Joshua Moot Finds a Room

Meanwhile, Joshua Moot was heading to Birdtown. It was way north of Chanceville, a tiny spot in the road at the edge of The Region. He planned on finding a cheap motel to hunker down in while he looked through those boxes of books he had taken from the cabin. He had stocked up on supplies, because it might take him a few days to find what he was looking for, which according to Porter Pander, the late Porter Pander, was written down somewhere in one of those damned books. And now that Pander, that crazy bastard, and Bunnington has been eliminated, all he needed was the Quacks formula and he would be well on his way to Easy Street. Joshua Moot did not think of himself as particularly psychic. He might have changed his mind if he knew that was the name of the street where the Loone County Jail was located.

Joshua Moot had tried several other motels on the lonely stretch of highway connecting Indianapolis to the northern regions of the state, and strangely they all seemed to have their no vacancy signs lit up. He got out and went into them anyway, but despite their abandoned look, they all claimed to be full up. So when he pulled his dusty old 1949 Studebaker Champion into the parking lot of The Grouse Inn, he was happy to see its vacancy sign lit up. This place could be just the ticket, way out in Nowheresville he thought as he locked the car, stretched his long legs, and went to register for a room.

Joshua pulled off his sunglasses, but it was so dark in the motel office, he still couldn’t see much. The dust mote filled light coming in through the one grimy window, made him realize that might be a good thing. He banged the rusty service bell on the counter. No response. He thought he could hear radio or TV sound coming from somewhere in the back. He banged on the bell again and waited. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the office, he could see all manner of stuffed birds on rickety looking shelves and a pheasant under a glass dome on a shelf above the Exit sign. Joshua Moot was about to go behind the counter to knock on the door marked Private, when it swung open with a rusty creak.

He moved a couple of steps back as a short owl-like creature emerged from behind the door. She shuffled out looking as seemingly as surprised to see Joshua as he was to see her.

                                                                                        Pinterest

“Hi, I’m P-tess Ptarmigan, the second P is silent, and that is the only thing silent about me,” she chirped.

“Nice to meet you,” said Joshua as he pretended to be looking for something in his pockets in order to avoid shaking her hand with the pointy nails.

“Can I get a room?”

“Take your pick. You can probably guess by the looks of the parking lot that we’re not exactly chock full. How long will you be with us, er me?”

“Uh, not sure. Maybe a week?” he said, hoping, not too optimistically, that she wouldn’t start asking a lot of nosy questions.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” she said as she swung a coffee-stained (he hoped they were coffee stains) register around for him to sign.

He had decided to use the name James Morton when he registered and gave his address as the one in Gary where he grew up, never mind that the old house was torn down years ago. He used his own license plate number for now because he thought she just might be nosy enough to make sure the plate number matched what he wrote in the register. Anyway, he planned to ditch that old junker as soon as he got the hell out of Birdtown.

“Here you go, Miss Ptarmigan,” said Joshua as he turned the register back around.

“Actually, it’s Mrs. But you can call me P-tess,” she said as she carefully read the information he had filled in.

“Well, James. This all seems to be in order,” said P-tess, turning her head to one side as she peered up at him through the thick lenses of her glasses. Was he imagining that he heard quotes when she said “James”? He couldn’t afford to let his nerves get the best of him now.

“Now let’s see what room would suit you best,” she said as she turned to peruse the pegboard holding the room keys. The board was a sight in itself. Each key was on a fob made of several feathers, beads, and bones.

“I’d really like your most private room. I’m doing some research for a book I’m writing and need peace and quiet. Too many people in the house I live in at the moment,” said Joshua.

“Well, we have The Fowl Room, The Duck Down Room, The For the Birds Room, The Feather Your Nest Room, and The Come Flock with Me Room, any one of those would be most suitable for your needs,” she said.

“Well, which one is the farthest away from the parking lot and office? I don’t want to seem anti-social, but it seems to me if there were any noise around here, those two places are where they would be coming from,” he said, not holding out too much hope that she would buy any of that story.

P-tess looked up at him and blinked slowly, twice. This trance-like state only served to add to the uncomfortable, but unnamable feeling she gave him. Creepy was the best he could come up with, but that didn’t quite capture it. He just wanted to get to his room, close the door behind him, find the formula, and get the hell out of Birdtown for good.

