Murder Talks Turkey

Chapter 11

TURKEYS HAVE BEEN AROUND FOR millions of years. They can fly at fast as fifty-five miles per hour and run flat out at twenty.

Michigan’s DNR had a hard time re-introducing turkeys into the wild. After four failed attempts, they realized that a little illegal hunting was going on. Not always the bird-brains we like to think they are – the Department of Natural Resources fitted the birds with homing devices.

When Jim Johnson (not the same Johnson from Grandma’s family tree) was busted at Ruthie’s Deer Horn Restaurant with an illegal turkey in the back of his truck, the locals decided to back off and let the turkeys thrive and multiply.

The turkey I was gunning for was a bird of a different feather.

Fred and I were on our way home to check on Grandma and Blaze. I planned to heat up some pea soup I’d made a few days ago and make sure Star was keeping an eye on the home front.

About a mile from the house, I saw Blaze’s family car traveling toward me. It zoomed by, but not before I got a good look. Blaze was behind the wheel and Grandma Johnson rode shotgun. She was short, but I could tell it was her. I recognized the hat.

I did a fast U-turn, spilling my unprepared German shepherd onto the floor. After several efforts at control, the Trouble Buster truck wound up in the ditch. By the time Fred crawled up and reseated himself, and I backed out of the dip, there wasn’t even a puff of exhaust smoke left to tell me where they were going.

When I walked in my house, the phone was ringing.

“I’m calling it off,” Lyla said from the other end of the line. “Tony and I made up last night. It was all a big misunderstanding. I can’t believe I didn’t trust him. Please forget this ever happened, and don’t tell anybody.”

I certainly hadn’t seen this coming. The investigation was finally producing results. What a snake that guy was!

“Were you out in the woods this morning?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“No. That’s a strange question. You know I do nails at the salon in Gladstone on Saturdays.” Lyla sucked up a big breath and let it out. “You can still have manicures for the time you put in.”

Now what? Should I tell her about Tony’s hunting expedition? How could I walk away, knowing what I knew? Did I have an obligation, a commitment to follow up?

Cora Mae would tell me to mind my own business, that I’d quickly become the bad guy if I told Lyla about Tony’s woodland love nest. She would hate me forever for shattering her happiness, even if it was only a figment of her imagination.

I struggled with my conscience through a moment or two of silence.

“All right, Lyla,” I ended up saying. “I hope it works out for you and Tony.”

Yeah, right. Lyla had just purchased a time-share with another woman and didn’t know it.

Next time I crossed that lying cheat’s path, I’d zap him with my stun gun.

____________________

I checked the kitchen counter, but didn’t find a note from Blaze explaining his absence from the house. Star answered her phone on the fifth ring, sounding like I woke her up.

“Grandma Johnson and Blaze are loose,” I said. “What happened to you? You were supposed to watch them.”

“I have an awful headache,” Star said. That was her code word for a hangover. Sinuses are acting up again is how she sometimes explains it. “I talked to Blaze a little while ago. He went into Stonely for gas, then was going to drive Grandma to Gladstone for ice cream.”

“Did it occur to you,” I said, “that Blaze hasn’t been cleared by the doctor to drive?”

“That’s not what he told me.”

“You can’t believe anything he says. Did you believe him when he told you he was a five-star general? Or when he said the temperature at the hospital got so hot his watch melted right off his wrist?”

Star managed to titter through her “sinus” headache. “I liked the blue diamond story best,” she said. “We’re all rich, if only we can find the gems.”

The guineas alarm went off outside. When I glanced out the window, I saw Mary getting out of her car. “Oh, oh,” I said into the phone. “Gotta go.”

Mary looked rested and serene from her sabbatical away from Blaze. Unfortunately, I was about to end that calm.

“Where’s Blaze,” Mary asked after greeting me. She craned her neck down the hall.

“He’s resting,” I lied.

“Everything go okay?”

“Perfect. He wasn’t any trouble at all. He’s almost normal again.”

Mary started down the hall. “Thanks for giving me a break. I really needed it.”

“Unless you want to end up right back where you left off all stressed out, I’d recommend heading home. Let Blaze sleep.” My voice crept up a few octaves when she didn’t stop. “Don’t go in there.”

“What’s going on?” Suspicion crossed Mary’s face. She opened the bedroom door. I thought about running for my truck and heading for Canada.

“Where is he?” she asked, keeping a level tone to her voice.

“I lost him.”

“How long ago?”

“Not long. Rumor has it he’s pointed toward Gladstone. He’s with Grandma Johnson, so I’m sure he’s all right.”

We both thought about that for a minute. Then we scrambled for my truck. We moved so quickly Fred didn’t know what was happening until we’d already squealed out onto the road leaving him home alone

Gladstone, Michigan is an easy twenty-minute drive from Stonely. It has lots of amenities that are missing from our small town. For one thing, they have a main drag with cute business establishments-cafe, bookstore, coffee shop.

I turned onto Delta Street and angle parked in front of the Dairy Flo, Gladstone’s premium ice cream shop. Ease of parking is another great thing about Gladstone. No parallel parking anywhere.

