Murder Talks Turkey

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.

Fred would stay with Walter, since he was the most recognizable member of the outlaws. An enormous black German shepherd with red, devil eyes would be hard to miss coming at you. Fred seemed to like Walter and especially appreciated the wealth of snacks on Walter’s kitchen floor.

Cora Mae and I decided to do some surveillance work over at Dave and Sue Nenonen’s house. Since Dave was the credit union manager and Sue worked for him, doing the books, they were at the top of the suspect list. And if June was right, Sue had been talking about condos and had been seen wearing expensive jewelry.

Along with counting on gut feelings, an investigator has to know a lot about human behavior, has to zero in on anything out of the ordinary. Any little nuance (one of last week’s words for the day) can be important. Dave and Sue had my full attention at the moment.

We stood next to an old blue truck in Walter’s driveway. It was the rustiest thing I’d ever seen in my life. When I opened the driver’s door, it creaked and resisted, and I thought it might fall off any minute. The bench seat was shredded, probably by the same squirrels that trashed the trailer, and even the floor boards were rusted away.

“Don’t start in on me,” I warned Cora Mae, who was scrunching up her mouth to give me grief about our transportation. “We have to make do with what we’re given.” She slid in without a single word, but her face said it all.

The truck started right up. When we left Walter’s house behind, we could see the road through the holes in the floor.

Dave and Sue had a big house compared to many of Stonely’s homes. That meant they had two living rooms and a dining room. Most of us had kitchen/dining combinations. All-in-one. And their separate family room moved them up to the upper-crust level. They even had a two-car, attached garage. Dave was an important citizen with a responsible position, and I always thought he worked hard for his money, so I wasn’t as offended by his display of wealth as some were.

I knew all about the interior of their home from my part-time seasonal job as census taker. What a dangerous job! Almost more hazardous than the investigation business. I’ve been chased by vicious dogs, had doors slammed in my face, and even faced a few shotguns and threats to my life. I wasn’t sure I’d continue in the position when census time came around again.

“Mortgage must be pretty high,” I said, while we watched the house from the truck.

“Now what are we supposed to do?” Cora Mae wanted to know. “This isn’t going to get us anywhere. What are we waiting for, sitting in this smelly, dirty old truck? Something died in here and I don’t want to know what. I suppose you think someone with orange shoes will come out of Dave and Sue’s house and we’ll walk right up and make a citizen’s arrest?”

I felt like I was with Grandma Johnson.

“The census badge won’t work,” I said, thinking out loud. “It has my name on it.”

Cora Mae’s eyes widened like platters. “You aren’t going up to the door, are you? That would be crazy.” Then she started laughing, easing up a little. “But look at you! Nobody would recognize Gertie Johnson under all that makeup.” She peeled off her black rain jacket, jiggled around in the seat until she had it out from underneath her and handed it over. “The hunting jacket is a dead giveaway. Put this on.”

Cora Mae is taller than I am, so when I stood up outside of the truck, the coat came down to my ankles, making me feel very private eyeish. Blond hair, black raincoat, a pair of Blublocker sunglasses to complete the disguise. The only thing missing was still in my purse. My friend watched me palm the sheriff’s badge I’d purchased from Blaze’s law enforcement catalog. She shook her head.

Brash, bold, full of bravado. That was me. I felt like Lana Turner or Lauren Bacall. Not quite as tall, or thin, or young. But an investigator has to do what an investigator has to do. I would walk into their house and meet them eye to eye, without a clue as to a plan of action. What else was new?

“I’m with the Soo police,” I said to Sue, trying for a husky voice to go along with the new me. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about the robbery and murders.”

“My husband isn’t home,” she said, squinting at the badge as I waved it quickly past her.

“You’re the one I need to talk to.”

“You can’t come in without a warrant. I saw that on television. And I’m certainly not inviting you in. I don’t even have to talk to you without a lawyer present. And…” Sue stared at my face. My heart did a flip. Had she recognized me? “…you have a glob of lipstick on the corner of your mouth. Right here.” She brushed a finger across her own lip to show me where it was. Of course, I slid my fingers along the wrong side. “The other side.”

“Thanks.”

“Come back when you have a warrant.”

I’d watched enough cop shows to know what to say next. “You can cooperate or we can take a ride downtown.” I was thankful Walter’s truck was parked behind a big spruce tree. Only the front bumper showed through the dense pine needles.

“Why is Sault Ste. Marie involved?”

“Kent Miller was from the Soo. I caught the case.” I tried on a little cop lingo for size. It fit well.

“What do you need to know?”

“We’re curious about your sudden financial windfall. We have witnesses saying you’re wearing fancy jewels and talking about buying a condo.” At the moment, Sue didn’t have anything valuable hanging from her neck or wrist just like at the dance. Her only piece of jewelry was a wedding ring with a modest diamond.