“Oh,” said P-tess, seeming to come out of her trance. “Then you might want The Cuckoo Cabin that’s behind the motel at the edge of the woods. It’ll cost you more, though. It’s $30 a night instead of $20. It has a kitchen, which you might like since you may be here a few days and the Where It’s At Diner is over in Whatsville, about 20 miles down the road.”

“That sounds like just the ticket,” said Joshua, starting to feel a little more hopeful about things. “Can you give me a special deal if I take it for five days?”

“Hmm,” said P-tess, back to blinking again. “How about $135, cash up front?" asked Moot.

"Okay, but no refund if you leave before the five days are up."

“You drive a hard bargain for someone who seems to be running an empty motel,” said Joshua, and as soon as he said that the room got a whole lot chillier.

“Your choice. That’s the deal,” she said as she turned to go back through the door marked Private.

“It does sound like it’s just what I need, but I thought I saw another cabin out back. Is it any cheaper?” said Joshua.

“Oh, you mean the Rook’s Roost. It would be a little cheaper, but I don’t have a bed in there right now. Mice got into the mattress. We haven't repaired the water pipe that sprung a leak after a hard freeze last winter, so there's no water. Even with those fancy cowboy boots of yours, it’s pretty obvious that you’re a city slicker,” she said as she assessed his get up. 

Joshua was over six feet tall, slender and always dressed in black, just like his favorite singer, Johnny Cash.

None of what P-Tess said about Rook’s Roost was true. She wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him if he stayed in that cabin. Big Teddy had made sure the signs for every motel between Indy and The Region except for the Grouse Inn all said No Vacancy, which wasn’t hard to do because he owned them all. This gave him time to send Butch Bird, the great-great grandson of Robin Bird, founder of Birdtown and the guy who ran the Grouse Inn for him, a paid vacation to Florida and put P-tess in place as the manager of that crazy motel.

I guess it’ll have to be The Cuckoo Cabin then,” said Joshua, reaching for his wallet. He still had most of the three hundred dollars that he took off the chloroformed Bunnington before setting his car on fire. 

Her mood seeming to brighten,P-tess turned around to get the key marked Cuckoo Cabin.

“Good choice. Pull your car around back to the cabin and I’ll meet your there,” she said. Joshua nodded and went to his car thinking that Little Miss Ptarmigan with the one silent P better be careful not to shit in her nest. He wouldn’t have a problem with silencing both Ps for her.

He parked the old Studebaker in the small parking spot and followed P-tess up the weedy crushed stone path that led to the cabin. The cabin itself didn’t look too bad from the outside. As long as it had a bed and a table where he could work, he would be satisfied. He watched P-tess waddle up the three steps to the cabin’s porch.

Joshua Moot stepped inside the cabin behind her and was immediately assaulted by wall-to-wall ticking and cuckooing clocks at asynchronous intervals. Apparently, this woman had no concept of peace and quiet.

“Isn’t this something?” asked P-tess.

“It’s something all right,” answered Joshua. “Remember five minutes ago when I said I needed peace and quiet to do my research?”

“You mean you don’t find these cuckoos soothing? You know, like you’re in a nice big forest?” asked P-tess,  incredulous at this news.

“In a word, no. Would you allow me to silence them all if I promise to start and reset them before I leave?” he asked, knowing full well he would stop them, but would never start them again. He would be long gone before she discovered that fact.

She was back to the slow blinking again. She scratched both of her double chins as she pondered his request, as if he’d asked to cut a hole in the roof to let in more light. While P-tess pondered, Joshua took the opportunity to look around the cabin to see what other treasures it might hold. There was a comfortable looking double bed, a serviceable looking kitchen complete with a fairly sturdy looking table and chairs, which would work just fine for his research.

“Do you solemnly swear to wind and reset every single one of them?” said P-tess when she finally stopped blinking and scratching.

“I solemnly swear,” said Joshua as he crossed his fingers behind his back.

“Deal,” she said.

And at that he turned quickly on his heels to go outside and get his suitcase and food supplies, wanting to avoid another awkward handshake moment.

P-tess handed him the gigantic key fob with what looked like a turkey feather attached to it and began her waddle back to the office, telling him she would be right back with fresh towels. He was a little skeptical about how quickly “right back” actually meant, as she seemed to only have one speed. Slow.

By the time he had brought in his food supplies, put them away, and went back out to fetch his suitcase, he saw her come moseying back around the corner and ran out to meet her and speed up the towel delivery process.

“Thank you very kindly, Mrs. Ptarmigan,” Joshua said as he took the dark brown towels from her.  He turned around and headed quickly back to The Cuckoo Cabin to try to avoid another conversation with her, but he didn’t make his escape fast enough.

