“I’ll go inside and call the sheriff,” I offered, walking away quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

  The band was taking a break, so the room noise had subsided. The keg was still the most popular spot to socialize. Kitty had commandeered a corner table with the nosiest, gossipiest bunch of women in the entire county. She noticed me right away when I rushed at her. Eye contact, a nod, and she stepped in right behind me.

  “I have a gun in my pocket,” I said, whispering in her ear inside the ladies room. “And there’s a dead man outside.”

  “What do you need?” Not even a blink from her. I could have been talking about the weather for all the response I got. Someday I’d have to take the time to delve into her past. There’s more there than meets the eye.

  “The gun has to disappear before the cops arrive,” I said, not quite believing that I was stealing the murder weapon and expecting my friend to help me. “It’s mine and it’s the murder weapon.”

  That got more of a reaction. Her facial expression didn’t change, but her eyes widened.

  “I didn’t kill him. You can say no to getting involved,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t. “You’re taking a risk.”

  “Hand it over.” Kitty moved closer, opened her purse wide, and we made the transfer.

  “Don’t handle it without gloves,” I said. “It’s bad enough that my fingerprints are on it. I’m calling nine-one-one about the dead guy in a minute. Go now.”

  Kitty nodded.

  I didn’t have time to tell her the rest. That my Glock wasn’t the only piece of evidence lying next to the dead man. There were two.

  The smoking gun.

  And the other?

  A black Kromer exactly like the one worn by the credit union shooter.

  ____________________

  “Someone’s setting me up,” I said to Cora Mae from the side of the gawking crowd of spectators. Word had spread fast. The music faded away and the beer keg wasn’t the center of attention any longer. Next door, I saw Grandma Johnson working her way carefully down the church steps, which meant the bingo group knew, too. Sirens wailed in the distance. “My Glock was under the front seat of the truck,” I whispered.

  “Didn’t you lock the truck’s doors?”

  “I thought I had.”

  Truth was, I never gave much thought to locking doors. It wasn’t as much of a necessity as it was in a big city. Neighbors watched out for each other. We might be spread out, but our internal sensors go off at anything out of the ordinary. Try pulling over on one of our back roads and see how long it takes for someone to drive by and ask what you’re doing. Two minutes tops. That’s the most time you have.

  Cora Mae couldn’t rip her eyes away from the body. “Who would do that to you?” she asked.

  “Same person who would do that to him.” I pointed at the body.

  Dickey, all puffed up like a rooster, strutted over, hitching his pants up and clearing his voice to get the squeaks out. He stared at the body like he didn’t know what to do next. Our acting sheriff was getting more action than he knew what to do with.

  “We’re going to need to talk to everyone,” Dickey hollered, losing a little of his college education, “All of you who were outside any time during the evening. Come forward if that’s you.”

  “We all came from outside,” a wiseacre from the back said. “How else could we park our vehicles and get inside.”

  “Very funny,” Dickey said. “Let me rephrase that. Anyone who had any reason to be out here other than to park their vehicles. There. You happy?”

  I didn’t have a choice, since George and I discovered the crime scene. I had to go up.

  Cora Mae didn’t move a muscle. We locked eyes. “What?” she said.

  “Weren’t you in the parking lot?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “You don’t want the whole town to know you were making out in a parked car?” I finished for her.

  She nodded.

  “I guess we both have a secret to keep.” I didn’t have to mention how much bigger mine was than hers.

  Everyone was mesmerized by the body. In Stonely, we don’t often see something like this. But two in a row! First, the robber, who really was an awful robber. Now, this man.

  He was the same guy who fired the killing shot from the roof yesterday. The shot that blasted through the window and pegged the robber in the head.

  It was definitely him, I thought to myself, groaning inwardly when a state trooper pulled up right behind Dickey Snell’s truck. That’s all I needed, the state boys involved.

