Murder Passes the Buck (22 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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said to him, remembering how I

d overheated at Bill

s because I had on so much.

Dress lighter and maybe that red coloring will go away. Wouldn

t hurt to try. And once it gets walked on a bit,

I added,

the shine on those screws will wear away.


The bullet that killed Chester was from his own weapon,

Kitty said while riding shotgun with Cora Mae scrunched in the middle.

He was killed with a rifle from the gun rack at his house.


How do you know that?

I said, excited, and almost drove the truck into the ditch. I pulled over and slammed on the brakes.

Who told you?


I have sources in Escanaba,

Kitty said, smugly.


Does Blaze know about this?

Kitty nodded.

He must. He

d get the report as soon as it was ready.


You

d think I

d be the first one he

d share it with since I was the first one with the murder theory. Figures he

d know and not even tell me. The killer made a mistake putting the murder weapon back,

I reasoned.

If he had dumped the rifle, nobody ever would have known it was Chester

s own rifle.


If you hadn

t noticed the extra rifle in

 

the gun rack Blaze never would have had it checked,

Kitty said.

You

re a hero.

I was starting to like Kitty more and more all the time.

I thought he ignored pretty much everything I said. I

m expecting a full apology from him. A public one.

Frowning, I decided it didn

t make sense. If I planned out a murder, would I use my victim

s rifle?

Why would a killer use the victim

s own weapon to murder him?


Smart, I think,

Kitty said.

Impossible to trace to the killer. All evidence would point back to the victim.


Get back on the road,

Cora Mae said to me,

or you

ll be late for court. And didn

t I say to dress up nice? You

re just asking to lose your case.

I pulled back onto the road.


What

s wrong with the way I

m dressed?

I could feel Cora Mae and Kitty making faces at each other. I wore a brown work jacket over black pants and a green sweatshirt. I had on my hunting boots since the forecast called for more snow.

Cora Mae was dressed like she was going to hang around the downtown lamppost. She had on purple high heels and a fluffy, quilted red coat that barely fit in the truck considering the space reserved for Kitty

s

 

bulk. At least she wasn

t wearing her funeral black.

Kitty wore some kind of tent thing over her housedress and hadn

t bothered to take out her pin curls. Apparently, in her mind, a court appearance didn

t warrant a comb-out.


What

s going to happen in court today?

Cora Mae asked.


They

re going to dismiss the case,

I said.

Blaze doesn

t have a case. He

s probably waiting for me to arrive so he can apologize for doubting me. Then he

ll change his mind about taking me to court.

We approached Escanaba, driving along the shore of Lake Michigan, waves pounding onto the rocks, seagulls cruising the wind overhead.


Don

t you want to know about my date with Onni?

Cora Mae cooed.


Every last detail,

Kitty said.


Only the part about the land,

I said quickly before Cora Mae could start in on more details than I

d ever want to know.


Here

s what happened in a nutshell. Way back when, years ago, Chester

s dad won the land from Onni

s dad in a poker game.


Over three hundred acres lost in a card game.

Kitty squealed.

And we play for pennies and match sticks. Imagine that.

 


But Chester

s family didn

t win the mineral rights because Onni

s dad wouldn

t bet them away. No one knew why, although Onni said there was a rumor going around that traces of gold were discovered back by Bear Creek and if it turned out someday to be true, owning the mineral rights would be important.


Gold,

I straightened up at that.

Gold in the UP.?

Kitty leaned over Cora Mae.

Haven

t you ever heard of Old Ropes Gold Mine over by Ishpeming? That underground mine produced gold for fourteen years. Some folks think Tamarack County is the next hotbed.


This is the dumbest thing I

ve ever heard,

I said.

If someone had discovered gold, all of Stonely would be hunting for gold instead of hunting for Big Buck.


Keep your eyes on the road,

Cora Mae said to me in a loud voice as the right tire hit the gravel on the side of the road. I corrected quickly.

Kitty shook her head and the vibration traveled through Cora Mae and rippled against my side.

