Murder Passes the Buck (14 page)

like to be buried together. One big happy family.

But Cora Mae never had children and she loaded up three of the gravesites with dead husbands. Life turns out funny. Not ha ha funny
— funny as in sad and unexpected.

Stonely doesn
’
t have a cemetery. You have to go to Escanaba or Trenary to rest in eternity. Most folks around here prefer the Trenary cemetery because it
’
s closer, and because nobody cares what you put on the graves for decorations. The Escanaba cemetery is fussy, and they
’
ll yank off whatever you put down as soon as your back is turned.

When I go, I want to be gussied up in my old hunting jacket and cap for a showing at Lacken
’
s Funeral Home, and I hope the whole county comes and gets good and drunk afterwards at Herb
’
s Bar. Then I want to be cremated and have part of my ashes buried with Barney and half scattered to the wind on Bear Creek behind my house.

When I told Blaze my plan, he said it was against the law to scatter ashes. Littering, he called it, in his righteous sheriff voice. Cora Mae and Star know what I want, and it
’
s going to be done like I say. I even wrote my request down,

had it witnessed by Cora Mae and Star, and Cora Mae locked it in her safe deposit box.

Of course, those plans are a long way off.

I miss Barney so much, I thought to myself as we headed toward the cemetery. A car approached and Cora Mae waved.

“
Who was that?
”
I asked, snapping out of my daydream.

“
Bill Lampi.
”

“
The same Bill Lampi we just left?
”
I screamed.

Cora Mae was almost launched from the truck when I slammed on the brakes and accomplished a perfect U-turn.

“
Hold your hat,
”
I called to her.
“
Who was Barb talking to back at the house if Bill wasn
’
t home?
”

Cora Mae didn
’
t answer. She clutched the dashboard as I slammed on the brakes again. I couldn
’
t believe my eyes.

The magenta sedan, the same purple car that had spied on me at the river, streaked past us heading the opposite way.

“
That
’
s the car,
”
I shouted.
“
The one that followed me to the river.
”

I didn
’
t know which car to follow.

I made a quick decision and swung around again to pursue the purple car. My U-turn wasn
’
t quite as perfect this time.

Cora Mae screamed as we headed for the ditch.

“
There
’
s a piece of barbed wire stuck on your front bumper,
”
Little Donny said when I pulled into the drive. He was headed to the shed with George, but he stopped and removed the wire.

“
Can
’
t imagine where that came from,
”
I lied.

“
Gonna help George,
”
Little Donny said.
“
Grandma Johnson
’
s in the house.
”

“
How
’
d she get here?
”

“
Blaze dropped her off.
”

The battle between Blaze and me was only in the second round, and already he was hitting below the belt.

The house smelled like old-lady-dried-out-prune-skin odor hiding out under cheap flowery perfume. From the smell of the house, Grandma Johnson had been waiting a while.

“
Where you been while I been sittin
’
here all day?
”

“
I
went visiting with Cora Mae. You should have told me you were coming.
”

“
Didn
’
t know I was coming,
”
Grandma huffed. She was sitting in the rocker with her arms folded across her chest, her face scrunched like she was sucking on a lemon.

“
Blaze just dumped me off.
”

I sat down and looked helplessly at the woman with the snake tongue.

“
I
’
m glad he did,
”
she continued,
“
because me and you have to have a little talk about your behavior. You
’
re embarrassing our family left and right and we can
’
t stand for it anymore.
”

“
I
’
m embarrassing the family?
”
I couldn
’
t believe it. Grandma Johnson
’
s front yard has a toilet filled with plastic flowers, and in her garden are wood-carved people bent over picking vegetables. Their underpants are showing. Grandma would win a most-embarrassing-relative contest hands down.

“
Traipsing around with that Cora Mae, who
’
s a disgrace to Stonely, and causing all kinds of commotion. I hear that poor deceased man
’
s son and daughter-in-law were attacked right there at the funeral home by
‘
that orange-headed woman.
’
Who ya suppose they were talking about?
”

I touched my hair with my hand. I was getting used to my orange curls and toyed with the idea of keeping the color, if for no other reasons than to annoy certain relatives.

Grandma Johnson went on and on, and after awhile I managed to tune her out without her knowing what I was doing.

