Murder Passes the Buck (36 page)

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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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from his mouth.

I never in my wildest nightmare imagined I

d be confronting Chester

s killer alone and in the dark. I thought it would be in the light of day and with a posse to back me up, with the whole place cordoned off.

My mind was telling me this was a good time to panic. Start screaming and running around. Go over the deep end. My mind and I talked back and forth, reasoning it out, and I decided the only way I had a chance was if I started thinking.


Why, Floyd? Why do you care about Chester

s land?

I asked.


Gold,

he whispered.


That

s ridiculous. There isn

t any gold back there.


In the beginning it was just a joke.

Floyd

s eyes glazed over and his trigger hand shook.

We were stationed in Korea, Chester, Onni, and I, and we told stories to keep our minds off of the war. Chester already owned the land, but Onni didn

t hold it against him. And Onni told us about the rumor of gold and we imagined panning for gold after the war. It was all in fun, you see. Didn

t think about it again for years. Then my Eva took sick and I was desperate to take care of her, and we didn

t have much money. They were going to put

 

her in a state-owned nursing home. You ever been in one of those?

I shook my head.


Well, I remembered what Onni said, and with God

s help, I went back to Bear Creek and the Lord provided. Onni and Chester were fools not to believe it. How else could I afford to take good care of Eva?


You mean, you really found gold?


Enough to get by. Enough to put her in a good place.

I shook my head in wonder.

Then I threw the pepper spray can in Floyd

s face. He raised an arm to deflect the can and he fired a wild shot as I pelted him with the fire starter from my pocket, then a bookend from the table next to me. The heavy bookend connecting with his broad forehead and the inaccuracy of his next frantic shot gave me the few precious seconds I needed to escape out the door.

I hit the driveway running, wishing I

d worn running sneakers instead of boots. They felt like they weighed fifty pounds each. By the time I reached the cover of the side of the garage, I was walking pretty slowly because the wind was engaged in a full frontal attack. I couldn

t feel my hands anymore, and the cold reached into my lungs, freezing them up, too.

 

A shrill whistle pierced the wind, and I realized the sound came from Floyd

s sauna on the far side of the house.


Gertie,

Floyd called from the porch.

Come in here right now or I

m burning the sauna. And guess who

s inside?

I remembered the rope whistles we bought on our excursion to Escanaba. Kitty was locked in the sauna, blowing on her whistle.


I

ll burn Kitty,

he shouted again. I peeked around the side of the garage and saw him framed in the light from the house holding the fire starter I had thrown at his head. He had the gun in the other hand and a can of gasoline at his feet, and he looked wildly desperate.

The whistle screeched.

I hesitated. How could I run into the icy night and leave Kitty behind? Could I even find help before I froze? My eyes teared from the cold and I blinked several times to clear my vision.

Floyd began pouring fuel on the front of the sauna.

I crept around the back of the garage and plowed into the backend of Kitty

s car. Floyd must have pulled the car off the driveway to hide it from view.

Smoke swirled in the air. I smelled burning wood.

 

I opened the door and the buzzer went off, telling me that the keys were still in the ignition. I slipped in as quickly as possible, hoping Floyd

s hearing was poor enough to miss the sound.


Surrender,

Floyd screamed over the frantic wail of the whistle and the screaming wind.

Or she dies.

Kitty

s car leapt from the shadows and I bore down on the sauna. Flames licked out from the doorframe, completely covering the front of the building. Floyd saw me coming and ran toward the car, pointing his gun at the windshield.

I didn

t let up. Floyd, his face frozen in shock, flung himself at the hood of the car, rolling and crashing into the windshield as I carried him with me into the wood frame of the sauna.

The sauna buckled. I threw the car in reverse, backed out, and screeched to a halt. Floyd rolled off the car groaning, his leg at an unnatural angle. I leapt from the car, kicked the gun out of his reach and continued on, running into the flaming building.

Kitty and I collided and I started to fall, but she grabbed me with one beefy arm and dragged me out with her through the gaping hole.


I blew on that whistle till I thought my

 

brains would ooze out,

she said between sputters and coughs.

What took you so long?

