Murder Talks Turkey (16 page)

The more I thought about it, the more confusing it became. “All we have to do,” I said, letting Fred out of the trailer to do his business, “is find out why Kent stole play money, find out why Bob killed him, figure out who killed Bob, and find the missing money.”

None of us said anything for awhile. We were out of ideas. The orange shoe business had preoccupied us for too long. During the robbery, I remembered thinking the robber was insane to wear orange shoes in a holdup, especially if they led somewhere. Maybe it was a ruse, after all.

Maybe we should concentrate on our own backyard a little more. That left Shirley, Tony, Dave, and Sue. All were insiders and had opportunities to steal from their employer.

I scrapped my plate and started a sink of hot sudsy water.

That’s when someone opened up on the trailer with an automatic weapon.

By the time I whirled around and realized what was happening, Kitty had blown off the chair she was sitting on. She hit the floor seconds before Cora Mae and I took a similar dive. Only ours was voluntary action, Kitty’s had external force behind it.

“I’ve been hit,” Kitty screamed, clutching her chest and rolling onto her side.

Frankly, I was relieved to hear her speaking even if I hated what she said. Blood seeped through her fingers where she clutched her chest. She looked down. Her hands weren’t staunching the flow.

“I never expected to go out like this,” she moaned. “I always thought it would be my heart that gave out, with the extra pounds and all.”

“Shush,” Cora Mae said, “You aren’t dead yet.”

Up until now, Cora Mae has been the one with all the questions and insecurities. What are we going to do next? How are we going to handle this mess? Why do we have to drive around in this cruddy vehicle? Why? Why? Why?

I’d never seen her react under real pressure, but I was witnessing it now.

“Nine-one-one,” she screamed into her radio, louder than she needed to. I assumed for our attacker’s benefit so he’d know we had contact with the outside world.

I threw the kitchen table on its side and scooted between it and the refrigerator, dragging Kitty with me the best I could, considering she outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds. Her legs were still exposed, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that. Cora Mae was behind the wood-burning stove with her back up against the wall dividing the living room and bedroom. She continued to shout our emergency into her radio.

Where was Fred? At first, I thought he was inside with us, but then I remembered letting him out. Please Fred, be off chasing squirrels on the opposite side of Walter’s house.

Too bad Walter was down at Herb’s Bar or he would have taken care of the madman with his arsenal of stashed weapons. If only I could get to the house and find them. But I didn’t have a chance.

Another volley of firepower interrupted my thoughts. Windows blew out. Glass rained down. I had my radio out and changed the frequency to the one the local cops use. I screamed into it. “Machine-gun fire. One of us is down. Walter Laakso’s place. Ambulance. Help.”

Blood was draining from Kitty’s face and heading for the hole in her chest. I heard sirens wailing in downtown Stonely, calling in volunteers for an ambulance and the posse. Herb’s bar would be cleared out by now.

I hoped they wouldn’t be too late.

“Stay with us, Kitty,” I said. “Help is on the way.” Her eyes were fluttering. I wasn’t sure she heard me.

All was quiet outside. The shooter hadn’t anticipated our radios and our ability to contact outside help from the hunting trailer. He had to be gone by now. Only a fool would hang around until the entire town arrived.

“Go, Gertie,” Cora Mae said. “Get out of here. I’ll stay with Kitty. They’ll arrest you if they catch you here.”

I’d thought of that. If our local law enforcement found me here, they’d haul me in. I’d be behind bars with Blaze. Kitty would be in the hospital, and Cora Mae couldn’t even drive. Who would be left to save us?

“Go,” Cora Mae ordered. “I’ll tell them you ran after the person who shot Kitty.”

Another thought crossed my mind and that one got me fired up for flight. Cora Mae would have full access to George if I went to jail. Like I mentioned earlier, my mind does strange things under duress.

Sirens wailed and I estimated I had about two minutes, if that. I cautiously raised an empty gardening glove in one of the windows and waited. Nothing. I stuck out my left arm thinking if I had to lose one it might as well be the one I didn’t write with.

Nothing.

