Original Secrets

by Shawn McGuire

  “As I said, maybe it’s time to talk to Mama.”

  I flipped absently through the pages of my pocket-sized notebook and a name caught my eye. “Maybe Honey and Sugar gave me more than I realized. They said Blind Willie was there that night. At least he was until he took them home. An adult who witnessed the goings-on would be far more likely to remember what had happened years later than teenagers. I feel like I should talk to him.”

  Morgan dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin, placed the napkin on top of her salad plate, and pushed her chair back. “Then let’s go talk to Blind Willie.”

  Chapter 26

  Blind Willie lived at the farthest north edge of the Whispering Pines acreage. Morgan knew how to get there, but it meant a hike through the woods.

  “You’re sure you know where he lives?” I asked after a half an hour of walking.

  “I know,” Morgan assured in her calm way.

  She seemed to float through the woods, the underbrush never once tripping her up, branches never snapping out and scraping her. I, on the other hand, lumbered along, stumbling over a tangle of tree roots, getting pine needles from low hanging branches stuck in my hair, and acquiring enough scratches on my arms that I planned a stop at Sundry before going home because there was no way I had enough ointment to cover them all.

  “I’ll make you a poultice when we return to my cottage,” Morgan promised.

  “First, I don’t know what you just said. Second, why aren’t you having troubles?”

  “A poultice is a paste made from herbs that you apply and wrap with a cloth to heal skin issues. For your scratches, I’ll make a blend of chamomile, Irish moss, and Adder’s tongue.” She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Yes, Adder’s tongue is an herb. As for why I don’t have problems, I’m a green witch. Nature and I are never at odds with each other. Try being one with your surroundings rather than charging through like a bulldozer.”

  “I’m not—” At that moment, as I tried to force a pine sapling out of my way rather than stepping around it, I swear the big tree next to it, it’s mother or some other overly-protective family member, poked me in the eye. “Fine, I’ll stop charging. How much further to Willie’s?”

  “Not far. Perhaps five minutes.”

  Meeka loved our romp through the woods. I took her harness off to be sure she wouldn’t get stuck in any of the tight spaces she insisted on squeezing through. Her white fur was closer to brown from the dirt, and it would take a good hour to get all the burrs out of her coat tonight, but she was having fun.

  When we finally arrived at Willie’s “shack,” as Maeve had called it, my jaw dropped. Clearly, she had never been here. If she had been, she would have used a different label. While not large, Blind Willie’s house was a log cabin any home magazine would be proud to have on the cover. A fieldstone chimney ran up one side. An eight-foot-wide covered deck wrapped around the other three sides. To the left of the house was a stack of firewood that would easily last until spring. To the right was an orderly garden big enough to supply Willie with all the vegetables he could want.

  “This is impressive,” I said.

  “Wait until you see the inside,” Morgan replied.

  We climbed the four stairs that led to the front door and knocked. A few seconds later, Blind Willie appeared from around the garden side. For a moment, he seemed surprised to see people on his porch, then he lit up.

  “Morgan Barlow.” He approached her with arms wide and wrapped her in a hug. “Haven’t seen you in years.”

  “Good to see you, Willie.” She pushed away from him. “You could use an herbal bouquet, though.”

  “If I’da known you were comin’, I woulda took a bath. Will you be here long?”

  I held a hand out to him. “I’m Sheriff O’Shea. I need to talk to you about an event that happened years ago.”

  His head bobbed up and down like he had expected this. “Go on in then. Make yourselves at home. Got a jug of fresh sun tea on the counter. Pour yourself a glass while I go make myself less aromatic.”

  He disappeared around the back of the cabin again.

  “Where’s he going?” I asked.

  “Willie bathes in the stream until it freezes over. I don’t recommend looking out the back windows until after he returns.”

  Morgan was right about the cabin’s interior. All the furniture was made from pine logs, handmade by Willie himself, I assumed. The kitchen had gourmet appliances, slab granite countertops, and hickory cabinets. His bedroom seemed to consist of the bed tucked into the far left corner. Most impressive of all was his computer set up.

