1 Target of Death (7 page)

“I hardly think having pink and white
fletches is all that odd.”

“We’ll see.”

“Why are you so quick to pin the murder on
us?”

“Well, you were near the scene of the
crime.”

I cocked a brow. “Oh, and exactly where was
that?”

“Yes,” Dixie said. “You seem to know more
than we do about where the man was murdered, and by the way, you were dressed
in a ski mask, which makes me think you were trying to conceal your identity.”

“It’s cold up north, don’t ya know? Most everyone
I know wears a ski mask when they’re outside in the elements.”

I squared my shoulders. “What were you doing
out there?”

He stared into my eyes, and said, “If I was
the man who murdered Clayton, I’d never have stopped to help you ladies out.
I’d have been long gone.”

I softened my features. “What can you tell
us about Clayton?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because it would seem we need to clear our
names.”

“I’m sure the sheriff will do a proper
investigation, and he’ll find out what really happened.”

“So, you won’t even answer a simple
question? What do you have to hide? I’m sure it won’t matter what you have to
say
,
since the man is long gone.”

“I don’t have anything to hide. I just
don’t feel comfortable talking to complete strangers about the town’s
business.”

I was beginning to get it. “All I asked was
about Clayton. What does he have to do with the entire town?”

“Bear Paw just doesn’t need any bad press
right now. Unless you haven’t noticed, there’s a winter festival ready to start
tomorrow.”

“Of course I know. Why else would I be
here?”

Dixie rubbed Daniel’s sleeve. “Please help
us out and tell us what you know about Clayton. It’s not like we’ll tell anyone
you told us.”

He took a glance around. “It’s just that
Clayton wasn’t the most liked man in town.”

“We gathered that already. He cheated on
his wife and kept her a virtual prisoner in her own home.”

“That’s not so. I’ve seen her plenty of
times around town.”

Dixie shook her head. “Yes, but he gave his
wife an allowance and kept their finances a secret from her, a measly fifty
dollars. She doesn’t even know if he had a bank account.”

“That hardly makes her a virtual prisoner.
Fifty dollars is plenty of spending money.”

Dixie and I gasped. “Obviously, you have no
idea how much it costs for a woman to get her hair and nails done,” I said.

He gave me a once over. “Obviously, you
don’t either.”

I wanted to clock him, but instead smiled
sweetly. “My, but aren’t you a charmer.”

He smiled back, revealing dimples. “I try.”

Dixie interrupted us as she said, “Let’s
get back to Clayton. What else can you tell us about him?”

“He works at Hank’s Tool and Die.”

“Hank’s?” I asked. “Isn’t there a
restaurant in town called Hank’s Hotspot?”

“Yes, Hank opened that to appease his wife,
Mariah.”

“What’s Hank’s last name?”

“Hank Foster, but why is that important.”

I pursed my lips. “We might need to
question him about Clayton, is all. Clayton’s wife gave us the names of a few
of his friends who we’ll be questioning, too.”

“I don’t see why this is so important to
you girls.”

“I already told you why,” I said. “Is there
something else you’d like to add about Clayton that you haven’t told us yet?”

He glanced away. “What makes you think
that?”

“It’s a hunch. Plus, you looked away.”

He stared at me. “Clayton has been flashing
cash all over town, like more cash than he must be making at Hank’s Tool and
Die.”

“Was he involved in any illegal activities
that you know of?”

“Nope. Not much of that in this small
town.”

“How about growing and selling marijuana?”

“No way would Sheriff Price put up with
that. He searches the nearby woods by ATV’s and by air.”

“I had no idea that was such a big deal in
Michigan.”

“It isn’t exactly, but there are folks in
town who don’t exactly follow rules, if you get my meaning.”

“Okay, so you have no idea where he was
getting all that money from?”

He shook his head. “That’s all I know.” He
walked away, tossing his bow on the passenger side of his truck, and drove
away.

I walked back inside, ignoring the stares
of the patrons who I had to wow with my Cajun cooking tomorrow. After I had
taken my bow back upstairs, I joined Margarita and Dixie in the kitchen as they
were going over the menu.

“Do you have any mystery meat in the
freezer?” I asked Margarita.

“I have some ground deer meat, if that
interests you.”

“Sounds great.”

Margarita retrieved the meat and handed it
to me. I unwrapped the white freezer paper and placed the frozen brick of meat
in a frying pan, where I slow cooked it, scrapping the meat little by little
into the pan, adding generous chunks of diced onions. I also added my special
seasoning, which I had tucked in the bag that I always carried with me. Once
the meat was browned, I added tomato sauce and cooked it on low.

Margarita set a large pot on another burner
and I added tomato sauce, kidney beans, green peppers, and the sautéed deer
meat. In another pan, I fried up part of the Andouille sausage and then added
that to the large pot. I also added the Louisiana hot sauce. Once all the
ingredients were combined in the large pot, I covered it and put it on low.

“We should be good,” I said. “If that chili
doesn’t wow them, then I don’t know what will.” Dixie and I excused ourselves
and headed up to bed. I breathed in deeply, enjoying the medley of spices that
wafted in the air, even here upstairs. Before long, I fell fast asleep to the
sound of crickets chirping from my alarm clock radio.

