Murder Passes the Buck (31 page)

was going on in my life.

He was taller than anyone I
’
d ever met. When he first opened the door, I thought I
’
d walked into the Green Giant
’
s lair. He was well over six-foot-five.

Cora Mae won
’
t date a tall man. She says she
’
s always looking up into his nose hairs and there
’
s always something suspicious dangling there. The psychologist
’
s nose hairs were fine.

He pushed back from the table and wrapped his long legs in a complicated twist like a pretzel and waited for me to begin.

I gave him an earful.

I told him about the murder investigation, the attempts on my life, the suspects, and about the document in Barney
’
s notebook. In fact, I showed him the deed, which was the only piece of concrete evidence I had in my possession. I did have the shot-up hunting blind, but that
’
s more stationary evidence. I offered to show him that, too, if he felt like taking a drive. He said it wouldn
’
t be necessary.

He listened without interrupting, making notes as I talked. I leaned forward, trying to read the notes upside down, but he moved the papers away.

When I was finished he said,
“
Uh huh.
”

And that was his entire contribution to

our conversation and his only comment on all the information I
’
d presented him with.

“
Has Blaze been in for his evaluation yet?
”
I wanted to know on the way out the door.

“
It
’
s not required for him.
”

“
Figures,
”
I said. The ones who need it never have to.
“
Did I pass?
”

“
I
’
ll be issuing a report and you will receive a copy.
”

I better have passed or I
’
m in deep trouble.

Cora Mae and Kitty escorted me back to Cora Mae
’
s house.

“
I didn
’
t realize how many shops repair guns,
”
Cora Mae whined.
“
They
’
re in Trenary, Gladstone, Escanaba, and a few places scattered here and there between Rapid River and Marquette.
”

“
Forget Rapid River and Marquette. No one from around here would drive all that way.
”

“
Well, we
’
re about half done.
”

“
Put it on hold for awhile. We need to follow George and tie him in with Barb.
”

Both stared at me.

“
I
’
m not saying you
’
re right,
”
I said with regret.
“
But he
’
s on the list. The very bottom of the list.
”

Kitty had a sack of Big Macs, fries, and

chocolate shakes from Escanaba. We warmed the burgers and fries in the microwave and dug in.

“
I
’
m having a lot of trouble believing that George is a killer,
”
I said between mouthfuls.
“
He
’
s been my best friend …
”

Cora Mae gave me a withering look.

“
I mean, after you, of course. And he
’
s been so nice to me, doing repairs, playing cards; I can
’
t believe it.
”

Kitty started in on her second Big Mac. I
’
ve never seen anyone eat two Big Macs in my entire life.
“
Killers look and act just like the rest of us,
”
she said.

“
Give me one good reason why George would want to kill me.
”

“
You have an unregistered deed to the mineral rights on three hundred acres of prime land that Bear Creek runs right through and that could possibly be the site of a huge vein of precious metal,
”
Kitty said with one cheek full of fries.

“
When you say it like that,
”
I said,
“
it sounds believable.
”

Cora Mae chimed in.
“
I always knew something was strange about him.
”

“
You did not.
”
I rubbed my hands together to shake off the bun crumbs.
“
And answer this for me
— if I can
’
t register the rights because I
’
m dead, then they still belong to

Onni, not to Barb or George. Are they going to kill him too? And then what? Who are Onni
’
s heirs? Are they going to kill all of them?
”

We all traded surprised expressions.

“
Who would inherit Onni
’
s estate?
”
Kitty put special sarcastic emphasis on the word
estate.
“
He doesn
’
t have any family, at least that we know of.
”

“
It doesn
’
t matter because his distant relatives would probably sell it for next to nothing.
”
I was on a roll.
“
Onni
’
s in as much danger as I am. We
’
re both marked for execution.
”

“
What should we do, Gertie?
”
Cora Mae asked.
“
What
’
s our next step?
”

“
Surveillance run tonight, partners.
”

Owning the mineral rights to Chester
’
s land means I own everything under the ground, dirt and all. Does that mean I can haul away the topsoil? There are quite a few gray areas associated with these rights, and I need to find the answers. For now, I know I own the following things if, and this is a big if, they are found
— oil, copper, iron ore, silver, or gold. Quite an impressive list of valuables.