Suddenly she was able to shift into high gear and was right on his heels, “Sooo, what kind of book are you writing?”

“What? Book? Oh, yeah. Um, it’s a history book about Gary, Indiana,” he answered, hoping that wasn’t a subject she would warm to.

“Oh, I was hoping it would be about birds of Indiana, or some such. Mr. Ptarmigan and me aren’t from around here; we’re from Chanceville, the southern part of the state. We inherited this motel from his Uncle Albert Finch a few years back, so I don’t know much about the area,” she said, unable to hide her disappointment in the subject of his book.

Dcc Trueblood and Sheriff Orange Have Some Visitors

Doc Trueblood listened to Burl Tree’s heart and lungs, took her blood pressure, and checked the dilation of her pupils.

“Everything checks out just fine, Burl,” said Doc. “The best thing you can do is stay active this afternoon and drink lots of water to flush out your system. I’m going to give you a vitamin B12 shot to boost your energy a bit. You should be right as rain by tomorrow, but I’d rather you didn’t go back out there in the middle of nowhere all by yourself until Sheriff Orange finds out what’s going on.”

“Taken care of, Doc,” said Ned and Sid at the same time.

“Thank goodness,” said Mrs. Tree. “I got to admit, I was pretty scared when I woke up and saw Ned standing over me.”

“Thanks, a lot,” Ned replied.

“You know what I mean, Ned Cochran,” said Mrs. Tree. “I’m not used to waking up to see any man standing over me, let alone you, and I still don’t remember being drugged last night. Do you think my memory of it will come back?”

“It might,” said Doc as he opened the door and asked Nurse Trachea Carmichael to prepare a B12 syringe. “If it does, it may take a few days. Sure would be helpful to the sheriff if you could remember who came into your house. Nurse is ready to give you your shot, then you can be on your way.”

“Roll up your sleeve as far as you can please, Mrs. Tree,” said Nurse Carmichael. Mrs. Tree watched the whole process, but Ned and Sid turned their heads simultaneously exclaiming they hated needles.

"Nurse, make Mrs. Tree an appointment a week from today, please," said the doc. " Burl, if you still are feeling poorly, don't wait a week to come in." 

When Ned, Sid, and Burl had entered Doc Trueblood’s office, his waiting room had been empty. By the time they were leaving, the waiting room was full of what looked to be healthy people peering over magazines as the three walked past them.

“News travels fast,” grumbled Sid.

“Looks like Doc’s opened the South Branch of Gossip Central,” replied Ned as he held onto to Mrs. Tree’s elbow and guided her to the truck.

Sid Topp and Burl Tree looked at each other knowing full well who the founder of this branch was. Gardenia Cochran was quick on the gossip trigger. Next stop, Sheriff Orange’s office. More fodder for the Chanceville Grist Mill.

As Ned drove them the few short blocks to the sheriff’s office, people who never paid attention when Ned drove by any other day stopped and waved as if Ned was leading the Founder’s Day Parade and they were hoping he’d throw some candy to them.

“I can’t wait to get back to work tomorrow and hear all the brilliant theories about what happened to you, Mrs. Tree,” said Sid shaking his head slowly.

Ned pulled into the parking lot and before he could shut the engine off, Maxine Crabtree appeared.

When Sid opened the truck door, Maxine insinuated herself between him and Mrs. Tree.

“I’m here to pray for you, my dear,” said Maxine.

“Why would you need to do that?” asked Burl.

“Well, uh, you know, after you’re ordeal,” answered Maxine.

“That won’t be necessary. It would be hard for you to know what to pray for since you have no way of knowing what her “ordeal” is,” said Sid as he tried to loosen Maxine’s grip on Mrs. Tree’s arm.

“Well, I, uh, you know,” sputtered Maxine. "How about just a general prayer?"

About that time Sheriff Yesper Orange came out to help Ned and Sid get Mrs. Tree into the office.

“I’ll take it from here, Mrs. Crabtree. Thanks for your help,” said sheriff who had just returned from his lunch break and saw Maxine Crabtree swoop down on poor Mrs. Tree. 

“But can’t we have just one little prayer before you go in?” pleaded Maxine.

No one bothered to answer her. They circled around Mrs. Tree and ushered her inside as fast as they could, her feet almost coming up off the sidewalk.

 “Well, I never!” shouted Maxine.

“And you never will,” muttered Ned as he closed the door behind them.

