. That’s all. He died alone in that big old farm house of his. And that’s just the way he wanted it. I’m not speaking ill of the dead. You know what I’m saying is gospel truth. He wanted to be left alone. And everybody gave him what he wanted.”
Beanie stared silently ahead, taking in Hadley’s points.
“Huh,” she said, “if you didn’t, he’d sue you. Simple as that. Even if you did leave him alone, he still might sue you. Just for pure spite. Eustian was like that.
“He was so mean nobody missed him until he failed to show up for his court date. That’s what Lou Edna told me. I heard that straight from Lou Edna’s lips. And she ought to know. God Himself is the only person, I know personally, who knows more than Lou Edna. Eustian is gone, and nobody’s really too tore up about it.”
Beanie chewed on all Hadley had said.
“He was a hateful, spiteful man,” Hadley said.
“Yeah,” said Beanie. “He was. I still can’t help but feel sorry for him, though. It’s like ‘boom!’ Eustian’s dead, ‘n nobody’s sorry.”
“Well,” Hadley said, “I guess you have a point. There have been lots more folks I’ve cried buckets over. But Eustian’s not one of them. I look at it this way. A man like Eustian Singlepenny is like kudzu and honeysuckle. A real nuisance. Something you just put up with because you have to. He was what he was, and he wasn’t gonna change. Ever. I just bit my tongue and steered clear of him.”
“Well,” Beanie said after he’d had time to process it all, “if nobody cares if he’s dead, why don’t they just bulldoze his place down and be done with it? Rake Jakell could do it. Why don’t y’all ask Rake? He’s real good with that bulldozer. Handles it gentle like it’s a woman.
“I seen him knock down the old Whistler shack. He looked like the big bad wolf, you know. He just cranked up that old dozer, and it huffed and puffed, and Rake just plowed that thing down like it was nothing. Rake would do it, if he wasn’t busy. Why don’t you ask him, Hadley?”
“Because, Beanie,” Hadley said, “they got some folks nibbling at the prospect of getting their hands on all that Singlepenny land. Bill said the calls started coming into his office shortly after the papers came out.
“Eustian owned prime land. And though he was a skinflint in a lotta ways, he always made sure that house he lived in had a good roof. I’m sure it’s bone dry in there. Probably as dirty as a pig’s sty but as dry as a bone. A coat of paint and a good scrubbing inside, and a house like that is quite livable. It’s gotta add value to the whole package.
“They’ve already hinted as much to Bill, who was kind enough to ask me if I wanted to tackle the job for $
500. Beanie, that’s $250 for you! Two hundred and fifty big ones! That ain’t chump change, Beanie. So, come on. What do you say? I really need your help.”
“But Hadley, are you sure you want me for this?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” Hadley said. “Look, Bean, I really need you. I do. Even with only one and four-fifths wings, you work harder than any other three men I know. And if I’m lucky, Maury will help us with the lighter cleaning for free. After we’ve cleared a lot of the spider webs in that place, and she’s sure the rat’s nests and snakes are gone, that is.
“I know that girl. Maury’s curiosity will get the best of her, and she’ll be begging me for a chance to see inside that house. Nobody’s set foot in there since the Great Flood. This is gonna be like opening up King Tut’s tomb.”
Beanie looked up at the sky, waiting for his answer from above.
“Beanie,” Hadley said softly.
“Yeah, Hadley.”
“There will be baloney sandwiches and homemade potato salad and chocolate cake every day we’re out there. I promise.”
Beanie grinned.
“You know, with all that,” Beanie said, “you can keep the dough, Hadley.”
“No, Beanie. After we’re paid, I’ll drive you to Mr. Winters, and we’ll deposit your half into your savings account.”
“For a rainy day?” said Beanie.
“Yes, Beanie.”
“But Hadley, you always say that. Then, when it rains, I get so mad because I’m soaking wet, I forget to go to the bank and take out the dough.”
“That’s all right, Beanie. You keep that money in there with Mr. Winters. He’s good at watching it for you. He’ll keep it dry for you, too. I’ll let you know when it’s rainy enough to take it out. I want you to save what you’ve got in the bank for a really, really, really bad stormy day, okay?”
“Yeah,” Beanie said. “Hadley?”