***

I woke up to an empty room and pulled
myself together, heading toward the shower. Twenty minutes later, I wandered
into the kitchen, where Dixie and Margarita were going over the menu for
tonight.

Ingredients were scattered about the
kitchen counter, but I didn’t see any pots on the stove. Along one wall was a
grill loaded with eggs and bacon, carefully being watched by a man with a bald
head.

“This sure is quite a menu,” Margarita
said. “I just hope I can pull it off.”

“Not to worry. I already gave Kevin
instructions on how to prepare the dishes.”

I sniffed the kitchen. “I smell gumbo, but
I don’t see it.”

“It’s cooking outside over an open fire. I
figured it would help lure customers.”

“Great idea, Dixie.”

Margarita clicked her tongue. “Okay, creamy
Cajun pasta sounds fairly easy to make, but the gumbo, jambalaya, and dirty
rice with shrimp, not so much.”

“Don’t forget the spicy catfish tenders
with the Cajun tartar sauce. I hope we remembered to buy mayonnaise and not
that Miracle Whip you northern folks use,” Dixie said.

“If not, we can make some. Homemade is
better anyway,” I said.

“You girls are doing such a great job, but
I’m just worried that I won’t be able to pull this off.”

We spent the better part of an hour
convincing Margarita that this would go off without a hitch. I just hoped we
were right.

“The parade is starting in an hour, so you
girls better shovel the SUV out.”

“Doesn’t it have four-wheel drive?”

“Sure does, but we must have gotten at
least seven inches overnight. If you remember right, you drove into a snow bank
when you parked yesterday.”

“Don’t you have some men who could do
that?”

“A man, really? Does Louisiana Sassy really
need a man to shovel for her?”

“Not at all.”

“Time is a wastin’,” Margarita said.
“Besides, you girls are plenty young enough to handle the shoveling. Welcome to
Michigan.”

***

Once Dixie and I were bundled up, we
meandered our way out to the parking lot. The snow was so deep that it found
its way inside my boot. I took a shovelful of snow and carried it over to drop
at the edge of the lot. “This sure is heavier than I thought it would be. It
looks so light and fluffy, but it certainly doesn’t feel that way when it’s on
the shovel.”

“That’s because it’s wet,” Dixie pointed
out.

I just shook my head. “I’ll just be happy
when I can be back where winter is fifty degrees.”

“I hear that,” Dixie said, with a wisp of
white frozen air.

I was all kinds of mad, thinking about all that
I was missing back home right now. “I can’t believe I’m missing boiled
crawfish.”

“Yes, and it’s the first of the season, too.
But hopefully we’ll be home before Mardi Gras. Unless, of course, we’re locked in
jail for a murder we didn’t commit.”

“Don’t say that, Dixie. We have plenty of
leads to follow through with.”

“Like what?”

“Clayton’s boss and friends, for starters.
We won’t let on that we know he was flashing cash in town, unless someone else
tells us the same thing.”

“Do you believe what Daniel Adams had to
say about Clayton?”

“For some reason, I do. I don’t think he
wanted to tell us, though.”

“I just wonder if he knows more than he’s
saying, Tammy.”

“I have to agree with you there, Dixie, but
time will tell.”

We fell silent as we went back to shoveling
until my fingertips and toes were numb. My back also ached like all get out. We
made our way inside and into the kitchen, where there was a bustle of activity.

“You girls better get dolled up and take
the chili down for the competition. It’s located down the center of town, where
the awning is set up.”

“I remember.”

Dixie and I changed into skinny jeans and
lacy blouses, applying makeup. Dixie about killed me with all the hairspray she
used on her teased-up hair. “You’re killing the ozone layer with all that
spray. You should be using a pump spray.”

Dixie gave her hair a careful pat. “I hate
pumps; aerosols work much better.”

Margarita waited for us downstairs with an
anxious look on her face. “Hurry and take the chili down before the parade
starts.”

“Too late,” a customer near the window
said.

“Not to worry. We’ll carry it down. Just
give me some pot holders.”

She handed me what I requested and also the
crockpot that was filled with my version of Louisiana chili. I darted past the
packed sidewalk as floats being pulled by horses passed by, all painted white
with matching lace cut into patterns of snowflakes. We ducked when the clowns
tossed candy. As children ran to catch it, I almost tripped over them. I
elbowed my way between two camouflage-dressed men and ambled across the street
between a float carrying the snow queen and one carrying figure skaters.

“You can’t do that,” a lady bellowed, as we
made it to the other side, but I pressed on.

I was panting heavily by the time I made it
to where the chili cook-off was. “It’s too late for any more entries,” bellowed
a man dressed in plaid.

“Be nice now, Milton. Margarita called me
ten minutes ago and told me there was another entry.”

“So, you’re the famous Milton Pabis?” I
asked. “Like, the same one who wins the chili competition every year?”

“Yes,” he said with pride.

“Well, I wouldn’t count on winning this
year.”

