by Jeri Green
When Bill left, Hadley looked at Onus.
“Guess that means the job of cleaning out Eustian’s just fell through. That old fuddy-duddy was a rat and a poor excuse for a human being, but nobody deserves to be done in like that. What do you think you about all this, Onus?”
Onus peered out at Hadley from a tiny box that had dropped on the floor. How did a full grown cat shrink so much that he could stuff himself inside a cubby hole as small as that? It was amazing.
In spite of the dreadful news Bill had just told her, Hadley could not help but smile. Onus was forever wedging himself into any empty box he found around the house. Whatever trick he used, Hadley thought, I wish I knew it. There were several pairs of jeans in her closet that would dry rot and disintegrate before her thighs were ever that small again.
“Well, fat cat, I guess that’s the way the cookie crumbles. I’ll let you in on a little secret, Onus,” Hadley said. “I’m sorry for the horrible way Eustian’s died, but I’m glad to be off the hook with cleaning out his house. That was one job I was dreading like a case of the mumps.
I’ll never admit to Maury, but she may have been right. Beanie and I were in over our heads. We’d have needed haz-mat suits and rebreathers to do that job.”
Hadley shuddered at the thought of all the debris that cluttered Eustian’s house. Cleaning it out would have meant she and Beanie would have been breathing rat droppings and dust and mold at least a hundred years old.
“Ugh, Onus. Yep. I’m glad we’re off the hook. Beanie and I could have contracted something that the health department could never get rid of with a shot.
Anyway, the change in plans has left me with some free time. I’ll have to tell Beanie, but I felt like he’ll be glad, too. Beanie was still bothered by images of Eustian coming back from the dead. I know that for a fact.”
Huh, Hadley thought, that old buzzard is toast, by now.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Next morning, Hadley decided to have breakfast at the Greasy Spoon. The local café was neither greasy or a hole-in-the-wall, as its name implied. It served some of the best cooking around. But the owner, Truman Dewitt, was a jokester and thought the name was hilarious and would stick in peoples’ minds.
Next to the Beauty Boutique, the Spoon was the place to haunt if you wanted to keep your ear tuned to the latest goings-on in Hope Rock County.
“Hey, Hadley,” Truman said through the cubby hole in the wall where his grill and griddle were located.
“Hey, Tru. Gimme a couple scrambled, some grits and sausage, toast, and juice,” Hadley said.
“Comin’ right up.”
Truman’s waitress was Delta Arden. Delta had been wiping counters and taking orders at the Spoon from Day One. Hadley liked Delta, a buxom, bleached blonde with a laid-back approach to life.
You needed that, Hadley reasoned, to wait tables here.
The Spoon was about the only decent eating establishment within twenty miles. It was surprising how busy the diner was on Friday and Saturday nights. But Delta didn’t seem to mind the chaos. In fact, the hotter it got in the kitchen, the more Delta seemed to blossom.
“That gal never seems to bust a sweat,” one patron observed. “I’ve seen her sweet talk her way outta a dozen wrong orders from two dozen rednecks.”
“Yeah. They outta hire that girl to be a diplomat or something. The world would be a lot better place.”
“You said it.”
The two old men turned their attention back to their meals, gulping them down before they got cold.
Delta had grown up dirt poor on a few acres of the poorest soil this side of the Appalachians. Any job that did not involve using a hoe in the hot summer sun was a piece of cake. The worst day at the Spoon never held a candle to the hard-scrabble life she had left behind as a young girl.
“Delta,” Hadley said, “tell me when you get a break.”
“It may be awhile, girlfriend,” Delta said. “This place is packed.”
“Figured it would be,” Hadley said. “That’s okay. You just keep the coffee coming, and I’ll wait. I don’t mind.”
Forty-five minutes later, Delta and Hadley were out behind the Spoon. Delta was smoking a cigarette.
“Boy,” Hadley said, “that place is literally humming. You know those things are bad for you, don’t you.”
“I know. But we all have our vices,” said Delta.
“That’s true. You’re a big girl. None of my business, I guess.”
Delta flicked the ashes of her smoke. They floated to the ground.
“All anyone can talk about is Gunn’s arrest,” said Delta.