Outside, a squirrel intent on stealing every last kernel of birdseed in the feeder made six trips back and forth carrying seed away before Grandma ran down. I hope I learn to shut up better when I
’
m ninety-two.

I excused myself, found Little Donny in the barn, and informed him that Grandma Johnson could be taken home, and right now. I would have liked to stay out there and talk to George awhile, but in my hurry to get away from Grandma, I had run outside without my jacket, and I was freezing.

“
I enjoyed our little talk,
”
Grandma Johnson said while Little Donny helped her to the truck.
“
Maybe we should make a point of doin
’
this every Sunday. Sorry our visit was cut short on account of you feeling under the weather.
”

“
Malaise,
”
I muttered under my breath using my word for the day.

“
What do you mean
‘
my legs
’
? If your legs hurt so much, you better take an aspirin.
”
She peered into my eyes.
“
You don
’
t look so good. Worse than usual even.
”

As I watched Little Donny and Grandma Johnson pull away, I had a face twitch I couldn
’
t control.

After I slipped into my jacket I took a jar of Vaseline out to the birdfeeder and

greased up the pole real good. There
’
s nothing I hate more than squirrels stealing bird food. Raccoons and grackles are right up at the top of my list too, but squirrels are the worst nuisances.

I filled up the feeder, then sat at the window to watch two of the little rodents take turns jumping up and sliding down the pole. When a squirrel clamps onto an idea, he never quits. They must have slid back down that pole ten or twelve times until the Vaseline wore away. Then, triumphantly, one sat on top of the feeder stuffing his face and grinning at me.

At dusk, Little Donny came in from the blind,
deer less
again. Trailing him by a few minutes, George arrived, looking dapper in his tight-fitting jeans, blue flannel shirt, and snake-trimmed hat.

“
Joining us for poker?
”
he asked me, while Little Donny wolfed down half of a pot roast and three pounds of mashed potatoes.

“
Whose house this week?
”

“
Blaze
’
s.
”

“
He and I aren
’
t getting along. Think I
’
ll pass.
”
I watched Little Donny dip into the apple pie.

“
Since when did you two ever get along, and since when has it ever kept you away

from a good card game?
”
George tilted his hat back before delivering his challenge.
“
You
’
re letting him win.
”

That did it. George had a point. Why should I let Blaze drive me away?

Which reminded me of my off-the-road experience and the two cars that escaped. I couldn
’
t believe my bad luck. I touched my tender temple lightly with my fingers. I never realized before that driving was hazardous to your health. I
’
d have to call Cora Mae later and check on that knee she banged up.

“
Count me in,
”
I said to George.
“
But poker isn
’
t my game.
”

“
Rummy,
”
I said to the group, fanning my last cards across the table and grinning.
“
That
’
s it. I won again.
”

Little Donny counted his cards. George shoved back in his chair and stretched his legs. Sourpuss Blaze scowled and studied the cards.

“
I called no cheating, Ma. At the beginning of the game.
”

Sometimes, just for fun when the kids were young, we would allow cheating. It had to be called at the beginning of the game, agreed on by all players, and you lost points if you were caught. I miss those days.

“
I heard you call it.
”

“
Then why,
”
Blaze said,
“
is the last card you played from another deck of cards.
”
He reached over and turned the card over. Sure enough, it didn
’
t match the other deck.
“
I can
’
t believe you cheated.
”

“
Don
’
t know how that card got in there,
”
I lied.

“
Have you been cheating from the start?
”

“
Yup,
”
George said, grinning at me.

“
Well if you knew it all along, why didn
’
t you tell us?
”
Blaze complained to George.

“
I
’
m through playing.
”
I gathered the cards in front of me into a neat pile.
“
Go ahead and play poker. I
’
m walking home.
”

“
I
’
ll drop you off,
”
George offered.
“
It
’
s pretty dark out.
”

“
I think I can manage to make it down the road without help. I
’
ve been walking this road my entire life and I need the exercise.
”
The spare tire around my middle needed some work.

Swinging a flashlight ahead of me, I walked through the brisk night air enjoying the sounds of nature. A pack of coyotes howled in the distance. An animal scampered across the road beyond the beam of the flashlight, and I could smell fallen leaves, oaks and maples, crunching underfoot.