by Becki Willis
Now she huffed at him, still clearly agitated. “Are we through yet? I still have three houses to walk, and I would like to get out of these filthy rags before they start to set up.”
Glancing over his notes, Brash checked out a few last details. “What did you do after you discovered the body?”
“I ran back outside and called 9-1-1. My cell phone was in the golf cart he left for me to use.”
“Did you come back inside the house?”
She gave him a withering look that only mothers knew how to perfect. He vaguely recalled hearing she had twins, hence the three newest citizens to their community. “Not until the fireman arrived. And only then because it seemed the humane thing to do.” Her haughty tone faltered as she added, “You know, with the chickens, and all.”
Brash took mercy on her at that point. Most women he knew would have fallen apart long before now. Many men would have done the same. “I think that will be all for now, Maddy, but I may have more questions later.”
She sighed wearily. “You know where to find me if you do.” She turned to walk away, mustering as much dignity as possible when covered with chicken poop and vomit.
Madison went through the rest of her duties on autopilot. She numbed her mind to the images which danced through her head with alarming frequency. Each whiff of a dead carcass brought on a fresh wave of nausea, each sight of two or more chickens converging in a group filled her with dread. By the time she finished her rounds and threw the last of the dead birds into the incinerator, her nerves were frayed, her head was pounding, and her mind was no longer numb.
More officials had come and gone on the scene, numerous people were milling around the farm, and the county coroner’s van was now backed up to the end of House 4, alongside another fire truck and several cop cars. She pulled the golf cart up next to the fire truck and got out. Her body was aching from all the walking and bending and, if possible, she now smelled even worse. If she never stepped foot inside another chicken house again in her life it would suit her fine. She was considering eliminating the versatile fowl from her kitchen, as well.
She caught sight of Brash deCordova’s broad back and made her way toward him. As she approached, she heard a woman’s high-pitched whine. “I just can’t believe this! He can’t be gone, he just can’t!”
“There, there, Ramona.” The police chief made a clumsy attempt to console the woman in front of him. He moved just enough for Madison to get a glimpse of bleached blond hair, a bright pink jogging suit, and the same neon pink and black designer sneakers her own teenage daughter had her heart set on. Mrs. Gleason, she presumed.
The woman clung to the officer, pressing her voluptuous body a bit closer than was necessary. Madison took an immediate dislike to Ronny Gleason’s widow. She told herself it had less to do with the officer involved and more to do with the inappropriate spectacle she made of herself. Having had a recent similar experience herself, Madison certainly had not thrown herself at the man delivering Gray’s death notice.
Madison hung back, but she suspected the odor emanating from her clothes announced her presence. Brash turned, looking so grateful for the interruption that she almost smiled. Almost. This was still a solemn situation.
“Ah, Miz Reynolds,” Brash said, setting the weeping woman away from him. “Did you think of anything else that would be helpful?”
There was such desperation in his tone that Madison started to pretend she had recalled another tidbit of information, just to save him from the clinging widow. But her pride still stung from his earlier implied insult, and she had the distinct impression that Brash deCordova could handle himself in most any situation, particularly those that involved the fairer sex. Dashing his hopes of an escape, she shook her head. “No, I just thought I would let you know I’m heading home now.”
“Are you- Are you her?” The simpering note in the other woman’s voice was so exaggerated that Madison almost rolled her eyes.
Brash made the introductions, using the opportunity to move several feet away from the woman in pink. “Mrs. Gleason, this is Madison Reynolds. Madison, Ramona Gleason.”
“I’m so sorry about your husband, Mrs. Gleason,” Madison said with utter sincerity.
The blond sniffed delicately. “Thank you. I’m-I’m so sorry you had to find him like that. Oh, my poor Ronny!” Another wail of sorrow had her reaching for the chief’s arm again.
An awkward moment stretched into two. Over the top of the crying woman’s head, Brash sent Madison a beseeching look, silently begging her, Do something! Madison shrugged helplessly, which earned her an exasperated stare from the officer. She finally gave into the urge and rolled her eyes, then reluctantly moved forward.
Touching the other woman’s shoulder, her voice was compassionate as she asked, “Mrs. Gleason, is there anything I can do to help?”
She pulled away from the broad shoulder she camped against. “Why, yes, yes there is,” Ramona said unexpectedly. “Would you continue to take care of the chicken houses for me?”
Madison’s jaw fell open in dismay. It was the very last thing she wanted. “I, uh, I’m afraid I don’t know very much about them, ma’am.”
“You were planning to work here for the week, weren’t you?” There was something almost challenging in the question.
“Well, yes.”
“Then I’ll expect you to honor your commitment.” For a grieving widow, her tone had the definite ring of business. “I trust that you and Ronny had some sort of contract?”
“Yes,” Madison nodded reluctantly.
“Then it’s settled. At least for the week, you’ll honor your agreement with … my husband.” Her voice crumpled on the last words.
Brash must have anticipated the fresh round of tears that was coming, because he quickly moved away and out of her reach. He turned his attention to the activity stirring at the door of the chicken house, where the coroner was leading the way out for the stretcher carrying Ronny Gleason’s torn and battered body.
