Murder Passes the Buck (21 page)

I had started to feel like I had concrete tied around my waist. I still looked like a beached whale with all my supplies.

When I came out of the bathroom I found Kitty sitting on a flowered sofa drinking out of a mug. Her jacket and facemask lay in a pile by the door, and she looked comfy as if she was nesting. Bill sat across from her.

While Kitty told him about the truck breakdown, a pretty believable story, I wandered around the room with my hands behind my back, scanning for clues. I studied family pictures on the top of the television. There was one of Chester when he still had his hair, with his arm around a young Bill. Bill had changed over the years too, but even back then he wore thick glasses.

“
How you doing since your dad died?
”
I said to Bill, interrupting Kitty
’
s work of fiction.

“
Dad and I had a falling out in the last few years,
”
Bill said sadly, shaking his head.
“
He got ornerier as he aged, and we disagreed on so much. I wish I
’
d had a chance to make up with him before he died.
”

“
I
’
m sure he knew how you felt, deep down.
”

“
I have more pictures. Do you want to see them?
”

“
Sure,
”
I said, watching him take an album from the mantle. Just my luck. Trapped looking at photo albums. I plunked down next to Kitty in all my gear and paged through the album Bill handed to us.

I started sweating because of the heavy clothes I wore. It was only a matter of time before I passed out from the heat. Pulling off my hunting cap, I shook out my orange mop. I rolled up the legs of my snow pants. That was a trick, leaning down over all the supplies.

“
Where
’
s Barb?
”
I asked.

“
She went to bed,
”
Bill said.

“
I need a drink of water.
”
I handed the album to Kitty.

“
You stay here,
”
I said to Bill when he started to rise.
“
I can get it myself.
”

I opened every cupboard and drawer, again finding only the usual supplies. The pile of papers on the table turned out to be shopping catalogs.

Noticing the silence in the front room, I ran water in the sink and clinked a glass against the tap.

I was really on fire now, sweat beading on my forehead.

Just then Little Donny pounded on the front door and let himself in. When I turned off the water and came out of the kitchen

he was blowing on his hands to warm them.

“
Where are your gloves?
”
I asked. I motioned to Kitty with my head to get going and leaned against the wall to pull on my boots.

“
Forgot them,
”
Little Donny said.
“
There wasn
’
t a thing wrong with your truck. It started right up.
”

“
Well, that
’
s certainly strange,
”
I said, trying to hustle them out.

“
Look at this one, Gertie.
”
Kitty held up an aging black and white photograph of three servicemen, their arms around each other, smiles on their faces.
“
Chester and Onni and, why, isn
’
t that Floyd?
”

Bill looked over Kitty
’
s shoulder.
“
The three of them enlisted in the Marines together. They were close friends their entire lives.
”

I studied the picture, trying to imagine bible-toting Floyd in the military, and even in his youth, Onni had the body of a scarecrow, a receding hairline, and a shifty, shaded light in his eyes like he was always prowling. I penciled him in on my mental suspect list.

It took a while to get Kitty moving, but finally we were on our way down the driveway, waving to Bill, who stood in the doorway watching us leave.

“
That went well,
”
I said to Kitty as we headed back to drop her off.
“
I don
’
t think they suspect a thing.
”

_Nine

Word for the Day

EGREGIOUS (ee GREE juhs) adj.
Outstanding for undesirable qualities;
remarkably bad; flagrant.

The next morning, I stayed in bed longer than usual, even though I was wide-awake. Blaze and Mary
’
s sleeper sofa was comfy and warm. It felt good to stretch and wiggle my toes and think about the case. I could hear Little Donny
’
s steady sawing from the living room as events marched through my head like wasps in and out of a hive.

I was learning a lot about being a detective, but I knew I had so much more to learn. There
’
s nothing like the actual experience to teach you the finer points. Like what happened last night. It wasn
’
t Little Donny
’
s fault our cover was almost blown
— I take full responsibility for it. Next time I go on a surveillance mission, I won
’
t leave my

truck smack dab in the road for everyone to see. All my life I
’
ve had to learn things the hard way.

The photograph of the three servicemen intrigued me: Chester
— dead, a bullet in his head, owner of a large parcel of property, and Onni — one-time owner of the mineral rights for said piece of property, and in my book, an undesirable. As Grandma Johnson would say, from the muddy side of the pasture. Then we have Floyd, the bible belter who found Chester
’
s body in the hunting shack. The fading photograph reminded me that life was precious and too short and that I should make every minute count.