  George walked over to talk to them, having helped take control of the situation prior to their late arrival. I hoped he hadn’t seen me pocket the Glock. Not that George would tell, but too many people knew already. And I didn’t want him thinking I was a crackpot, even though I was beginning to think I was.

  The only way out of my murder weapon mess was to find the real killer before Dickey and the state troopers found me and the Glock.

  Blaze pushed through the crowd. “What can I do to help?” he said, sounding sane for a change. My son had his ups and downs, but he also had brief moments of reality that were growing longer every day.

  Dickey glanced at him with a lot of doubt in his eyes. “I don’t know, Blaze.”

  “Where’s the ambulance? Has anyone touched anything?” Blaze asked, assuming a take-charge position just like the old days.

  Dickey relaxed a bit as Blaze spoke. He motioned to him. They stood over the body, talking low enough that I couldn’t hear. Blaze walked up to the window of my truck and peered in without touching anything.

  “Ma,” he fired at me after a moment of silent thought. “Why the hell are you at the center of everything that goes wrong around here?”

  I had my boy back! Maybe not permanently. Tomorrow he might be fighting the war again, but for right now, Blaze was close to his old self.

  “Gertie’s nothing but trouble,” Grandma said from behind me, clacking her new false teeth. She didn’t notice me right in front of her. When I turned around, she jumped a foot. Pearl, next to her, clutched her heart.

  Gossip is one thing. Grandma’s disparaging remarks about the only family member who was foolish enough to take her in was another.

  I made a suggestion to her through gritted teeth. “Go find Star,” I said.

  “And miss this! Fat chance.”

  I slid as far from the old-smelling woman as possible.

  Between the excess law enforcement teams, they managed to separate out the potential witnesses. Grandma was forced into the nothing-but-gawkers group, complaining all the way. Star, who was supposed to be watching her, caught up and steered her toward the church parking lot.

  The ambulance arrived and carted the body away, heading for Escanaba and the medical examiner’s office.

  Eventually George and I were the only bystanders still outside. We told our story, what little we knew – that we had wandered outside for fresh air and practically tripped over the body. That George had tried to find a pulse while I ran inside for help. Our explanation sounded honest and innocent. If only they knew.

  “He had a Kromer,” George said in case anyone missed it.

  I had forgotten in the excitement. My attention had been more focused on the Glock lying in plain sight.

  “That’s the guy who killed the robber at the credit union,” I said to Dickey. “I’m sure of it.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Hole in the front of his head,” Blaze announced.

  “Execution style,” Dickey said. Like he’d know.

  “Never saw the guy around here before the heist,” I offered. “I think he was in it with the guy he killed.”

  “She’s right,” Blaze said, still right on track to a full mental recovery. However, the old Blaze never would have given me any credit. He would have escorted me away with a firm grip on my arm and told me to mind my own business. I liked the new Blaze better.

  George stood close to me. “Two strangers, a bag of paper instead of money, and they’re both dead with shots to the head.” He shook his head in bewilderment. The snake wrapped around the brim of his cowboy hat seemed alive in the shadows.

  “They had a partner,” I said. “A third guy.” It should have been obvious, but who knows with this bunch? The bad guys were picking each other off like dominos.

  “Threesomes never work,” Blaze said. “Two, sometimes, if they both keep their mouths shut. You put another guy in the mix, and it’s always a disaster.”

  “Well,” I said. “It isn’t three anymore.”

  “Why’d it have to happen right behind your truck, Ma?”

  “That’s a good question, son.”

  My truck, my gun. Someone wanted me out of the way.

  Chapter 9

  Word For The Day

  EXTIRPATE (EKS tuhr pay’t) v.

  Remove completely, exterminate.

  Alternate Word

  HIGGLEDY-PIGGLEDY (HIG uhl dee’ PIG uhl dee) adj.

  Disorderly, jumbled, confused.

