Murder Talks Turkey

Chapter 33

I ZAPPED THE GUY IN the back seat of the Cadillac before he knew what was happening. One hit, then another with my trusty stun gun, just to make sure he wouldn’t give me any trouble. He flopped around half on the floor with both legs doing the turkey trot out the back door. I recognized him from the morgue. He was dead Bob’s brother.

Shirley took the opportunity to grab his gun. I didn’t think she was choosing my side of this war, so I gave her a zap, too, causing her to drop the weapon and join the dance. My aim hadn’t been quite as good with her as it had been with the guy, but I didn’t have time for a second round, if I wanted to get away in one piece.

I ran for the porch, grabbed the package from the mailbox, and beat it out of there as the other two Orange Gang members ran from the house. I dove into the truck and slapped down the door lock just in time, squealing away from the curb with one of them hanging onto the door handle. He dragged about a block before he decided it wasn’t such a good idea and let go. My fully-loaded, live-action stun gun dangling out the window helped him make the decision.

Walter’s truck didn’t have much zip, but I knew the territory, which I hoped would give me an advantage.

The Cadillac didn’t have any guts either, because it didn’t gain on me. It didn’t lose either. I blew out of Gladstone, on the lookout for one of our law enforcement officials. With any luck, one would stop both vehicles and I’d be saved. I didn’t see a squad car anywhere in sight. Where in the world are they when you really need them?

My plan, what little I had of one, was to race to the Stonely jail and turn myself in along with the package addressed to…I forgot to look. There it was, clear as day. The package was addressed to Shirley Hess. Before I came in from the cold, I really should look inside. So I worked on opening it while driving as fast as possible down Highway M35.

The package was lighter than I’d expect, if it really held as many bills as I thought it did. And I didn’t really know how thick a stack of money would have to be to make up enough to spell out one hundred thousand. Was the package too small?

By the time I got it open, I had had several close calls with the shoulder of the road and the substantial ditches the U.P. is known for.

I dug inside the package and pulled out a handful of hundred dollar bills. I almost left the road again.

Holy Smokes! I thought I knew what I’d find, but really finding it threw me off for a minute. Somebody better be at the jail to help me before the Orange Gang arrived hot on my tail.

Stonely came into my sights dead ahead. I tromped the gas harder even though the pedal was already riding the floor, and it hadn’t made a bit of difference in my speed. Wouldn’t it be great if the gang in the Caddy didn’t realize they were turning into the sheriff’s quarters, and they followed me right in? Dickey and I could round them up together. I’d be a hero and have a road named after me.

Right before town, I hear a voice speaking to me. I almost left the road again while I assessed its position. As much as I wished for it, the voice wasn’t coming from my Barney.

“Turn left at the next road,” it said. I glanced sharply in my rearview mirror. Shirley Hess’ face was glaring at me through the back window from the bed of the truck. She had the gang member’s gun pressed up against the glass, and her face meant business.

She must have jumped into my truck while I was galloping for the mailbox. I should have taken the time for a second zap, but hindsight is always twenty-twenty, and my foresight has always been legally blind.

I peeled around the corner like she asked me to, turning more sharply than necessary. I glanced back, hoping she had fallen out on the turn. She still clung there with a bead on my head.

“Make a left up ahead,” she demanded, directing three more turns that were guaranteed to lose the Caddy, and which took me farther away from Stonely and the safety of the jail. I never thought of it as a sanctuary until now.

“Where are we going?” I shouted through the glass.

“Just drive.” The gun never wavered. I don’t know how I stayed on the road because my eyes were glued to the weapon and Shirley’s trigger finger. A bad bump in the dirt road could cause a misfire, and I’d be a goner.

“If you’re trying to reach toward your purse,” she said, “I’ll shoot you right through the glass and take my chances without a driver.”

She didn’t miss a trick. Grandma’s pistol was a foot away and it wasn’t doing me any good at all.

We’d lost the Cadillac. I had a gun pointed at the back of my head. A hundred thousand dollars lay on the seat beside me. And there wasn’t a soul in the world who knew where I was, or what I had discovered.

Shirley had a mean, violent streak. She’d plotted to steal the credit union’s money for herself. She’d killed Tony and maybe Bob. If she would murder her lover, she wasn’t going to worry about wasting me.

I needed to get to my purse-filled arsenal before we arrived at Shirley’s destination. Because after that, I was a dead woman.