Artwork Yaara Oren

"Well, if it isn’t the Three Musketeers!” shouted Pearly Ringwald.  Pearly always shouted. Sheriff Orange privately thought that the dispatch microphone was the most useless item in the department. He was pretty sure Pearly could be heard all over town without it.

"You three go on in my office," I'll be right back the sheriff said as he headed down the hall. 

The phone began to ring and Pearly shouted into he phone, “Sheriff's office. He’s down the hall taking care of business, if you know what I mean."

Even though Mrs. Tree was a little hard of hearing, Pearly’s voice made her jump. That was the last thing she needed today. This day had been jumpy enough already.

About that time the sheriff came in from down the hall, shutting the door with a definite click. He then closed the venetian blinds.

“Seems like a lot of precautions,” said Ned. “We’re the only ones in here, ‘cept for Pearly.”

“Pearly has ears like a bat. Sometimes I think she can read lips, too,” replied the sheriff. “I don't think she’s figured out how to listen in through the intercom but I'm going to switch it off just in case.” He turned on the radio that sat on a bookshelf by the door, hoping that the music would help to drown out their voices.

“Boy, do I sound paranoid,” said sheriff, shaking his head. “How you doing, Mrs. Tree? Doc Trueblood called ahead to say you were on your way. Sounds like you’ve had a rough night and day.”

“I’m okay. Doc gave me a B12 shot and said I need to drink lots of water,” she replied.

"Let me go ahead and take your statements so you can get some rest," said the sheriff.

"That sounds good but I'm supposed to stay active this afternoon. I don't think that's going to be easy. I'm feeling a might tuckered out, " said Mrs. Tree yawing. 

 The sheriff went to the door to ask Pearly to bring Mrs. Tree a glass of water. When he opened it, there stood Pearly holding a glass of water.

“Thought, Burl might be a bit thirsty after her ordeal,” she said as she handed it over to Yesper. 

“See what I mean?” he asked. Ned, Sid, and Mrs. Tree nodded in unison. “Okay, let’s get down to business," said the sheriff as he turned up the radio. “Doc told me on the phone that Sid is taking you home to stay with him and Tippy for a few days. I think that’s a great idea. I’m hoping we can get this resolved pretty quickly. I know you want to get back home as soon as possible. I’m going to check the Pawn It Off pawnshop here in town and a few others in the vicinity. Maybe this yahoo has tried to pawn or sell those books.”

After  Sheriff Yesper Orange took the statements of Ned, Sid, and Mrs. Tree, he got up, motioned for the others to stay seated, walked quietly to the door, and pushed it open, nearly knocking Pearly Ringwald off her feet. In spite of themselves, Ned Cochran, Sid Topp, and Mrs. Burl Tree all burst out laughing.

Mrs. Tree and Junebug Take a Nap

The next day was a Thursday and Ned knew that was Sid Topp’s day off, so he asked Sid to help him retrieve the books from Harry’s cabin. The Tip Topp diner was gossip central in Chanceville, but Ned had never known Sid to talk about any of his customers to other customers. When he told Sid what they were going to be doing and that he and Mrs. Tree thought it best to keep their mission quiet for a while, Sid agreed.

“Yeah, no need to give some of those blabbermouths anything else to chew on,” said Sid.

“You got that right,” said Ned. Sid saw a wheelbarrow and several cardboard boxes in the back of Ned's pickup and asked why they needed them.

“You’ll see why when we get to the cabin,” Ned replied.

“Okay,” replied Sid looking skeptical. He couldn’t imagine that Harry had enough belongings to fill a even one box.

When they pulled up, Ned had an uneasy feeling. The crows were gathered at the top of the old sycamore cawing loudly to each other and possibly to the two men. Ned signaled to Sid to be quiet as they walked up to the cabin’s front door, which was slightly ajar. Ned was sure he had closed it firmly. He slowly opened the door as it creaked loudly on its rusty hinges, alerting anyone inside to their presence. The crows revved up a decibel or ten. Ned and Sid stepped inside, but no one greeted them except the mice. The two men went immediately into the sleeping room.

Damn it all to hell,” said Ned as he saw that the drawers had all been pulled out and were empty.

“Ned, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before, even when Tarsal Henley was yanking your chain,” said Sid scratching his head.

Ned and Sid hightailed it over to Mrs. Tree’s to tell her about the missing books and make sure that she had not had any problems during the night. Ned was worried about all of the noise the crows had been making every time he walked up to the cabin. When they pulled into Mrs. Tree’s drive, nothing looked out of the ordinary, but that didn’t help to alleviate Ned’s uneasiness. Sid was picking up some strange vibes, too.

