The Body in Witch Elm: Miss Fortune World

PROLOGUE

THE SCHOOL BELL RANG AT 3:55 P.M. AS IT DID ON WEEKDAYS.  Casey and his cousin Ronnie grinned at each other but waited patiently for old Miss Collins to dismiss the class.  If anyone stood before they were formerly dismissed, the disciplined teacher forced them to wait quietly for another five minutes.

Miss Collins looked over her dark horn-rimmed reading glasses. Satisfied, she reminded her fourth-grade students that their history homework was due the following day and dismissed the class.

Ronnie and Casey bolted out the door, beating the nearest other student by ten feet.  The two ten-year-old boys dumped their school books in their lockers and made it to their bikes in less than two minutes.

Are we going to do this? Ronnie asked.  He looked nervous. He used his sleeve to wipe sweat off his brow. It was hot in Sinful, Louisiana.

Sure, why not? The scary old goat is out of town.

Uncle Raymond and Casey’s dad were not only brothers, but partners in a reasonably successful landscaping business. They enjoyed extraordinary reputations for quality work in Sinful and the surrounding areas. As a result, they’d earned the business of the nicest homes in the parish, including the Hadley Ranch just four miles outside of Sinful.  They’d worked for old man Hadley for over ten years. He was their biggest client.  When Casey’s dad died, his uncle Raymond continued to run the business on his own.

Harold Hadley had a full-time nurse but otherwise lived alone.  He never married, and people rarely saw him. He was old and in poor health. He had a reputation for being a mean old cuss with a particular distaste for children.

The Hadley Ranch was enormous, covering several hundred acres of rich, beautiful land, all fenced in, with warning signs posted every one-hundred feet. The signs read, ‘Private Property. KEEP OUT.’

Since his dad died, Casey had ridden past the property with cousin Ronnie and Uncle Raymond frequently. Every time they visited Casey would gaze at the old Witch Elm tree about a hundred yards within the Hadley property line.  There was also a second fence erected around the tree itself. Casey thought it was silly. If someone ignored the KEEP OUT signs near the major road, the smaller fence surrounding the tree would stop no one, he thought.

When Casey asked Uncle Raymond about the fence around the tree, he said he thought Hadley intended it to keep people like himself away from the tree. Old man Hadley wanted to preserve the health of the tree as long as possible, and he wanted no one, not even a professional landscaper, to go near it.

That only added to Casey’s intrigue and fascination with Witch Elm. Casey and Ronnie loved to climb, and Witch Elm was the ultimate challenge, with a gazillion ominous-looking branches extending into the sky, sixty, maybe even seventy feet high. He’d been dreaming about climbing Witch Elm from the moment he saw it.

Since his uncle was an expert on trees and plants and such things, Casey always asked about the giant elm when they drove by. Elm trees were rather rare in Louisiana, Uncle Raymond told them. At one time, elms flourished in these parts, that is until the 1930s, when Dutch elm disease invaded the U.S. from Europe.  The disease devastated much of the Elm population.

But not Witch Elm, not yet, anyway. The rumor mill said aberrations haunted the tree, and the boys heard many tall tales of ghosts and spirits and ghastly things lurking around the tree at night.  For Casey, all the spooky stories just added one more log onto the fire of curiosity.

Even though it still stood tall, Uncle Raymond believed Witch Elm was not long for the world. It was an old tree already, perhaps as much as two hundred years old. Many branches had leaves that withered and yellowed in summer months before the normal autumnal leaf shedding. More and more branches were not growing leaves at all. Uncle Raymond said it was only a matter of time before the once-majestic old tree died altogether.

Witch Elm was legendary in the parish. Most stories about it were campfire fodder.  For years people reported hearing strange noises and seeing unusual shadowy shapes at night. Uncle Raymond believed none of the stories and told the boys that people imagined or made up such things.

Regardless of how it had gained its reputation, the enormous Witch Elm cast a ghostly, hulking appearance, looking like something from a Halloween movie.  Even the name itself, Witch Elm, added to its intrigue.  The tree was an American Elm, Uncle Raymond told them, but everyone called it Witch Elm because of its haunting appearance. Uncle Raymond said even when he was a little boy and the tree flourished, it still cast a scary shadow in the moonlight. He was over fifty years old now, and he said he’d never heard the tree called anything else.  It was Witch Elm.

