The Brooch

Cleaver's Revelation Pt 1

"Here we go again!" Jeffy mumbled to himself woefully watching his sister and feeling beyond helpless.

"Mumma's got this." Maple whispered back to her uncle. "I so desperately pray." She said holding his hand.

Uncle Jeffy, Maple, and the rest of the Woods, on bated breath, braced themselves for whatever the plaintiff's last witness, Cleaver was to display. They were all more than ready for this all to end. No one more than Mama Woods, herself...

Crunching on yet another butter peppermint, Mr. Kransten assertively returned to the stand.

"Suh, would you please state yo name foe the court?"

"I don't know why I need to say my name again, Frances!" Cleaver griped. "Why you jest plainly announced it, not a moment ago! It's not like you don't know me. And not like I neva used to see yo bare, freckled, butt roamin round free in yo front yard next to my house, growin up all them years! So freckled, you could connect the dots! And yo own pappi had to chase you down jest to get you come back inside. Unless you are traipsin on the path of bein senile?"

The crowd snickered.

"Jest do it." Mr. Kransten groaned and turning slightly crimson.

A confused Cleaver looked up at the judge as judge Bloomfurd nodded for him to go ahead. Cleaver looked back down and gawked at an awaiting Mr. Kransten. He deeply sighed...

"Son... read my lips..." he uttered annoyingly leaning over. "My name, Frances... is uh one Mista Cleaver...Eposn...Barthalamule, Jackson, Andrew, Aubry, Antwon, Jones the first! And the last!"

"Ahem..." A flabbergasted Mr. Kransten voiced clearing his throat. "Uh Thankya, Mr. Cleaver."

"Uh huh. Will there be anythang else foe ya son?"

"Uh... umm no suh." Mr. Kransten said shaking his head and wiping the sweat off his loose toupee. "I mean yes. But uh ahem... let's jest proceed. Naw uh Mr. Cleaver... how do you know my client, Mrs. Crowder?"

"Naw you know exactly whut I do Frances! Why I wuz with her, when I distinctly drove her to yo house and she demanded you to be her lawyer! Lawd alrighty! How much more clearer kin that be?" He hissed! "Glory alive son! We gone be up here witchu askin all these jacked up dumb questions all day?" Cleaver voiced becoming irritated.

"Mr. Cleaver, I'm onlay tryin ta__"

"Get on my everlastin nerve?" Cleaver interjected.

"Nah suh! But you are gettin on mine!" Mr. Kransten said rauled up! "Naw jest answer the cotton pickin question!"

"Well alright! alright! Touchy." Cleaver said backing up. "But you started it." Cleaver hissed.

"Cleaver, jest answer the questions the judge sighed.

"Even if they are jest as ridiculous as Frances doodoo green tie he wearin?"

"Yes." The judge grumbled. "Even if they are jest as dumb as his doodoo green tie."

"Well alright." Cleaver reluctantly obeyed.

"And stop callin me, Frances!" Mr. Kransten uttered annoyed.

"Well it's yo name ain't it?"

"Oomph!" Mr. Kransten grumbled. "Please, for the love of all that is holy... jest call me, for the time bein, Mr. Kransten!"

"As you wish..."

"Thank ya."

"Grumpy." Cleaver murmured.

"Naw... please, with extra cherries on top, state to the court, how you know, Mrs. Crowder..."

"Well court..." Cleaver said staring dead set in Mr. Kransten's eyes, "I am her number one help."

"Could you be moe specific??"

"I help, her with jest bout any and everythang she needs. Except fur wipin her backside! We ain't goin there." He said raising his hands in the air.

The crowd again snickered.

"Although..." Cleaver hesitated for a second. "Can't believe I'm bout ta say this, but... Judge Bloomfurd, he said gazing up at the judge. "Magnus... uh Mrs. Crowder, I mean, don't always smell like a walkin sewer." He professed. "Glory alive, imagine drivin for her in that closed up capacity." He said scrunching his face.

"Whatchu talkin Cleaver?"

"Well judge..." Cleaver openly versed. "Jest about half the time in all the years, I've known and worked for her, well she always smelled like the roses I prune for her... and not the manure part, I mean."

"Are we talkin bout the same Mrs. Crowder?" Judge Bloomfurd said stupefied at Cleaver's confession.

"Yes suh." He said pointing to Mrs. Crowder. "That same woman."

The judge looked like he couldn't believe his ears as Cleaver went on.

"It jest lately, she ain't been her normal sweet smellin, grouchy self. Fact is, she's been a stank! Pun intended." He said looking her way. "Eva since, her grand son been gone, it's like she done really lost her mind or some em. Cuz he ain't the first man, and I'm sure not the last, to jest abruptly leave her life. Not that Rusty, or even her own pappi did it on purpose. God rest their souls... Fact is, I jest thank it hit her hard. Harder than the rest." He murmured feeling some sympathy for her. "Cuz that young man is her life... He's the onlay one that truly eva stayed with her crotchety self. Especially when her own children jest up and left. Through the good and through the bad. He's been there foe her. So ya know, some em ain't settin right with her, if she finally made him, of all people, hit the road! Nah suh..."

"Umm Mr. Cleaver__" Mr. Kransten tried to get a word in edgewise.

"And Lawd knows she ain't the nicest person in the world. Fact is, she's a downright, pure plumb of a grouch! If ever I met one. But I feel she's on hard times. Harder than normal. And frankly, I thank some em done spooked her good! Cuz she won't even set foot in her own room, to bed and shower! Or upstairs at all, for that matter." He said shaking his head.

"What do you mean suh?"

"Why exactly whut I said. She's spooked! Like a black cat walkin under a ladder and hissin kind of spooked."

"And why do you say that?" Mr. Kransten said now curious himself.

"Why it's evident! Mmm-hmm... I done caught her several times. Why She looks up them stairs and jest backs away. Almost like she kin see Mr. Crowder himself, or some otha phantom, standin up there waitin for her to join them." He said gawkin at a very anxious and very highly strung looking Mrs. Crowder.

There was no doubt in all the minds that stared her way that she came across as nervous. So unsettled, she was plainly biting away at her nails when he was giving his side of revelation...

"I see her. She thank I don't. But I do. And I know, She stays in the onlay room that she feels safe in."

"And where is that?"

"Downstairs." Cleaver replied. "Where, Mr. Crowder used to set up office. And as for wearin them out of date clothes with the hint of mothball aroma, why she refuses to go shoppin foe new clothes. A penny pincher, he murmured. At least for this trial that is. Hence the stank. Cuz She onlay wearin them clothes from her downstairs closet! The one she ain't opened in half a century!"

"Why won't she go to her own closet with the fresh clothes." Mr. Kransten seemed distracted.

"Suits me!" Cleaver shrugged. "And the one time. I actually convinced her ta step in the shower, while I patiently waited down the hall, which wuz last eve.. And ta stop just doin a quick wash up at the sank... well, sorry ta say... that's when she got sprayed. Ain't no tellin how that skunk got up there." Cleaver said looking perplexed. "Maybe, I can't help but thank, she really does have a spook traipsin. Maybe they hauntin her, cuz whut she is doin to poor Mrs. Woods in all. Mrs. Woods don't deserve her malice. No she don't..."