Murder Talks Turkey (6 page)

“Reserved for you.” I grinned and passed the other beer to him. “I even have a cold beer ready.”

“I like a woman who serves her man.” George took off his cowboy hat with the snake curled around the brim and set it on the table.

“Let’s not get carried away,” I answered.

George looked great. He didn’t have to wear oversized shirts to hide middle-aged flab, because he didn’t have any. He kept active by building things and tearing down other things, and he has a healthy interest in the world around him. While other men his age pound down six-packs of calories while watching sporting events on television, George maintains a scrappy, fit-and-trim physique.

I, on the other hand, could stand to lose a few before my relationship with George went any farther than holding hands. I set down the beer as a first start toward better health. Fewer sugar doughnuts, less beer, more exercise, I reminded myself.

It’s amazing what the possibility of romance can do to you. I’m self-conscious now in ways I never was before. George has been my friend for years, but until recently it never occurred to me to worry about my appearance.

“Want to go over to the church and see who’s winning at bingo?” George asked. I translated that to mean he wanted to spend a few minutes alone with me. A warm thrill ran through my body, tingling my spine, making me feel flushed. Any kind of alone time wasn’t easy to find ever since Grandma Johnson moved in.

We walked out to the edge of the parking lot where the lights didn’t dilute the night stars quite as much. The air was cool and crisp. With George by my side and the sound of the dance behind me, I could have remained there all night.

I followed the stars of the Big Dipper from the top of the handle to the bottom of the dipper. I silently apologized to Barney for holding hands with another man. Two years had passed since he died. Part of me felt I was moving ahead too soon. The other part thought it was way past time.

George squeezed my hand like he knew my thoughts.

Barney didn’t offer an answer to my dilemma.

Cora Mae popped out of a parked car, giggling and adjusting her clothing. She didn’t see us, which was fine with me. I wanted to criticize her for playing instead of working, but wasn’t I doing the exact same thing?

“I wish Cora Mae could find someone to make her happy,” I said, after my friend and her mystery man walked away, clenched tightly together.

“She looks pretty happy right this minute.”

We walked toward my truck, still holding hands. “What the…,” George stopped abruptly.

That’s when I saw the dark form on the ground behind my truck.

And it wasn’t moving

Chapter 8

PEOPLE DO STRANGE THINGS SOMETIMES. The chance of me committing a weird, unexplainable act has risen exponentially with the passage of time. That means the older I get, the more likely it is that I will establish my own set of rules. For example, I really don’t think I need a driver’s license to get in my truck and tool around. Someday a cop will bust me and I’ll pay the price, but the young whippersnapper police officer will let me off easy because of my age.

So why bother going to all the trouble of proving I can drive when I already know I can?

The reason I did what I did when George and I found the body was…well, I can’t explain it, because instinct took over. I wanted more than anything to sleep in my own bed tonight. So when I saw my Glock lying off to the side of the lifeless man, I knew what the term ‘smoking gun’ meant. My fingerprints would be all over the weapon. Dickey would arrest me and throw away the key. I’d eat bread and gruel for the rest of my life.

So…while George checked the man for a pulse, I pocketed the Glock. George bent close to the man’s body. “He’s dead,” George said, confirming my fear. Now what? Once I stopped to think about disposing of a murder weapon after the fact, I realized that removing it from the crime scene isn’t that easy.

I couldn’t throw the gun in the woods. I was pretty sure even a ninny like Dickey would check the surrounding area. The garbage can wouldn’t work either for the same reason. I couldn’t put it back in my truck for the same reason.

I could drive away in my truck and throw it into the Escanaba River, but that would entail moving the corpse, which was in the way of a clear escape path. Also, I wasn’t ready to give up my Glock. I just recently acquired it and had grown fond of it. The Glock was my security blanket.

“I’ll go inside and call the sheriff,” I offered, walking away quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

The band was taking a break, so the room noise had subsided. The keg was still the most popular spot to socialize. Kitty had commandeered a corner table with the nosiest, gossipiest bunch of women in the entire county. She noticed me right away when I rushed at her. Eye contact, a nod, and she stepped in right behind me.