For Casey Swindell, it presented a challenge.

At Sunday dinner, when Uncle Raymond told everyone that old Mr. Hadley had gone north for a few weeks to visit his sister while his live-in nurse was on vacation, Casey began hatching a plan to visit the ranch and conquer Witch Elm by climbing to the top.  He told Ronnie his plan. First, they would plant the seed with their parents that they were staying after school on Wednesday to visit the library and research their history paper.  Casey’s mom, Janine, bought the story and even volunteered to pack additional snacks they could munch on after school.  Casey promised they’d be home before dark.

Then, after school, the boys planned to ride their bikes for two-and-a-half miles to the Hadley Ranch, where they would ignore the posted signs and boldly trespass on old Mr. Hadley’s property, becoming the first boys in history to climb the famous Witch Elm.

Casey and Ronnie made the two-and-a-half-mile trek to Hadley Ranch, hid their bikes in the shrubbery near the property line by the road and stood for a moment, looking up at the enormous tree, wearing the same expression that Edmund Hillary must have worn before he scaled Mt. Everest in 1953.

Although it was not quite fall, Casey could not see a single leaf. The tree was barren, leaving a network of branches and talon-like appendages.  Uncle Raymond said the old Witch Elm was still clinging to life, but it looked dead to him.

After a moment, Casey glanced over at his cousin, wearing a grin from ear-to-ear. Ronnie was turning pale.

I don’t know about this, Ronnie said.  "My dad said for us to never go near Witch Elm. We should just go home."

Don’t be a sissy, Casey dismissed. We’ve come all this way. This is what we’ve been waiting for.

"This is what you’ve been waiting for, Ronnie corrected. The tree gives me the heebie-jeebies.  Some of the stories . . ."

C’mon, Casey said, climbing over the fence. You heard what your dad said. Those stories are told around campfires. They’re designed to spook little kids.  Let’s go.

Casey turned and began walking toward Witch Elm without waiting for a response.

Oh, whatever, exclaimed Ronnie, following.

By the time Ronnie caught up to his cousin, Casey froze in place at the base of the tree, staring upward at it.

Casey, this looks way bigger up close than it does from the road, Ronnie said.

"It is closer, you idiot. That’s because we’re closer."

I don’t want to do this.

Suit yourself. You don’t have to, but I’m going to.

Please don’t, Casey, I have an awful feeling about this.

Step back, was all Casey said. The boy grabbed onto the rough bark of the elm and hiked up the tree. The bark held at his hands and his feet as he scaled the massive tree.

Be careful, Ronnie urged.

Look, I’ve almost made it to the first branches, Casey replied, about nine feet up the tree. It’s easy. Come on.

Ronnie shook his head, no. His eyes were as large as saucers.

No way. Look how high you are already.

Chicken! Casey snapped, looking up. He’d never admit it to his cousin, but there was a long way to go to the top, and he was getting nervous himself.  After everything he’d said to his cousin, however, there was no way he’d turn back now.  He continued to climb.

At twelve to thirteen feet up, he reached the top of the tree base, the area where the tree branched out in all directions.  He continued upward, taking the most direct route to the top—straight up.

The lower branches were thick and strong, but the higher he got, the smaller the branches became. Some bent; some were brittle, but he continued to push on and up.  Casey estimated he had climbed over twenty feet of the tree. The nervousness he’d felt earlier had faded, and a smile reappeared on his face. 

He looked down toward his cousin when something caught his eye. Casey was looking down into the center of the tree where the massive trunk separated into many arms, each with multiple branches. The area where the branch separation occurred created a crevice, a hollow, but it wasn’t the hollow itself that caught his eye; it was what was inside the hollow.

