Murder Passes the Buck (23 page)

Read Murder Passes the Buck Online

Authors: Deb Baker

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Detective and Mystery Stories, #Grandmothers, #Upper Peninsula (Mich.), #Johnson; Gertie (Fictitious Character)

BOOK: Murder Passes the Buck
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I looked at Kitty.


That means,

Kitty whispered,

they want to decide where you will live. They want to put you away in a nursing home.

I began to feel faint, a hot flush creeping up from the pit of my soul and scorching my face. If I slapped myself, maybe I

d wake up.

This is a gregarious act on my son

s part.

I shouted, leaping up.

Kitty leapt up also.

She means egregious, your honor.

I stared at her, remembering my word for the day, a remarkable feat considering the circumstances.

She smiled.


We insist on speed,

the other side demanded.


Very well,

the judge said.

We

ll put it on the calendar for three weeks from now. That

ll give Mrs. Johnson time to retain counsel, and I

m also ordering a psychological evaluation for Mrs. Johnson.


We want a jury trial,

Kitty shouted.


We demand a psychological evaluation for the plaintiff, too,

I shouted.

Kitty had to drive me home. I was too upset to drive.

If I ever speak to him again, it

ll be too soon. This is it, the last straw. He

s totally disowned. Don

t ever mention his

 

name again.


Now, now,

Cora Mae clucked.

Blaze really believes in his own mind that you need his care. Try to look at it from his point of view.


Whose side are you on? His?


No! But I don

t think he

s intentionally doing it to hurt you. And the placement thing doesn

t necessarily mean he wants to put you in a nursing home. Maybe he wants you to live with him.

Wallowing in self-pity isn

t my style, but I was settling in to do a fairly good job of it until I noticed Kitty was driving about a hundred and twenty miles an hour and had taken the last corner on two wheels.


Kitty,

I said,

slow it down.


This is one kick-ass truck,

Kitty exclaimed.

Bet I can bury the needle.

She glanced over and I could see fire in her eyes. Pin curls were popping and the flab hanging from her arms bounced with the truck as it tore up the road. Cora Mae clutched my arm.


Kitty,

I shouted.

Pull my truck over to the side of the road,
now.


Okay, okay, just trying to take your mind off your troubles.

And she slowed down to a few volts under the speed of electricity.

Where we going next?

 


We are dropping you off at your house.


No way. I

m your bodyguard. You

re stuck with me till this case is solved. We can hang out at my place and you can pick out the things you want to buy before the rummage sale starts.

We argued over her role in my life until she pulled into her junkyard.

I

m not leaving without you,

she said.


Out.

I whipped the stun gun out of my purse.

Cora Mae

s eyes bulged.

You had that thing in court?


Out,

I said again, poking it in Kitty

s direction.

You work for me and you take orders from me, and I don

t need you anymore today. Go find clues. Work with Cora Mae. Between the two of you, you ought to come up with something on the case.


I can

t believe you had a stun gun in court,

Cora Mae said.


You, too.

I poked threateningly at Cora Mae.

Out.

The two of them rolled out of the truck and as I drove out of the driveway I could see Kitty running for her car.

I parked the truck inside Blaze

s barn, closed the doors, and spent the rest of the afternoon hiding out in my hunting blind.

 

Ten

Word for the Day

KERFUFFLE (kuhr FUF uhl) n.
Disorder; uproar; confusion


What

s he doing here?

Cora Mae whispered to me when Little Donny and I picked her up for the pastie dinner. She wore a short black skirt under her unbuttoned coat, a tight-knit sweater that made her look like a thirty-eight double D, and black fishnet stockings.


Couldn

t get rid of him,

I whispered back.

He

s sticking like toilet paper on a shoe. I was cleaning up inside my house and he appeared. He won

t go away.

I managed to stay one step ahead of him, though. I had the driver

s seat of my truck and I wasn

t giving it up.

