The rest of us looked on with disgust written all over us.

  He pulled up a dripping, muddy bundle, managing to dip his knee in compost before he stood up.

  I’d remained calm until now. The hunted look in my eyes must have warned George that I was about to attempt an escape through the backwoods, because he wrapped a comforting hand around mine and squeezed in reassurance.

  In spite of all our denials of wrongdoing, Kitty and I ended up on the wrong side of the jailhouse bars, arguing about whose fault it was. We arrived at the obvious conclusion-it was the killer’s fault and if we could weasel out of here, we’d hunt him down like the rabid skunk he was and haul him in, dead or alive.

  George had gone off with Fred to figure out how to get us released, but his chances of success on a Sunday were slim to none. He also had the dubious pleasure of driving Grandma to her final destination.

  “Don’t take her back to my house,” I’d raged right in front of her. “Give the battle axe to Mary and Blaze. She’ll never step foot in my home again. Let her destroy their lives for awhile.”

  Grandma boo-hooed into her embroidered hanky, but I didn’t let her get to me. I had handcuffs on at the time and wasn’t feeling overly generous.

  “Obstructing justice at the very least,” Dickey said, shaking his know-it-all weasel head from the other side of the jail bars. “Murder one at the most.”

  “You have no right to hold me,” I said for the umpteenth time. “I had nothing to do with this.”

  “Me either,” Kitty chimed in.

  Dickey turned to No-Neck. “Let’s bring in Blaze and hear what he has to say. That was his firearm they buried.”

  While Dickey and No-Neck were gone, Kitty and I tried to escape through the ceiling tiles like we’d seen on television, but our efforts were wasted. In the movies the keys to the jail cell would be left dangling a distance away and a dog would bring them over. In our case, there wasn’t a key in sight and Fred was with George anyway.

  By the time Blaze walked into the jail with Dickey right behind him, we’d exhausted all means of escape but had come up with a workable plan, as unsavory as it was.

  We were going to give up an innocent man to protect the multitudes. My son had pulled fast ones on me more than once or twice, but I couldn’t help feeling like a big smelly rat. Hopefully, the end would justify the means. I kept reminding myself that Blaze was used to jail bars from the free side. He most likely wouldn’t mind sitting tight on the other side for a day or two.

  Our idea was to convince Dickey that we had been covering for my son, that his mental illness had something to do with the parking lot murder.

  As it was, Blaze helped out without even knowing about our covert plan to finger him.

  “Ma!” he exclaimed when he saw me behind bars. He whirled on Dickey. “Release her right this minute. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “The evidence says otherwise,” Dickey said.

  Blaze fixed him with a glare.

  “Where’s Mary?” I wanted to know, relieved that Blaze’s wife wouldn’t have to witness the shameful actions I planned next.

  “Grandma Johnson showed up at our house,” Blaze said.

  “The poor old lady is distraught,” Dickey said. “She’s been evicted from her own home. Mary’s trying to calm her down. She has her hands full, so Deputy Sheedlo stayed to help her.”

  Kitty watched me closely for a signal and I understood that it was up to me; it was my family and she wasn’t about to make the first move. What I wanted to do was give Dickey another sample of Blaze’s mental state then…I couldn’t think about it anymore, or I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

  “Blaze,” I said, with shifting eyes, so he knew I was talking around the others. “It’s here.” I pointed my head and eyes at Dickey. “Your fortune. He’s had it all along.”

  “My money?” Blaze turned red.

  “And your Glock.” I put on the finishing touch.

  “You have my weapon?” Blaze roared at Dickey, jabbing an angry finger at him. “I knew it was you, stealing my stuff. Give everything back. Where’s my Glock?”

  His eyes swung to the desk where the evidence bag lay. He had that far away look he gets when he relives his war. Once he enters his own private universe, it’s hard to call him back. Before I knew it, he lunged for Dickey’s sidearm.

  I hadn’t seen that coming. I expected to implicate Blaze in the dead guy’s murder and get either Kitty or myself released, so we could track the killer down as fast as possible and save the other two. Things weren’t going as planned.