  “This is high-tech stuff,” I mused.

  “You know he’s a multi-millionaire?” Morgan asked.

  “I heard that.”

  “I believe he still runs his company from here via video conferencing.”

  “How does he run all this equipment?”

  “He installed utilities—electric, gas, water, and sewer—but prefers greener sources. There are solar panels on the roof, along with a wind turbine, and a generator around back as backup. There’s a satellite dish back there as well.”

  “So, his conspiracy theories . . .?”

  “They’re based on things he reads on the internet.”

  I was still ogling the setup when Willie came in the front door, went straight to the jug on the kitchen counter, and filled a beer stein to the top with sun tea. He offered us a fill-up and settled into a big log chair with wolf heads embroidered all over the cushion fabric. “What can I help you with, Sheriff?”

  He seemed far less nutso than when I’d first seen him on Maeve’s porch.

  I took the matching wolf chair across from him. Morgan sat on the arm of my chair. “I understand you were—”

  “Oh, hang on a sec.”

  Willie strode to his computer and covered it with a tinfoil blanket. Then he turned on a device that affected Meeka immediately. She barked, pawed at her ears, and then ran out the front door.

  “Sorry ‘bout your dog.” Willie gestured at the device. “It emits a high-frequency tone to stop them from listening to our conversation.”

  “Them who?” I asked.

  “The government, of course.”

  Just when I thought he wasn’t nutso. I held up my voice recorder. “Will your device interfere with this?”

  “Probably.”

  I put it away and took out my notebook. “I understand you were at the Meditation Circle the night a girl—”

  “Priscilla.” Willie looked down at his large, square hands which, despite his bath, still had dirt caked beneath the fingernails. “I was there. For part of the night, at least.”

  “Can you tell me what you remember about that night, Mr. Haggerty?”

  He squinted at me and looked behind him as though expecting to see someone there. “Who’s Haggerty?

  I glanced at Morgan who gave an encouraging nod. “You are. That’s what I read in my grandmother’s journals.”

  “Who’s your granny?”

  “Lucy O’Shea.”

  “Oh!” Willie slapped his hand on the arm of his chair and lit up like he did when he saw Morgan on his porch. “You must be Jayne. Or are you Rosalyn?”

  I smiled, surprised by his reaction. “You got it the first time. I’m Jayne.”

  “That Lucy was such a doll. She had me over for dinner every few months.”

  “She did?” Morgan pouted playfully. “You came to the village and never stopped in to say hi?”

  “Wasn’t in the village. I came down to have dinner with Lucy.” He gave her a wink, that I didn’t allow myself to interpret, and then turned toward me. “I haven’t been Haggerty in fifty years. Call me Willie.”

  “Yes, sir. What do you remember about that night, Willie?”

  He started out saying almost exactly what Honey and Sugar had, that there was basically a face-off between Rae and Priscilla with Flavia leading the show.

  “I took those little girls back to their parent
s when I realized something bad was about to happen with the bigger kids, so I was gone for a bit.” He shook his head, a sad expression creasing his brow. “Those little ones didn’t need to see all that.”

  “How long were you gone?”

  “Ruth and Jonathan lived, oh, a quarter mile west of the Meditation Circle. I waited until I was sure the girls were in the house and not likely to squirt out again. I was gone probably twenty minutes.” He chuckled and scratched his beard. “Those two were little scoundrels. Nosing in on everyone’s business. Only one I ever met that’s nosier is the little one at the coffee shop.”

  I had to laugh at that. “You mean Violet?”

  Willie pointed at me. “That’s her name. That one could pry the Queen’s secrets out of the Royal Guard at Buckingham.”

  “I don’t doubt that. So, you dropped the girls off and went back to the group?”

  “I did. I was worried something bad was about to go down.”

  “Tell me what happened when you got back there.”

  “They were all circled around the fire pit.” He looked up at the pine-paneled ceiling and pointed as though counting something. “Eight in all. Those three girls still in the middle. One of them”—he touched his nose—“she had the pointiest nose I ever seen. She was angry, too. Talking real loud and telling the other two that they had to fight for what they wanted. ‘If you really want him, Reeva, fight for him!’”

