Murder Passes the Buck (28 page)

“
Don
’
t you hunt?
”
I asked.

“
No, I was never interested in it, which I know is strange for around here.
”
Bill picked up his glasses and put them on.

“
To each his own
’
I said.
“
Your pa owned land over by Onni, didn
’
t he?
”

“
Yes, but Pa kept quiet about that. I
’
m surprised you know.
”

“
Nothing
’
s a secret in Stonely,
”
I said.
“
Has anyone been asking about Chester
’
s land?
”

“
What do you mean?
”
Bill picked up a towel and began to wipe dishes and put them in the cupboard.

“
Has anyone shown an interest in buying the land?
”
I asked.

“
Why, yes. An outfit out of Chicago wanted to buy it and make it into a corporate retreat. Dad asked me to look over the contract before he signed it, but he died before he finished the deal.
”

Hiding my excitement I asked,
“
What
’
s going to happen now?
”

“
Barb and I talked it over and decided to keep the land.
”

“
Land
’
s like gold to you?
”
I asked, watching his face carefully. He didn
’
t miss a blink, not a facial muscle, not any sign of significance.

“
I wanted to sell, but Barb was emphatic.

We
’
ll keep it.
”

Barb was worth another seriously long look.

I meant that figuratively, but glancing out the kitchen window, I saw her climbing out of a black sedan. My time was almost up.

Bill dropped the towel and headed for the bedroom. I heard him call,
“
Hi, Barb,
”
as he went.
“
We have help. Mrs. Johnson is cleaning the kitchen.
”

So much for sneaking out the back.

I heard another car pull in, and watched Cora Mae and Kitty trot toward the house. Correction
— Cora Mae trotted. Kitty lumbered.

Everyone met in the middle of the living room.

“
What are you doing here?
”
Barb hissed at me, her eyes narrow slits.

“
I
’
m helping out.
”

“
Little Donny told us you were here,
”
Cora Mae said to me.
“
We came to help.
”
Cora Mae unbuttoned her coat and began to take it off.

Barb glanced at Cora Mae, did a double take then turned for a face-off.

“
That looks like a dress I
’
m missing,
”
Barb said to Cora Mae. Barb stood with her long legs spread wide and her knees slightly bent in attack mode.

I couldn
’
t help noticing that she was right. Sure enough, Cora Mae wore the sheath dress she had admired when we
’
d broken into Barb
’
s house. Cora Mae was turning out to be more of a liability than an asset.

“
And just what are you implying?
”
Cora Mae planted herself, deciding on the denial route of defense. She wasn
’
t going to back down.

“
I
’
m calling the sheriff.
”
Barb picked up the phone on Chester
’
s end table.

I slipped on my boots without lacing them, grabbed my purse and coat, and used my body to force Cora Mae out the door. Kitty, obviously quicker in an emergency than I anticipated, had already slipped into her white rusted-out Lincoln and had turned it around when we reached it.

“
Let
’
s hit it,
”
I said.

Kitty
’
s tires slid in the melting snow, and the car fishtailed. Kitty spun the wheel and the car straightened out. She tore down the road, hitting the muddy puddles at full speed and sending water flying every which way.

“
I thought you two were supposed to be investigating a murder,
”
I said, clutching my purse on my lap. I glanced at Cora Mae
’
s attire.
“
I didn
’
t need any help. I had it under control, at least until you pranced

in wearing stolen goods. Who
’
s calling who outrageous?
”

“
Now, be nice,
”
Cora Mae said.
“
We made phone calls all morning from my house. Didn
’
t we, Kitty?
”

“
You left ahead of me,
”
I reminded her.

“
Well, we came right back because I forgot something.
”

“
We called insurance companies looking for policies,
”
Kitty said,
“
but that
’
s slow going.
”

“
I
’
m pretending I
’
m Barb,
”
Cora Mae said.
“
When I call I say,
‘
This is Barb Lampi and I
’
d like to check on my father-in-law
’
s insurance policy
’
.
”

“
No luck so far,
”
Kitty told me.

“
Forget the insurance policy. She
’
s after the land, but why? That
’
s the baffling part of it.
”

“
It
’
s the gold,
”
Cora Mae insisted.
“
She
’
s found a gold mine.
”

“
That
’
s hooey.
”

“
I waited all morning for George to show up,
”
Cora Mae pouted, revealing the real reason she went back home.
“
What do you think happened?
”

I told her about George
’
s missing rifle.
“
Besides,
”
I said,
“
don
’
t you need to break it first?
”

“
Kitty helped me. She backed into it with

the bumper of her car and it went right over like it was made of tinker toys.
”

“
Didn
’
t hurt the car at all,
”
Kitty chuckled. She passed the car ahead of us, ignoring the solid yellow line in the middle of the road.

They let me off at my house and Kitty insisted on waiting for reinforcements. Once Little Donny arrived, I shooed them away quickly before Cora Mae found out that George was on his way over.

Five minutes later George pulled in with his tools. After I cleaned up the bedroom and part of the living room, I threw my jacket back on and went out to the shed to watch. George had worked on it earlier so most of it was finished. Little Donny sat on the tractor eating sugar doughnuts out of a white paper bag. I dug in the bag and helped myself.

“
Find your rifle?
”
I asked George.

“
Someone took it. That
’
s for sure.
”

Little Donny had sugar all over his face.
“
Why would anyone steal your rifle?
”

“
Bet it has something to do with Chester
’
s murder.
”
I answered for George.
“
I
’
m trying to connect the dotted lines but they
’
re zigzagging all over the place.
”

“
Two more hours and we
’
ll be through,
”
George said.
“
Then I
’
m going to cut the

last few trees.
”

Most of our Christmas trees were cut and shipped the first week in November, but George likes to save trees for family and friends until later in November. They keep better.

Watching the snow turn into slop, I had to disagree with him.
“
Better not cut them until it goes cold again,
”
I said,
“
or all the needles will fall off for sure.
”

“
A cold spell
’
s coming in again,
”
George said.
“
Tonight.
”

That
’
s the beauty of Michigan weather. You don
’
t like it today, don
’
t worry, it
’
ll change again by tomorrow. A twenty- or thirty-degree swing overnight isn
’
t unusual here. Every day
’
s a surprise.

“
I
’
m going out to the blind,
”
I announced.

I got my shotgun out of the hall closet and filled my pockets with shells. It must be force of habit, since I had no intention of actually hunting. I take out a license every year so a DNR agent won
’
t come along and wonder what I
’
m doing in a hunting blind without one. They
’
re a suspicious bunch.

The hunting license reminded me to make an appointment soon to take a driving test. I
’
d have to do it eventually.

It was almost too warm for my orange hunting jacket, but only a fool would run

around in the woods during deer season without one. I compromised and left my hunting cap on a chair. Orange hair was good enough.

Looking around at my kitchen, I began planning to move back in. Mary and Little Donny had worked hard to put it back together. A few hours of effort on my part and a little shopping and it would be good as new.

I looked out at the apple tree and pondered digging up my money box before the ground froze.

Just thinking about being home again cheered me up. I whistled a broken tune as I plopped through the puddles on the path to the blind. After replenishing the bait pile, I kicked back without needing to start the heater and dreamed of Barney.

Barney visited often in the fourteen months since his death, and I was used to it now, even welcomed it. Instead of his being old, like he was when he died, in my dreams he was like he was when we first were married. He was lean and muscular, and he had a dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. Sometimes I wonder what I look like to him in my dreams. I never see myself. Probably wrinkly with liver spots starting to pop up