Murder Passes the Buck (5 page)

could easily hit it. I considered giving it a try with my shotgun, but the weight of it was making my arm feel like it was wrapped in concrete, and I would have a hard time explaining to Blaze why buckshot was plastered in the side of the blind. I already would have some explaining to do if Blaze found out I tromped all over potential evidence, but it couldn
’
t be helped. Someone had to investigate.

Looking down, I saw something shiny lying under a thin patch of ice. I broke through with my boot and picked it up. It was a spent rifle shell. My heart started to pound in my ears. When the pounding subsided, I rummaged in my jacket, found a tissue, gently wrapped the shell, and tucked it into my pocket.

Little Donny was sound asleep in the truck, his head thrown back on the headrest, his mouth wide open. I took the opportunity to snitch the girly magazines out of Chester
’
s blind to show to Cora Mae. There were some hot male bodies in there, too.

“
What the hell were you doing back there in the first place?
”
Blaze yelled.
“
And you, why were you helping her?
”
Now he was glaring at Little Donny and jabbing his index finger at Little Donny
’
s chest.
“
Keep

your hands off my pa
’
s truck, Little Donny, if you can
’
t keep her out of my business. Next time I see you behind the wheel of that truck and her sitting next to you, I
’
m pulling you over and arresting you for obstructing justice. Do you understand?
”

“
Okay, okay, I get it.
”

“
And the next time… .
”

“
You can
’
t do that,
”
I interrupted.
“
That
’
s my truck and you can
’
t arrest him for driving it.
”
I turned to Little Donny and patted his knee.
“
Don
’
t worry. He can
’
t do that.
”

“
I
’
m the sheriff. I can do anything I want to.
”

“
But you didn
’
t let me finish. Look at what I have.
”
I pulled the tissue out of my pocket and carefully unwrapped the shell.
“
Evidence.
”

Blaze wasn
’
t looking at the shell. He seemed to notice me for the first time.
“
What the hell happened to your hair?
”

He sat at my kitchen table sucking down all my sugar doughnuts. His eyesore yellow truck was still running in the driveway and a cloud of smoke-like exhaust hovered over the truck, a sure sign that it was cold outside.

I ignored that last question and explained where I found the shell and about the footprints in the ice. Blaze didn
’
t look

happy but it didn
’
t stop him from continuing to stuff his face.

“
And I want you to test it for fingerprints,
”
I finished, pleased with myself. I thought about having DETECTIVE JOHNSON printed on the side of my truck.

“
You
’
ve been interfering with my work again.
”
Blaze wiped his hands on a napkin.
“
Did you ever think that maybe I was going to check back there using proper police procedures? Did you ever think to check with me first?
”

“
No, I didn
’
t. Knowing you, you already closed the case, calling it an accident.
”
That was Blaze
’
s style and we both knew it.

“
Did you ever think that maybe you screwed up a crime scene? Anywhere else you
’
d try a stunt like that, you
’
d be arrested for interfering with a police investigation.
”

“
Then you
’
re admitting it was a crime.
”

Blaze
’
s nostrils spread out and his face turned the color of an overripe tomato.

“
Floyd Tatrow came by for a lie detector test last night. I suppose you don
’
t know anything about that?
”

“
Not a thing,
”
I said.

“
What have I done to deserve you?
”
Blaze shouted, throwing his arms up in the air. I could tell he was getting ready to go into all my past sins against him. He was the most

paranoid person I ever met.
“
Why do I put up with this?
”
he continued, rising from the table.
“
You know what you are? You
’
re the family curse.
”

I settled in for a go-around, which, I could have reminded Blaze, I always win. I stood up next to him and leaned in close.

“
You put up with it for a lot of reasons, Doughnut Boy. You put up with it for those freebies you
’
re stuffing in your mouth, for one. You put up with it for the free rent, for another.
”

This was one of those times I was talking about earlier when I don
’
t appreciate the close family ties quite as much as I could.

Blaze reached for the rifle shell and gave me an angry scowl.

“
Be careful with that,
”
I said.
“
I don
’
t want your fingerprints fouling up the works. And I need the name and address for Chester
’
s son.
”

There was a long silence, then,
“
Why?
”

“
I
’
m going to interrogate him. See what I can turn up.
”

“
I
’
ll arrest you if you do.
”

There was a loud bang as Blaze slammed out the door.