  Blaze was fast for a big man. He had Dickey weaponless with his hands in the air in no time at all. “Throw me the keys,” he hissed at him, never taking his cop-trained eyes off of Dickey. “Nice and slow. One-handed. Don’t make me use this.”

  Before we knew it, the tables had turned. Dickey was behind bars, Blaze was searching for his millions, and Kitty and I had commandeered Dickey’s sheriff’s truck.

  “Now what?” Kitty shouted from the shotgun seat. “We’re in big trouble. We just broke out of jail and stole a law enforcement vehicle.”

  “We’ll ditch the truck,” I said, making things up as we went along. My investigation service was good training for what lay ahead. “Don’t touch any thing. We’ll wipe it down and deny we ever took it.”

  “What will Dickey do to Blaze?”

  “Let’s stop at my house and pick up supplies,” I punted. “Then we’ll call Mary. She’s good at negotiation, she’ll figure it out. By the time she talks Blaze back from the war zone, we’ll be good and gone.”

  “I was supposed to start my new job,” Kitty said. “I can’t believe it. We’re in such big trouble.”

  She said the same thing at least six times before we pulled into my driveway, scattering guineas every which way. Then I spotted Fred, which gave me a brief moment of pure joy. George must have dropped him off before driving off to save us from the jail. I hated the thought of trying to explain the latest circumstance to George, so I didn’t mind that he was gone.

  Fred ran a cautionary loop around us, dodging hens, while I banged a hole in my barn with the front of Dickey’s trunk. Things weren’t going as planned. Not one bit.

  Chapter 16

  BEING ON THE RUN ISN’T as romantic as I used to imagine. For starters, we had to figure out where to go-someplace not too far away so we could still work the case, but not too close so we would stay out of jail. Cora Mae’s house was out as a place of refuge. So was almost everyone else’s that we knew. I couldn’t involve my baby Star or Red or Ed, who were trying to scrape by at the bar.

  I considered taking Grandma as a negotiating tool and threatening to dispose of her if Dickey didn’t let Blaze go. But I’d rather drink Drano than spend three minutes with that evil woman.

  I stuffed a suitcase with necessities in two seconds flat, then we raced by Kitty’s house for her belongings.

  No sign of trouble so far, no law vehicles in sight. Blaze must still be holding Dickey in lockup.

  We ended up on Walter Laakso’s rutty gravel road, kicking up dust with Fred riding between us. I dodged as many holes as possible but we still arrived a little rattled up inside.

  Walter Laakso is suspicious of every single governmental body and totes a sawed-off shotgun filled with buckshot. That’s why his place would be the perfect hideout. He’s also nearsighted, so Kitty and I had to go through the standard ritual.

  “Put ’em up,” Walter said, leveling the shotgun our way.

  “It’s Gertie Johnson,” I said through the open window, not getting out of the truck until introductions were over. “This is Kitty and my dog, Fred.”

  Walter lowered the weapon but I could tell he hadn’t completely relaxed. I could also see that he hadn’t done any serious grooming in awhile, and hadn’t replaced his two front teeth since I’d seen him last.

  “What you doing driving a sheriff’s truck?” he wanted to know.

  “Stole it,” I answered truthfully.

  He lowered the weapon. “Come on in then. I have a fresh pot of coffee ready.”

  Just like a Finn. They’re always ready for company, even if it doesn’t come visiting often. Walter’s kitchen table wasn’t exactly fit for guests-food grime cemented on it, cans of toxic yard chemicals scattered across it, unidentifiable spilled liquids.

  Kitty didn’t even notice. She sat right down and shoved a few items away before crossing her arms in the mess. I sat down gingerly beside her, avoiding any contact with the table.

  “No brandy today,” I warned Walter after he poured three cups of coffee and picked up a liquor bottle. He shrugged, splashed some in his coffee cup, and held up the bottle, offering it again with an expression on his face like we were missing out on something special if we refused.

  “We need our wits about us today,” I said firmly. “No brandy.”