“That cabin kind of gave me the creeps. Those crows were trying to tell us something. I’m sure of it. When we went inside, it felt like someone was watching us. I’m still feeling that way,” Sid told Ned.

“I know what you mean,” replied Ned. “Something’s going on or those books wouldn’t be missing. Speaking of missing. I wonder why Junebug didn’t come running out to greet us?”

“That is strange. Sometimes if Mrs. Tree is under the weather, I’ll bring out a plate from the diner for her dinner. Junebug always comes out to make sure I’m supposed to be there,” said Sid.

“You check the barn, Sid. I’ll go and check on Mrs. Tree,” said Ned.

‘Righto,” said Sid.

Sid headed for the barn calling out for Junebug. Ned walked up to Mrs. Tree’s back door and started to knock, but he could see the door was ajar. There were marks around the lock as if it had been forced open. He stepped on into the kitchen and called out to Mrs. Tree. No answer. All was quiet except for the grandfather clock ticking in the living room.

“Mrs. Tree?” Ned called again. No answer.

He went down the hall checking doors until he found her bedroom.  Mrs. Tree was still in bed, unheard of at nine o’clock in the morning for this farmer’s widow. She seemed to be sleeping soundly and was snoring lightly. He didn’t want to scare her, so he said her name again and gently patted her shoulder. Mrs. Tree slowly opened her eyes. He noticed a pungent odor in the room and started looking to see where it was coming from and noticed the corner of a white handkerchief sticking out from under the bed. When he leaned over to pick it up, he didn’t have to hold it too close to recognize that smell. Years ago, Old Doc Ivory had to pull an abscessed tooth and used chloroform on him to put him out. Ned had never forgotten that sickening smell.

“This explains why Mrs. Tree is still asleep in the middle of the morning,” Ned said, as he held out the smelly hanky toward toward Sid as he came into the room. 

"Junebug is snoring away in the barn, " said Sid. "I'd better go back out and see if I can rouse her." 

“Good  take that thing outside would you, Sid?” said Ned, handing him the handkerchief. “Would you mind making some coffee when you come back in? We need to get this lady to wake up and I don’t want to leave her alone.”

“Sure will,” said Sid. “After I’ve checked on Junebug and washed my hands real good.”

Ned opened Mrs. Tree’s bedroom window to get some fresh air in there. Then he went in the bathroom and got a cold cloth to use on her forehead. He might have to call Old Doc Trueblood if he couldn’t bring her around soon.

Ned returned with the cold damp cloth and wiped Mrs. Tree’s face with it. She opening her eyes and looked questioningly at Ned.

“What’s going on? What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes looking pretty cloudy.

About that time Sid came in with a cup of instant coffee for the old lady. “Here you go, Mrs. Tree, maybe this will perk you up a bit,” he said as he set the mug on her nightstand. “Sweet and milky, Tip Topp Diner style, just the way you like it.”

Ned helped her to sit up in the bed propping her back with her pillows against the headboard.

“Do you have any recollection about last night?” Ned asked her.

“No. What has happened to me? Did I have a stroke?” she asked.

“Noo,” said Ned. “It looks like you and Junebug were chloroformed last night.”

“Junebug!” cried Mrs. Tree. Sid leaned over and patted her hand, “She’s fine. I brought her in the kitchen. She had a good long drink of water. Now, don't you worry, she’s coming around nicely.”

“Why would anyone chloroform me and my Junebug?”

“Well, someone took all of the books out of the cabin. I had Sid check under your guest bed and the papers that you hid in your box of photographs are gone also,” said Ned.

“That is were you put them, right?” asked Sid.

“Oh, yes. Just laid them right on top. Are my photos still there? she asked.

“Seem to be. I’ll fetch the box and you can take a look, Sid answered.

“I wouldn’t do that yet,” Ned cautioned, as he got up to leave the room. “Sheriff Orange will probably want to come out here to take a look around. We need to find out what is going on. I’m going to call him now.”

“Good idea,” said Sid. “Meantime, why don’t you come into town and stay with me and the missus until we figure out what is going on around here?”

“Good, Lord. I’m not lettin’ anyone scare me out of my own home,” she said. "And, besides, I can't leave Junebug." 

