November Hunt (20 page)

Thirty-nine

Monty's hands shattered in
a spray of red. The gun fell to the ground, and he quickly followed. First I was paralyzed, but then some B-team gland jolted my brain.
You're a sitting duck here
, it urged me. I pushed through the snow to seize the handgun from the obscenely red puddle of Monty's blood and bone. The weapon felt warm and sick through my mittens. I didn't know whether to point it at Monty, who was writhing in pain and cursing in an unrecognizable language, or in the direction from which he'd been shot. The snow was blinding, disorienting, and I wanted to cry out, but I didn't know who was friend or foe.

A black form emerged from the snowfall in the direction of Hallie's house. It was tall and moving slowly.

“I have a gun.” I held up the weapon, my mittened finger just curving the trigger. I was surprised to see my hands were steady even if my voice wasn't. I'd have an adrenaline debt to pay later.

“So do I.”

“Clive?”

He stepped underneath a street light, ten yards away. He was dressed for a snowstorm, the only identifiable features his face and the one hand holding a rifle directed at the ground. I pointed at it with the handgun. “You shot Monty.”

“You best go home. I have business to finish.”

I closed the distance between us, fighting the urge to faint so I could just wake up when the worst of this was over. “What are you doing here?”

“Carla called to tell me about your visit. I figured where he'd take you next.”

“You came to shoot Monty?”

“I came to end all this.”

I was within five feet of him. He was a scarecrow of a man, his face haunted. The imbalance that had rimmed his eyes the day he'd threatened me in the library was gone, replaced by resignation. I stared him straight on. “He confessed to shooting Lyle. If you let him live, you won't have to go to jail.”

“I was sober when I shot Tom.” He kept his eyes on mine, but the pain that crossed his face was crippling. He was stripped raw, his mask gone and his vulnerabilities laid bare. I saw it all in that moment. He'd never be free. He'd been offered money to shoot his friend, and he'd taken it. Maybe he'd shot Tom because of years of jealousy coming to a head. Possibly it was greed. Or, it could have been the worst option of all—a moment of
what if
triggering a flash-second of immutable action. We'd all stood on the edge of that cliff. Maybe it was that Clive had jumped. His eyes told me that no one would ever know for sure the final reason, possibly not even him.

“Come on, Clive. It's over.” I pointed him toward Hallie's house. He resisted at first, glaring at the spot where Monty finally lay still, his body saturating the snow with a pulsating red. But then Clive gave in, all the fight leaking out of him. As we walked, I wondered what the largest size plastic underpants came in. At this rate, it'd be worth it for me to invest in some.

Forty

Despite the blizzard, the
Battle Lake police were on the scene in under ten minutes. The ambulance, on the other hand, had to come all the way from Fergus and took over an hour in the storm. By the time they arrived, Monty had regained consciousness. Chief Gary Wohnt, the first officer on the scene, had staunched the bleeding in the area where Monty's hands used to be, but it was clear that he would be forever maimed.
It was a helluva shot
, I overheard one of his deputies saying,
and in a snowstorm
.

Once Gary had Monty stabilized, he led me out of the snowstorm and into Hallie's house. Clive was taken to the station. While Hallie fed me warm apple cider, I repeated what Monty had told me. The deeper I got into the story, the more my teeth started chattering, despite the warmth of the fireplace. Gary leaned over and grabbed my hand.

“You're safe,” he said gruffly.

I couldn't stop the shaking that threatened to control me. He reached to hold me, but Hallie was quicker. Despite her illness, and the pain of hearing the whole story of her father, she was born with a made-for-hugging body. And maybe she was as scared as I was. She held me tight and smoothed my hair with her hands, apologizing over and over again.

“I'm the one who feels terrible,” I said, my tremors reduced to a low staccato. “I uncovered that terrible story about your dad. You didn't need to know about it.”

“He's responsible for his own actions, and it sounds like he paid his whole life for them.” She pulled in a ragged sigh. “I had an inkling, you know. Not about the attack on that poor woman, of course, but children always know more than their parents tell them. I sensed there was more to my mother's story.”

My nerves settled enough for me to take a quivery sip of the cider. I didn't know what to say. “I want to go home.”

After waking one of her neighbors to stay with Hallie, Gary drove me, each of us deep in our own thoughts. He slipped his Jeep into four-wheel drive before tackling the driveway. I'd never been happier to see the doublewide.