The woman clapped her hands. “I just love
healthy competition. I’m Nancy Briggs, by the way. I work at the sheriff’s
department, but I’m the hostess of this event.”

Sheriff’s department, eh? We might have
just run into a bit of luck. “Nice to meet you. How does this chili cook-off
work? I can see all of the chili is already cooked and waiting.”

She carried my chili and placed it on the
table alongside the other crockpots and plugged it in. She then placed a card
in the front, identifying my pot as number twenty-two. “Now skedaddle,
everyone. None of the entrants are allowed to be here. All throughout the day
people will be sampling the chili and voting.” She motioned to a big box with a
slot on the top.

“Do you have trouble with any sabotage?” I
asked, giving Milton the evil eye.

“Actually, yes. That’s why this year I made
up new rules.”

“It’s not my fault I’m a town favorite,” Milton
said, as he stomped away.

“Not to worry, girls. I plan to switch the
pots around so nobody will know who made what.”

“Great plan.”

“What do you think about the recent murder
in town?” Dixie asked. “Do you think it will hurt the winter festival any?”

Nancy straightened her gloves. “It doesn’t
look that way. It might be a good idea to keep mum about the murder.”

“We’d be happy to keep it to ourselves, but
the thing is, the sheriff thinks we are responsible,” I said.

“I swear, how does Sheriff Price figure
that?”

“We’re new in town.”

“The way I see it is that there are plenty
of newcomers in town. Besides, it’s not really that much of a surprise to me
that Clayton met his end.”

My eyes widened. “Oh, really? And why is
that?”

Nancy switched around the crockpots as she
said, “He was a loud mouth for one, and the way he ran around on Marilyn was
just dreadful. If he were my husband, I’d have considered taking him out
myself.”

“Oh.” I feigned shock. “Do you think that’s
what happened? Is his wife capable of murdering the man?”

“I never said she was. I just said what I’d
have thought about if he were my husband, that’s all. Marilyn is on the mousy
side. Plus, Clayton was killed with an arrow, and from my recollection, Marilyn
doesn’t know how to shoot a bow.”

“How well do you know her?”

“Just saw her in passing, really. Poor dear
didn’t look very happy, but most of the town knew first-hand how her husband
was gallivanting around town behind her back.”

“Do you think she knew about that?”

“It’s a small town, dear. I don’t see how
she couldn’t have known.”

“I see. Do you know anyone who is friends
with Marilyn?”

“Roxie Roxx. She’s a teacher. You might be
able to find her selling hot chocolate near the ice sculpting.”

I thanked Nancy, then Dixie and I left just
as the last of the parade made a turn into a cleared lot. I didn’t make it
twenty feet before I spotted Milton hiding behind a tree behind the chili cook
off.

“What on earth is the fool doing?” I asked.

“He really wants to win that chili cook off
bad.”

“I’ll be damned if I let that man win by
default.”

I pursued Milton and found him chatting
with Nancy. It took a few minutes before their voices could be heard. “Now,
Milton, I told you already I can’t help you win again this year. It’s going to
be fair and square.”

“You say that now, but what if I were to
tell the sheriff you were supplying information to those girls about Clayton’s
death? What then?”

“I didn’t tell them anything of much use,
so don’t worry.”

“What should I have to worry about?” he
spat, as he walked away.

“What was that about?” Dixie asked in a
whisper.

I led the way back down the street. “I’m
not sure, but it almost sounded like Nancy was hiding something.”

“I have the feeling like this whole town
might be hiding something. Remember how Daniel seemed to be holding back?”

“He told us Clayton was flashing cash
around town. It has to mean something. Hopefully, we’ll find someone else who can
tell us the same thing.”

“Like the cash hidden in his closet didn’t
speak volumes to you?”

“Perhaps, but I think we should check out
Marilyn’s friend Roxie. I’d sure like to know more about Marilyn than what we
know already, like has she ever gone hunting?

“So, you don’t believe what Nancy said
about Marilyn not knowing how to shoot a bow?”

“I’m not ready to be so willingly led to
form any opinion just yet.”

I made my way to the ice sculptures, where
men and women on ladders chipped away with ice picks and hammers, creating a
spray of ice shards and dust into the air like snow. I smiled when I noticed a
child of about five hitting an ice block with a plastic shovel. Obviously, this
was a family activity.

I breathed deeply, catching the fragrance
of hot cocoa and coffee with a hint of cinnamon. I stood in the line at the
wooden stand where they were selling hot cocoa.

“How are we going to find Roxie?” Dixie
asked. “If she’s manning the counter, we won’t be able to speak with her much.”

“Leave it to me.”

When it was our turn, I placed our order
with the girl at the counter, who swept back a strand of her black hair and
went to make our drinks. As she mixed the water into the chocolate power, I
asked, “Do you know where we can find Roxie Roxx?”

She stopped stirring and glanced up. “What
do you want with Roxie?”

“I need to ask her a few questions. I heard
she was a friend of Marilyn Percy.”

She finished stirring, then added a liberal
amount of whipped cream. “I can’t talk here, but if you give me a half hour,
I’ll meet you in the warming tent.”