Knee High by the 4th of July (16 page)

Technically, I wouldn’t be lying if I said yes because I could
theoretically
keep a secret, even if I might not keep
this
secret. “You know it.”

“I don’t know it, and if you spill this before Wohnt makes it public, you’re out one reporting job. The corpse didn’t have any ID on it, but a wallet washed up in Silver Lake, and the photo and vital stats on the driver’s license found in it seems to match the corpse. His name was Liam Anderson, he was from Wausau, Wisconsin, and that’s all I know.”

Wausau? Why did that sound familiar? I had never been, and I didn’t think I knew anyone from there. Dolly and Brando were from Stevens Point. It might be worth my time to find out how close that city was to Wausau. I still needed to get back out to Johnny’s cabin too, but that would have to wait until I closed the library at 6:00. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll keep it close to my chest.”

Ron grunted. “Just get me a recipe before the end of the week. Friday is the end of the week.”

The phone went
click
, and I was alone in the library. I went to Rand McNally online and learned that Wausau was 361 miles east of Battle Lake, but Stevens Point was only 34 miles from Wausau. That was a little too close for comfort. I felt woozy wondering if I could really trust Johnny at his word, that he had been in Stevens Point only to dig up dirt on Dolly. The more I thought about it, the more I realized he could have been feeding me a whole zoo full of lyin’. The library door opened with a pleasant
dong
, and I looked up anxiously. It was a woman and three children, all under the age of ten. I smiled at them and exited the map program.

While they browsed the children’s section, I went back to reshelving books. A steady crowd continued until lunchtime, and I was so busy answering questions that time flew. When Mrs. Berns came in at 1:00, I was starving. I decided to ignore the fact that I had only hours earlier seen her at the afterglow stage of a weekend sexcapade. “Hi, Mrs. Berns. Hope you came ready to work. We’re busy today.”

Mrs. Berns looked sprightly and innocent, her eyes wide and blue and her apricot hair still in curlers. She was wearing a Shania Twain concert T-shirt, cut-off jean shorts, and orthopedic shoes. “I’ve been working it since I was born, girl.”

“OK. Do you mind if I run and get some lunch?”

“Nope. But I thought you might want to run to Fergus Falls instead.”

I eyed her suspiciously. She began straightening out the pencils on the front desk. “Why?”

“They arrested your boy toy, Johnny Leeson. I thought maybe you could squeeze in a conjugal visit before they send him on to Folsom.”

I felt myself shrink, sucked into a hole that was starting in my own stomach. “What?”

She scowled at me. “Don’t act so surprised. As soon as you so much as look sideways at a guy, his life is in the shitter. You got an evil eye, girl. You should maybe consider keeping those legs together and that mind on something clean, like the Bible or charity work. You’re bad luck ten ways from Sunday.”

I stood like a leather-skinned zombie until the hot tears in my eyes cracked through. “You’re right.”

Mrs. Berns stopped straightening the front counter and looked at me, fire in her face. “What? You’re going to give up like that? I ain’t
right
. I’m just a bitchy old woman. We all make our own luck, so don’t just roll over like a dog in heat. Go fix this. Go. I’ll watch the library.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Berns. Maybe it’d be better if I—”

“Shut your piehole with the ‘I don’t know.’ Go. You found Jeff’s murderer, you got rid of that terrible Jason Blunt, and now you’re going to spring Johnny Leeson. Let me know if you need help, by the way. I’ve always wanted to break into a prison.”

“But what if he’s guilty?” There. I had said it out loud, and it felt good.

She turned on me, fire in her eyes. “I’ll tell you this only one time, Mira James. I know you’ve had a tough life, but you’re not the only one, so get over it. If you start chasing shadows and mistrusting everyone, you’re going to miss the best life has to offer. Now, do you honestly think Johnny Leeson murdered someone?”