This time when Ramona Gleason wailed out mournfully, there was no one there to hold her.
CHAPTER THREE
A shower never felt as good as it did that day. Madison stayed under the spray until the water turned tepid and her freshly scrubbed skin began to pucker. Only then did she step from the shower stall and slip into gloriously fresh clothes that held no odor of chickens.
She considered burning the outfit she had worn that morning, but knew she would need them again, possibly even the next day. There was no need to ruin another set of clothes, after all. She used extra portions of detergent, but doubted the shirt and jeans would ever come truly clean; at the end of the week, she could drop them into the dumpster and be done with them.
Just as she slid into fresh jeans and a soft sweater set, Madison’s cell phone rang. When she saw the number that popped up on the caller I.D. screen, she grabbed the phone and answered with an unsteady hello.
“Is it true?” Genesis Baker demanded. “I just heard the most horrible news!”
Hearing her best friend’s voice was her undoing. The tears she held at bay sprang free, leaking from her eyes and streaming down her face. “Oh, Genny, it was- it was horrible!”
“Where are you? Are you all right?”
“I’m home. And I’m not sure I’ll ever be all right,” she admitted on a sob. “You can’t imagine how he looked…”
“I’ll be right over.”
“You can’t do that! You’re at work!”
“Of course I can! I’m the owner, remember?”
Madison wanted to be brave and insist that she didn’t need her friend to come, but they both knew it was a lie. She had to compose herself before the twins got home from school, and Genny was her best chance at doing so.
“If you’re sure…” she whispered.
“Be there in a jiffy!” Genny promised. Before she hung up the phone, Madison could hear her friend’s voice ringing out, “People, watch the café for me. Got a family emergency!”
Ten minutes later, Genesis Baker bounded up the steps of the three-bedroom craftsman-style home. She let herself in and found her friend in the kitchen, exactly where she knew she would be.
“Oh, honey, are you all right? You look terrible!” Genny said the words with love as she folded her best friend into her embrace.
“I’ve been getting that a lot today,” Madison said dryly, returning the hug.
Genesis frowned and stepped back to examine her friend. “Who said such a thing to you?”
“Of all people, none other than Brash deCordova. Although in his defense, he didn’t say the words out loud, and even if he had, he would have been right.”
Genny gasped. “You saw Brash? On today, of all days?”
“Well, he is the chief of police, and I did find a dead body. The two sort of go hand-in-hand.”
“Sit down and start from the beginning. I want to hear everything.” Genny deposited a white sack onto the table and drew out two of her signature Genny-doodle cookies, the same delectable treats she sold at her newly opened café and bakery in downtown Naomi. Before joining Madison at the table, she poured them both a cup of coffee as if they sat in her own kitchen.
Madison relived the gruesome morning once more, instinctively knowing this would hardly be the last time she was asked to do so. Genesis interrupted her story more times than Brash deCordova ever dreamed of doing, but she found her friend’s questions far less disruptive. When she finally got to the end of her tale, she sagged in exhaustion and watched Genny’s eyes fill with sympathetic tears.
“You poor thing! I’m so sorry you had to see that!”
“I have a feeling I’ll be seeing it again tonight in my sleep. And I doubt I’ll ever get that stench from my nostrils.” She sipped at her coffee, needing the warmth it provided. She was still chilled to the bone.
“Well, at least you don’t have to go back.”
“Didn’t I tell you? Ramona Gleason wants me to complete the week. In fact, she insisted that I do.”
“She would, that peroxide floozy!” There was uncharacteristic disdain in her friend’s normally cheerful voice.
“I was a little surprised when I saw her,” Madison admitted. “In fact, I never even suspected that Ronny Gleason was married. He actually made a pass at me the first day I went to his farm. After seeing his wife, I can’t imagine what he thought he saw in me.” Madison frowned into her coffee mug as she cradled it with both hands.
“Oh, please, not that again!” Genny rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You really do have to buy yourself a mirror, Maddy, and not one of those ripply ones that comes out of a carnival. You’ve always been gorgeous. And unlike Ramona Gleason, your beauty is real. Hers comes from a bottle.” She grinned from behind her own coffee mug, displaying her trademark dimples as her sense of humor returned. “Well, actually, I hear that her boobs came from a clinic down in old Mexico.”
“They did seem a little too perky to be real.”
“I heard she’s had plastic surgery so many times she hardly looks a thing like she did when they married ten years ago.”
“Wouldn’t all that be expensive? Ronny didn’t seem to be exactly rolling in money,” she said, thinking of his tattered clothes and hair that needed trimming.
“Oh, please, did you see the house they live in? And the vehicles they drive? The man owns six chicken houses. Do you have any idea how much money those things rake in each year?”
“Not really,” Madison admitted. “The way he negotiated down my contract price, I got the impression he was barely scraping by.”
“He was going deep-sea fishing for a week. That had to cost a small fortune in itself.”
Madison frowned. “I guess I was so excited to make the deal, I never thought about that.”
“I doubt you have to honor the contract, you know. If Ramona’s name wasn’t on the dotted line, she really can’t hold you to it.”