Another thing I know
— gold is found along streambeds just like Bear Creek, which runs through said land. And gold re
ally

has been found in Marquette County, which is close enough to almost spit on. And the U.P. is part of the Canadian Shield, made up of the oldest rock in the world. And oil has even been discovered here, so why is the idea of gold farfetched?

Ropers Gold Mine, according to the librarian in Escanaba, had the richest specimens of gold-bearing quartz ever found in the area, and every river in Michigan has had shows of gold.

Gold in the ground, in my ground? It
’
s not nearly as impossible as I thought. My scoffing days are over.

Surveillance work isn
’
t as glamorous as most people think. Every time I tell someone I
’
m an investigator they want to know about the spying part of it.

For one thing, it
’
s dangerous. The last thing you want is your suspect walking up to your vehicle and confronting you. There
’
s nothing worse than being hauled out by your shirt collar and held ten inches off the ground while he waits for a plausible explanation.

It could happen.

What
’
s more likely to happen, though, is the neighbors get suspicious, think you
’
re spying on them, and call the police. Then

there
’
s some explaining to do, especially if it
’
s late at night, which is when the most serious surveillance work is carried on.

Finding the right spot to watch from isn
’
t easy, either. Once the suspect starts moving, you don
’
t know which way he
’
ll go. You need perfect positioning.

You also need a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken, which Kitty brought, a six-pack of Pepsi, and an old rusty coffee can, which I provided. Just in case. You can
’
t go looking for a bathroom in the middle of your watch. He
’
ll decide to move exactly then.

I still couldn
’
t believe George would murder Chester, but the evidence tipped heavily in his direction. And stronger men than George have succumbed to the wiles of a woman. I remember hearing that George
’
s wife ran off a while back, maybe six or seven years ago, on Christmas Eve. When George got home from work, there was a note waiting for him on the kitchen table. I thought that was a cruel way to leave someone. George never talked about her, and never took up with anyone else as far as I knew. Until now.

“
Here he comes,
”
Kitty said, already digging into the bucket, one greasy hand full of chicken poised halfway to her mouth.
“
Duck.
”

Headlights sliced the dark leading from George
’
s house and his truck turned onto the road heading toward Stonely. Kitty started the car and blew out of the ditch, a chicken leg clenched in her jaw, both hands swinging the wheel sharply. Running without headlights to guide her, she strained forward in her seat to see.

Cora Mae clutched the bucket of chicken, a soda pop can flew from the seat, and we were in hot pursuit.

“
Don
’
t pass him up,
”
I called out as Kitty continued to gather speed.
“
Stay way back.
”

Kitty popped on her lights when we passed through Stonely. George
’
s truck kept going.
“
He
’
s heading for Gladstone.
”

Twenty minutes later we drove down Delta Avenue, the main drag in Gladstone, staying back as far as possible without losing sight of him. All the little shops were along a six- or seven-block stretch and they were all closed.

George turned onto a side street, and Kitty almost rear-ended him.
“
He
’
s parking,
”
I said, ducking down. Kitty swerved around his truck and sped away.

“
Did he see us?
”
Cora Mae said.

I straightened up.
“
I don
’
t see how he could have since we were moving at the speed of light. Kitty, you have to learn the

meaning of slow.
”

After much discussion and a little backtracking, we parked a block away from George
’
s truck, which was now empty. We spent several minutes guessing where he might be.

Another danger in surveillance work is the risk of being recognized by the suspect or by someone passing on the sidewalk. We
’
d taken care of that. Cora Mae has a wig for every occasion so we all were in disguise. My wig was long and blond, Cora Mae
’
s was a sassy little red bun, and Kitty
’
s was a black flip, which I hear is back in style.

We had to keep the truck running because it was cold and we needed the heat. Snow still fell, heavy and wet, so occasionally Kitty ran the windshield wipers to clear the glass, the defroster barely keeping up with our warm breath.

Another danger in the eye-spy field is boredom. It
’
s the number one reason surveillance is so difficult. Hours and hours of sitting staring out the window can drive you over the edge into insanity, or can put you right to sleep.

Cora Mae kept the conversation going.

“
Do you have an attorney yet?
”
she asked.

“
I don
’
t need one.
”
I brushed coarse blond hair out of my eyes.