Nobody Knows Your Secret (19 page)

“
H
ey
, Bill,” Hadley said, pulling behind Bill’s stalled sheriff’s car.

“Broke down,” Bill said. “I’m waiting for Wallace to come give me a tow back to the station.”

Just then, a call came over Bill’s radio, “Possible 10-100.”

An address was given.

“Oh, no,” said Bill. “Elwin and Wayman are stuck in court. They’re radios are off. This couldn’t happen at a worse time.”

“What’s a 10-100?” Hadley asked.

“Possible dead body,” Bill said.

“Come on,” Hadley said. “I don’t own a siren, but the engine runs, and the tires roll.”

“I’ll drive,” Bill said.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Hadley said, sliding over onto the passenger’s side of the car.

The car went speeding down the road.

Good thing I buckled up, Hadley thought. She looked over at Bill. His face wore a look of total concentration.

He has to be completely focused, she thought, or we’d wind up in a ditch. How does he do this, day in and day out, she wondered. She had always respected her brother-in-law, had thought him a fine man, but her esteem for him jumped two-million-gazillion percent in just those few seconds.

He didn’t make enough, Hadley thought. Not nearly enough.

Hadley’s car flew down the back roads. Bill took a hard left at a dirt road with a rusting mailbox at its end.

“The county will probably owe you a paint job after this,” Bill said, brush and limbs flicking off the speeding car.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hadley said. “I was thinking of getting a newer model anyway.”

“At this rate, you’ll be able to get about 50 cents for this trade-in,” Bill said, suddenly becoming silent as they neared a clearing with a small double-wide trailer nested among the grass.

“Isn’t this Hardy Branwell’s place?” Hadley said. “It’s been years since I was here.”

“Yeah,” Bill said, pulling up near the door. “Stay in the car.”

The trailer door was swinging open. A very old man was standing outside in the yard. Bill walked up to him. They talked for a time.

Bill disappeared inside the trailer. His gun had been drawn.

Hadley felt like every nerve in her body had been lit with matches. She was on fire with curiosity and apprehension and fear.

Bill stepped outside.

It’s Hardy,” he said, flatly. “There’s a suicide note. The old man came around to see if Hardy wanted to sell an old truck Hardy kept out back. He saw Hardy take the gun and kill himself.”

“How awful,” Hadley said.

“Everything the old man says rings true. The trailer doesn’t look like it’s been cleaned in a month of Sundays. Note says he couldn’t go on.”

“That’s it?” Hadley said.

“Yeah,” Bill said. It’s just a handwritten note signed with Hardy’s name. All it says is ‘I can’t go on like this. Forgive me Candy. Dearest love.’”

“Dearest love. Could be the last words of a father to a daughter or a lover.”

“What are you talking about?” said Bill.

“Nothing,” said Hadley. “Just thinking out loud.”

She caught some movement out of the corner of her eye.

“Look,” Hadley said, pointing to a break in the woods.

The old man was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’d that guy go?” Bill said. “I told him I needed to ask him some more questions. And who’s that?”

Out of the woods, a second man was approaching. He was grizzled and ancient. His clothes were ragged and soiled. He was dressed in all in black, a hood and cloak covering him from head to foot. His eyes were cast down to the earth, but he made a straight path for the opened door of the trailer. Bill ran to stop the old man, but the sheriff stopped in his tracks.

Hadley walked up to Bill who stood at the opened door looking in. Her eyes widen in surprise by what she witnessed. The ancient stood over Hardy’s body. Hardy was dressed in a pair of jeans and nothing else. His feet and torso were bare. The bullet had pierced his heart.

The old man reached inside his tattered cloak and retrieved some cheese and bread. He stood over Hardy’s body, whispering something unintelligible. Hadley strained her hardest, but she could make out nothing but the old man’s last two sentences.

“I give passage to thee now, dear one,” the stranger said. “And for thy worldly sins, I pawn my soul.”

“Where in the heck did he come from?” Bill asked.

The sin-eater finished. He walked to the door, refusing to acknowledge either Hadley or Bill. He walked right passed them. Bill and Hadley were helpless to stop him. The mystery man dressed in black disappeared into the woods.