“I know. And as much as I dread the thought of having to go back —dead body or no dead body— the fact is, I need the money.”
Genesis shook her head in sad wonder. “I still can’t believe Gray left you penniless.” They had been over the same road a hundred times, but the destination was always the same.
“I know.” Madison’s sigh was glum. “But he did, and I need what little money this job will bring in. I was originally hoping it would also bring in more business, but I don’t think I’m cut out to be a chicken farmer, even for a week or less.” She crinkled her nose derisively.
“If I hadn’t already spent most of my inheritance, you know I’d give it to you.” Genny’s blue eyes were soft and earnest.
“In a heartbeat. But I can’t think of a better way for you to have invested your money, than in your very own café. You’re a natural, Genny girl.” Madison’s smile was proud as she beamed at her friend.
“You can still come to work for me full-time. The offer stands.”
“You’re the best friend a gal could ever have, and I do appreciate the offer. But friendship and business just don’t mix, and we’ve been friends for too long to mess things up between us now. You go live your dream, and I’ll live mine.”
“That’s the thing, Maddy. I’ve always dreamed of owning my own bakery and I’m finally getting to live out my fantasy. But I know running a temp agency has never been your life-long goal. It doesn’t seem fair that I get to have so much fun, and you have to work in chicken houses, of all places.” She crinkled her nose as she mentioned the smelly profession.
“Like I’m always telling the kids, life is not always fair. And to be honest, I don’t know what my dream job is. Maybe working at a variety of professions will point me in the right direction.”
Genesis’s eyes danced with amusement as she sat up straighter in her chair. “Oh, do tell!” she gushed dramatically. “So far you’ve been a chauffeur, a gofer, a dog-walker, and now a chicken farmer. Which of these glamorous professions do you prefer?” She batted her eyes with feigned fascination.
Madison laughed at her friend’s antics, exactly as intended. Genny was good for her soul, no doubt about it. They had been best friends since the summer of eighth grade, when Madison moved to Juliet to live with her grandmother. Through college, numerous moves and marriage, they were still inseparable twenty-five years later.
“Actually, being a personal shopper might be fun,” Madison mused. “I like spending other people’s money.”
“Yes, but I always envisioned it as being a bit more glitzy. I thought when you were a personal shopper you got to buy things like fur coats and plush furnishings and Oriental rugs. So far you’ve been stuck buying hearing aid supplies and bladder control pads.”
Madison’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “But they were the new and improved version, I’ll have you know. And Miss Sybille was thrilled with my selection.”
“You might even say she was so excited she peed her pants!” Genny quipped.
The women dissolved into laughter, until the phone rang and interrupted them. Madison got up to answer the old-fashioned rotary dial wall phone in her grandmother’s kitchen as Genny poured more coffee.
“Miz Reynolds?” a deep voice said through the receiver. “This is Cutter Montgomery. I was just calling to make sure you were doing all right, ma’am. I know you had a pretty rough morning.”
“Cutter, how nice of you to call! That was very thoughtful. And yes, I’m doing as well as can be expected, I suppose.”
“I thought you handled yourself like a real pro, Miz Reynolds.”
“Mrs. Reynolds makes me sound so old. Call me Madison.”
She could hear the smile on the other end of the line. “Would you settle for Miss Maddy?” he compromised.
The name sounded so delicious coming from his lips, she could not help but return the smile. “Miss Maddy will be fine.”
“You take care now, Miss Maddy. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Cutter, I’ll keep that in mind. Bye now.”
She was still smiling as she hung up the phone and faced her friend. “He is the nicest young man. If he was ten years younger, he would be perfect for Bethani.”
“Forget Bethani. If I was twenty years younger, he would be perfect for me!” Genny grinned. “That boy is nine kinds of good-looking.”
“If you were twenty years younger, you would be jail-bait. Go for ten.”
Genesis waved her hand in dismissal. “I’d still be too old for him. He’s only like twenty-five or something.”
“So? Some guys like older women.”
“And some women like older men,” she countered. “Don’t think you’re getting out of telling me about your reunion with Brash deCordova.” Her charming dimples flashed before the coffee mug hid them.
“Reunion?” Madison scoffed. “It’s not like I ever had a relationship with him to begin with. Back in high school, he barely knew I was alive.”
“We were but lowly freshmen, after all.”
Madison settled at the table once more, feeling the effects of the strenuous morning. “I may not be able to walk in the morning,” she moaned. “So what’s his story, anyway?”
“Whose? Cutter’s or Brash’s?”
Madison shrugged. “Both, I guess. I’ve been away too long. I haven’t kept up with all the local gossip and comings and goings.”
“I was gone as long as you were, you know.”
“But you came back six months before me,” Madison reminded her smartly. And thank goodness you’re here, she thought. She wasn’t sure she could face her old hometown without her best friend by her side.
She had to admit, she had questioned the wisdom of Genny’s decision to move back at first. What did a tiny town like Naomi have to offer her wandering and creative friend? But she said she was tired of drifting and was ready to come home. She had her mind set on opening her own business. When Madison’s own world crumbled just five months later and Genny begged her to join her in the sister cities, Madison had not hesitated. She could not imagine being here now without dear Genesis.