“Not up for debate,” Ned told her when he came back in the room. “The phone was dead; I went outside and found the phone line cut. You get dressed as soon as you feel like it. We’re taking you into town and paying a visit to Doc Trueblood and then on to see Sheriff Orange.”

“Yes, and I’ll call Tippy from the doc’s office to let her know you’ll be staying with us,” said Sid, holding up his hand to fend off any protest from Mrs. Tree.

“And I’ll take Junebug home with me,” said Ned. “She’ll feel at home on the farm.”

They loaded a still groggy Junebug into the back of the pickup and Sid rode in the back with her so she wouldn’t be scared. They dropped her off at the farm and briefly filled Gardenia in about the latest events.

“Now, don’t say a word, Honey Bunch, said,” Ned, already knowing he was wasting his breath. 

Sid winked at Mrs. Terry. They both knew full well that, even with a gun to her head, Gardenia Cochran would have a hard time keeping her mouth shut, and since Ned had only given her a couple of facts, they also knew that she was quite capable of filling in the blanks where she felt it was needed.

Ned and Burl Find Some Clues

Mrs. Tree said she thought it was best for now if just the two of them went. She promised to let everyone know if they found anything interesting.

“Sounds good to me,” said Ned as he shoveled in another mouthful of mashed potatoes.

And that’s how they discovered some clues about High Horse Harry.

Ned picked Mrs. Tree up at her house after they finished lunch. It was a good thing he had running boards on his truck or he might never have gotten that tiny lady up in the cab of his truck. They bumped along an old logging road for about a mile. Tarsal parked in a clearing in front of the cabin and helped Mrs. Tree get down from the cab. It was a sunny day, but the tall oak trees around it heavily shaded the cabin so Ned retrieved a couple of flashlights from his toolbox.

What Ned didn't notice was a dark Ford sedan following him almost all the way to Mrs. Tree’s. The stranger parked about a mile past her property and walked through the woods following them at a safe distance.

“I know High Horse Harry is gone, but it still doesn’t feel right entering this cabin,” remarked Mrs. Tree.

“I know what you mean,” said Ned. “ It feels kind of spooky here. Those crows are having a fit about something.”

Mrs. Tree didn’t seem to notice the crows, but Ned always paid attention to their calls. It was never idle chatter. As Mrs. Tree went ahead, Ned stood stock-still, looked around and listened for other sounds besides the raucous cawing. Nothing.

“Probably warning each other about a hawk or something,” he said as he caught up to Mrs. Tree. They entered a surprisingly clean and tidy cabin. It was apparent by the spareness of the cabin that High Horse Harry owned very little, which would make their search easier, but probably not too fruitful.

It hadn’t taken long for the mice to move in. As soon as Ned and Mrs. Tree walked in,  mice scattered everywhere.

“I’ll look high and you look low,” said Ned. Mrs. Tree nodded and they began their search in silence.

They looked in all the usual places, in the one cabinet in the kitchen, under the nasty old mattress, and the tall and surprisingly solid chest of drawers in the sleeping room. The chest of drawers did not contain clothes; every drawer was filled with books. As Ned and Mrs. Tree took a few books out to sample Harry’s reading tastes they were surprised to discover he apparently loved great works of literature, if, indeed, these were his books. His copy of War and Peace was filled with marginalia. They found the works of Voltaire, Dumas, and Descartes in the original French. In those volumes, the marginalia were in French.

“I guess there was way more to Harry than met the eye,” said Ned scratching his chin.

“It would be a shame to let the mice get to these wonderful books,” Mrs. Tree replied.“I’d be happy to store them, if you want to load them in your truck and take them to my house.”

“Good idea. I’ll come back tomorrow with some help and a wheel barrow and we’ll bring them to your house,” said Ned.

“Okay, but pick someone who’s not a gossip. It doesn’t feel right to have nosey nellies snooping around in here,” she said as Ned nodded in agreement.

They went back into the kitchen to have one more look around. Mrs. Tree even lifted the handles on the old wood cook stove. They were just about ready to give up when Mrs. Tree decided to check the ash pan under the stove. At first glance it looked like just a thick layer of ash, but she wanted to be sure. She went outside and got a stick so she wouldn’t have to touch the ash as she moved it around. The stick hit something solid.

She called Ned from the sleeping room. “Look at this,” she said as she carefully lifted an ash-covered envelope from the pan.

“Lay it on the table,” said Ned.