“Dave and I went through all this with the local sheriff.”

“Go through it again for me.”

Sue leaned against a porch rail and wrapped her hands around her arms against the chilling evening. I hadn’t noticed before, but night was settling in quickly. “My father died down in South Carolina,” she said. “He lived in a trailer with no air conditioning. He ate breakfast on Saturday mornings at banks when they gave out free pastry and he hand-washed his own car. I didn’t think he had a nickel to his name until a lawyer called. My father left me a million dollars.”

“Holy shmo…” I almost forgot myself in the excitement.

“That’s what I said at the time.” Sue gave me a sad little grin. “I’d rather have my dad back than all the money in the world. Please don’t let this get around the community. We’re keeping it to ourselves. You know how people are?”

“Flashing jewelry around town isn’t the way to keep it secret.”

“That was my mother’s necklace. I only wore it to church. But I hear what you’re saying. It’s cold out here. I’m going in. You can find out the rest from Sheriff Snell.”

When I got back to the car, Cora Mae was on the radio with Kitty. “We have to get down to Herb’s right now,” she said. “Angie Gates is sitting at the bar.”

I put the pedal to the metal and almost rammed my foot through what was left of the floorboard.

____________________

Kitty met us in the parking lot.

“Are you sure?” I said, stepping out of the truck and noting four other trucks in the gravel lot. “You never met her. How do you know?”

“I saw pictures when we went through her house.” Kitty’s black wig bounced as she spoke. “But look in the window and you tell me.”

We slunk over to the window. “That’s her,” I said.

“Now what?” Cora Mae said. Just once, I wish that woman had an idea of her own. My mind was ready to explode from having to make all the decisions.

“How’d she get here?” I asked. “Is she with someone?”

“She came in alone.”

I walked along the back of the trucks in the parking lot, recognizing every one of them. Looking in the window again, I saw four locals huddled together at the bar. Angie sat off by herself, nursing a beer.

“She was asking about you,” Kitty said, saving the best for last.

“You’re kidding. Last time I saw her, she ran the other way.”

“She wanted to know where to find you.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I didn’t. But I carded her.”

“And?” Kitty was going to make me drag it out of her. I was tired and had lost my patience. I wanted to handcuff her to the back of Walter’s rust bucket and drag her down Stonely’s main street.

“Her real name is Shirley Hess.”

“Send her out.”

“Well,” Cora Mae said. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Just in case it was a setup, Cora Mae and I hid around the back of the bar until we were sure Angie was alone. She walked out and wandered along the parking lot scanning the shadows.

I could hear country music playing inside. Angie looked lost-young and afraid.

When we stepped out, she saw us right away and started hurrying away.

I realized she might not recognize me with the blond-bombshell hair and black trench coat. “It’s me,” I called. “Gertie Johnson.”

Angie hesitated then turned and approached cautiously.

“Where’s your car?” I asked.

“I ditched it and hitched a ride from a gas station in Gladstone.” She came toward us. Cora Mae had pepper spray in her hand, ready for action at the slightest wrong move. My stun gun was two fingers away. “I need your help,” she said.

“In case you haven’t been watching the news, I have troubles of my own.”

“You’re an investigator. I want to hire you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Private, please.” She eyed my red-bunned partner.

Cora Mae, never too interested in our company’s business end anyway, went into the bar to hang with Kitty. Angie and I sat in Walter’s truck. My minirecorder was on.

“I don’t know the guy who tried to rob the credit union,” she said. “I don’t know the other guy either. I want to get that straight right away.”

I nodded to encourage her.

“I saw you pull one of the shoes out of the water,” she said. “But you have to believe me.”

“Why do you care what I think? What does it matter? I’m persona non grata with the local law.”

“Like I said, I need your help. Those shoes I threw in the water had been planted in my house, in the basement. Someone’s trying to implicate me in the robbery, or the murder behind your truck, or something. And I’m scared.”

Angie, or Shirley, really did look frightened. “What’s your real name?”

“Angie.”

“Why the fake ID?”

“Like I said, I’m running scared. Fake IDs are a dime a dozen. I’ve had them since I turned sixteen. Used to get into bars long before I was legal. Whoever’s after me won’t be looking for Shirley.”

“Why would someone be looking for you?”

“I pushed the emergency button that brought the cops, remember?”

“So someone wants revenge?”

“I guess. I was packing up some of my things last night when I heard a noise at the back door like someone was breaking in. I went out a window and ran away as fast as I could.”

“Where are you staying now?”

“I won’t tell you. But it’s someplace safe.”

“Okay. Let me get this straight.” I watched a local stagger from the bar. “You want me to find out who is setting you up?”

“No,” she said, watching my face for a reaction. “I know who it is. But I need you to prove it.”