“Thank you for the ride.”

“I told you to drop the case.” His voice had a raw edge. It wasn't anger. It was almost remorse.

I didn't have the energy to argue. “It's over.” I started to get out.

“Mira—”

He grabbed my left wrist, the one still sore from my fall in Lyle's garage. I winced, and he dropped my hand like it was hot. “What?”

He looked away. “Take care of yourself.”

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me, shut the door tight, and made my way to bed.

Forty-one

We gathered at the
Fergus Falls nursing home, decorating the party room. Mrs. Berns had been in my company all of thirty minutes, and she'd pried most of the story from me as well as gotten the phone number of an attractive 50-something male nurse. She looked tan and fit, the warm caramel tone of her lined skin accenting her white hair beautifully. She wore a pretty blue sweater, jeggings, and a pair of white tennis shoes. “I tell you what, this is a whole damn lot better than Arizona. Everyone lays around there like vulture bait, swallowing their pills and rubbing on their jellies. Minnesota is where the action is!”

“Arizona doesn't sound so bad,” I said. “No snow, right?”

“No young people, either. The whole state is a raisin ranch. But quit changing the subject. Do we know the full extent of Tom's crimes?”

“According to Kennie, when Gary questioned Clive later that night, he confirmed that Tom never laid a hand on Clara back in '62. He'd served as the watchman for his friends and had carried the burden of that horrible choice every day for the rest of his life.”

“The hell, you say.” Mrs. Berns was standing next to the piñata, a stick in her hand.

If I had picked her up at the airport, she'd already know everything, but I'd sent Peggy so I could decorate for Julius' birthday party. It'd been almost a week since he'd first been admitted to the hospital for pneumonia and only two days since he'd been released. I'd reserved the nursing home activities room and decorated it as un-Christmas-y as possible, so the focus could be on Julius, a man who'd always had to share his special day with Jesus. Hence, the Cinco de Mayo birthday theme. Mrs. Berns had insisted on being driven straight to the festivities, and Peggy had been happy to oblige.

“No lie.”

Mrs. Berns shook her head in disbelief. “I leave town for two weeks and you uncover the biggest scandal in its history. That blows.”

“I could have used your help.” I indicated her empty glass. “Can I get you another?”

“Margaritas are like boobs. You should only have two.”

“But that's your first.”

“Exactly.” She passed me the glass.

I walked over to the contraband bag I'd smuggled in and topped off Mrs. Berns' plastic cup. Across the room, Peggy was engaged in a Go Fish rematch with the original group she'd met when we'd first visited. Their laughter was drowning out the salsa music I'd brought. Julius was in his wheelchair, a warm brown quilt across his lap. Johnny was swapping fishing stories with the old man, who looked as animated as a teenager. I caught Johnny's eye and gave him a big smile as I walked back to Mrs. Berns.

“Here you go.”

She took a chug. “Sweet, but good. So what's going to happen to Frederick? And Mitchell?”

“Mitchell is under investigation for running illegal gambling at the hunt club. Seems someone anonymously turned in betting sheets and instructions to a secret room. A lot of money was at stake, and if the charges stick, the jail time could be significant.”

Peggy broke away from her card game to interrupt our conversation. “Can either of you lend me $5? I just got cleaned out.”

I dug in my back pocket and yanked out a ten. “I get interest if you win.”

“That's fair. What're you two talking about so seriously over here?”

Despite describing her driver as “sharp as a marble” in a stage whisper when the two of them had first walked into the party room, Mrs. Berns and Peggy seemed to get along just fine. “Mira was just about to tell me what sort of awful consequences Frederick will have to face for his crimes.”

I pursed my lips. “Don't know. Clive will only confess to his and Tom's part in the rape, and Frederick won't confess to anything.”

A look of disgust crossed Mrs. Berns face. “But what if Frederick is Hallie's dad? Wouldn't that prove it all?”

“It might have, but he's not. Clive underwent the tests. He's definitely Hallie's father.”

“Shit on a shingle,” she said, whistling under her breath. “That poor thing has had a tough month.”

“No doubt. But Clive is a perfect match and has agreed to donate one of his kidneys. She's not willing to talk to him yet, but I'm hoping she can find a way to make peace with it, for herself.”