“
Blaze is still mad about the horse thing,
”
Star said over the telephone when I called

her.
“
He sure does hold a grudge a long time.
”

My baby, Star, and I used to talk on the phone every day, but lately she hasn
’
t been around much. She swore off men after her good-for-nothing husband finally ran off, but it looks like she
’
s getting back in the saddle. She
’
s being coy about it, though.

“
He says he changed his name to Brian,
”
I told her. I was washing dishes, trying not to clang pans while I talked. I had the phone on my right shoulder, wedged between my head and shoulder.

“
Ma, nobody takes him seriously. Sometimes they call him Bucky or Bronco to tease him. But he
’
s tried to change it to Brian for years. Where have you been?
”

“
I
’
ve been busy.
”

My other kids never complained about the names I chose for them. Star and Heather were happy, so I couldn
’
t figure Blaze out. Blaze is a nice name
— original, manly.
“
He has a John Wayne name,
”
I said.

“
He has John Wayne
’
s horse
’
s name,
”
Star said.

At least I should get points for originality. I didn
’
t name them Barney Junior, Barney Senior, and Barney the Third.

“
Do you know the name of Chester
’
s son?
”
I asked Star, steering the conversation

in the right direction.
“
I heard he lives on the east side of Stonely toward Trenary.
”

“
Wasn
’
t it terrible what happened to Chester? I think his son
’
s name is Bill. Bill Lampi.
”

“
Thanks, sweetie. I just wish Blaze and I were more simpatico.
”
I pronounced it slowly, reading from my scrap of paper.

“
What?
”

“
It
’
s my word for the day,
”
I explained.
“
Blaze must be under a lot of stress. He threatened to arrest me today.
”

“
I
’
m sure he didn
’
t mean it. Just don
’
t give him a reason.
”

Cora Mae almost fell off her high-heel boots when she came out and saw me driving Barney
’
s truck up her driveway.
“
Wheel You can drive!
”

I didn
’
t tell her that I rammed a big hole the size of a meteor in the side of the barn when I accidentally shifted into forward instead of reverse. I was starting to get the hang of it, except for braking. I silently thanked Cora Mae for her circle driveway. I wouldn
’
t have to try to back down.

“
Hop in.
”

Cora wore a black turtleneck sweater, black stretch pants, and a fake fur vest jacket, also black.

“
I told you to wear orange, Cora Mae. Out-of-town hunters are creeping all over the place. You look like a black bear. One of them is going to shoot your buns off.
”

“
Honey, orange just isn
’
t my color, but I can see it
’
s yours.
”

Another hair joke. And from the woman who did it to me.

I was working on a quick comeback when I accidentally slammed on the brakes at the bottom of Cora Mae
’
s driveway instead of the gas.

Cora flew forward.

“
Better put on your seatbelt till I get the hang of this,
”
I said, starting up again.

Chester lived in a cracker box about a quarter mile from his hunting blind. You could see he wasn
’
t much of a handyman because the house was an eyesore
— peeling green paint, rotting wood porch, bare windows.

Cora stepped gingerly over a gaping hole in the porch and peeked into the front window.
“
No one
’
s home, Gertie. We better come back another time.
”

“
Of course no one
’
s home. Chester
’
s wife
’
s been in her grave for years, and since Chester
’
s dead, we can safely assume he isn
’
t going to answer the door.
”

“
But why are we standing here if you knew

no one was going to let us in?
”
Cora Mae
’
s penciled eyebrows were shaped like a question mark and she looked at me like I had ruined her day. I would have thought the ride over with me driving for the first time would have been excitement enough.

I grinned and held up a screwdriver and a hammer from Barney
’
s toolbox.
“
We have work to do on the back door. Come on.
”

I planned on prying between the door jamb and the lock with a screwdriver, but peeking in, I noticed the lock was a deadbolt. It
’
s impossible to pry a deadbolt. I found that out last time I locked myself out of my house after losing my keys.

I tried turning the knob to see if the door was unlocked, which probably should have been my first step, but it didn
’
t matter since the door really was locked.

I tried tapping gently on the glass with my hammer. Then I hauled off and smacked the window a sharp blow. Glass shattered at our feet. I said,
“
Oops,
”
as Cora Mae and I looked down simultaneously. I knocked the rest of the glass out of the doorframe with the hammer, stuck my hand through, and unlocked the door.

We began searching in the kitchen. The place was a mess. Piles of litter overflowing from the garbage can, six weeks of dirty