Murder Passes the Buck (30 page)

I shook my head. Where was she learning these words?

Kitty didn
’
t seem to think anything of it. She acted like she used big words every day. I watched her suck in pancakes without chewing.

“
See what rifles are in the shops for repair,
”
I said.
“
Someone
’
s helping themselves to a lot of weapons, and I can
’
t figure out why. Maybe a name will jump out at you.
”

“
We can go through the yellow pages,
”
Kitty said.
“
There can
’
t be too many gun repair shops.
”

“
You better go to them. Maybe Cora Mae can weasel information out of them that they wouldn
’
t give on the phone.
”
I sipped my coffee and tried to ignore my head, which throbbed from yesterday
’
s wound.
“
Every hardware store repairs guns. Hit every last one of them.
”

Kitty shifted her weight.
“
This is serious business now. Someone tried to kill you. No more fun and games. We have to get the killer before he gets you.
”

“
Let
’
s go over the facts one more time,
”
I said, flipping open my notebook.
“
Chester
’
s family wins Onni
’
s family land in a poker game, but Onni retains the mineral rights. Chester
’
s ready to sell the land to an outfit

from Chicago, but is murdered before he can complete the deal. The desperate killer rips apart Chester
’
s house and my house and we have to assume he
’
s looking for the mineral rights, which suddenly I own.
”

I glanced up.
“
Right so far.
”

“
Right,
”
Kitty and Cora Mae said in unison.

“
The killer,
”
I continued,
“
steals George
’
s rifle and uses it to attempt to kill me. According to Onni, when Barb tried to buy the mineral rights from him, he told her I owned them. And finally, Bill said Barb wouldn
’
t let him sell the land.
”

I dropped the notebook on the table.
“
This is all adding up.
”

“
And?
”
Cora Mae leaned expectantly over the table.

“
It
’
s obvious, Cora Mae,
”
I said.
“
Barb has a motive; she didn
’
t want the land sold. And she had the opportunity to steal Chester
’
s rifle and kill him. We have our killer. And to think I almost believed her.
”

“
Killers are smooth talkers,
”
Kitty said, like she really knew anything about murderers.

While we were eating pancakes, Little Donny walked in dressed in hunter
’
s orange. He settled at the table and Cora Mae slapped a stack of pancakes on his plate.

“
Blaze is driving me to the airport this afternoon,
”
he said through a mouthful.
“
I
’
m heading back to Milwaukee.
”

“
I
’
m sure going to miss you,
”
I said to Little Donny.
“
It
’
s been great fun, even if you didn
’
t get your buck. Plan on coming next September for bear season. That
’
s always a good time.
”

“
Sounds like a plan,
”
Little Donny said, butter dripping from his chin.

The phone rang and Cora Mae picked it up. Listening to her one-sided conversation, I knew she was talking to Blaze.

“
A robber? Impossible… . Me? … Well, it
’
s my word against hers and I say I didn
’
t do it… Can
’
t two people own the same dress? Hers wasn
’
t the only one made, you know.
”

Cora Mae had her free hand on her hip and rolled her eyes for our benefit.
“
Kitty
’
s license plate number on the getaway car? You
’
ll have to talk to her about that.
”
She listened again then covered the receiver and said to me,
“
Blaze wants to talk to you.
”

“
I
’
m not here.
”

“
She
’
s not here,
”
Cora Mae said into the phone and hung up.

Little Donny stayed until the box of pancake mix was empty then gave goodbye hugs all around.

I slipped on my boots and jacket, and walked with him to Blaze
’
s Buick.
“
Maybe you can come for Christmas. Tell Heather to come, too.
”

“
Depends on whether or not I have a job.
”

I nodded and waved as he drove off. Snow the size of cotton balls plopped down in fluffy piles, and I swept the porch one more time before going back in.

Kitty had a theory waiting for me inside.

“
I think George is the killer,
”
she said, casually dropping her bombshell.

I almost spit coffee.
“
That
’
s a good one.
”

Kitty didn
’
t smile.
“
And I think George tried to kill you. He knew you weren
’
t home the night of the break in.
”

“
But he was with me the entire time, playing cards. He has an iron-clad alibi.
”

“
He
’
s the accomplice.
”

“
And whose accomplice would he be?
”

“
Barb Lampi
’
s,
”
Kitty said.

Cora Mae
’
s eyes grew wide and she gasped.
“
A love triangle.
”

“
No.
”
I snorted.
“
A love triangle would be between George, Barb, and Bill. Bill would be dead, not Chester.
”

“
You
’
re right.
”

“
Where was George while you were fighting for your life in the blind?
”
Kitty asked.

“
Cutting Christmas trees.
”

“
Where was Little Donny?
”

“
I don
’
t know.
”
I frowned in thought, remembering that Little Donny came from the direction of the house and George had come from the tree line.
“
Working in the barn maybe.
”

“
You don
’
t know where George was,
”
Kitty said, slowly.
“
But you know who owned the rifle.
”

I felt the color drain out of my face.
“
George
’
s rifle was stolen.
”

“
Was it? George had time to attack you, hide the clothes he wore, and pop out of the woods as good old George, your friend.
”

“
This can
’
t be true,
”
I muttered.

“
A horrible thought just raced through my head.
”
Cora Mae squealed.
“
What if it
is
true and Little Donny showed up before he could finish the job? I think Little Donny might have saved your life.
”

Kitty slapped her thighs.
“
There you go.
”

The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded.

Kitty shifted again and the chair groaned.
“
George and Barb could be lovers, driven by greed for the land and the promise of gold. George knew he had to kill you before you exposed his scheme. You haven
’
t been telling him about our investigation, have you?
”

I shuddered, remembering.
“
I might have told him a little.
”

“
You have to learn to keep a secret,
”
Loudspeaker Kitty had the nerve to say.
“
It could be the difference between life and death.
”

“
Every time I
’
m interested in somebody they turn out to be a prime suspect in this murder case.
”
Cora Mae said.

“
You do go through them quickly,
”
Kitty observed, while I studied her.

“
Well,
”
I said.
“
This new murder theory was a lot of fun, but let
’
s get back to real life now and work on this case. George is no more a murderer than I am a …
”
I struggled with a comparison.

“
…a fashion model,
”
Cora Mae finished for me with a howl.

Kitty tilted her chair back onto two legs, I saw a slight wobble, and Kitty, in slow motion, sank to the floor.

“
Legs snapped right off the chair,
”
she puffed as we helped her up and resettled her in a sturdier chair.

I couldn
’
t help noticing Kitty
’
s new wardrobe accessories.
“
Where did you find white bobby pins?
”

“
A hairdresser friend of mine. You like them?
”

“
Snazzy,
”
I said.

A few minutes later Kitty and Cora Mae squealed out of the driveway in Kitty
’
s rusted-out beater, hot on the trail of the man they insisted had only pretended to be my friend.

“
Don
’
t forget Barb,
”
I called after them.
“
My money
’
s on her.
”

A few minutes after that, they were back at the house.

“
Almost forgot my job,
”
Kitty said sheepishly after climbing the steps one more time and resting.
“
You have to come with us if I
’
m going to protect you. I messed up once, I
’
m not about to do it again.
”

“
You can drop me at my appointment.
”

The psychological evaluator put me through what he called
“
a battery of tests,
”
including the old standard inkblots. They were easy.

“
Doughnuts,
”
I said when he asked me to use my imagination.
“
Tractor tires, blow flies.
”
‘

I tried to explain to him that I didn
’
t have time for all this nonsense; I had a bigger goose to cook. But he insisted that the court would expect the results of these specific tests.

After the written and visual tests, he wanted to talk about me and about what