“I’ll bet that old man waiting outside the trailer knew this guy was coming,” said Hadley. “He’s a sin-eater.”

“Sin-eater! I thought those guys were extinct,” said Bill.

“There are still some pretty remote places in these hills,” Hadley said, thinking of Runie and Ronnie.

“I’m not believing this,” Bill said. “When I tried to stop him, I dunno. I can’t explain it. It was like my feet were stuck to the ground. I couldn’t move.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hadley said. “I was here. I am a witness, and I still don’t believe what I saw.”

Sirens were wailing in the distance. Bill had managed to get a short message out for help before his radio went dead. It was just one more mystery added to a day full of them.

“Bill,” said Hadley, suddenly. “Let me in there for one second.”

“Are you crazy?” Bill said.

“No,” said Hadley. “Walk right beside me. You’ll see I won’t touch anything. But I’ve got to see Hardy’s feet.”

“His feet!” Bill said. “Hadley, you’ve lost it.”

“No, I haven’t,” Hadley said, rushing past Bill before he could stop her.

“There,” said Hadley. “Just as I suspected.”

“You suspected what?” Bill said.

“Syndactyly,” Hadley said.

“Sin-what?” said Bill.

“Webbed toes,” said Hadley. “That’s what this condition is called. It’s a birth defect. It never would have hit me, but this morning, Maury and I went on a gallivant. We ran into two of the most unusual brothers. They had to be inbred.”

“What does that have to do with Hardy’s suicide?” Bill asked.

“You’ll never be able to prove it,” Hadley said, “but I think that Hardy killed Kyle. Kyle has webbed toes. Just like Hardy’s.

“I’ll bet if you took a cast of Hardy’s feet and Kyle’s, they’d look identical. And who else had those same webbed toes?”

“Claire,” said Hadley. “I’ve seen her feet in sandals before. And Candy does, too.”

“Now that you mention it, Kyle’s two kid’s feet are like that,” Bill said. “Those two kids are like savages. They were running around town last week. I told them to get some shoes on before they blistered their feet or stepped on a piece of glass or something.”

“Inbreeding causes genetic defects,” Hadley said. “I just bet that those webbed toes point to the fact that Hardy is the father of Kyle. Now that I see him lying here, he looks relaxed. Younger. Look at him, Bill. He could be Kyle at Kyle’s age.”

“I do see the resemblance,” Bill said.

“Bill!” Hadley exclaimed. “That’s the motive!”

“What are you talking about?” Bill said.

“We know that Claire was a loose woman,” Hadley said.

“I don’t know, Hadley,” said Bill.

“Of course you do. It’s common knowledge.” Hadley said. “Claire would sleep with any man who would give her money. What if Hardy is Kyle’s father?”

“But Hardy is Candy’s father?” Bill said.

“Exactly,” Hadley said. “Nobody could ever figure out why Candy left home so young. What if, and I’m only speculating here, what if Hardy was messing around with her.”

“Hadley, you can’t go off and accuse folks of that kind of stuff,” Bill said.

“But you’ve seen Hardy around Candy when she was young,” Hadley said. “He fawned all over her.”

“What are you getting at?” Bill said.

“Like I said,” Hadley said, “you’d never be able to prove any of this, but what if Hardy was jealous of Kyle. Kyle was his son. Candy was his daughter. They’ve had two kids together. Kyle treated Candy horribly. She’s worked to the bone, but she still stayed with the bum. But what if Hardy couldn’t take it any more? You know, Hardy snapped and shot Kyle as he slept.”

“I don’t know,” said Bill.

“Of course, you do,” said Hadley. “It all fits. The pieces of the puzzle fit perfectly if you think about it.”

“Promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” said Bill.

“You have my word,” said Hadley. “When you think about it, that sin-eater’s appearance was timed perfectly. I think Hardy sent for him. He couldn’t live with the guilt of killing Kyle, and he realized he’d never get Candy back.”

“Do you think Hardy knew Kyle was his son?” Bill asked.

“Maybe he suspected it. Maybe not. I think he was blinded by his love for Candy. Candy was Hardy’s Achilles’ heel.”

“That’s some theory,” Bill said. “Whether it’s true or not.”

“I know,” said Hadley.