She drew deeply, exhaling the smoke in curly little clouds.
“You know Gunn and Eustian got into it pretty good that last time,” Delta said.
“Umm,” said Hadley. “I’d heard a little bit. Gunn and Eustian had words.”
“I’ll say,” said Delta. “Gunn threatened to kill that old buzzard.”
“Kill him?” Hadley said.
“Yeah,” said Delta, “but you know Gunn. Short fuse. Burns out before the main explosion. More bark than bite. Still, the way Eustian was carrying on, I just knew there’d be trouble that day. I just knew it. The diner was packed. Eustian came in. Sat down at the front. Ordered the blue plate special and a glass of tap water. Like always.”
“Cheapest thing on the menu,” Hadley added.
“Umm,” Delta said. “Eustian pulled the same stunt he always did to get a free meal. Started complaining half way through his meal. I kept going over to him, asking if he needed anything. Eustian would look at me and frown. The second I walked away, he’d start grumbling. Real low. Hardly hear him. The meal was good, Hadley. It was fine. I’d served several just like it. No complaints from anybody, except Eustian. I like my job, Hadley, I really do. But I always dreaded seeing Eustian walk through the door. That man was nothing but a spiteful, bitter, evil, mean, old man.
Truman tried his best to please the old skinflint. I made sure to double-check his order. The plate looked really pretty. But Eustian ate it and said it tasted like metal. Pitched a fit. Called me all kind of names for messing up his order. Truman came out from the back. He told Eustian that if he didn’t like the fare, don’t come back anymore. Eustian got madder than an old wet hen. Told Truman it was a free country. He’d do as he pleased. Told Truman to fire his dumb blonde and get somebody who could get the orders right.
Gunn was seated at a booth by the door. That last remark was too much for Gunn, I guess. I kept watching him out of the corner of my eye. The more Eustian fussed, the blacker the look on Gunn’s face got. Frankly, I don’t know how Gunn held back as long as he did. He lit into Eustian. He didn’t hit him, but he did tell Eustian to go crawl back under his rock and leave decent folks alone. Told him if he ever talked to me that way again, he’d kill him.
Gunn stomped out. He was obviously upset about the lawsuit and Sandy’s troubles. I can’t blame him. And Eustian just smiled that slimy, old grin of his. Guess he had more ammunition for his side. Anyway, now Eustian’s dead and buried and Gunn’s in jail.”
“Gunn’s always been a handful. I never knew how Maggie and Gil could have two boys who had such different personalities,” said Hadley.
“Umm,” said Delta. “Sandy’s always been the white sheep and Gunn the black. I always thought Sandy hired Gunn to keep an eye on him. Sandy told me Gunn’s got a heart of gold, and he’s a good worker, but even Sandy realizes Gunn races his motor every now and then. Do you remember when Myrtle Peace broke up with Gunn? He took a baseball bat to every road sign between here and the Grand Canyon.”
“I remember that. Gunn was what, fifteen? I know he’s been in trouble, now and then. But murder? I can’t see Gunn doing that. Punching somebody’s lights out, yes. Killing them, no.”
“But Hadley,” Delta said, “you don’t know what trouble that lawsuit has caused Sandy. I hear his business is zero. And the bills he’s racked up! Ben Jamisen doesn’t come che
ap. He didn’t get to be the richest lawyer in Hope Rock County by charging his clients pennies on the dollar.”
“More like $20 on the second,” said Hadley.
“But Sandy won’t settle out of court. He’s dead set on fighting that suit, even if it bankrupts him.”
“Poor Sandy,” Hadley said.
“Sandy says that Eustian has blackened the Miller name. It’s not about money, according to Sandy. It’s all about honor.”
“Eustian’s ruined a lot of good names in this valley,” Hadley said.
“Don’t I know it,” Delta said. “Mason Riggs, Blake Kelly, Winston Snead, Jack Willoughby, Larry Steeles, Teddy Croft, Bixby Hawthorne, Garland Vance, Raymond Joins. The list goes on and on. That Eustian kept the good folks of this county stirred up like a stick in a hornet’s nest.