I blinked once, twice, my mouth open. After scouring my heart and head I made room for the possibility that Johnny had been up front with me, except for the lapse when he drove to Stevens Point to investigate Dolly. But could I really consider trusting him? I didn’t feel good about giving another man an opportunity to hurt me. There’s bad luck, and then there’s just stupidity. I was too young to be responsible for my dad, and I was willing to chalk Jeff up to fickle fate, but the other men in my life hadn’t exactly been model partners. There was Bad Brad, of course. The cheater. Before him was Kyle, from my hometown, who I had run into in the Cities and started dating during my sophomore year of college. I had thought I was in love with him, but he was so afraid of commitment that he wouldn’t even change the subject lines on emails before replying—figured it would lead me on by showing undue attention. Sprinkled among that love life detritus were various bad dates, including but not limited to a post-operative transsexual and a guy who peed uphill on the Astroturf of the fifteenth hole of the golf course on our first date. In his defense, it was a long course. For mini golf.

No, if I took Johnny’s side, and he turned out to be a liar, I wouldn’t be able to trust myself again. Unfortunately, my other option was to let him twist in the wind and hope that Wohnt caught the real murderer soon.
Shit
. I kicked at the carpeting, feeling Mrs. Berns’ eyes on me. Why couldn’t I just be one of those chicks whose biggest worry is what shoes go with her cute sundress, and the fifty-two best ways to flirt? Instead, I had to decide whether or not to help the hot guy who may or may not be lying to me about the dead body in his dad’s cabin.
Shit
.

I made up my mind. “No, I don’t think he killed anyone. But—”

“Shush. Go. Sissy crybaby girl.”

I didn’t know if she was trying to make me feel better or worse, but she was right that I couldn’t stay here and worry about Johnny in jail all day. I was going out to his cabin and see what I could find to fix all this.

I was infinitely less
optimistic and Snow Whitey-birds-landing-on-my-shoulders on my way back to my car in the Battle Lake Motel parking lot than I had been leaving it. I took the time to notice that Dolly’s car was gone and wondered where a woman who was in town only to protest Chief Wenonga Days went once the statue and those days were gone. I suppose that depended on whether or not she had accomplished her mission. Should I try tracking her down and tailing her? Do people tail each other anymore, and did they ever on the plains of Minnesota? I filed that away as a “consider later” action.

I made my way to Silver Lake and was not surprised to see the yellow and black police tape streamed across Johnny’s driveway. Fortunately, there were no police in sight, so I parked my car a hundred or so feet from the entrance and hoofed it back. My working theory was that Dolly, Brando, and the freshly deceased Liam Anderson had removed Chief Wenonga for some unknown reason. Their deal went sour, and when Liam threatened to turn them in, Dolly and Brando killed him, putting a chunk of his scalp on the base of the statue as some sort of message. I knew Johnny had been to his place Saturday afternoon to set up the balloons, so they must have stashed the corpse out here sometime between then and when I found it Sunday morning. Why they chose Johnny’s cabin was still a mystery.

I walked to the end of the driveway and ducked under the crime scene tape. The pile of paint-soaked leaves looked like it had been meticulously dug through, and when I poked around with my toe, I didn’t see any balloon fragments remaining. The grass between the paint trap and the cabin was trampled flat, and I didn’t spend any time looking at the ground. I had come to see the cabin, to see if I had missed anything on my terror-soaked visit yesterday.

Goosebumps rose on my arms, the chilling effect unsettling in the oppressive heat. What if the body was still in there, the white foot starting to decompose in the humid air? I pinched my cheek. That was ridiculous. There was no body in there. The police had removed all evidence, and this was probably just a fool’s errand so I should get it over and done with. I marched to the cabin and walked around the perimeter. Glancing in the first window, I saw that the bed had been stripped clean and the mattress removed. I followed the shape of the cabin until I was at the front entrance.