“Well,” Bill said, “Let’s me and you get out of this trailer before the cavalry get here. I sure as heck don’t want to have to explain what we just witnessed to anyone.”

“I’m with you,” Hadley said.

“
H
adley
,” Maury said, “what are you doing?”

“I’m planting an herb garden,” said Hadley. “I’ve gone to the library and checked out some books. I’ve been researching in the Internet.”

“All that for herbs? Aren’t they akin to weeds?” asked Maury. “I mean, don’t they grow easy enough that you don’t need to research for weeks to grow a successful herb garden?”

“No,” Hadley said, “not just herbs. I’ve been researching granny witches, too.”

“Did you hear from Ronnie and Runie?” Maury asked.

“No,” Hadley said. “But they are part of the reason my interest was sparked.”

“What’s the other part,” Maury asked.

“Well,” Hadley said, “I don’t know. You know I’m always curious.”

“Don’t I know it,” said Maury.

“I guess they got me to thinking about the old ways,” Hadley said, “you know, the old traditions like sin-eating and mad stones.”

“Which reminds me,” said Maury. “When are you ever going to take that rock off your window sill? That’s the only thing I could see the other night when I was helping you wash and dry the dishes. You know hunters look for those in a deer’s stomach. And looking at that thing tried to turn mine.

“Bill said to tell you the whole meal was fabulous, by the way.”

“Tell Bill that as long as he keeps heaping on the praise like that, I’ll keep experimenting with the spices and the ingredients,” said Hadley. “It was a good meal, even if I do say so myself.”

“Don’t change the subject,” said Maury.

“What subject?” said Hadley.

“That infernal rock,” said Maury. “I’ve researched that thing on my phone. Why, it came out of a deer’s guts.”

“I know that,” said Hadley. “I’m sure Runie or Ronnie always cut open the deer’s stomach to see if it contains mad stones. I think that’s one of the auras that makes mine so special.”

“Ugh,” said Maury. “It makes me sick. I mean, I handled the darn thing. Oh, gosh.”

“What?” said Hadley.

“What if I handled that nasty thing and stuck my fingers in my mouth, you know. Unconsciously! Oh, gosh. I think I’ll puke.”

“Oh, no you will not,” said Hadley. “Onus is the only one allowed to puke up a hairball on my floors and not get fussed at.”

“You are awful,” said Maury.

“And you are nice-nasty,” said Hadley.

“Oh, you sound just like mother,” said Maury.

“But let me change the subject,” said Hadley.

“Obvious ploy,” said Maury.

“I know,” said Hadley, “older sister’s prerogative. The old ways are quickly dying, Maury. I think it’s a shame.”

“Tell that to Ronnie and Runie,” said Maury. “Those two look like they could be sons of Lurch
Addams
.
”

“Was his last name Addams?” said Hadley.

“Who knows,” said Maury. “I think that was his last name. I dunno. But you know what I mean.”

“Do you like where Skip and I hung the chimes?” asked Hadley.

“It’s a lovely spot,” Maury said. “It really is.”

“I think so, too,” said Hadley. “Want some coffee in the den?”

“Love some,” said Maury.

Outside, the wind began to blow. The soft musical tink-tinks of the chimes began to fill the yard. Hadley and Maury were seated in the den. The soft glow from the inside light showed them looking over an old scrapbook. Both women were sipping coffee, laughing, pointing at the old photos, and sharing memories.

The old woman peered in, quietly staring at the cozy scene. No one knew her exact age. She was as old as the mountains that gave her life. Her rheumy eyes were cradled in skin as weathered as an old barn. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. But you could not have noticed. It was as thin as parchment and as wrinkled as dry clay cracked under the hot sun of a long, unending drought.

Her back was bent from the problems of a thousand years, from the burdens of one who has lived a hard-scrabble life, from the many years of countless winter snows and spring rains. She was dressed in rags, once black, now gray with age. In one gnarled, work-worn hand, she held a walking stick, glassy and smooth with wear.

She watched the two, gazing through the window for several minutes. The wind grew fiercer, and the chimes played louder throughout Hadley’s yard. A bolt of lightning streaked silently across the sky, blue-white against ebony black. The old woman shook her head, disappearing back into the woods from where she came.