Bury the Hatchet in Dead Mule Swamp by Joan H. Young Read Free Book Online Page A

street is empty. That must be where
they played ball and stuff.”
    I was dubious. “I’ll ask
around, but don’t expect miracles.”
    “You can come, too. Invite
your friends. Make it a town party.”
    “That’s not the point. I
don’t know what to tell you, but I’ll try.”
    “Good.” Chad nodded his
head and pulled back into the traffic lane. “Now let’s get some
groceries.”
    I directed him to Main
Street and to the parking beside Adele’s store. Volger’s Grocery
looks like a holdover from another era. There is no wide,
sliding-glass double door for a front entry. Instead, one passes
under the shady branches of a large maple tree which has broken the
sidewalk with its roots, steps up onto a large stone slab recessed
between thrust display windows and then opens a squeaking wooden
door secured with a thumb latch. Once inside, the sense of entering
a time capsule is somewhat overcome. One can see the thriving
business has expanded to fill two adjacent buildings, and sturdy
metal beams support openings to those spaces. A side door with a
ramp allows better access to the parking lot for rolling filled
carts to vehicles.
    Adele stocks more than
convenience foods. She offers a full line of groceries, produce and
meats. There’s even a limited deli case. Without the success of
Volger’s Grocery, Cherry Hill would likely shrivel and die.
Speculating with Chad about people in town who wield power made me
realize that Adele was certainly in the upper ranks of influence,
even if she didn’t power dress.
    She was working this day,
and I introduced Chad to her.
    He was cheerful and polite.
“Hello, Mrs. Volger. I’m glad to see my mom makes friends with
people who can supply food.”
    “Call me Adele, Chad. It’s
nice to meet you. Let me guess, her refrigerator is empty
again.”
    I squirmed and tried not to
look sheepish.
    “It is,” Chad said. “But
I’m picturing something lean and red that could be cooked on a
grill.”
    “Yes, indeed. A young
fellow like you needs more than a salad to keep you going. I have
some nice T-bones on sale.”
    “Now we’re
talking.”
    Before long we had a cart
filled with steaks and hamburger, fresh corn on the cob, potato
salad from the deli, more staples for the next day, assorted snack
items and a bag of charcoal. Adele followed us around, chatting
with Chad about Isle Royale, while keeping an eye on the cash
register.
    Chad seemed quite willing
to talk to Adele. This was a side of him I hadn’t seen before. He
clearly thought of himself as an adult and soon barged right into
the topic on his mind.
    “My mom’s been telling me
about the unsolved murder. In fact, we just came from that place
with the funny name...”
    “Jalmari,” I put
in.
    “Yeah, that’s it. They had
divers in the river and everything. But the detective said the guy
hadn’t been killed there. So that means he came from somewhere
upstream. Like maybe from a cottage, or here in town.”
    “I heard on the scanner
about the divers being called out,” Adele offered tentatively.
Maybe she was feeling less inclined to gossip after the debacle
with the Jerry/Jared name mix-up.
    Chad continued, “What I’m
wondering, I mean, it would take someone who’s lived here a long
time to know...”
    “Hold on,” Adele said,
scooting for the checkout line. She quickly rang out another
customer, Harold Fanning, the city manager. He was picking up milk
and bread. I also spotted a package of heat wraps for muscle pain
in his pile. Maybe his wife was dragging him to exercise classes
again.
    I turned to Chad and
whispered, “What are you trying to do? I thought you were teasing
me for getting involved in all these local crimes.”
    He just grinned at me and
shrugged. Adele motioned us to the checkout lane and began scanning
items from our cart.
    “Well, what is it you’re
wondering, son? I’ve lived here all my life. If you want answers,
estimates, or even wild guesses, I’m the best source