“But I’m like you, Hadley. I really can’t picture Gunn going off his rocker and getting so worked up that he’d knock off Eustian. Eustian was a despicable geezer, but he couldn’t have had much longer on this earth.
He’s gotta be pushin’ 90. Remember a while back? I thought he was a goner when he wrecked that heap he called a tractor. Took a hard-as-heck knock on that mule-stubborn head of his. But he seemed to bounce back pretty quick.”
“I remember that. Bill talked about it. Said Eustian was lucky Yancey Dray happened by. There was an old tree near the road that Eustian was trying to push over with his tractor. Somehow, Eustian lost control and ended up turning the tractor over and the tree fell on top of him. Yancey said he’ll never figure out how the old man wasn’t killed. Had a bruised-up face for the longest time, I remember.”
“Yeah. Too cheap to go to the doctor and be checked out. I heard he sewed his own head up with sewing thread and a needle! Can you imagine! Not that a scar would hurt Eustian’s looks any,” Delta said.
She took another draw on her cigarette.
“Old Eustian walked around town with his face the color of a Concord grape,” Delta said. “Course, your green hair never held a candle to Eustian’s purple face, Hadley.”
“Delta!” Truman bellowed. “I said one cigarette not the whole carton.”
“Gotta run, girl. Truman musta' popped up on the wrong side of the bed. I don’t know what makes him so ill some days. I think he’s got his apron strings tied too tight.”
“Go on in, Delta. We’ll talk later. Tell Truman those grits were excellent today.”
“I will,” Delta said. “He’s got a new sausage supplier. Everybody says that sausage just sets off those grits finer than hair on a frog.”
“My compliments to the chef and his waitress,” Hadley said.
“Later,” Delta said, letting the screen door smack behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hadley called Ruth down at the rescue shelter.
“Of course, I can use you. Come on down,” Ruth had said. “We’ve got several new orphans since you were here last. Those babies need lots of TLC.”
“See you in a short-short,” Hadley said, ringing off. Hadley punched in the speed dial number for Maury.
“I’m heading out to the shelter, Maury,” she said. “You want to join me. Ruth’s got some new babies there. I know you’re a sucker for anything baby, Sis.”
“You bet,” Maury said. “We’ll swing by the Spoon and get some lunch for Ruth, too.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
After picking up their take-out order from the Spoon, Hadley and Maury set out for the shelter. Winding around the curves of the narrow road, they came upon the entrance to MEGA Mountain Funland Park.
The park covered a lot of land, and it had been a major tourist draw for the first two years of its operation. After an unfortunate accident involving an injury to a visitor and a downturn in the economy, the ticket sales dwindled. Ruth’s aunt got sick. Everything about the amusement park seemed cursed.
Eventually, Ruth’s uncle agreed to close it, and the park was abandoned. Now, aside from Ruth’s wildlife shelter, it was pretty much an overgrown place of rust and silence. Hadley looked at the Ferris wheel. It stood tall and rusting above the trees. The morning mist that clung to its spokes like moss on the mountainside had long burned off. The wind whistled through the empty ticket booths. A giant cement black bear stood waving in the center of a collapsing train station. Vines and weeds choked the tracks that zigzagged off in every direction.
“You know, Maury, this place is really gonna be something when Ruth finishes tearing down all the rusting relics. The amusement park will be remade into a terrific place for the animals when she finishes the renovations.”
Hadley drove past the rotting and rusting skeletons that hinted of fun until she reached a sign that read “Sherwood Forest." Parking the car, she helped Maury carry the food containers and drink cups. They wove their way down a dirt path until they came to a building encircled by a shiny fencing. Hadley pushed the button on the gatepost, talked into a little box, and it unlocked. The two sisters entered the animal center.
Ruth had big plans for the site. There was plenty of land to work with and plenty of work to do. So far, her main focus had been on enclosing the huge barn that had housed the myriad barnyard animals in her uncle’s petting zoo. Hadley and Maury wandered further into the old forest compound. They passed the ghosts of the park’s former occupants. A life-sized palomino reared on his hind hooves, his paint peeling and faded.
“Hate to run up on that guy in the dark,” Maury said. “Is it me, or does that horse look angry?”