  SATURDAY MORNING AT THE CRACK of first daylight, I bellied through thick brush getting into position. Tony’s bales of straw loomed ahead in the dark, like sinister wild animals. I wore my handy fishing vest crammed with supplies, including pepper spray, micro recorder, binoculars, and my stun gun. The vest made it even harder to snake along the cold ground.

  Today, since it was the beginning of the weekend, the woods would be crawling with amateur turkey hunters, blasting at anything that moved. And here I was, dressed in camo, slinking through the brush. Why did I always get the worst surveillance times and the most awful situations? The Trouble Busters needed to come up with a more equitable plan for future events.

  And the cold! I should be in bed with the covers pulled up over my head, with Fred snoring away on the floor. The house had been toasty warm when I left. Next time, I’d drop off Cora Mae and she could hang out on the forest floor.

  I waited.

  A while later when I couldn’t feel my frozen feet anymore, Tony tromped in with a shotgun, set out a turkey decoy, and settled behind the straw piles. I heard a shot in the distance and a few turkey calls. Whether they were turkeys or hunters, I didn’t know.

  A roosting flock of turkeys could make a variety of sounds besides gobbles-yelps, clucks, and kee-kees. A lot of hunters don’t know the first thing about their prey, which works in the turkey’s favor.

  Turkeys roost in trees. They like to travel with other turkeys. If the flock is scattered, they will regroup in the same spot within fifteen or thirty minutes.

  This morning I didn’t expect to see any. They might not be the smartest bird around, but they can outmaneuver a human. What does that tell you about our intelligence? Those birds were on vacation in parts unknown.

  The sun rose higher in the sky, warming me up some. Once in a while, a shot went off. A squirrel jumped across the tops of the trees. A small DNR plane soared overhead, looking for illegal activities. I hunkered into the surrounding environment in my leafy garb and stifled a yawn. Thinking it must be afternoon by now, I checked my watch and found it was only nine o’clock. I laid my head on my arm and closed my eyes.

  I must have dozed off, because when I raised my head there were voices coming from behind the straw pile. Tony wasn’t talking to himself. He had company.

  “Quiet down,” Tony said, harshly. “Sound travels in the woods. Did anyone see you coming in?”

  I heard mumbling after that, but couldn’t make out the words. The only thing I was sure of was that the other voice belonged to a woman. At last! Action!

  Their voices hummed across the windless and frosty morning like buzzing mosquitoes, but I couldn’t make out any more of their words. I’d have to get closer. I dug my elbows into the forest floor and scooted forward, the micro recorder in my gloved fist. The woman’s voice sounded angry, rising like flames.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said.

  “I’ll take care of it. We’ll be together soon.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  Tony’s partner in his illicit affair was listening to the same old lies told to gullible woman since the beginning of time. You’d think women would get a clue after generations of toilet paper promises.

  Anger turned to soothing coos, soft giggling, and other sounds. I couldn’t believe I was stuck in the woods in this position. I had some time to kill while they hanky-pankied, and I had a really full bladder. I scooted backwards until the wild brush screened me from view. When I was sure it was safe to change positions, I did my business, took a sip of Tang from a small bottle, readjusted myself, and slunk back.

  I was just in time to see the back end of the woman, retreating in the opposite direction. She had on woodsy colors and wore a cap that hid her hair. I wouldn’t even be sure it was a woman if I hadn’t heard her talking to Tony

  I quickly shuffled the binoculars from my hunting vest.

  But it was too late.

  I’d broken the first and most important rule of surveillance. No potty stops. That’s exactly when the target will decide to move, according to my beginner’s manual. And it had happened exactly that way.

  I wanted to rush after her, throw caution to the wind, and collect on the Trouble Buster’s manicures. But part of my job was to accomplish my mission quietly and discreetly, without alerting Tony. My professionalism kicked in and I held back.

  I put adult diapers on my mental grocery list.

  An hour later, Tony collected his decoy and whistled while he walked down the trail leading home.