By the time I arrived in the kitchen ready for the day, Blaze and Mary were nowhere in sight. I made a fresh pot of coffee and ate a doughnut, careful not to wake my personal bodyguard.

I poked around in my barn for things to add to Kitty
’
s rummage pile, and a few minutes later, George pulled in. His snake-trimmed hat grinned at me and so did he.

“
Get rid of that stray dog yet?
”
George asked. I noticed he had put on a brown wool sweater. The weather had been unseasonably cold, even for the U.P., and I wondered

if George would hold out until January without a jacket.

“
What stray dog?
”
I said, trying to wrestle an old bike out of a tangled heap.

“
You know, the one with the yellow eyes.
”
George pitched in and the bike came loose, the tires flat, rust corroding the handlebars.

“
George, you sure are starting to drink early in the day. Better watch that. It
’
ll ruin you.
”

George leaned his shoulder against a support beam.
“
Thought so,
”
he said under his breath.

Then I remembered about the stun gun and the fib I
’
d told George.
“
Oh, he
’
s around here all right but he hasn
’
t got near enough to zap.
”

An amused grin spread over his face as he looked at my pile and the bike.
“
What are you doing with that?
”

“
Kitty
’
s having a rummage sale,
”
I said.
“
I thought I
’
d donate some of the family
’
s old things. She could use the money. Make sure you stop and buy something. This though …
”
I gestured at the bike,
“
should go to the dump.
”

George nodded.
“
I
’
ll drop it off. The reason I came by was to remind you about tonight. The Lion
’
s Club is having its an
nual

pastie dinner and dance. The Lionesses are doin
’
the cooking.
”

“
That
’
s right. I forgot all about it.
”

“
Thought I could escort you over there.
”

My mind was working a mile a minute. Everybody in the county goes to the pastie dinner, which meant Bill and Barb would be there, which meant an empty Lampi house and the possibility of tying up a few loose ends. Although this case had more than a few ends flying loose.

“
That would be nice,
”
I said,
“
only you go on ahead and have fun. I
’
ll meet you there. Cora Mae and I have something to do first. It
’
ll make us a little late.
”

“
Sure, fine by me. How about a game of cards this afternoon.
”

“
I have to go to court,
”
I said.
“
Today
’
s the day.
”

George shuffled his feet and, if I didn
’
t know better, I would have thought the expression flickering across his handsome face resembled disappointment.

I dug an empty cardboard box out of the corner and began to fill it. George helped me load the boxes for Kitty
’
s rummage sale into the bed of my truck. Then he loaded a pile of things for the dump into the back of his truck. What a man, I thought, watching him close the back end up, stroll to the

driver
’
s seat with a tip of his hat, and drive off.

I pulled a drill and a box of wood screws off of the tool cart and headed back to Blaze
’
s.

The night before when I got ready for bed, I noticed that some of the floorboards in Blaze
’
s mobile home were squeaky, especially in the hall. Living in a small trailer and listening to creaks and groans from loose boards could drive anyone absolutely crazy, a theory I
’
ll have to explore regarding Blaze
’
s recent behavior. He must be too busy trying to get out of work to notice when his own home needs repair. He never was handy with tools.

Never wait for a man to do a job that
’
s important to you, is my motto, because the job will never get done. Or he
’
ll mess it up something awful and you
’
ll have to either fix it yourself anyway or learn to live with it the way it is. A woman can do anything if she has the proper tools. And Barney had left a barn full for me.

I plugged the drill into a hall electrical socket and began drilling the screws into the floor using the screw attachment. I ended up using the whole box. It was a good thing the floor was bare wood instead of

linoleum or tile. That would have been harder.

Little Donny came out of the bathroom in his boxers and a white undershirt, toweling his damp hair. He squeezed down the hall past me, shaking his head. Mornings are especially rough on him.

My repair job ended up looking pretty good, and when I tested it the floor was as quiet as one of Grandma Johnson
’
s cooked noodles.

“
What the hell happened to my maple floor,
”
Blaze hollered when he came home a little later.
“
Mary, come and see what she did now. Oh, my God.
”

He clamped his hands on the sides of his face and squeezed like he had a migraine headache.

“
It doesn
’
t look a bit worse than it did before,
”
I said.
“
And it
’
s quieter like it should be, and Mary
’
s not home yet. She
’
s visiting with Grandma.
”

Blaze had one hand over his mouth, and he was that red tomato color again. It figures that Blaze wouldn
’
t appreciate what I did for him. He
’
s always been that way, but I
’
m not a quitter. I
’
ll keep it up till one day he says thank you and means it.

“
Maybe you have too many clothes on,
”
I