The door had been removed and was not in sight. Police tape crisscrossed the gaping hole, and I felt an itch at the back of my brain. It had to do with the door, but it wasn’t coming clearly. I stepped forward, peeking around the tape, and imagined I could still smell a coppery tinge of blood floating out of the cabin. I considered breaking through the tape, and that’s when I scratched the itch: whoever had put the body in Johnny’s cabin had broken in, nearly taking the door off its hinges in the process. If Johnny had been involved, he would not have had to break in. Whoever had left the body had either been setting him up, or had just been looking for a quiet spot to leave the man. Now I could believe it.

I turned to breathe in the fresh air of the forest.

I drove back into
town to the Fortune Café. Some iced coffee would do nicely to clear my head. Or at least it would have, if I hadn’t run into Brando outside. His sleek black hair was in a ponytail, and his skin glowed bronze in the July sun. He wore a short-sleeved, button-down shirt in plaid, khaki shorts that skimmed his knees, and brown fisherman sandals.

“Hey, little bird! You look hot.”

I scowled. Did he mean hot as in good or hot as in sweaty? “I am hot.”

“Yeah, this weather is something else. Did you hear? The chipmunk statue is being delayed. It won’t be here until next week. Bad news.”

“Chipmunk? I thought it was a woodchuck.”

“Chipmunk, woodchuck,” he said, in a “tomato, tomahto” voice, as he sidled up next to me. “That means I won’t be here to see it installed. Wanna have a going-away party for me?”

I started to pull away from him, and then forced myself to stand still. If I was going to help Johnny, and I had decided I had no choice but to help Johnny as a
friend
, I needed to find out what was up with Brando and Dolly. “What did you have in mind?” I tried looking down submissively at his feet and then back into his eyes because I read somewhere that gesture is appealing to the primal hunter in every man, but I’m pretty sure I just looked like I had something in my eye.

“I’m staying at a cabin outside of town, but it’s really messy, and I have to be out of there by today, anyways. How about I come over to your place tonight?”

He tried to play with a tendril of my hair, but hesitated when he realized it was sweat soaked. I distracted him with my brightest smile. “That would be great! I’ll make us supper. What do you like to eat?”

Brando winked. “Eating is one of my favorite parts of slumber parties.”

Boy, was this guy transparent or what? “Great, I’ll grill some tofu and vegetables. You bring a couple bottles of wine.”

He raised his eyebrow. “I like a girl who’s not afraid to drink. Where do you live?”

I gave him directions and instead of entering the café, I bopped down to Larry’s to pick up some tofu. I decided to go home and marinate it and pick up the house, but first I made a run past the motel. Still no Dolly car.

I cruised home into the wagging tails and warm eyes of my animals. Actually, Tiger Pop only sniffed in my direction, but I could see the restrained welcome in his eyes. He was happy I was here. Luna, like most dogs, was a whore for love and jumped up on me like I was the last Krispy Kreme outside a Weight Watchers grand opening.

“You guys miss me? Hunh? You guys miss me?” I scratched them both behind their ears and didn’t let up on Tiger Pop until he purred, against his will. I scooped their food, poured them ice water, filled the bird feeders, and hosed out and refreshed the birdbath. I considered setting the sprinkler in the garden, but it was still 103 degrees, according to my thermometer, and the water would evaporate before it’d soak in. I made a mental note to put the sprinkler out after dark.

Tasks done, I went inside and set my Stun Gun to charge. Then, I sliced and marinated the tofu in Bragg’s and garlic chili paste and slipped it in the fridge. The chilled air from the refrigerator felt heavenly, though it smelled like old cilantro and dill pickles. I dusted, vacuumed, scooped out the litter box, and watered my plants before hopping in a cold shower. In less than two hours, the house and I were clean, but I still hadn’t decided what to wear. I wanted to be attractive to loosen his tongue, but I also didn’t want to provide easy access to any erogenous zones. I opted for a push-up bra under a button-front, short-sleeved white peasant shirt, open to the third button.