I grabbed my purse and glanced back at my friends down on the floor. Cora Mae was cradling Kitty’s head.

When I opened the trailer door, a note was taped to the outside of it.
Just a warning
it said.

I looked at the blood covering my two friends and thought it had been much more than a warning.

Chapter 23

AS I’VE SAID BEFORE, WE love our weapons in the U.P. Most of us have at least three or four. Some of us have dozens. Automatic weapons might be illegal in this country, but Yoopers never consider themselves bound by the same laws as other United States citizens. We do what we want to.

Me? I had my purse full of weapons, but they only worked up close. That wasn’t good enough. Than I remembered Grandma Johnson’s pistol. I’d taken it away from her the last time she waved it around in the air, threatening me and my dog.

The run from the trailer to Walter’s rusty junker was the longest of my life. There’s not much scarier than the potential of a shot in the back by a hidden sniper. Every second I expected to feel the impact of a riddle of bullets ripping into my torso. While I started the truck, I anticipated someone out there beading into my forehead with a scope. My hands shook while I fumbled with the ignition.

I blew out of Walter’s driveway, amazed that I was still alive. Half a mile down the road, I spotted something resembling a big bear ahead of me. As I approached, I realized it was Fred running along the side of the road. He was heading home, the smart boy.

After a mutually warm greeting, Fred hopped into the truck and we raced home to pick up Grandma’s pea shooter. It wouldn’t stand up against the kind of weapon that was used at the trailer, but it was better than nothing.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the bullet hole in Kitty and the color draining from her face.

The guinea hens did their little alarm dance around the truck until I stepped out and they recognized me. Fred dashed for the house, only two steps ahead of flapping wings and pointy beaks. I opened the door, we stepped in, and I instantly smelled old lady.

“What are you doing here?” I said to Grandma Johnson, who stood over the sink eating an orange in drippy bites. “You don’t belong in my house.”

“I’ve been waiting for you,” the she-devil said, wiping her chin with her fingers. “Sit down. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

“I don’t have time to chitchat,” I said. “I’m picking up a few things. Then I’m gone.”

“I need to say my piece,” Grandma said. “I went to bingo last night with Pearl and she set me straight. As hard as it is, I’m apologizing to you for everything I did.”

What a shock. My mother-in-law had never, ever admitted wrongdoing in all the years I’d known her.

“I’m sorry I got you in trouble,” she said, easing down at the kitchen table and looking at her hands. “Our family is pulled apart because of me. Blaze in jail, you on the run, me without a home.” At that, she gazed up at me with baleful eyes.

By now, I was hearing sirens in the distance, coming from every direction. Dickey and his deputies would comb the woods searching for the person who shot Kitty. They’d also be looking for me, but they’d assume I was on foot.

Eventually, they’d stop here to tell Grandma and Star that I was missing, lost in the woods, or worse. I had plenty of time before that happened.

“Kitty’s been shot,” I said. “I don’t know if she’s going to live.”

Grandma gasped. “What happened?”

I gave her a rough outline. “There’s a very bad person who is getting desperate,” I said, after finishing. “I need to stop the killings and get my son out of jail. As much as you’d like to think that I’m a renegade criminal, I’m not. You and I are on the same side. We want the same things.”

“Okay. I can see that now.”

I didn’t know whether to trust her or not. Grandma Johnson hadn’t displayed any signs of humanity in all these years. Why would she start today?

“What can I do to help?” Grandma asked.

“You can tell Dickey Snell you haven’t seen me.”

“Never cared for that kid.”

“And don’t believe anything he tells you about me. If he says I’m lost in the woods, don’t be alarmed. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And take care of Fred while I’m gone.”

Grandma twitched. “That’s expecting pretty much.”

“And no hitting him with the fly swatter.”

Grandma groaned and looked down at Fred with a distrustful glare before switching to her old helpless lady face to gaze at me. “Anything to help,” she said. “I want to get back in your good graces and have my family together like before. I’d like to see us all together at the supper table. Does this mean I can stay?”

“Let me think a minute.”

What could I say? She was ninety-two and trying to turn over a new leaf. After digging in my closet and pocketing the pistol, I gave Grandma her answer.