  The hours in the woods among the Jack pines and tamarack trees hadn’t been a complete bust. I had the two lovers recorded on tape, and most importantly, I knew Tony was cheating on Lyla. It was a start.

  ____________________

  “That dirty dog,” Kitty said from my kitchen table. Fred slid his nose onto the table at the “dog” word and wagged his tail.

  “I never would have guessed it,” Cora Mae said, giving Fred a pat on the head.

  We had polished off six freshly fried sugar doughnuts, two each. Kitty reached for a third. “We have the rest of the day off from following Tony,” she said. “Lyla said he’d be puttering around the house.”

  “What if the woman in the woods was Lyla?” Cora Mae suggested.

  I shook my head. “She knew I might be out there.”

  “Maybe she’s a voyeur,” Cora Mae said.

  “A voyeur is someone who likes to watch sex acts,” Kitty said. “The voyeurese would be Gertie, not Lyla.”

  “Believe me,” I said, “I didn’t enjoy it one bit. Besides, I know Lyla’s voice. It wasn’t her.”

  “Tony had his little breakfast love fest,” Cora Mae said. “Good thing you were watching him, Gertie, or we would still be wondering about Lyla’s accusations. I’m really disgusted with him.”

  “People aren’t always what they seem,” I said, knowing that true enough. I looked at Kitty. “Where did you hide the Glock?”

  “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “I’m sure. No one’s going to hook me up to a lie detector while I’m still alive and kicking.”

  “It’s all wrapped up in plastic and buried down inside my compost heap.”

  “Yuck,” Cora Mae said. “That pile really stinks.”

  Composts are beds of rotten garbage that we use to fertilize our gardens. They need a perfect mix of carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and water to decompose properly. We toss in all of our leftover kitchen scraps – except for meat and dairy, because those things attract vermin to the pile. We also add coffee grounds, horse manure, grass clippings. You name it. It goes in.

  “You need to keep the proper balance of wet and dry,” I said. “It smells bad because it’s waterlogged. Right now, I’m glad it stinks, so no one will go near it. After this is over, you should add some paper and cardboard to soak up some of the water.”

  Grandma shuffled cautiously down the hall and plastered herself against the wall when she saw Fred near the table. “Get that thing outta my home,” she said, forgetting who owned the house.

  I flipped on the micro recorder and hit play to drown out my mother-in-law’s crabs. Everyone listened to the few sentences I had captured on tape.

  “Nothing but smut,” Grandma said, edging warily around Fred and pouring a cup of coffee. “Who brought the doughnuts?”

  “I did,” Kitty said.

  “Are they safe to eat?”

  “’Course they are.”

  I snapped off the recorder since Grandma was determined to talk right over the voices.

  Pearl, whose fifteen minutes of fame ended with the news of the second death, pulled into the driveway at about two miles an hour. I watched her do a jerky park between my truck and Kitty’s rusted out Lincoln.

  “Pearl, get your hinder in here,” Grandma called as Pearl walked in wearing a little pillbox hat on her head. “We have a porno tape going.”

  “Goody,” Pearl said, stepping it up a bit. Grandma set down a cup and saucer in front of her, sloshing most of the coffee into the saucer.

  “What’s the commotion?” Blaze said, rushing down the hall in his boxer shorts. He had his sheriff’s hat on top of his head and an empty holster across his bare shoulder.

  “We’re holding ’em off,” Grandma said to get him going. “Where’s your weapon?”

  She’s the meanest woman I’ve ever known.

  “Sit down,” I told him. “We’re eating doughnuts.”

  It’s a good thing I have a big kitchen table. The six of us perched around the table like a bunch of monkeys. Once everyone had sugar fixes and coffee, I rewound the tape. We all listened again.

  “That’s Sylvester Stallone,” Blaze said, piping up. “He’s doing his Rocky character.” It was going to be one of those days.

  “You’re right,” I said to keep him happy. “Blaze won the first prize. Now, who is the woman?”