Murder Passes the Buck (7 page)

license? No, I don
’
t have a private investigator license. Yet.
”
The key to winning a round with Blaze is to frazzle him. Once he loses his temper, he can
’
t think straight and it
’
s an automatic win for my side.

“
No, Ma, I mean a DRIVING LICENSE.
”

“
You don
’
t need to shout. I
’
m not deaf, you know. Of course I have a driver
’
s license,
”
I lied.
“
I went to Escanaba and got one right after you threatened poor Little Donny.
”

Before Blaze could regroup, I turned quickly and caught up with Betty, who was still peering through the window. I looked in.

Yesterday the condition of the house reminded me of a football scrimmage gone awry; it was a war zone today. The garbage can had been dumped out on the floor, for starters. Cabinets were pulled open and the contents thrown every which way.

Blaze scurried up behind us.
“
We
’
ll finish this conversation after I check out the house.
”

I made a mental note to vanish before he finished his
“
investigation.
”

“
Wonder how they gained entry,
”
our local sheriff said, and began walking around the house.
“
Well, look at this.
”
He stopped

at the back entrance, eyeing up the door.
“
Smashed the glass to get in.
”

I wasn
’
t going to be the one to point out the missing glass. Betty took care of that.

“
But there isn
’
t any broken glass on the floor,
”
Miss Betty Snoop Berg said.
“
Isn
’
t that odd?
”

Blaze didn
’
t respond. He tried the door then reached through and unlocked it.

“
Wait out here,
”
he said, closing the door behind him.

I waited until he rounded the corner and disappeared into the bedroom, then I followed.
“
You wait here,
”
I said to Betty over my shoulder.
“
Like Blaze said. We don
’
t want any accidental tampering with evidence.
”

There wasn
’
t a drawer or closet or cupboard that hadn
’
t been stripped. Everything was piled on the floor
— clothes, dishes, and papers. Nothing obvious seemed to be missing as far as I could tell, not that Chester had much to steal, but the television was still here and so were the guns in the gun rack.

Blaze and I ran into each other in the bedroom doorway and we both shrieked.

“
I told you to wait outside, Ma.
”

I decided since Blaze was busy trying to ruin my life, he was through telling me what

to do.
“
If this was a robbery, wouldn
’
t the guns be the first thing they
’
d take?
”
I said.
“
Proves this wasn
’
t a robbery. Someone was looking for something.
”

Blaze scribbled in his little book, and when he closed it up I could tell he was closing the case.
“
Kids probably, vandalizing, heard about Chester and knew the place was empty. There
’
s a group of real troublemakers over on the other side of Trenary. I
’
ll check it out.
”
He walked over to his truck, reached in for his radio, and made a call.

Standing on the porch with Two-Ton Mama, hoping she wasn
’
t about to punch another hole in the porch, I realized that I must have played some role in the stunted development of my one and only son, but for the life of me I couldn
’
t sort it out.

I was hauling myself up into the truck to make my escape before Blaze finished on the radio when a thought struck me. I pulled my notebook out of the glove compartment and flipped it open to the entries from my search of Chester
’
s house. I jumped back out and ran to the window for another look. I was right.

Blaze walked over.

“
Come look at this.
”
Outwardly, I tried to appear cool and collected, but inside I was

dancing the jig.
“
Something
’
s rotten in Finland. There were three weapons in Chester
’
s gun rack yesterday, and now there are four. Four. Where did that extra one come from?
”

“
I know I don
’
t really expect an honest answer,
”
Blaze said,
“
but I
’
ll ask anyway. How do you know how many guns were in there yesterday?
”

“
I stopped by to pay my respects?
”

“
And who did you visit with? The ghost of Chester
’
s past?
”

“
Well, maybe I stopped by just to look around. Remember I
’
m part of this investigation.
”

“
You
’
re not part of this investigation. And you
’
re going to stop interfering. Seems like we had a conversation just yesterday about you and interfering. What did you do, run right over here?
”
Blaze stared at me.
“
Wait. It
’
s become clear… .
”

He hitched up his belt and glanced at Betty.
“
You can go now. We
’
re pretty much finished.
”

Betty wasn
’
t about to move from her front row seat at the boxing match, so Blaze hooked his arm through mine and walked me off the porch.