“I have a gun in my pocket,” I said, whispering in her ear inside the ladies room. “And there’s a dead man outside.”

“What do you need?” Not even a blink from her. I could have been talking about the weather for all the response I got. Someday I’d have to take the time to delve into her past. There’s more there than meets the eye.

“The gun has to disappear before the cops arrive,” I said, not quite believing that I was stealing the murder weapon and expecting my friend to help me. “It’s mine and it’s the murder weapon.”

That got more of a reaction. Her facial expression didn’t change, but her eyes widened.

“I didn’t kill him. You can say no to getting involved,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t. “You’re taking a risk.”

“Hand it over.” Kitty moved closer, opened her purse wide, and we made the transfer.

“Don’t handle it without gloves,” I said. “It’s bad enough that my fingerprints are on it. I’m calling nine-one-one about the dead guy in a minute. Go now.”

Kitty nodded.

I didn’t have time to tell her the rest. That my Glock wasn’t the only piece of evidence lying next to the dead man. There were two.

The smoking gun.

And the other?

A black Kromer exactly like the one worn by the credit union shooter.

__________

“Someone’s setting me up,” I said to Cora Mae from the side of the gawking crowd of spectators. Word had spread fast. The music faded away and the beer keg wasn’t the center of attention any longer. Next door, I saw Grandma Johnson working her way carefully down the church steps, which meant the bingo group knew, too. Sirens wailed in the distance. “My Glock was under the front seat of the truck,” I whispered.

“Didn’t you lock the truck’s doors?”

“I thought I had.”

Truth was, I never gave much thought to locking doors. It wasn’t as much of a necessity as it was in a big city. Neighbors watched out for each other. We might be spread out, but our internal sensors go off at anything out of the ordinary. Try pulling over on one of our back roads and see how long it takes for someone to drive by and ask what you’re doing. Two minutes tops. That’s the most time you have.

Cora Mae couldn’t rip her eyes away from the body. “Who would do that to you?” she asked.

“Same person who would do that to him.” I pointed at the body.

Dickey, all puffed up like a rooster, strutted over, hitching his pants up and clearing his voice to get the squeaks out. He stared at the body like he didn’t know what to do next. Our acting sheriff was getting more action than he knew what to do with.

“We’re going to need to talk to everyone,” Dickey hollered, losing a little of his college education, “All of you who were outside any time during the evening. Come forward if that’s you.”

“We all came from outside,” a wiseacre from the back said. “How else could we park our vehicles and get inside.”

“Very funny,” Dickey said. “Let me rephrase that. Anyone who had any reason to be out here other than to park their vehicles. There. You happy?”

I didn’t have a choice, since George and I discovered the crime scene. I had to go up.

Cora Mae didn’t move a muscle. We locked eyes. “What?” she said.

“Weren’t you in the parking lot?”

“Yes, but…”

“You don’t want the whole town to know you were making out in a parked car?” I finished for her.

She nodded.

“I guess we both have a secret to keep.” I didn’t have to mention how much bigger mine was than hers.

Everyone was mesmerized by the body. In Stonely, we don’t often see something like this. But two in a row! First, the robber, who really was an awful robber. Now, this man.

He was the same guy who fired the killing shot from the roof yesterday. The shot that blasted through the window and pegged the robber in the head.

It was definitely him, I thought to myself, groaning inwardly when a state trooper pulled up right behind Dickey Snell’s truck. That’s all I needed, the state boys involved.

George walked over to talk to them, having helped take control of the situation prior to their late arrival. I hoped he hadn’t seen me pocket the Glock. Not that George would tell, but too many people knew already. And I didn’t want him thinking I was a crackpot, even though I was beginning to think I was.

The only way out of my murder weapon mess was to find the real killer before Dickey and the state troopers found me and the Glock.