Little Donny had on his fancy loafer shoes with the little tassels, beige dress pants, a blue shirt, and a long wool overcoat. I wore

 

black cords and a black sweater with fall leaves swirled on the front that matched the color of my hair. I had styled it loose and curly. My feet were cold, as usual, so I decided to wear my boots. I didn

t plan on dancing anyway.


You

re turning the wrong way,

Little Donny informed me.


We have a stop to make first,

I said.

The house was dark but the yard light illuminated the front and side of the house. Remembering our last fiasco, I made one pass on the road, looking for a good place to hide the truck. There wasn

t one. Banks of snow on both sides of the road made it impossible to pull off. I turned into Bill and Barb

s recently plowed driveway and stopped to mull the situation over. If I left the truck in the driveway under the yard light, anyone driving by would see my truck.

I backed up for a running start, gunned the engine, and headed for the snow in the shadow on the far side of the drive. Little Donny clutched the dashboard with his mouth in a perfect O. Cora Mae, sitting between us, held onto my arm.

The truck settled into a snow bank next to the driveway and I turned off the ignition. Little Donny rubbed his head where it had hit the dash.

 

I hopped down, waded through the snow, and lifted a toolbox out of the back.

Let

s go, Cora Mae. Not you,

I added when Little Donny opened his door.

You stay here and guard the truck.

Breaking and entering was okay for us, but I didn

t want my grandson involved. Wasn

t that a perfect example of competent thinking? The very thing Blaze accused me of lacking.


Blaze is going to kill us,

he called after me.

We

re stuck good, you know.

His voice trailed off.

We went around the back of the house. Cora Mae began complaining that her black boots were going to be ruined, but I steered her onto the same path Kitty and I had made going through the night before, and she quieted down.


What did you bring the toolbox for?

She said, her voice coy and cooing.


How else are we getting in?


Maybe we should try these first.

Cora Mae held up a ring of keys and dangled them.


Hot dog,

I said.

Where did you get those?


I snitched them from Kitty. She took them from a hook by the door when you two were running your brilliant surveillance scheme.

Cora Mae giggled.

When you

 

ditched us today, she showed them to me and I lifted them.


Way to go.


I feel terrible about leaving her behind. You should be kinder to her, Gertie.


All I needed was a little time away. She

s pretty intense. I didn

t know she was going to take the bodyguard job so seriously.

I did feel a few pangs of guilt.

She

s beginning to grow on me,

I said. That comment surprised both of us, earning a quick doubletake from Cora Mae, but it was true. I missed her.

We let ourselves in, and Cora Mae put the keys on a hook by the door. I pulled two flashlights from my jacket and handed one to Cora Mae.

You search the closets, I

ll do the drawers. And be careful. Put everything back right where it belongs. We don

t want them to know we were here.

Within minutes I found a handgun in Barb

s panty drawer. I wrapped a pair of undies around it to avoid fingerprints and held it up for Cora Mae to see, wondering out loud,

If Bill hates guns like I hear he does, do you think he knows about this?

Fascinated with Barb

s clothes, Cora Mae didn

t answer. She held up a sheath dress.

I

d look good in this,

she said.


This isn

t Kitty

s rummage sale,

I said,

 

stuffing the gun into the drawer.

Put it back.

Cora Mae reluctantly hung the dress in the closet and followed me into a small bedroom used as an office. I scoped out the desk while Cora Mae worked through a three-drawer file cabinet.

Nothing.


I

m looking through Bill

s desk again,

I said, rooting through his papers. I pulled out and examined each folder, then did the same with the file cabinet. There wasn

t anything bearing Chester

s name in the whole bunch, nothing about the land.


My two chief suspects at the moment are Barb and Bill, with Onni running a distant third,

I said, perplexed.

There has to be something here.


Maybe Onni killed Chester because of the land,

Cora Mae whispered.

Maybe I dated a killer.


Killing Chester wouldn

t get Onni

s land back. With Chester gone, the land belongs to Bill. Onni doesn

t have a motive.


Whew. That

s a relief. For a minute there I was worried.


But he could have killed Chester in a fit of rage that he

d lost the land. Whoever vandalized my home knew a lot about rage since he went beyond a normal search.

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