“Good thing that gal didn't need a liver,” Mrs. Berns said. “And Clive's wacky tabaccky farm?”

“Gone. I went to grab Chuck the next morning until his daughter can pick him up. When I peeked in the windows of the barn, there was no green to be seen. Clive must have known the law was coming.”

Mrs. Berns tsked. “It's funny how things work out, isn't it?”

“Yeah. Justice can be messy, I guess. Like life. You've got to learn to be happy with what you end up with.”

Peggy sucked in her breath so loudly it sounded like a balloon popping.

“What is it?”

She stared at me, wide-eyed. “I've got it.”

“What?”

“My mojo.” She held out her hands expressively, serenely. Mrs.
Berns and I watched. A hush seemed to fall over even the salsa music. Peggy cleared her throat. “For the best jewels, shop at Epiphanies.”

Mrs. Berns crowed with laughter. “That's a doozy! I like that one.”

I smiled. “You have your mojo back.”

Mrs. Berns put up a hand. “Ach, don't talk to me about mojo. Have I mentioned how many woo-woo loonies live in Sedona? I felt like I was on some sort of commune but without the sex and drugs. And then what's the point, I ask you? Boy, I missed you all.” She pulled me in for a spontaneous hug, then abruptly pushed me away. “I don't know what you're doing, hugging an old lady when you have that hot slab of beef over there. Not many boyfriends would go with their girlfriend to a nursing home on their only day off of work.”

“He helped me decorate, too,” I added on. “And I'm not his girlfriend.”

She flicked me on the forehead. “Stop it with the control freak act. You still not sleeping with him?”

“Not for six months. I told you.”

“How about that other move I told you about? You know, the cough-a-doodle.”

I blushed.

“Ack. Knowing you, you probably ordered some books so you could figure out how to do it just right.” She rolled her eyes. “Now you go over and grab that boy and pull him into a dark closet. Right now. I mean it.” She turned me around and swatted me on the butt.

I recognized good advice when I heard it. I walked shyly over to Johnny. He immediately took my hand and smiled into my eyes. The touch of his palm on mine sent electric sparks from my hand all the way to the soles of my feet.

“Julius was sharing fishing secrets with me,” he said, his deep voice caressing my ears.

“Not all of 'em, you hear.” Julius wagged a finger. “You have to get me in the boat with you to find the real honey spots.”

Johnny chuckled. “You have my word. Next summer we'll go muskie fishing. You think they'll let me take you out of here?”

“I'll break out if I have to.”

I leaned into Johnny. I couldn't help it. He was hot goodness. “Can I come?”

“You like to fish?” Julius asked.

I shook my head. “Nope. But I could bring a book. Hey, you mind if I steal Johnny for a couple minutes?”

Julius shrugged and wheeled himself over to Mrs. Berns, whom he'd taken an immediate shine to.

“Thanks for helping me set up for the party.”

“Thanks for asking me.” Johnny leaned in to brush a kiss against my cheek. He let his hand linger on my neck. “Do you have plans later tonight?”

“I was hoping we could go back to my place and I could cook for you. Since last time, you know, didn't turn out exactly like planned.” The thing was, Mrs. Berns was right. I had ordered a few books. Where high school and religious movements had failed me, hard facts had come through. Turns out there were all sorts of things we could do to pass the time for six months.

His eyes sparkled. “Outstanding.”

I nodded. He had no idea.

The End

November Hunt
Discussion Questions

1. This book didn't delve into Mira's past as much as previous books in the series. Do you feel that this improved pacing, or do you wish you had found out more about her?

2. Although all mysteries deal with murder, few comedic mysteries delve into the dark topic of rape. Do you prefer mysteries that deal with darker issues, or do you prefer your mysteries to be overall light? Why?

3. Police Chief Gary Wohnt first appeared in the series as an overbearing buffoon, but he's developed into a potential love interest for Mira. Do you see the two of them ending up together? Why or why not?

4. Along the same lines, do you believe Mira and Johnny will have their happily-ever-after before the series is over? Why or why not?

5. Which of the series' characters would you have liked to see more of in this book and why? Which would you have liked to see less of, and why?

6. What was your favorite scene in this book, and why?

7. Do you think a murder mystery series can be reasonably set in a small town, or does it defy reason to the point of annoyance to have so many deaths in a rural Minnesota location?

8. What would you title the December book in the series?