Blaze pushed through the crowd. “What can I do to help?” he said, sounding sane for a change. My son had his ups and downs, but he also had brief moments of reality that were growing longer every day.

Dickey glanced at him with a lot of doubt in his eyes. “I don’t know, Blaze.”

“Where’s the ambulance? Has anyone touched anything?” Blaze asked, assuming a take-charge position just like the old days.

Dickey relaxed a bit as Blaze spoke. He motioned to him. They stood over the body, talking low enough that I couldn’t hear. Blaze walked up to the window of my truck and peered in without touching anything.

“Ma,” he fired at me after a moment of silent thought. “Why the hell are you at the center of everything that goes wrong around here?”

I had my boy back! Maybe not permanently. Tomorrow he might be fighting the war again, but for right now, Blaze was close to his old self.

“Gertie’s nothing but trouble,” Grandma said from behind me, clacking her new false teeth. She didn’t notice me right in front of her. When I turned around, she jumped a foot. Pearl, next to her, clutched her heart.

Gossip is one thing. Grandma’s disparaging remarks about the only family member who was foolish enough to take her in was another.

I made a suggestion to her through gritted teeth. “Go find Star,” I said.

“And miss this! Fat chance.”

I slid as far from the old-smelling woman as possible.

Between the excess law enforcement teams, they managed to separate out the potential witnesses. Grandma was forced into the nothing-but-gawkers group, complaining all the way. Star, who was supposed to be watching her, caught up and steered her toward the church parking lot.

The ambulance arrived and carted the body away, heading for Escanaba and the medical examiner’s office.

Eventually George and I were the only bystanders still outside. We told our story, what little we knew - that we had wandered outside for fresh air and practically tripped over the body. That George had tried to find a pulse while I ran inside for help. Our explanation sounded honest and innocent. If only they knew.

“He had a Kromer,” George said in case anyone missed it.

I had forgotten in the excitement. My attention had been more focused on the Glock lying in plain sight.

“That’s the guy who killed the robber at the credit union,” I said to Dickey. “I’m sure of it.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Hole in the front of his head,” Blaze announced.

“Execution style,” Dickey said. Like he’d know.

“Never saw the guy around here before the heist,” I offered. “I think he was in it with the guy he killed.”

“She’s right,” Blaze said, still right on track to a full mental recovery. However, the old Blaze never would have given me any credit. He would have escorted me away with a firm grip on my arm and told me to mind my own business. I liked the new Blaze better.

George stood close to me. “Two strangers, a bag of paper instead of money, and they’re both dead with shots to the head.” He shook his head in bewilderment. The snake wrapped around the brim of his cowboy hat seemed alive in the shadows.

“They had a partner,” I said. “A third guy.” It should have been obvious, but who knows with this bunch? The bad guys were picking each other off like dominos.

“Threesomes never work,” Blaze said. “Two, sometimes, if they both keep their mouths shut. You put another guy in the mix, and it’s always a disaster.”

“Well,” I said. “It isn’t three anymore.”

“Why’d it have to happen right behind your truck, Ma?”

“That’s a good question, son.”

My truck, my gun. Someone wanted me out of the way.

Chapter 9

Word For The Day

EXTIRPATE (EKS tuhr pay’t) v.

Remove completely, exterminate.

Alternate Word

HIGGLEDY-PIGGLEDY (HIG uhl dee’ PIG uhl dee) adj.

Disorderly, jumbled, confused.

SATURDAY MORNING AT THE CRACK of first daylight, I bellied through thick brush getting into position. Tony’s bales of straw loomed ahead in the dark, like sinister wild animals. I wore my handy fishing vest crammed with supplies, including pepper spray, micro recorder, binoculars, and my stun gun. The vest made it even harder to snake along the cold ground.

Today, since it was the beginning of the weekend, the woods would be crawling with amateur turkey hunters, blasting at anything that moved. And here I was, dressed in camo, slinking through the brush. Why did I always get the worst surveillance times and the most awful situations? The Trouble Busters needed to come up with a more equitable plan for future events.