Murder Passes the Buck (11 page)

“
I didn
’
t think to look. Leave it to you to latch on to the important things.
”
If Cora Mae
’
s eye for detail extended past the subjects of sex and lust, she
’
d be an integral part of our investigation team. I
’
d have to work on developing it.

“
Do you know anything about her at all?
”
I wanted to know.
“
I mean, besides the falsie thing.
”

Kitty leaned into the center of the truck cab, scrunching Cora Mae over into the steering wheel. It was all I could do to keep the truck on the road.

“
Bill got her a job over at the Highway Department where he works,
”
Kitty said.
“
She
’
s the one waves the little flag at cars when they
’
re doing road construction. Guys can
’
t keep their minds on work, I hear. I can
’
t understand a thing she says. That southern accent, you know.
”

“
Changing the subject,
”
Cora Mae continued,
“
guess who has a date for next Tuesday night with yours truly?
”

“
Got him, hunh?
”

“
Piece of cake. Onni didn
’
t stand a chance. He
’
s coming to my place and I
’
m going to make him something to eat and we
’
re going to rent a movie.
”

“
Sounds like a cheap date to me. I
’
d make him take you out,
”
Kitty suggested. She

shifted her hips and everyone in the truck had to readjust.
“
Either of you have anything for my rummage sale?
”
she asked.

“
Who has a rummage sale in November? That
’
s what I want to know,
”
Cora Mae said.

“
I
’
m desperate for cash. It
’
s the only way of making some quick. You know I lost my job. Gertie, did you put together a few boxes like you said you would?
”

“
They
’
re in the shed, mostly books, odds and ends. I
’
ll drop the stuff off.
”

Then I told them about Blaze and the guardianship hearing. I remembered too late that Kitty is Stonely
’
s walking newspaper and there
’
s no way this isn
’
t going to be all over town.

“
Impose harm on others?
”
Kitty hooted.
“
Where is he coming up with that?
”

Cora Mae was angry.
“
How your own son who lives on your land free could do this … makes me glad I never had kids.
”

Friends are wonderful. They always stick up for you and say just the right things. Sharing my problems with them made me feel better instantly.

“
We have to fix you up before you go to court,
”
Cora Mae continued.

“
What needs fixing up? I
’
m fine just the way I am.
”

“
Oh, Gertie, you
’
re a little …
”
Cora Mae was struggling for the right word.

“
A little what?
”
I wanted to know

“
Aggressive.
”

“
Aggressive!
”
I shouted.
“
What
’
s that supposed to mean? I
’
ve never been aggressive a day in my life.
”

“
Keep your eyes on the road.
”

“
What do you think, Kitty? Am I aggressive?
”

“
Nothing
’
s wrong with being outspoken,
”
Kitty said. I glanced across Cora Mae and saw Kitty
’
s pin-curl-less corkscrews bobbing.

“
But you need a wardrobe overhaul,
”
Kitty added.

“
Something soft and pink with ruffles to wear to court,
”
Cora Mae agreed.

“
I
’
ll eat rabbit pellets before you get me into something pink with ruffles,
”
I said.

I dropped Cora Mae off first. As soon as she slammed the truck door and walked away, Kitty said,
“
I know why you did that back there.
”

“
What? Back where?
”
I turned around and looked out the back window of the truck.

“
The scene you made with Chester
’
s son. I think you did that on purpose.
”

I opened my eyes wide in mock surprise.
“
Now why would I do that?
”

“
Maybe to flush out the murderer. You think he
’
ll sit tight as long as everyone thinks it was an accident. You think if he knows you
’
re starting to nose around, he might get scared and do something foolish.
”

“
A picayune act,
”
I said, pleased I had found an opportunity to use my new word.

“
On the contrary,
”
Kitty said.
“
It was a fulgent act and very apropos considering the circumstances.
”

I stared at her. She didn
’
t seem to notice. Fulgent? I cleared my throat.
“
Do you think he was murdered, too?
”

“
Probably not, but I
’
d really like to ride with you.
”

“
Ride with me?
”

“
I hear you and Cora Mae are starting an investigation business and I
’
d like to join.
”

I thought about having to stuff Kitty into the cab of my truck every time we went to interrogate a suspect. A private eye has to blend into the woodwork. Kitty is like a semi coming down a logging road with the logs flying off the back end. You can
’
t miss her.