“”You’d be furious. too,” Hadley said, “if the mare you were rearing up for and showing your stallion stuff to had been unceremoniously carted off on the back of a dump truck. Didn’t Nate Abbernathy buy the mare from Ruth’s uncle to advertise his grating and hauling business?”
“That’s right,” said Maury. “He did. Guess you got a point.”
Maury patted the hind leg of the cement stallion as she passed.
“Get’s kinda lonely out here without your missus. Don’t worry old fella. She’s still standing proud as a peacock over at Nate’s. Hadley?”
“Yeah,” Hadley said.
“Why do you think Nate painted his mascot purple? Whoever heard of a purple horse?”
“Shhh,” Hadley said, turning her eyes toward the rearing stallion. “He’ll hear you.”
“Aw, Hadley. Of all the colors in the world that shade of purple has got to be the most hideous!”
“I don’t know. Maybe Stella’s favorite color is purple. You gotta admit, you don’t miss that big old grape when you pass by his business.”
“Yeah. You’re right,” Maury said. “That’s probably the reason he picked that shade. An eyesore that attracts your eyeballs. Kinda like that giant rainbow pig over at Pricilla’s Barbecue.
From out of nowhere, a dark shadow swooped down over the unsuspecting women like a kamikaze pilot dive bombing a World War II battleship. Angry honks and Maury’s screams filled the air.
Wings and feathers beat furiously, and Sprat, the wild goose, landed in front of Maury, who, miraculously, was still in possession of the Styrofoam boxes from the Spoon. Hadley and Maury had nicknamed the animal ‘the guard goose,’ and Sprat took his duties very seriously.
“He must have claimed this area of the path as part of his territory,” said Hadley.
“I just wish I could figure out what it is about me that sets him off so,” said Maury.
For reasons unknown, Sprat had never cottoned to Maury. Maybe it was the smell of her shampoo or clothes detergent or the fact that she reminded him of a goose from his past he would rather forget. Hadley and Maury could come up with no logical reason for Sprat’s intense dislike.
Whatever it was, Sprat and Maury got along like oil and water.
One look at Maury, and Sprat’s feathers curled backwards. He quickly waddled up to her, snapping at her ankles with machine gun speed. Like a woodpecker, Sprat’s bill went into overtime. Nip, nip, nip, nip, ni
p.
Maury started squealing and high-stepping around the yard. Hadley couldn’t help but giggle as she watched her younger sister try to awkwardly avoid her tormenter. After several seconds of this riotous chase, Hadley decided her sister had suffered enough.
Kneeling down on one knee, Hadley pulled a plastic baggie out of her pocket and started making kissing sounds with her lips. “Come here, Sprat. I got a treat for you.”
Before leaving the house, she’d pulled several leaves off a head of cabbage from the vegetable bin of her refrigerator. Like magic, those few sprigs of green were all it took for the maniacal goose to lose interest in Maury and come waddling over to Hadley. Sprat took the leaves from her hand and gobbled them up. Hadley opened her arms, and the goose move closer to her. She lowered her head, and Sprat wrapped his long neck around hers in an offering of thanks.
Maury looked on with her mouth gaping open.
“How do you do that?” she muttered. “Forget it. I don’t care. I’m just glad that old goose has the hots for you and your cabbage leaves. If he didn’t, I’d probably be plucked clean and nipped dead by now.”
Maury seized the opportunity to escape into the building before the goose realized he needed to resume his diet of shins and ankles.
“Hey, Ruth,” Hadley called.
“Over here, Hadley.” “What was all that ruckus I heard outside?”
“Just Sprat getting his morning exercise.” “He and Maury play this game of cat and mouse. Maury’s the mouse. Sprat’s pretty good at playing the cat role. I think you should give him an Academy Award this year. His performance is a ten!”
“Yeah,” Maury said, “but how ’bout me. I should be up for best supporting role. That goose may be the star of the show, but my shins come in a close second.”
They were surrounded by mews and cheeps and all the other sounds of baby animals and birds. Ruth and a couple of other volunteers were busy feeding the orphans. Each species had its own special food or formula. Syringes with tiny nipples, small and large bottles, as well as chows, fruits, nuts, and vegetables lined the counters along the wall.