He pulled a rag from his hip pocket and carefully removed the contents of the envelope. They took the pages from the packet of papers and lay then out on the rickety old table. They looked like legal documents. They decided to take the papers back to Mrs. Tree’s where they could look at them more comfortably and in better light. As they headed to the truck, they heard a rustle and saw a shadow move around the corner of the cabin. Ned ran around the corner to check it out, but found no one there.

When they pulled into Mrs. Tree’s driveway her mutt Junebug came running out of the barn barking and yipping at Ned’s truck.

“She’s a great watchdog. She always lets me know when someone's around. She’ll stop barking when she sees you. It’s your truck she doesn’t recognize,” said Mrs. Tree. Sure enough, as soon as Ned stepped out of his truck Junebug came running up, wagging her tail.

While Ned was laying out the papers on Mrs. Tree’s dining room table, she made coffee and sliced up some pineapple upside down cake for them to nibble on. There were two people named in the documents: Porter Pander and Joshua Moot. It appeared they had entered into a business partnership producing a product named Quacks, which neither Ned nor Mrs. Tree had ever heard of.

“It looks like this one here is something about a law suit,” said Ned holding up a yellowed page.

“It’s hard to make out, but it looks like the name Bertram Benedict Bunnington, Attorney, or some such. They sat and discussed the possibilities of what these papers could mean over their cake and coffee. Ned sure did love Mrs. Tree’s pineapple upside down cake.

"I’d best be on my way. I’ve got to go back into town and stop by Steele’s Hardware Store. I don’t want to get into trouble for being late. It’s not good to get on the bad side of Gardenia. She might be named after a fragrant flower, but she can be as prickly as a cactus,” said Ned

“What should we do with these papers?” asked Mrs. Tree stifling a yawn. She had missed her afternoon nap and even the coffee wasn’t perking her up. It had been a big day for her.

“Boy, that’s a good question,” said Ned taking his cap off and scratching his head. “Why don’t you keep them until we have more time to read all of this legal mumbo jumbo and decide if there’s someone else who should know about this.”

“Sounds good. I’ll put them in my box of photographs I keep under the bed in the spare room,” she replied.

“Great. When I come back for the books tomorrow we’ll decide what our next step is going to be,” said Ned.

“Nighty, night,” said Mrs. Tree.

Ned didn’t notice the tall figure lurking in the shadows as he headed to his truck.

Ned and Burl, Chanceville's Newest Detectives

BBB had been found in a burnt up car parked next to the woods near the cabin where High Horse Harry lived. The registration in the glove compartment had not burned up. His name was Bertram Benedict Bunnington.

Now Sheriff Yesper Orange may not have seemed like the sharpest knife in the drawer. That was a clever ruse. His hooded eyes with its wrinkled lids, like a turtle’s, didn’t miss a trick. When he was scooping up what remained of Harry, he noticed some sort of medal. He would have to check that out later. For now, Harry’s remains were safe and Yesper could sift through the ashes for clues when all the fuss died down.

Of course, the Blind Poodle Sisters couldn’t see him, but a few days after High Horse Harry died, a stranger had been walking past their house several times a day. Was he watching them or High Horse Harry? A few days after Harry went up in smoke, the stranger approached Nanette and Babette when they left the house without their maid, Poppy. He had a quiet conversation with them as they walked along.

“Hello, Lovely Ladies,” he said.

“Oo, I like your voice,” said Babette. “Who might you be?”

“I’m the man who would like to ask  a favor,” said the stranger.

“What kind of favor?” asked Nanette giggling into her hand.

“I’d like permission to erect a life-size carousel horse in your front yard in honor of High Horse Harry,” he told them.

“Did you know him?” asked the sisters in unison.

“Let’s just say I’m an admirer of his,” answered the stranger.

“Will it have lots of color?” asked Babette?

“Of course, that’s the beauty of carousel horses,” he answered.

“Deal,” said the sisters in unison again. “Just make sure there's lots of color.” The twins had such vivid memories of color and surrounded themselves with as much color as they possibly could, the brighter, the better. Even though they couldn't see it, it made them smile to think of all the color in the world. 

“Much obliged, ladies,” said the stranger. “I promise; you won’t be sorry you agreed to this.”

“One more thing,” said the stranger. “If I find out that you mentioned this conversation to anyone, and believe me, I will know, you will not get a colorful horse and we will never meet again.” The ladies only nodded in agreement.

With that the stranger took first Babette's and then Nanette’s right hand and kissed it, his fingers lingering a moment on the twins matching opal and diamond rings, a gift from their father on their sixteenth birthdays. The sisters continued down the street twittering into their freshly kissed hands, not caring a fig about the carousel horse, but really hoping they would meet the stranger again and hear his melodious voice once more.