Rumor has it some people around here are making their living from secret locations of gold.


Who? And where?

I wanted to know.

Who do we know? Everyone around here

 

is poor as a wet-rot potato patch. If your theory is right, they must all be hiding their wealth behind broken-down houses. Besides, if that was true, Onni never would have turned the rights over to Barney.


That

s right,

Cora Mae said.

Onni didn

t believe it either.


Why did he give it to Barney in the first place?

I pulled into the courthouse parking lot and crawled along scanning for an empty slot.


He traded it for that old Ford tractor you used to have.


Not the one he had to tow off because it had two flat tires and wouldn

t start?


That

s the one.


Dumbest thing I

ve ever heard.

The Escanaba courthouse is imposing, impersonal, and the last place on earth I wanted to be at the moment. Our footsteps sounded like thunder, our whispers echoed ahead of us, heavy doors cracked close in the distance, and people with suspicion and pain in their eyes sat on uncomfortable benches, waiting and worrying and watching.


The ugliest people in the world are in this courthouse,

Kitty said, the harsh florescent lights turning her teeth an un
healthy

 

yellow and enlarging her pores.

Gives me the creeps.

We sat outside the courtroom, stuffed together on a bench until Blaze arrived, surrounded by a group of people. They stood across the hall, heads together, and my hopes of a peaceful resolution dissipated like fog at dawn.

Blaze and I entered the courtroom like complete strangers, without acknowledging each other and without eye contact. Our entourages followed: Cora Mae and Kitty pressed tightly together like Siamese twins, and Blaze

s two attorneys. Apparently one was not enough. He needed two devious legal minds to help him beat down and assure the complete defeat of one helpless woman.

A hearing was concluding so we slid onto more hard benches, Blaze and counsel on one side, Cora Mae, Kitty, and myself on the other.

An older woman, who I guessed to be around eighty-five years old, rose from a table at the front of the courtroom and confronted the opposing side, a quiver in her lips, moisture gleaming in her eyes.


You can

t keep me from going back to my home,

she said, angrily.

You can

t stop me.

 

I studied the two women she addressed with her comments. They had many of the woman

s same features, her daughters I presumed. The attorney seated next to them, wearing a gray suit, smirked like she

d just crushed her opponent.


How can you think this is funny?

the old woman said to the attorney.

I wondered what she could have possibly done to deserve this kind of treatment from her daughters. I wondered what I had done to deserve it from Blaze. I couldn

t see his side of the picture at all.

The old woman

s attorney hustled her out of the courtroom before she could cause a scene, and we moved up to the two tables in front of the judge

s bench. The plan was for me to sit alone at one of the tables, and for Cora Mae and Kitty to sit right behind me. At the last moment as my name was announced, Kitty plunked down in the seat next to me at the table.

The judge, a little bitty man buried in an enormous robe, wore his hair in a military-style cropped cut and looked about twelve years old.


This is a preliminary hearing to determine whether the case will be contested and to set a court date if necessary. Are you Mrs. Johnson

s attorney?

 

He looked at Kitty

s pin-curled head.


Yes, your honor,

Kitty said, like she spent every day fighting courtroom crime.

Blaze whispered to his attorney, who then jumped up and informed the court that Kitty couldn

t represent me.


That

s fine,

I said into the microphone on the table.

I don

t need to hire an attorney to tell you I

m not insane. I can tell you myself.


Are you contesting the hearing?

the judge said to me, his expression unreadable.


Absolutely.


Then we will set a court date, and I advise you, Mrs. Johnson, to consult with an attorney. This is a serious issue, one an attorney can advise you best on.

One of Blaze

s legal schmegals rose.

Your Honor, we are asking the court to set a date as soon as possible since there is some immediacy.


The calendar is very full.

The judge shuffled papers.


Your Honor, Mrs. Johnson appears to be in need of immediate supervision. She has squandered her life savings, damaged the plaintiffs home and vehicle, and has allegedly vandalized her own home. In view of the new facts surrounding this case, we would like to request placement as well.

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