  Morgan and I looked at each other.

  “Reeva?” I asked.

  Willie nodded big, like he understood the question I hadn’t asked yet. “That’s what she called the girl with the short red hair. I don’t know what her real name was, but I know she wasn’t Reeva. Me and Reeva used to run into each other in the woods all the time. We’d have long talks. She was always worried about what it took to have a good life.”

  “You’d be the one to answer that,” Morgan stated. “Wouldn’t you, Willie?”

  “I’m a content guy. Not a thing in life I need or want.”

  “Not even a woman?” Morgan asked with a wink.

  A momentary look of pain etched itself into his weathered face.

  “You know full well I already had the greatest love a man could ask for,” he growled. “Gone too soon. Couldn’t handle a loss like that again.”

  Morgan placed her hands palms together. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  He glowered for another second, then gave a dismissive sigh and swatted a big hand at her. “That Reeva was quite a case. She liked one boy and let her sister take him. I guess she liked this Gabe boy, too, and let the little redhead take him. I told her if she’d quit letting other girls take the boys she liked that would be a good first step toward a good life.”

  “Reeva liked Gabe?” I glanced at Morgan again. “I vaguely remember Honey or Sugar saying that.”

  Morgan arched a dramatic black eyebrow. “Interesting twist. Did you note Laurel’s comment that Reeva had sacrificed something for Rae?”

  “I did.” Laurel left in such a hurry, I didn’t get to follow up on it. She must have meant that Reeva stepped aside so her best friend could have the boy she liked. I turned back to Willie and got us back on topic.

  “What did the other girl look like? The other one who was fighting.”

  “The other one had long blonde hair and a little bit of a belly.” Willie held his hands in front of his own generous midsection.

  “Priscilla. She had a baby not too long before that night.” To Morgan, I said, “Flavia called Rae ‘Reeva.’”

  “Flavia. That’s her.” Willie said mostly to himself. Then to us, “She said it twice. Wasn’t a minute later, Flavia says, ‘You don’t get to just have everything, Reeva.’ The other kids got mighty freaked out by those slips. I have to admit, she was one scary little girl.”

  This coming from a man the size of a VW Beetle.

  “I don’t know what happened between the girls while I was gone, but when I got back . . .” Willie frowned. “The rage on that Flavia girl’s face, I’ll never forget it. It was right toward the end.”

  A chill skittered through me. “The end?”

  “Flavia had been pushing the redhead. You say her name was Rae?”

  Morgan and I nodded in unison.

  “Flavia was like the ref in a title fight. If one backed off, she’d go to the other and whisper in her ear.” He patted both of his ears with the palms of his hands. “I couldn’t hear what she said, but suddenly that Priscilla girl charged over and chest-bumped Rae. She did it a couple times. Finally, Rae exploded and shoved her off. Priscilla fell hard.” He looked past us like he was watching it all happen. “Hit her head on that rock.”

  “No one tried to break this up?” I asked.

  “Oh, they said stuff. They tried to get Flavia to back off. Told the girls that the whole thing was stupid and that they didn’t need to fight. They looked in shock, like they couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing. No one tried to physically break it up until that chest bump. Then Lucy’s boy stepped in.”

  The air left my lungs. “Dillon?”

  “Yep. Poor kid. Like I said, all the others just stood there. I don’t think they really believed anything bad was going to happen. But when things got physical between the girls, it’s like they all woke up. Dillon stepped up, but he was maybe a half-second too late. After Priscilla bumped her, Rae pulled her arms back like she was about to shove Priscilla.” Willie demonstrated by holding his splayed-open hands by his shoulders, elbows pointing down at the ground. “Dillon just missed grabbing her arm. I mean just missed. If he would have reacted a blink sooner—”

  “Priscilla wouldn’t have died that night,” I concluded, numb.