Staring back at him, from the depths of the center of the tree was a pair of eyes, or rather blackened eye sockets. Casey was looking at a skull.  It was unmistakable. He saw the teeth of the skull. It seemed to sneer at him.  There was a body in Witch Elm. Someone stuffed it into the hollow of the enormous tree.  He could see enough of it to tell they crammed it into an unnatural position. Ants and slugs and other vermin crawled across the face of the skull. An enormous spider rested on its forehead. The boy gasped, frozen in fear.

Oh, my god! cried Casey, aloud.

What did you say? Ronnie called back.

Ronnie! the boy screamed out, his voice quivering with fear. Call my mom.

What? Ronnie barked back. I can’t call your mom.  She’ll call my dad. He’ll kill us for being here.

Casey sobbed, Call her now, Ronnie! Call my mom now!

CHAPTER ONE

FOUR AND A HALF HOURS later

CARTER AND I HAD JUST FINISHED HAVING DINNER in Thibodaux and were driving back to Sinful. I was as full as I’d been after a meal in months. It had been a while since Carter and I had been on a true date, and this one didn’t disappoint.

I was doing my best to squelch what would have been an unladylike belch when Carter’s cell rang. He looked at the display.

Sorry, Fortune, it’s Sheriff Lee, he said. I need to take this.

Sure. Go ahead.

Carter pushed the ‘talk’ button.

Carter, I could hear a deep voice say through the vehicle’s speakers.

What’s up, Sheriff?

I know you’re off today, but I need help.

Sure. What happened?

Two kids found a dead body.

Oh . . . wow, that’s not good, Carter said. Where at?

Witch Elm?

Witch Elm? Carter repeated. At the Hadley Ranch?

That’s the one, Sheriff Lee said.  It looks like the body has been there for quite a while, maybe years.  It’s a skeleton.

"Did you say two kids found the body in the tree?" Carter asked.

That’s right, the Sheriff shot back, Someone stuffed the body inside a hollow, over twelve feet high.

Where the trunk branches out?

Yep.

Wow. You’ve got to be kidding.

I wish I were. Someone leaked the discovery to the media. I wouldn’t ask, but it’s a circus out here. I need all hands on-deck for crowd control while the investigators secure the scene.

Who would leak something like that? Carter asked. One of our own?

Don’t know.

Who’s taking point?

Detective Paul Pierce.  Do you know him?

Yes, Carter said. He’s a narcissistic jerk.

It sounds like you do know him. Can you come right away?

Carter looked at the clock on the car radio, I’m on my way back to Sinful, now, from Thibodaux. I’m in my personal car.

That’s okay. You have your portable light and siren?

I do.  I have to make a quick stop in Sinful, first.

Get here as soon as you can.

I’m on my way.

Thanks Carter.

Carter hung up and flipped his left turn signal, checking his side mirror, Sorry to cut our evening short, Fortune, he said. Duty calls.

Where is this Hadley Ranch? I asked.

About four miles northeast of Sinful.

Why do you have to go all the way to Sinful first? I asked.  That will cost you an extra twenty minutes or more.

I have to take you home first.

Don’t take me home. I’d like to tag along.

Fortune, this is official business.  I can’t bring you with me.

You’re being asked to manage crowd control on your day off. No one will mind if you bring me along. I’ll stay out of the way.

I don’t think so.

Carter, you have a fresh uniform in the back. You just picked it up from the cleaners.  You can change in the car. The Sheriff needs you now. Let’s go.

I don’t know how long I’ll be. It will be boring.

I have nothing else to do.  Let me go with you.

Carter thought for a moment, I don’t know . . .

Come on, Carter.  What’s the worst that can happen?

I hate it when you say that.  You’re not giving me confidence.

Hey . . . I want to go with you.

Carter sighed, Okay, but you keep a low profile and stay out of the way . . . promise?

Hey, you know me. I’m all about staying out of the way.

Carter glared at me.

Fortune . . .

I chuckled, Relax, Carter, I’ll be good.

Carter reached into the back and pulled his battery-operated police light out.  He turned it on, rolled down his window, slapped the magnetic bottom on the metal roof, and we were off.

So, the sheriff made it sound like the body had been in the tree for a long time, I said.

That’s the way I took it, Carter replied.