  It’s not our way to rush into the main topic without dancing around it for a certain amount of time. The weather is always good for a few minutes, so we did that. Then we had a few minutes of silence while we sipped our coffee.

  “Gertie, you’re pert-ner stressed out as a doe delivering a fawn,” Walter finally said, using Kitty’s word for the day. Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard her use it even once. I guess we’d been too busy breaking laws to worry about a silly little word challenge.

  “We’re wanted by the law, Walter. We need help.”

  “Why didn’t you say so right at the start?”

  “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

  Walter snorted. “With that pipsqueak sheriff, Dickey Snell? I’ve buried lead around his feet more than once. He won’t come out here without a death wish.”

  “I thought we might be able to hole up in your trailer out back.”

  “Help yourself. Stay as long as you want to.”

  “And we have to dispose of Dickey’s truck and find new wheels. The Trouble Buster will stick out like a school bus.”

  “You two ladies settle in. I’ll get rid of the truck and find transportation for you. Must be something drivable out in my yard.”

  Kitty laughed at that, finding a common connection with Walter. Both of them had junky yards filled with rusty old garbage. “For parts,” Kitty would say when I asked her why she kept all that old stuff. “You never know when you’ll need a part.”

  Lugging our suitcases, we trudged around the back of the house to the trailer that Walter rented out to hunters during deer hunting season. Fred loped ahead, scouting for squirrels, thinking he was on vacation.

  I put the key into the lock, heard it pop, and swung the door open. Kitty and I both gaped. Squirrels had been partying inside the trailer. We hauled the suitcases inside anyway, since we didn’t have any other options.

  I don’t know how the rodents gained access, but squirrels had chewed on some of the electrical cords and had stored acorns and seeds in every nook and cranny. Mattress stuffing had been ripped apart as well as part of the insulation in the wall.

  We set about putting things in order the best we could, then unpacked. I scooped dog food into a bowl I found in the tiny kitchen and fed Fred.

  “We’re going to need food supplies,” Kitty said, looking hungrily at the bag of dog food I’d thought to bring with us. “We may be here awhile.”

  “I’m going to use Walter’s phone to call Cora Mae,” I said. Fred trotted along as I made my way back up the short trail.

  Cora Mae answered on the first ring. “Mary’s got everything under control,” she said. “Blaze is in jail. They gave him some dollar bills and a pot of coffee and that made him happy. Tomorrow Dickey’s having Blaze’s Glock sent to ballistics, whatever that means.”

  Great. The killing shot would be traced right back to my son’s weapon. At least, he’d be able to claim mental incompetence at his murder trial.

  “Where are you?” Cora Mae wanted to know.

  “In Walter Laakso’s hunting trailer.”

  “Oh Gawd, I’d rather be dead.”

  “It’s not so bad,” I lied. We’d have to learn to make do from here on in. “We could use some food, for us and more for Fred.”

  “You better not go anywhere,” Cora Mae said. “You and Kitty were just on the TV6 news and an alert keeps beeping and running across the bottom of the television screen. You should have thought about the consequences before you busted out of jail.”

  Well, that was true enough. “Adrenaline took over,” I replied. “We couldn’t stop ourselves.”

  “You’re too impulsive for your own good,” she said.

  “Tell George we’re okay and don’t forget to bring food. Oh, and, bring your wigs.”

  “Why do you want my wigs?”

  “We can’t sit here doing nothing. We have a case to crack before Blaze ends up in prison.”

  ***

  At three o’clock we had a trailer-full of company. George and Cora Mae brought potato sausages, pasties, sugar doughnuts, and two wigs we’d used in the past for surveillance work. Kitty’s was a black shoulder-length flip. Mine was long and blond. Cora Mae’s favorite, a nifty red highlighted upsweep with a few dangly sexy curls, was already on her head.

  Kitty’s shifty cousin showed up, driving a purple sedan and making me more than a little nervous. The two of them went outside, Kitty in her new wig, and I could hear her negotiating with him over something. “I’ll bail you out of jail next time. I promise,” Kitty said. “I’m telling you, I need it right now.”