  I had no clue my dad had been through something like that. The guilt he must have felt, knowing he could have saved a girl’s life but didn’t. I knew that guilt. If I would have reacted “a blink sooner” when my partner, Randy, pulled his service weapon on our informant, Frisky would still be alive.

  I stared at my notebook, waiting for the threatening tears to pass, and cleared my throat. “Thank you, for your statement, Willie.”

  He cocked his head. “You okay, Sheriff?”

  “Dillon is Jayne’s father,” Morgan explained softly.

  Willie considered that for a second and then thumped his own forehead with his big fingers. “Course he is. That’s quite a burden he carries.”

  I looked at Morgan, her sad smile said she knew I was thinking about Frisky.

  “A heavy burden indeed.” I gathered my things together, needing to get out of the suddenly claustrophobic cabin. “I can’t think of anything else for you right now. If I have any other questions, is it all right for me to come back?”

  Willie stood in front of me and placed a gentle bear paw of a hand on my cheek. “Lucy’s granddaughter is welcome in my home any day, any time.”

  Forty-five minutes later, I was leaning against the driver’s door of the Cherokee in front of Morgan’s cottage. She came out through the front door with a muslin-wrapped package the size of a nice T-bone steak.

  “Soak the herb mixture in just enough hot water to form a paste. When it’s cool to the touch, smooth it over the scrapes, and wrap it with the muslin strips.” She patted the package, indicating both the herbs and the muslin were inside.

  “Thanks, Morgan. I appreciate you taking me up to Willie’s.”

  “Are you okay?”

  I took a deep breath. “It was a shock to learn my dad and I lived through such similar circumstances, but I’m fine. Tell Briar that I’ll come by in the morning. It’s getting late.”

  Dusk was settling in, and it would be dark within the hour. Since her stroke seven months ago, in January, Briar tired easily, and I knew she wouldn’t be up for a talk tonight.

  “She’ll be happy you’re to this point. I think she’s been wanting to talk about this for a long time.” Morgan reached up and gave my shoulder a comforting rub. “Go home and try to rest well tonight.”


  Ten minutes later, I pulled up to the garage to find a crew member’s truck still there. All I wanted was to sit on the deck with Tripp and relax. Maybe whoever it was would be leaving soon. Since lights were on in the great room, I went to the back patio and looked inside.

  Chapter 27

  Tripp and Alex were sitting at the kitchen bar, beer and cheese-and-crackers spread out in front of them. Whatever they were discussing, it must have been hilarious, because Alex threw her head back, rested her hand on Tripp’s arm, and laughed hard.

  “Come on Meeka,” I whispered. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  It wouldn’t matter if Alex left in the next ten seconds, I couldn’t be the pal Tripp came to after a date.

  Meeka looked at me, inside at Tripp, and back at me with a whine.

  “I can’t deal with that tonight. Let’s go.”

  I pulled on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of boxers. Once I’d applied Morgan’s poultice, I turned off the lights and climbed into bed. I lay there, listening to the sounds of the lake and the distant loons, but even the shushing sound of the trees through the screen door couldn’t soothe me. At one point, something was moving around outside on the deck. Since Meeka’s only reaction was to sit up and acknowledge the sound, it had to be Tripp, but he left right away without knocking or calling for me. I lay awake for hours after that, my thoughts rotating through the events that had happened at the Meditation Circle the night Priscilla died, especially my dad trying to stop Rae from shoving her. As soon as I pushed those thoughts away, new ones moved in. Images of Tripp and Alex alone together in my grandparents’ house . . . in my house bombarded me.

  I couldn’t say when I fell asleep, but once I did, I dreamt of Tripp in the house with a faceless woman and not letting me inside. I woke with a start when my alarm announced that it was six-thirty. Unsure which scenario would be worse—Tripp making breakfast as usual, Tripp making breakfast for Alex and offering me whatever was left over, or Tripp not bothering with breakfast at all—I waited until the crew showed up before crossing the yard to grab coffee and something to eat. The bonus for that plan was that if Alex’s truck was out there, I wouldn’t know if she had just arrived or if she’d been here all night.