Murder Passes the Buck (35 page)

truck is in the ditch over there.
”
I pointed across the road. We could barely see the truck sunk in the ditch.

“
Well, git in.
”

I jumped into the car, the warmth from the heater blasting in my face. It felt great.

“
Looks like you left the truck running and the lights are on.
”
Floyd peered out into the night.
“
I
’
ll shut everything off.
”
He got out, crossed the road, and a few seconds later I saw the lights in the truck go out.
“
It
’
s sure cold out there,
”
he said after he climbed back into the car.

As we pulled out, I remembered my purse and stun gun were somewhere in the truck, and almost asked Floyd to turn around, but changed my mind. In another few minutes it would be completely dark and no one passing would be able to see the truck. When I got back, everything would be right where I left it.

“
Thank the Lord I saw you. Passed you up in Stonely. Looked like Kitty
’
s cousin you were talking to. You all right?
”
Floyd wanted to know.
“
You have blood all over your face.
”

I reached up and noticed a cut on the back of my hand.
“
Must be from this,
”
I said showing him my hand.

“
There
’
s a rag in the glove compartment,
”

he said, watching the road.
“
Use that. It
’
s clean.
”

I wrapped my hand in the piece of cloth. The cold had pretty much stopped the bleeding anyway. It didn
’
t look serious. I clicked on the overhead light and pulled the rearview mirror over to my side and checked out my face and head. Other than a mess of dried blood, I couldn
’
t find any injuries other than my head knot.

My truck was in a lot worse shape than I was.

I warmed my hands next to the heat register as we drove back through Stonely.
“
Your house is closest,
”
I said.
“
Let
’
s stop there and I
’
ll use your phone to call somebody to pull my truck out.
”

“
My thoughts exactly.
”
Floyd turned onto his road.
“
Come on in and warm up,
”
he said when we pulled up to his house.

I heard a sound as I closed the car door, shrill yet muted, like a screech owl in the distance.
“
What
’
s that?
”
I asked Floyd.

“
What
’
s what?
”
Floyd said, and I remembered his defective hearing aid.

“
Nothing.
”

“
I sure am glad I ran into you,
”
Floyd said after we entered the house and he hung his coat on a hook by the door.
“
The good Lord guided me right to you.
”

“
Well, that
’
s nice, but can you guide me to your phone? I
’
ll be out of your hair as soon as possible. Oh, look at this.
”
I bent down and picked up a white bobby pin, the exact same kind Kitty had in her hair earlier in the day.
“
Has Kitty been here?
”

“
Say what?
”
Floyd had his back to me, fumbling through a kitchen drawer.

“
Kitty,
”
I said as loud as I could.
“
Has Kitty been here?
”

“
Don
’
t know why you
’
d think that.
”
Floyd turned around and grinned, not a warm friendly grin, but rather a hard, cold grimacing grin.

And I couldn
’
t help noticing the long-bladed carving knife he held in his hand.

_Fourteen

Word for the Day

VISCERAL (VIS uhr uhl) adj.

Intuitive; instinctive;

emotional rather than intellectual.

“
What are you doing?
”
I asked with growing dread.
“
Taking care of a few loose ends.
”
The first thing I did was talk myself out of collapsing on the floor. It wasn
’
t enough that I
’
d almost died in a truck accident and that the knot on my head was throbbing with pain. My instinct, failing me until this moment, shouted out the truth, and it was a great measure of the importance of my friendship with George that my very first thought was of him. I muttered under my breath,
“
Thank you, George. Thank you for not letting me down. Thank you for not destroying my faith in humanity, my faith in you.
”

My gratitude was short-lived. Now was not the time to discover that Floyd
’
s secret occupation was murderer, since I was alone with him, miles from help, and couldn
’
t be more unprepared. I didn
’
t have my shotgun or the stun gun, only my pepper spray.

A small voice inside told me I was probably overreacting. There must be a logical answer.

“
I
’
m ready to go home,
”
I said to Floyd, pretending that the knife didn
’
t exist, that it wasn
’
t pointing directly at me, that I wasn
’
t up a creek without a paddle or panning equipment.