His voice was low in my ear.
“
Yes, it
’
s all clear now, like looking through broken glass.

You broke in the back door, didn
’
t you? You came over here, probably with the Black Widow, and you illegally broke in. That
’
s why there isn
’
t any glass on the floor. You swept it up.
”

“
I only wanted to look for evidence. The window was an accident. And the house wasn
’
t torn apart like it is now.
”

Blaze released my arm, leaned against his truck, and buried his face in both his hands.

“
I
’
ve got to go,
”
I said and hightailed it to the truck before Blaze remembered to ask for my driver
’
s license.

“
Tell Star I say hi,
”
Betty called out, waving a chunky arm over her head.

Right. Sure thing. The nerve of some people.

On the way over to George
’
s, I made a mental list of the information I had so far. A dead body, footprints cracking through ice, a rifle shell, sudden and unexplained money
— if Chester really meant the comment about a place in Florida — and finally, too many guns on the gun rack. It was plain as the nose on Blaze
’
s face that someone had murdered Chester, and it was obvious that I would have to be the one to catch the murderer. After a year of mourning, I was ready for

action, ready to make a contribution to my community. I was on a mission.

Distracted from my driving, I missed the turn into George
’
s driveway and ended up with the two right tires hanging over into a culvert. I threw the gears into reverse and revved the engine, trying to rock the truck back and forth the same way I
’
d seen Barney rock it when he was stuck in snow, but nothing worked.

Leaving the truck in the ditch, I walked the half-mile up to George
’
s house in my heavy hunting boots. I was winded by the time I got there, and feeling every one of my sixty-six years.

George was a jack-of-all-trades, and his yard looked like the town dump, littered with car frames and parts, a variety of tractors, and piles of old lumber. Running around in the mess were all kinds of animals. Mules, goats, chickens
— you name it, at one time George had it. He also was the unofficial county dogcatcher. Several dogs in wire kennels began howling and barking when they caught sight of me.

I found George in one of his three outbuildings, welding a metal frame. He had on an undershirt, the sleeveless kind. The temperature, I guessed, must be about twenty-five degrees, warming to a balmy

thirty or so where he worked. And he
’
s not even wearing a shirt. What a man!

He acknowledged me with a nod and went back to concentrating on his work. I sat on the edge of a large workbench and watched George
’
s rippling biceps, then started playing with the equipment lying on the table. I picked up something that looked like a miniature cattle prod and tried to figure out how to turn it on.

“
Stay away from that, Gertie.
”
George pulled off a pair of safety glasses and walked over.

“
What is it?
”

“
A stun gun. I don
’
t use it much, but it comes in handy if I have a stubborn animal, like that mule out there, that won
’
t go where I need it to go. Or if I pick up a stray dog and it attacks me. But I never use it unless I absolutely have to.
”

“
How does it stay juiced?
”
I said, intrigued with the device. It would fit in my purse perfectly.

“
Battery pack. There
’
s an extra one around here someplace.
”
George opened a cardboard box and sorted through a tangle of electrical cords.
“
Here it is.
”

“
I need to borrow it for a little while.
”

“
Don
’
t know why you
’
d have any use for a stun gun.
”

“
There
’
s been a stray dog hanging around by the shed, looks scrawny and wild to me. Maybe if I zap him he
’
ll decide to move on.
”
I was getting good at lying, but I figure it comes with the job, a curse of the detective business. I couldn
’
t very well tell George I was on the trail of a savage killer and I needed protection. My shotgun is handy, but I can
’
t haul it everywhere, and it
’
s no good at close range.

“
Haven
’
t noticed any wild dogs over by you.
”

“
He
’
s there,
”
I insisted.
“
Mean, ugly, and he has yellow eyes. Has wolf or coyote in him, I bet.
”

George handed me the stun gun.
“
Better have Little Donny shoot him if he gets the chance. He might be rabid.
”

I stuffed the stun gun into my purse and I was right
— it was a perfect fit. Then I remembered why I stopped by in the first place.

“
I
’
m having family over for supper tonight. Thought you might like to come. I
’
m making venison steaks.
”

“
Can
’
t. But thank you kindly.
”
George grinned.
“
Sure do hate to miss one of your family get-togethers.
”

I was disappointed since I like to have George at our family meals to run interfer
ence