We jumped out and surrounded Blaze’s car, which was parked right in front of the Dairy Flo. He rolled down the window with his free hand and took a lick from a vanilla cone with the other. Grandma, I noticed, had a strawberry sundae.

“Hey, Sweetie,” Blaze said to Mary. “What are you doing in Gladstone?”

“I just got home, Blaze. You aren’t supposed to be driving yet. Remember what the doctor said?”

Blaze shrugged and took another lick.

“I’ve been watching him,” Grandma said. “He’s doing a good job. Why don’t you two get yourself some ice cream and we’ll have a little party.”

My mother-in-law and my son looked just as normal as everybody else on this early April afternoon. The morning chill had disappeared, replaced by the warmth of the sun and a promise of spring peeking around the corner. They weren’t the only ones at the Dairy Flo lapping treats.

“Okay,” Mary said. “We’ll have a little party together. Then Gertie will drive Grandma back and I’ll drive you home, dear.”

“Gertie doesn’t have a driver’s license,” Grandma said, tattling on me. “I wouldn’t let her drive my lawn mower.”

“Well,” Mary said. “We’ll figure something out.”

While Mary and I waited in line, I kept a watchful eye on Blaze’s car. Our turn came. While we were ordering, right there under our very noses, Blaze backed out of the parking space and tooled away.

Mary and I had to abandon our already ordered ice cream and race to the truck.

“They’re headed for the lake,” Mary yelled, not at all as peaceful as she was on her arrival at my house.

We drove past the Gladstone Motel and sped around the curve onto Lake Shore Drive. “I don’t see them yet,” I said. We sailed past the yacht harbor and the lagoon. “There.” I pointed. “By the Beach House.”

“I don’t know what it takes to ditch you two,” Grandma crabbed when we forced them out of the car. I thought about slapping handcuffs on the old witch. “You sure can’t take a hint. I want to spend time alone with my grandson.”

Which was a blantant lie. Grandma’s idea of quality time tended to highlight the wonders of discipline. Blaze’s ears were lodged forward on his head more than they should be after all the ear twists he had to endure over the years. She’d still get a grip on them when he made her mad.

“I’m going to Kids’ Kingdom,” Blaze said, looking off to the right toward a playground with an enormous wooden fort. To our left, tall grasses waved in the breeze and a walkway led down to the waters of Little Bay de Noc.

“I’ll go with you,” Mary said to her husband.

Blaze took off with Mary in tow. I heard him say, “Grandma said my money’s hidden in the fort.”

“You don’t have any hidden money,” Mary said. “You’re still having delusions from the meningitis.”

“Spoil sport,” Grandma said under her breath. “Let’s go look at the waves.” She headed for a boardwalk.

The wind had picked up. Whitecaps the size of freighters formed in the open water, rolled toward us, then broke and slammed against the fine white sand of the beach. My hair blew this way and that, covering my eyes until I held it away with one hand on my forehead. Grandma shuffled through the sand, then stopped. She cast a complaint my way, but the wind picked it up and carried it off in another direction.

A man and woman sat with their backs to us, wrapped in a blanket. Several other people walked along the beach. A dog loped near the water with no owner in sight.

My eyes latched on two women with rolled-up jeans, wading out in the lake. One of them kicked her bare feet through the waves with angry thrusts.

April’s air temperature, in spite of the wind, was fairly comfortable because of the sun’s warmth. But stepping into Lake Michigan at this time of year had to be as cold as treading over ice cubes.

The great lake’s water never quite warmed up enough for an enjoyable swim. I’ve been in it when the water was so cold my ankles ached from wading for only a few seconds. And that was in July!

I pulled the binoculars out of my fishing vest and focused in. The tall one had hair almost to her waist. The sun caught it just right, giving her head a halo effect. She said something before they turned around and headed for shore. She must have stepped in a little too deep because her jeans were wet. The other turned and I recognized her.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Grandma. “I have to say hello to someone.”

Angie Gates didn’t see me approaching until I was almost beside her. When she did notice me, her eyes opened wide in surprise and she backed up into the waves.

The credit union teller’s face was blotchy, her eyes red from crying. Her hair whirled as the wind picked up, creating an effect which was the exact opposite of the halo I’d imagined moments before – more like something out of a horror flick.

I could see her mind working over the situation.

She took off running down the shoreline, pulling the other woman along, shouting at her to hurry. I knew better than to chase Angie. She was years younger and stronger than me, and whatever was happening to her to make her run away had given her added forward momentum.

The tall woman was beautiful, the kind that made me wish for one more go around in her body instead of mine. I never looked like that, even in my best year.

I glanced down at the waves near my feet.

Anyone who lives near the Great Lakes would know simple physics. Most things tossed into the waves wash back up on shore. Unless the object filled with water and disappeared under the lake’s sand carpet. Angie must have thought they would sink.

One did. I saw a flash of color before it vanished under the weight of water and sand. The other rolled toward me. With each new wave, it tumbled closer.

I kicked off my shoes, braced myself for the shock of cold water, waded in, and picked it up.

I held an orange sneaker in my hand.