“
You
’
re going for a ride, all right,
”
he said quietly.
“
But not in the direction you think.
”

I chose that moment to reach under my jacket, yank the pepper spray out of my vest and aim it at his face. I pressed the button. Nothing happened. The spray didn
’
t spray and Floyd didn
’
t fall on the ground writhing in pain like Onni had.

“
The can must have frozen,
”
I said to no one in particular, banging it against a kitchen chair while I reached into my vest with the other hand. In a blur of motion, I dropped the can, pulled out my Swiss army knife, snapped it open, and faced off with Floyd. My two-inch blade gleamed in the fluorescent kitchen light.

Floyd smirked, reached into another drawer, never taking his eyes off of me, and I found myself staring down the barrel of a gun. Floyd dropped the knife into the drawer and closed it up.

I
’
d used up my entire arsenal and it hadn
’
t been enough. I raised my hands in defeat, my small knife clattering to the floor.

“
Why couldn
’
t you leave well enough alone?
”
Floyd
’
s eyes had a wild, crazy gleam to them, a trait I wished I
’
d noticed the day I caught him in his birthday suit inside his sauna. Although, his eyes weren
’
t my first concern at the time.

I stared at the gun.
“
What
’
s happened to Kitty?
”
The white bobby pin lay on the floor between us where I
’
d dropped it attempting to defend myself.

“
Wouldn
’
t you like to know,
”
Floyd sneered while I watched his right hand.
“
You two are going to meet up in the afterlife.
”

My mouth dropped open.
“
Don
’
t tell me you killed Kitty. Why would you do that? She never harmed a flea in her whole life.
”

Floyd cocked the gun.

“
Don
’
t shoot me in here,
”
I advised.
“
My DNA will be smeared all over the place and they
’
ll catch you.
”

“
Don
’
t plan to shoot you unless you do

something stupid.
”

“
I wouldn
’
t do anything stupid,
”
I reassured him.

“
What I am going to do is haul you out back of the garage and tie you to the clothesline pole till you freeze up good. Then I
’
m going to take your stiff little body and throw it in the woods back behind your truck. Everyone will think you froze to death accidentally.
”

“
I
’
ve always had the hots for you,
”
I said,
“
and you know it. Maybe you and I can blow this place together. Nobody has to know the truth.
”

That line always worked in the gangster movies, but it was a long shot here. I must be really desperate to even think it. If I make it out of here alive, I
’
ll deny ever saying it.

I had to admit that the freeze-her-stiff idea was a good one, better than anything I
’
d ever come up with.

“
Why did you kill Chester? He was your friend.
”

“
Same reason I
’
m going to kill you. To protect my interests.
”

“
You don
’
t own the land, Floyd. You don
’
t own the mineral rights. You don
’
t have any rights at all.
”

Floyd
’
s face flushed red, his eyes bulging, his gun hand quivering.
“
All I ever wanted

was the land to stay the way it was. But, no, Chester wanted to sell out to a big city outfit and he wouldn
’
t listen to sense. When I stopped by his place to see if he wanted to take a sauna and I saw the contract lying on the kitchen table, I couldn
’
t believe it. I went out to the blind and tried to reason with him, but I couldn
’
t talk him out of it. I didn
’
t have a choice.
”

“
So you went back to his house, took his rifle, and shot him?
”

“
I guess I panicked and wasn
’
t thinking right. I drove off with the rifle and had to figure out how to get it back in. Would have worked out if you hadn
’
t stuck your big nose in. And then I found out from Onni that you owned the mineral rights.
”

“
But I didn
’
t register the deed.
”

“
That
’
s right, and you never are going to have the opportunity, either.
”

“
You don
’
t have to kill me,
”
I said, grasping for straws.
“
I won
’
t tell anybody. I
’
ll listen to reason. I
’
m not like Chester. I won
’
t register it. In fact, I
’
ll turn it over to you.
”

“
You
’
re a nosy busybody who causes trouble wherever you go. And I don
’
t want the deed. I told you, all I want is for things to stay just the way they are.
”

Floyd looked rabid, hunks of spittle shot