Murder Passes the Buck (19 page)

promise. I hate to see you fighting. You
’
re family.
”

“
You
’
re better off without one,
”
I told Cora Mae.

“
I have my date with Onni tonight,
”
she said, slowly.
“
And since I
’
m cooking for him here, and …
”

“
Okay, okay,
”
I said, her message coming through loud and clear. I didn
’
t intend to be the third wheel in what was obviously going to be a love-in.
“
How about I come over and spend the night,
”
I said to Blaze, concentrating on slowing my breathing.
“
But only one night. We can have a nice talk.
”

“
It
’
s a start,
”
he said, sounding relieved. Was it possible that Blaze believed all the stuff he made up?

Besides, I reasoned with myself, I can
’
t give up Mary and Little Donny just because Blaze is acting like a jerk, and I
’
d have another chance to talk Blaze out of court. If I changed my mind before this evening, I could always stay at my house in spite of the mess.

“
You didn
’
t tell him about the magazines,
”
Cora Mae whispered when he went into the living room to make a phone call.

“
It
’
s like playing poker, Cora Mae. You

put one card down at a time.
”

“
Blaze thinks I destroyed my own house for attention,
”
I said to Kitty, who had appeared before we could make a get-away.

“
And
—
”

“
And what? I didn
’
t do it. Do you realize how outrageous that is? Think about it.
”

“
Who knew you weren
’
t home?
”

“
My truck was parked right out front because I walked over, so whoever did it might not have known I wasn
’
t home.
”
That thought sent shivers down my spine.
“
The only people who knew I wasn
’
t home were the guys at the card table
— Blaze, Little Donny, and George.
”
A thought struck me.
“
You don
’
t suppose Blaze had my house vandalized to make me look bad for our court appearance?
”

“
No one
’
s that low,
”
Kitty said.
“
Not even Blaze.
”

Kitty
’
s yard looked like the town dump. The neighbors had been trying to make her clean it up for years without any luck. They
’
d even had a meeting at the town hall and sent an official letter ordering her to clean it up. Nothing so far.

She lived on a side road right off of Highway 35, so everyone going into and out

of town got to sightsee past Kitty
’
s. It was the perfect place for a rummage sale. The beauty of it was maybe someone might haul off some of her garbage along with the actual rummage items.

“
What did you bring?
”
Kitty said as we unloaded boxes from the back of the truck and added them to the junk heap.

“
This and that,
”
I said.
“
Some of the boxes are filled with Barney
’
s things, books mainly. I didn
’
t look through them. You can do that.
”

“
Gertie, you should keep them if they were Barney
’
s.
”

“
I haven
’
t needed any of this in the last fourteen months, and I won
’
t need any of it now.
”
Barney was an avid reader and would reread the same books. I
’
m more of a onetime reader. There are so many good books waiting to be read, I
’
ll never go back and read one twice.

I spotted a notebook lying in the pile and picked it up. I smiled. It was Barney
’
s writing notebook.
“
Think I
’
ll keep this, though.
”

“
See,
”
Cora Mae said.
“
We better go through the boxes and make sure you really want to get rid of the things in them.
”

“
You do it. I don
’
t want to.
”

Cora Mae and Kitty lugged the boxes into Kitty
’
s living room, which was an extension

of her junky yard, and sat on the floor and began sorting. I settled into a recliner and paged through Barney
’
s notebook. Every once in a while, Cora Mae held something up for my examination and each time I said the same thing,
“
Sell it.
”

Halfway through the notebook entries I turned a page and a loose paper slid to the floor. Kitty handed it back.

I couldn
’
t believe what I held in my hand. I shot up straight in the recliner.

In my hand I held the mineral rights to Chester Lampi
’
s property, and the owner, the name appearing at the bottom of the document, was my deceased husband, Barney. He
’
d signed it and had it notarized.

“
I think I know why someone vandalized my house,
”
I said, showing the paper to the rest of my investigative team.
“
They were looking for this.
”

“
Why didn
’
t you tell us you owned the rights?
”
Cora Mae said, not quite behind the eight ball as usual.