“You can stay,” I agreed, knowing I’d regret it soon enough.

__________

All of Tamarack County’s law enforcement agents were busy over at Walter’s house, so the jail wasn’t guarded. Blaze was lying on a cot. When he saw me rummaging through desk drawers, he popped right up. “Look in the top right one,” he said, good-guessing my intentions.

I found the key and opened the cell.

“This is crazy,” I said. “You didn’t kill Bob Goodyear or steal money from the credit union. I didn’t either. So why are you in jail? And why am I on the run?”

“What’s that thing on your head?” Blaze was staring at my blond hair.

“A disguise.”

“What’s all the commotion I’m hearing?” Blaze said, sounding pretty normal.

“Someone shot Kitty.”

“Hell’s bells,” he roared. “I need to get my job back and help you hunt for whoever did this. Is she dead?”

“No. At least I don’t think so.”

“You need my help.”

I had to remind myself that Blaze wasn’t much of a criminal catcher even before the disease struck him down. But Dickie was far worse. The kid’s college education hadn’t taught him common sense or street smarts. Going by the book is a bad plan way up in the north woods.

“Here’s a badge,” I said to Blaze, handing him the one I had ordered for myself and watching him pin it on his shirt. “You’re the sheriff as far as I’m concerned. Let’s go.”

“Where are we headed?”

I looked at my son. “I have absolutely no idea,” I answered.

Chapter 24

TUESDAY STARTED OUT COLD AND rainy. Blaze and I were holed up in an old-fashioned motel on the far side of Escanaba, less than half a mile from the hospital. The motel had twelve units and each one had its own entry. The heater below the window rattled continuously and condensation formed on the pane above it. Any colder and the rain would turn to snow.

Kitty had made it through the night. Cora Mae’s last update had her whispering that Kitty had survived through surgery, but it was still wait-and-see.

The TV6 morning news anchor had a bucket load of live updates, as well as last night’s news regarding the backwoods shooting. Cameras rolled as an ambulance unloaded Kitty at the hospital’s emergency entrance. More coverage of the local sheriff’s attempt to apprehend a suspect.

“We’ve ascertained that the suspect fled through the woods,” Dickey had said on TV, puffing up for the camera. “Wanted criminals were hiding in a trailer on Walter Laakso’s property in Stonely. Mr Laakso has cooperated fully with the investigation. There’s no reason to believe he knew anything about his unwelcome guests. We believe that the shooter was known by the victim, but that has not been confirmed, since the victim remains unconscious at this time.”

The same photo of me appeared on the screen and Blaze chuckled. “What a bad picture,” he said.

“I’ll be sure to send them a better one when I find time.”

“Gertrude Johnson,” the anchor said, “is wanted for questioning in the death of Detroit native Robert Goodyear. Please contact the authorities if you see her. Do not approach her. I repeat, do not approach. She is assumed to be armed and dangerous.”

Unbelievable what the media would say and do to sensationalize a story.

Blaze quit smiling when his own mug flashed on the screen.

“Bonnie and Clyde couldn’t have captured the Upper Peninsula’s imagination with any more color,” the anchor said. “Witnesses saw a blond woman assisting Blaze Johnson in a breakout from the Stonely jail last night, fueling the flames of a rumor that the Johnson family masterminded the robbery of tens of thousands of dollars from Stonely’s credit union. The blonde Bonnie Parker hasn’t been identified yet, but authorities are questioning witnesses and hope for a break in the case soon. This is TV6 live. Stay tuned for more updates.”

After a commercial break, they interviewed Grandma Johnson. I watched through little slits between my fingers while holding my breath. “You pissants must have something better to do than scare an old lady half to death, coming around here, leaping out of trucks. I should sic my dog on you. If my favorite daughter-in-law and my grandson are in hiding, it’s cuz you people like to tell lies to sell more papers. I oughta hit you with my flyswatter.”

I wondered why she had the thing in her hand in the first place, since she wasn’t supposed to hit Fred with it. I should have taken it with me when I had the chance. I also wondered how she got away with saying pissants on TV without getting bleeped.