Sheriff Lee said someone stuffed the body in a ‘hollow.’  I don’t understand how it could have gone unnoticed in a tree hollow.

You’re talking about visible hollows, Carter corrected. Some are out of obvious sight.

I’m not following you.

A tree hollow is a cavity in a living tree.  It can be small or large and located anywhere on the tree. Nature creates tree hollows when there is trauma to the tree. The trauma creates an opening through the bark and exposes the sapwood. Fungi and bacteria attack the sapwood, which eats away at the tree and forms a cavity.  Here it formed the hollow high on the tree, out of sight, where the main trunk separates into all the secondary trunks and branches.

How do you know so much about tree hollows?

I’m a deputy in a rural community, he said. This won’t be the first time I’ve seen something stuffed into a tree hollow. I’ve never seen a human body in one, though.

Well, the victim is not local, I added.

Why do you say that?

Can you imagine anyone in Sinful disappearing without a trace and the whole town not talking about it?

No. You’re probably right, Carter agreed, but we won’t know much more until the M.E. does an autopsy. At this point we don’t know if the deceased is a man or a woman, or even a child.

You said ‘deceased’ and not victim.

That’s right. We also can’t be sure if someone murdered the deceased or not.

Really? You think she climbed the tree and crawled into a hollow space and died naturally?

You said ‘she.’  We don’t know for sure . . .

It’s a woman, I said.

How would you know?

Call it female intuition.

Okay, I’ll buy that . . . and no, I don’t think ‘she’ climbed a tree and crawled into a hollow space. I just don’t like making assumptions.

I nodded, That’s smart. After the M.E. establishes an approximate timeline, will you search the database for missing persons who might fit the victim’s description?

First, the sheriff has not assigned me any part of this case other than initial crowd control, and I might not be, so it will be for the investigative team to decide.  Second, it’s . . .

Way too soon, I finished. I know the drill. What is ‘Witch Elm’ anyway? Is that a name for a specific elm, like a Sitka Spruce, or a Knotty Pine? I never heard of it.

No. Witch Elm is the nickname given to that specific tree. It’s a well-known tree in these parts. It’s big, old and has been part of a great deal of local folklore.

You mean like spirits and ghosts?

Yep. It’s all campfire stuff, you know, clanking noises, unusual lights . . . floating aberrations.

Floating aberrations?

Carter smiled, Weird, huh?

Yeah, weird. And now two kids discovered a dead body inside the tree, I noted. That will fuel the fire.

Carter nodded, It will.

We made it to the scene in twenty minutes.  Carter pulled off on the highway shoulder and changed into his uniform before we got there. There were media vans lined up on both sides of the road and dozens of reporters and men with cameras running about, jostling for position outside the fence, trying to get a look at the tree and the crime scene officers who were marking and tagging the area.

I knew how dreadful it was to have the media lurking around from my experience. Whoever tipped off the press about the scene did the investigators no favors.

The fire department removed part of the property fence to get their rescue vehicles near the tree with their ladders and hoists.

Carter? Good, you’re here, said Sheriff Lee. The M.E. has already been here. There is a team removing the body from the tree now.  I need you to establish a perimeter and help keep the reporters away from this crime scene.

Got it, Carter said.  The sheriff nodded and walked away.

Who’s the man in the suit? I asked, once the sheriff was out of earshot.

Detective Paul Pierce, Carter replied. He’s an up and comer in the department.

You said he was a narcissistic jerk.

And he is.

He’s walking around like he owns the place, I noted.

That’s because he thinks he does. He’s a jerk. He loves being in front of the camera.  This will be right up his alley.

Is he good?

Carter nodded, Very good. He can be impulsive.  He moves too quickly for my taste. I’ve seen him make mistakes because of it, but he’s good at what he does.  I need to get to work. You stay here in the car. I’ll be as quick as I can.

Roger that, I said, with a faux salute.

He gave me a snarky look and stepped out of the vehicle.  I took a long look at the tree. I could see why people thought the tree was haunted or possessed or . . . whatever people thought it was. Seeing it for myself, in the dark, for the first time,