“
I didn
’
t know until just this minute. Why would Barney have the mineral rights and keep it from me?
”

“
Maybe he didn
’
t think it was important,
”
Kitty suggested.
“
Maybe he forgot. And if this was what the burglar was looking for, why didn
’
t he find it?
”

“
Because I had already boxed the notebook up along with the other things for the rummage sale and put them in the shed. The shed wasn
’
t touched.
”
I read the fine print one more time.
“
We checked at the Register of Deeds and according to their records, Onni owns the mineral rights. This is getting messier by the minute.
”

Kitty struggled up from the floor.
“
If I remember right, the deed we looked at in Escanaba showed Onni
’
s ownership going back a good fifty years. The date on this document is two years ago. Onni must have transferred the rights and Barney never filed the new ownership papers.
”

I thought hard.
“
If Chester died because of the land and if the mineral rights had anything to do with it, the logical suspect is a family member. Do you think Barb searched my house?
”

“
A lot of what-ifs going on here,
”
Kitty added.

“
If Barb searched your house,
”
Cora Mae said,
“
she would have taken the magazines.
”

“
What magazines?
”
Kitty demanded.
“
What
’
s going on? If I
’
m going to protect you properly, you have to keep me informed.
”

“
You
’
d think,
”
I said, ignoring Kitty and waving the document in the air,
“
this piece

of paper
’
s as valuable as gold.
”

The snow started falling in the early afternoon, not slow and lazy, but thick so it stuck to my eyelashes and wet my face. I ran for the truck at the first opportunity, surprise etched on Cora Mae
’
s and Kitty
’
s faces. Kitty gave chase but I pulled away from her on the front porch. What a surprise that Kitty couldn
’
t hold her own in a footrace.

I hated deceiving Cora Mae, but I needed a break from Kitty
’
s overbearing bodyguard strategies, and it was the only way I could think of to get away.

Kitty stomped her foot and blasted away on the whistle she wore on a rope around her neck, the same one we had bought in Escanaba. A steady scream from the whistle assaulted my poor ears until I pulled away. I made a mental note never to buy Kitty another present as I rounded the corner and breathed in the sweet smell of freedom.

After finding no one home at Blaze
’
s, I parked in my own drive. Pulling my shotgun from under the seat, I trudged through the gathering snow to my hunting blind.

I was tired. Up until last Tuesday the most excitement I had to look forward to was the afternoon paper
’
s crossword puzzle or bingo at the Indian casino. All that
’
s changed.

Chester
’
s murdered, I
’
m driving for the first time in my life, and an intruder searched my home. Pretty exciting stuff, but I was tuckered out. And the mineral rights that Barney owned, and that I now owned, had me baffled.

Who cared about the mineral rights? What good were they? Copper country was north of us. Whoever wanted the document, wanted it bad. Part of me wanted to run right over to Escanaba and file it, another part wanted more time to think. I stuffed the paper into the cushion of the La-Z-Boy before I sat down.

Starting the heater, I kicked back for an afternoon snooze, feeling my problems drifting away.

The afternoon light was fading when I woke up, and the snow still fell, blowing against the blind. A doe and her half-grown fawn grazed on the apple pile.

I waded through a foot of snow, wiped off the windshield of my truck with a plastic scraper, and headed to Blaze
’
s for supper.

The mobile home smelled like wet socks. Little Donny was lying on an afghan-covered couch with his feet propped up on the armrest.
“
Get yourself up and change those socks

before the fumes kill us all,
”
I said, swatting him gently on the head.
“
Move it.
”

Little Donny lumbered down the narrow hall. I looked around. Everything was neat as a pin. Each piece of furniture was covered with squares of wool in every imaginable color, left over from Mary
’
s afghan craze. She sure was a whiz with crochet needles. Mary spent way too much time on housework and handiwork instead of working on interesting things.

Blaze looked up from the
Tamarack Reporter
he was reading.
“
Saw your truck parked at the house and looked around for you. Figured you were hunting at the blind. See anything?
”

“
Not a thing,
”
I said, remembering my nap.

Ten minutes later we sat down to fried chicken, canned creamed corn, and mashed potatoes.

Mary smiled when she told me I could sleep in the sewing room.
“
The couch pulls out into a bed. It
’
s already made up.
”

Little Donny would stay in the living room where he
’
d slept last night.

“
Maybe we can have a talk about this court thing tomorrow morning. I won
’
t be around much tonight,
”
I said, spooning creamed corn onto my potatoes.
“
I
’
m work-