The best thing about my friends is the level of gratitude they display whenever I help them out.

Before we could decide whether to leave Floyd on the ground to freeze to death or to make a call and save him, Blaze screeched into the driveway with George and Cora Mae beside him.

Blaze called an ambulance after throwing a blanket over Floyd, who had stopped moaning. I wanted to straighten out his leg for him and see how loud he could scream, but I restrained myself and told my story instead.

After the ambulance crew loaded Floyd and Blaze had made arrangements for a deputy to meet the ambulance at the hospital, Kitty and I followed Blaze

s
sheriffs
truck to his mobile home. Mary waited with hot cocoa and warm blankets. We all piled in
— Blaze, George, Cora Mae, Kitty, and me.


I suspected Floyd had killed Chester all along,

Kitty said, black smudges from the fire blotting her face.

Kid in a private college out east, big satellite dish in the yard,

 

wife in a private nursing home. It didn

t add up. When George told me the gold pan belonged to Floyd, I knew for sure.

I glanced at George.

I thought it belonged to you.

George shook his head.

I saw it in Floyd

s car when he stalled out last summer and I gave him a jump.


You even said it belonged to you.


You sure have been acting strange,

George said.


I

ve been acting strange? You were the one who said you owned it.


I would have told you who owned it if you

d asked me outright. I thought we were talking code or something.

George is a fine man, but he

s still a man, and their logic escapes me. I opened my mouth to try to make my point again.

Kitty interrupted.

George is the one who told Floyd he was picking you up for cards the night your house was searched. That

s how Floyd knew you weren

t home.


When did you two have this enlightening discussion?

I wanted to know.


Outside the restaurant right after you found the gold pan.

Kitty slurped cocoa.

Don

t you two ever talk?


Not since you convinced me he was trying to kill me.

 

George and I exchanged stares and I shrugged as if to say, sorry about that. George grinned.

That

s why you

ve been running away from me like I

m a rabid skunk.


Well, I was wrong,

Kitty said when I glared at her.

Can

t I be wrong once in a while?


Why did you tell me you weren

t in Gladstone when we followed you. …

I stopped and covered my mouth.


You

ve been following me?

George had a gleam in his eyes.

I felt embarrassment coloring my face.

Maybe once. Just once.


Carl

s driving a rental car while his is in for repair. We swapped vehicles so I could watch Cora Mae

s house without anyone spotting me. You must have been following Carl.

Cora Mae sat at the kitchen table, not saying a word, and I noticed tears welling in her eyes.

What

s up?

I asked.


To think I almost lost both of you.

She jumped up and after a round of hugs we settled back in and Cora Mae wiped her eyes.


Everything happened at once,

she said.

I closed up the sale and right after that George stopped by concerned about Ger
tie.

 

Kitty was missing. Now Gertie was missing, too. We called Onni and he said that Barb and Floyd had both tried to buy the mineral rights and when Floyd found out Onni didn

t have them anymore, he blew up. Onni said Floyd always had a short fuse, even in the Marines.


We called Blaze right away,

Cora Mae sniffled.


Let

s go out tomorrow,

George said to me, right in front of everybody.

Now that I

ve been cleared of all charges against me.

I blushed for the first time in years, feeling awkward and shy.

We can talk about it later,

I said, not sure I was ready, but not ready to say no to him either. He took my hand and squeezed in understanding.


Sure,

George said.

Take your time. There isn

t any rush.

I looked over at Blaze.

Now we can forget about this court stuff. Right?

Blaze wasn

t nearly as understanding.

 

Fifteen

Word for the Day

IMPUGN (im PYOON) v. Attack by argument or criticism; oppose or challenge as false or questionable.

I made a few concessions for court. Instead of my hunting jacket and boots, I wore a black skirt, a crisp button-down white blouse, and a pair of old penny loafers I found in the back of my closet. The alternative would have been worse
— Cora Mae wanted to dress me.

I thought Blaze would give up this ridiculous hearing after I almost single-handedly brought in a deranged killer and saved Kitty

s life, but he dug in his heels and wouldn

t budge.

He claimed all I single-handedly did was mess up and come close to getting myself killed. Maybe there were a few things I

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