For my bottom half, I debated wearing underwear but couldn’t bring myself to do it no matter how badly I wanted the extra layer. It was too hot, and underwear under jeans or pants had always felt like wearing diapers to me. I compromised and slipped on cut-off, button-fly Levis. I slid a delicate silver chain around my left ankle, thin silver hoops in each ear, and dusted sandalwood perfume on my wrists and behind my knees. I twisted my hair into a loose bun at the base of my neck, artfully pulling tendrils down around my face. A little eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss, and I was as cute as I was going to get.

Just in time, too. I heard Luna bark as the red Hummer pulled up. I couldn’t believe I was letting a man who drove a Humvee into my home. The things a gal has to do for her friends.

Brando parked the red tank under the towering lilacs in the middle circle of the driveway and emerged, standing on his running board like the captain of the Titanic. He wore the same button-down shirt and khaki shorts he had been in earlier, but his hair was loose around his shoulders and so black it looked blue in the sun. “Beautiful place you have here.”

“Thank you.”

After he was sure I had a chance to admire him, top to bottom, astride his gas-guzzling, metal Viagra, he reached in for two bottles of wine and hopped down. “Hope you like Pinot Grigio.”

I liked it better than I liked him. “Is it cold?”

“Like ice.” He drew out the sibilance of the last word, like a snake.

“Come on in. I’ll get some glasses.”

I led the way into the house but was pulled up short by his low wolf whistle. “That is a
beautiful
view.”

Something told me he wasn’t talking about the lake on the other side of my garden, so I ignored the comment. I held the door for him so he had to enter the house in front of me. “Want to help me get the grill going?”

“Oooh, no can do. I’m a restaurant kind of man. Don’t know much about grilling. I can open wine, though.” He offered me a playful smile.

The effort it took not to roll my eyes almost made me lose my balance, but I managed. I tossed him a wine opener before I went out to light the charcoal. “Glasses are in the cupboard, above the sink.” I felt his eyes burn holes into my ass as I walked outside.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I hissed at Tiger Pop, as he criticized me from his sunspot on the back deck. “It’s not what you think.” He closed his eyes in half-lidded judgment. Luna just looked at me eagerly, if a little sadly, as if to say, “Us easy chicks need to stick together, right?” I sighed and turned on the gas grills, tossing a wooden match at it from a safe distance. I had lost my eyebrows lighting a gas stove as a child and had not gotten within three feet of fuel with flame since. Usually, by the twelfth or thirteenth air-lobbed match, I’d have the grill going, and tonight was no exception.

“Beautiful night,” Brando said as he opened the screen door with his hip, a glass of wine in each hand. “And beautiful company.”

I reached for the wine, downed half the glass, and smiled up at him. “How long do you plan to stay in Battle Lake?”

“Don’t you remember? Tonight is my going-away party.”

I pulled away from his seeking hand. “So you’re leaving tomorrow?”

“I have a little business to take care of,” he said vaguely. “When it’s done, I’ll be gone. Shouldn’t take more’n a day or two.”

“What kind of business? You made friends in town?”

He smirked. “I have friends everywhere. That grill ready? I’m a hungry man.”

I wondered at the change of subject as I strolled past him into the house. I threw back the rest of my wine, refilled my glass, and grabbed the marinated tofu and the vegetables I had skewered and piled them on a tray. Except for the mushrooms and red peppers, the vegetables were fresh from my garden—baby potatoes, new onions, miniature zucchini, and cherry tomatoes I had bought as nearly full-grown plants from Johnny at the greenhouse. I also grabbed the grilling tray that was meant for fish but that I used to keep the tofu from sticking to my grill when I turned it. I balanced the food and my wine glass on the tray on my right hand and opened the door with my left. “Coming through!”

“That looks delicious. You’re kind of a granola gal, aren’t you, what with all your fresh veggies and your long hair? I love au naturel girls.”

I put down the tray, slammed my second glass of wine as he strolled closer, and held my empty glass like a wall between the two of us. “Can you fill this? You might need to open a new bottle.”

