Nobody's Fool Y'all

12

Hadley played innocent. She didn't want Maury to figure out she'd already booked their rooms. She waited a few minutes and called Maury back.

"I'm glad I caught you," Hadley said. "It's all set. We're booked for this Friday through Tuesday."

"Gosh," said Maury, "that was fast."

"Time's just wasting," Hadley said. "I thought since we were taking the trouble to pack, and you were having to conduct an expedition to unearth your bathing suit, we might as well stay for more than a couple of days."

"Won't that cost you an arm and a leg?" asked Maury.

"Nah," said Hadley. "They cut me a discount for booking extra days during the week. Maybe I should get Harry's old '55 Chevy out of storage. We could ride to the motor court in style. What do you think?"

"Does it still run?" Maury asked.

"Are you kidding?" Hadley said. "Brinkley keeps that old thing running like a top."

"Well, alright," said Maury. "I'm beginning to get excited. I love that old car."

"I know," said Hadley.

Hadley smiled. Her plan was working better than she'd expected.

"I gotta make arrangements with Beanie to feed and water Onus while we're gone. I'll catch you later."

"Okay," said Maury. "Bye."

Hadley got in her car and started her search for Beanie in earnest. Onus got along with him better than anyone else she knew. And as long as that cat's litter box was emptied and his dishes were clean and filled with food and water, she knew Onus would be as happy as a clam in a tidal basin.

She'd scanned the obituaries in the paper. Nobody was being buried in Memorial Gardens. She cruised at a slow speed down Main Street. No Beanie. She didn't see him at any of his usual hangouts: the courthouse, the Greasy Spoon, or even Brinkley Daymore's gas station. Where could he be?

No burials at Memorial Gardens, but Beanie might have other chores like mowing. She headed out to the cemetery. Passing through the ornate wrought-iron entrance gate, she drove up and down one meandering lane after another. She kept an eye out for any movement, and she listened for the hum of a lawnmower motor. The whole place was as peaceful and quiet as, well, a cemetery.

"I hope you're not sick, Bean," she muttered. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen hide nor hair of you in about a week."

Her brow creased with concern. She drove to the far back corner of the cemetery to the old sheds that served as maintenance buildings for the property. She stopped the car and got out. She walked to the door of the shed and knocked loudly.

"Beanie. Are you in there?" she called loudly. "Beanie!"

Nobody answered. A lone whippoorwill called from a distance on the mountainside. The crickets were chirping, but the place felt deserted. She pushed open the door of the shed and looked in. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw tools neatly hung on hooks, but there was no sign of Beanie anywhere.

She walked over to the mowing shed. Peering into the little window, she saw a riding mower and three push mowers lined up in a row. Four gas cans were precisely aligned on the back of a golf cart near the mowers. Nothing seemed out of order.

He's got to be sick, she thought, immediately chiding herself for not missing him sooner. She got back into her car and blew the horn. She didn't expect Beanie to come over the hill, but it was worth a shot.

"Guess there's nothing to do but go and make sure you're okay," Hadley said.

***

Beanie had no phone. There was no way of contacting him short of going to his house. He didn't drive, either.

Oh, my word, she thought. Was he lying in a ditch somewhere? Hurt or even worse. She kept one eye on the road and the other on the side ditches trying to spy a boot or a scrap of clothing dangling from a branch on one of the scrappy trees that clung to the mountain near Beanie's house. 

There were so many places where he could be. And most of them would be hidden to her as she drove slowly down the road. Her level of worry increased. She looked left and right. The number of sheer drop-offs along the roadside was too numerous to count.

What if he'd been delayed at work in the cemetery? What if night had fallen and he'd trekked home alone in the dark? He could have been attacked by dogs. He might have been struck by a semi. He could have had a heart attack and be lying hidden in the weeds. He could have stumbled and fallen and be lying dead at the bottom of a ravine.

Hadley's mind was dizzy with possibilities.

What if a snake had bitten him as he walked home? What if he'd been bitten by a rabid animal? 

What if?

What if? 

What if?