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.
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