He looked momentarily surprised, and then smiled brightly. “No problem.”

While he was in the house, I sprayed down the grill and set out the veggies and tofu. He returned shortly with a refreshed glass of wine for me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m really glad you invited me out here today, Myra.”

“It’s Mira, like, ‘you better stand clear-a.’”

“Mira. Of course. Battle Lake is a quirky little town, you know, and all you people have made me feel so welcome. I might just have to return some day real soon.” He set down his wine glass and stood behind me. I forced myself to stand still, like a deer who doesn’t want to run from the hunter too soon and expose herself, and I didn’t even flinch when he started to massage my shoulders. In fact, it soon began to feel tolerable, even good, cresting on the warm buzz of a wine high. “You like that, don’t you, Mira? You’re so tense, and you carry it all in your shoulders. I can feel it melting away now. Can’t you?”

I closed my eyes and let my head roll slightly. I really could feel the tension leaving and the warm buzz of wine filling in the cracks. What luck, that the guy with the Hummer has magic hands. The tofu popped, and so did my eyes. I turned the vegetables and tofu slabs, but with minimal movement on my part so as not to interrupt the massage. “I have been stressed lately,” I offered reluctantly, reaching to take a deep swallow from my third glass of wine. My head started to swim pleasantly.

“I’m sure,” he growled soothingly into my ear. “Running the library, writing for the newspaper, keeping the town safe. It’s a full-time job. You’re a real beauty, you know, Mira.” His hands trailed my spine to its base and went back up again, his fingers strong and seeking.

My eyes were half-lidded, which was all I needed to see that the food was done. I pulled it off the grill, disappointed but relieved that my massage was going to end. I needed to keep my head on straight if I wanted to come out of this interview on top, or at least with my clothes intact. “Do you want to eat inside or outside?”

I turned to him, holding the tray of food, and was surprised by the hooded intensity in his eyes. He took the tray out of my hands and set it down on the picnic table by the grill. Before I could object, he pulled my face to his and brushed his mouth against me. His lips were strong, and when I instinctively leaned my body into his, they softened and fit to mine perfectly. I could feel the taut length of him and a tremor passed through me. I tried to muster up indignation, outrage, or even disgust at how easy I was, but this guy was
good
. He seemed to have eight hands, in the best possible way. I wondered if he was like olives. You had to work really hard to like them, but once you did, you couldn’t get enough.

For a split second, common sense commandeered the steering wheel and I tried to pull away, but one hand at the small of my back and the other tangled in my hair tugged me back into him, hard. Our kissing was the real deal—no teeth scraping, no awkward tongue wrestling, no unintentional noises. I could taste the sweet flavor of wine on his lips and tongue. Research, I would call this. He would certainly be much more relaxed with me after we fooled around, and maybe I could get him to spill some secrets then. I hoped Johnny would appreciate what I was doing to set him free.
Johnny
. I stepped back, quickly, and looked into Brando’s surprisingly unfamiliar face. What the hell had I been doing? “Um, maybe we should eat.”

He cocked his head, like a bird, and studied me clinically. I suddenly felt very uneasy. “Sure. Let’s eat.” He ran his fingers through his hair, never taking his cold eyes off me.

I picked up the food but was sure to my bones that I did not want to turn my back on this man. I didn’t know what had triggered his sudden shift from passion to anger, but I could feel fury radiating from him like heat waves. I saw Luna stand up behind him, the hackles raised on her neck. “You first.”

It might have been a stand-off, if not for the bile-green Gremlin that grunted down my driveway. Both Brando and I watched it pull up and park behind the Humvee.

“Holy shit! What the fuck is that? Are we at war?” Brad snort-laughed as he stepped out of his rusty car and walked admiringly around the Humvee. No longer in a lab coat, he wore a tank top that highlighted his farmer’s tan and a pair of cut-offs. “These are some cherry wheels.”