  A camera flash went off, and her cousin left.

  I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t want to question her in front of George and Cora Mae.

  George went out to his truck and returned with four walkie-talkie handheld radios. After adjusting the frequencies to match on all of them, he distributed them, keeping one for himself.

  Cell phone coverage in the Michigan U.P. is spotty at best. I’ve seen tourists standing on top of their cars trying to find signals. Most of us don’t bother with them, preferring the old-fashioned land phones with cords.

  “Don’t use your radio unless you have to,” George advised us. “Since anyone close by and on the same channel can hear the exchange, only use it in an emergency situation.”

  “What’s the range?” I asked.

  “Twelve miles,” he answered, giving me a look like he’d seen more of me recently than the others suspected.

  I tried not to blush. “That should be plenty of range as long as we stay close to Stonely.”

  We practiced testing, testing, one, two, three until we all had the hang of it. “I’ve got your purse in George’s truck,” Cora Mae said into her radio. That made me squeal with pleasure.

  I can’t live without my purse, and I don’t mean that in the same way most women mean it. Mine is stuffed with all the equipment a good investigator needs. I ran to the truck and retrieved it. “All here,” I said, rummaging through it. Handcuffs, whistle, mini recorder, and emergency money. I was set.

  Walter came in just as we finished eating the sausages. “I got one of the vehicles running. Blue truck. I pulled it out next to the house. Here are the keys.” He handed me two keys dangling from a key chain made from a loop of hanger wire. “And I took care of the sheriff’s truck.”

  “Where did you leave it?” I asked, hoping Walter had moved it someplace where Dickey would stumble over it sooner or later.

  “Thunder Lake,” he answered.

  “I stifled a screech. “Thunder Lake,” I repeated. “Over by Cooks?”

  Walter nodded. “Yup.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t run Dickey’s truck into the lake. Did you?”

  “That’s what you do, when you don’t want something found,” Walter said, looking at me like I didn’t know the first thing about ditching a truck. “In the lake. On the deep end.”

  I was in so much trouble. All through Blaze’s battle with meningitis, I’d wanted him to recover. I wanted my boy back just the way he’d been before he was struck down. Now, considering the latest development, I wished for the first time that he wouldn’t recover anymore than he already had. It was a selfish wish. I knew that. But if Blaze got his job back and found out I was responsible for that truck on the bottom of the lake, there was no telling what he’d do to me.

  That was, if Dickey didn’t get to me first.

  “I need a ride into Stonely,” Kitty said to George while she adjusted her wig. “I’m working at Herb’s Bar tonight.”

  “You’re not expecting to still go to work?” I was shocked. After all that had happened, she wanted to prance around town, risking detection. “Besides, I don’t like the idea of involving the Red and Ed.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Kitty said, waving away my concerns. “I’m going to work the bar for information. Once I explain to the boys how I’m trying to help their uncle, they’ll go along. And I’m not going to get caught.”

  “Our mugs were spread through the entire U.P. How are you going to manage that?”

  “I’m posing as Kitty’s sister. My cousin’s getting me a fake ID. His forgeries are just as good as the real thing. Even if Dickey asks me for identification, he won’t be able to tell the difference.”

  So that’s what she was drumming up outside with her cousin. False identification. I wish I’d thought of that. “Can you get me one, too?”

  “I had a hard enough time getting the one for me and I’m family. He usually charges a lot of money.”

  Cora Mae licked sugar off her fingers and chimed in. “Gertie, I’ll fix you up so no one will recognize you.” She dug in her purse and came up with a cosmetic bag. “Come over here.”

  I did what she said. When she was through with me I looked like a big city hooker with…well…never mind.

  Chapter 17

  THE PLAN WAS SIMPLE. George dropped Kitty at Herb’s Bar after I made a call to warn my grandsons about Korky, the new blond addition to their staff. They must know their grandma wouldn’t put them up to something like this unless it was really important, because they didn’t ask any questions or complain about hiring a wanted woman impersonating someone else. Kitty, I mean Korky, would keep her ears open, stir up conversation, and see what rose to the top.