“
I
’
ll think about it, but this isn
’
t a club,
”
I said in my least aggressive tone of voice.
“
You can
’
t just join anytime you want to.
”

Besides, I didn
’
t want to have to start

car
rying a dictionary around with me. Show off.

_Five

Word for the Day

IMPETUOUS (im PECH oo uhs) adj.
Acting suddenly with little thought; impulsive.

Even though I was angry at Blaze and looking for the right time to talk to him about the whole incompetence court thing, I still was capable of worrying about him. His color wasn
’
t good these days
— his face resembled an overripe tomato, and his breathing seemed labored like he
’
d just run five miles. It could be all that weight he carried. I decided to talk to him soon. A little dieting wouldn
’
t hurt, and he should get a physical to make sure the old thumper operated smoothly.

Maybe he had a medical condition that caused him to behave irrationally, which would explain the court hearing. Or maybe it was the stress of his job.

I wanted to make things right with him. The constant feuding wore me down and interfered with my effectiveness as an investigator. I wanted a truce and I wanted the hearing cancelled, and I knew just how to do it.

He and Mary always go into Trenary for breakfast on Saturdays at Buck
’
s Inn with some of their friends.

Bright and early I drove to Ray
’
s General Store and stocked up on a few supplies I knew I
’
d need. Then I watched out the window for Blaze
’
s blue Oldsmobile, which is the family car he drives when he isn
’
t on duty. My kids, both Blaze and Star, have to drive right past my house to get out to the road, which as I
’
ve mentioned is convenient for keeping an eye on them. I walked out on the porch and waved when Blaze and Mary went by, then ran for Barney
’
s truck.

I pulled into Blaze
’
s drive and parked in front of his mobile home. His sheriff truck was parked in the pole barn, the barn door wide open, inviting me in. I pulled out a can of spray paint from the hardware store and compared the yellow can cover to the color of Blaze
’
s rusted-out
sheriffs
truck.

Close enough, I thought, and began spraying.

It was colder outside than the can recom
mended

for use, so I had to warm it inside my jacket every once in a while, and I had to keep shaking it as I worked. I only intended to spray the rusted-out areas, but the color match wasn
’
t as good as I
’
d originally thought and I ended up spraying the entire truck.

It seemed like a good idea at first and I implemented it with the best of intentions. I really thought I could spot-paint the rust spots and make his truck look like new. I really did. But things got out of hand and every over-spray I tried to correct spread like an oil spill on Lake Michigan.

I finished up with a sigh of frustration, my arms sore, my spirits dampened. I
’
d almost shaken my uppers loose in my mouth.

I couldn
’
t find any masking tape in the barn to cover the silver trim and door handles, which turned out to be a problem. They now were yellow. I had protected the windows as I sprayed by holding up a piece of cardboard I
’
d ripped from a box. I took a can of paint thinner from a shelf and dabbed with a rag at a few yellow splatters on the window glass.

When I left the barn the ground had a light dusting of fresh snow, like powdered sugar on a doughnut hole. The sun peeked out of the clouds, reflecting off the snow. I

dug in my pocket for my Blue Blocker sunglasses and put them on. I leaned against the barn, breathing the fresh air. In the shadow I cast on the side of the barn, I could see my earflaps, and they looked like bird wings poised for flight. I bobbed up and down, pretending I was an eagle. That
’
s where I stood, my earflaps flapping, my sunglasses shielding me from the sun, an empty can of yellow spray paint in my hand, when Blaze and Mary pulled up.

Next time I come back to this world, I plan on coming back as a bird. I
’
d be safely overhead right now if I could fly. Instead, feeling awkward and helpless, I prepared to
“
wing it
”
the only way I knew how.

I grinned.

Glancing down, I saw flecks of yellow paint on the ground circling my feet.

Mary sat closest to me and I could see the look of surprise on her face when she spotted the paint can. Blaze jumped out and, following the paint splotches, ran to the barn door. He was that same overripe tomato color I worried about. He didn
’
t say anything, just turned and walked quickly to the house, his fist clutching his chest.

“
I can explain this,
”
I said to Mary when she got out of the car.

“
Whatever possessed you to spray paint