The folks of Chanceville couldn’t talk about anything else but the shocking demise of High Horse Harry. Sid Topp had to order extra coffee because so many people hung around at the diner long after they’d finished their meals to dissect, so to speak, not only what happened to Harry, but also, who he actually might be.

Geraldine Nurse, town librarian, supposed he might be an army deserter hiding behind that beard, long hair and cowboy hat that seemed like a good disguise to her.

Hubert Patterson reckoned that Harry might be his long lost Uncle George who had run away with the circus 30 years ago. Clearly, Hubert had forgotten his Uncle George was only about 5’6” tall and had curly red hair and he would be about a hundred years old by now.

“The last time I remember hearing Harry rant was a couple of weeks ago,” said Mr. Williams, The Younger. “He was going on about crossing a buzzard with a butterfly. His new creature would look much more beautiful than a dirty old buzzard as it pulled out the guts of some possum lying on the side of the road.”

“Well, I say, Harry was just a crazy old buzzard himself and not too pretty to look at,” said Hubert, as he not too daintily slurped his coffee from a saucer.

Maxine Crabtree, Zealous Hospital Volunteer announced loudly that Harry paid the ultimate price for being an unrepentant sinner. Although, when pressed by the patrons of the diner she could not say exactly what Harry’s sins might have been.

“I don’t rightly know. He just had the look of a sinner about him,” said Mrs. Crabtree defensively. Everyone in the diner knew that Mrs. Crabtree believed the whole town was teeming with sinners.

By now, Sid Topp had heard all he ever wanted to hear about High Horse Harry. Sid wasn’t an unfeeling man; he did feel sorry for poor old Harry. But enough was enough. When the good people of Chanceville started chewing on a bone, they wouldn’t let go. Besides, if he had to keep filling up all of the “bottomless” coffee cups, Harry’s death could turn into a losing proposition here at the Tip Topp.

Fern Oldhat, who loved a good fugitive from justice story, reckoned High Horse Harry was a Nazi war criminal who never made it to South America.

“I still can’t believe it. I guess I ought to count my blessings that I wasn’t hit also, ” said Tarsal Henley. He had thrown out the clothes he was wearing the day the lightning hit Harry, but no matter how many times he showered, he thought he could still smell that stench.

“I’m sure Harry wasn’t too thrilled about it either,” said Sid Topp as he poured Tarsal another cup of coffee.

“ I wonder what Sheriff Orange did with the ashes?” asked Hal Hendricks, owner of Hendricks Funeral Parlor and Wax Museum, having a vested interest in the remains of the people of Chanceville.

“I saw him sweep them up in a bucket, “ said Charlie Towne, the train stationmaster.

“You’ll have to ask him what he did with them after that,” said Sid.

“That I will,” answered Hal as he perused the menu, looking for something new on a menu that never changed.

“It’s just too weird,” said Tarsal as he headed out the door.

A few minutes later, Ned Cochran and Mrs. Burl Tree entered the diner and took a seat at the counter. Everyone was glad that Tarsal had left before Ned arrived. They’d had enough drama lately.

“How you doing, Mrs. Tree?” asked Ned.

“Not too bad, thanks,” she replied. “Still in shock like everyone else, I spose.”

“True. Harry came here as a mystery and left here in another one,” replied Ned.

“Sure would be interesting if we could find out who High Horse Harry really was and where he came from,” said Ned. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“We might be able to find out something,” said Mrs. Tree as every head turned toward her.

“What do you mean?” asked Sid as he served Ned and Mrs. Tree the meatloaf special.

“Maybe we could go have a look in his cabin. I haven’t been in there since he moved in,” said Mrs. Tree. “Would you consider taking me over there, Ned?”

“Of course,” he answered quickly. “When would you like to go?”

“How about after we finish eating? It’s too far back in the woods for me to walk, but I think we can get there in your truck,” she said.

Cora Jean the gum-popping snappy-talking waitress at the diner said, “Hey, I finish my shift in half an hour, how ‘bout if I go with you guys?”

To Ned’s relief, Sid reminded Cora Jean that she had promised to work an extra shift that day because Jenetta Joyner the other waitress at the Tip Topp  had told Sid she was having her bicuspidor removed this afternoon. Ned didn’t think he could stand listening to Cora Jean’s gum popping the rest of the day.