Murder Talks Turkey

Chapter 6

“LET HER OUT,” DICKEY WAS saying to Blaze when I slipped into the sheriff’s office. Fred howled from the truck, which is what he always does when I leave him behind. He sounded like an entire wolf pack.

Kitty, pin curls and all, sat on a cot behind the jail bars. “Why did you him lock you up?” I wanted to know.

“It seemed easier than fist fighting with him,” she replied. “I planned on defending myself only if he got out a rope and started making a noose.”

“Release her this moment.” Dickey was puffing up like a Tom turkey.

Blaze jiggled the keys and leaned back in the sheriff’s chair. “She broke the speed limit on the way over. Probably broke the speed of sound, if that’s possible. She’s a menace to society, and she’s staying locked up until traffic court convenes.”

Sounded good to me. Kitty liked to blow through town like a tornedo, taking corners on two wheels, and practicing other tomfoolery usually reserved for delinquent teenagers. I gripped the bars and pressed my face against the cold steel. “Anything rhetorical to say about your situation?” I said to her, using my word for the day.

“We need an ereption of those keys,” Kitty said, using hers. Badly, I might add.

“You quit that foul talk,” Blaze shouted. “Or I’ll keep you locked up for the rest of the week. I’ll throw away the key.”

I grinned. “Could you repeat that, Kitty? I didn’t quite hear you.”

Kitty swung her eyes at Blaze, then whispered, “Get me out of here. Please.”

“In a minute,” I said, turning to Dickey. “I heard money is missing from the credit union.”

Our stand-in sheriff nodded his head. “A significant amount of money has been taken.”

“How do you account for that? The robber was stopped dead in his tracks.”

“An accomplice.”

“The guy was in the bank alone.”

“An inside job.”

Dickey Snell had figured that out on his own. Amazing. College boys are known for big words, not common sense. Blaze must have helped him with that deduction.

The howling outside subsided somewhat.

“The next time I find Blaze inside this facility,” Dickey said. “I’m putting him behind bars for trespassing.”

“You do that,” I replied, looking tough, “and you have me to answer to.”

Dickey snorted.

“Remember me,” Kitty called from behind bars. “I have to go, you know, and I’m not using this open-

“Okay,” I said. “Blaze, give me the keys and I’ll watch her. You have to check out your house.”

“Why do I have to do that?”

“You know why.” I made the universal money sign by rubbing my thumb across my fingers to remind him of his hidden millions. “You have to make sure it’s all accounted for. I’ll drive you over.”

Blaze caught my drift and bolted for the door, tossing the keys at me. I hated to see the look of concern on his face, but short of wrestling him to the ground, it was the only way.

Before I let Kitty out, I made her say ereption six times as fast as she could. “That was for doing such a poor job of watching my son,” I said.

“This is your last official warning,” Dickey said. “Keep him home.”

Hunting seasons always remind me of my Milwaukee grandson, Little Donny, because he usually comes for every one of them. He loves the wildness of our land and he fits in well with the people here, even though he’s had some unusual experiences and hasn’t managed to shoot anything.

One time, Little Donny stunned a buck and loaded him in Carl’s station wagon. Then the buck woke up. What a mess that made of Carl’s wagon before we got the car door open and let the deer run off.

Nineteen-year-old Little Donny has a new job in Milwaukee so he can’t get time off to turkey hunt this year. I really miss him.

I named my kids for the horses I never had, but always dreamed of having. Blaze, Star, and Heather. The girls like their names, but Blaze has a little residual resentment over his. Heather lives in Milwaukee and Star lives just down our road behind me. She’s my youngest and has twin boys, Red and Ed, who own Herb’s Bar, the only watering hole in Stonely.

I’d promised Kitty a reprieve from her daycare duties, and I knew just what to do to accomplish my mission without compromising my sleuthing schedule. I walked into the tavern, noting that the four o’clock crowd had arrived ahead of me. The bar went dead silent when I stepped in, but conversations resumed as soon as they saw it was only me.

Star was behind the bar with Red, who was named for his brilliant shock of red hair.

“I need help,” I said to Star after she plunked a diet pop down in front of me. “Mary’s gone for a few days and I can’t handle my new business and take care of Grandma and Blaze at the same time.”

“I get off in thirty minutes, I’ll come over.”

I sighed with relief.

“I’m off tomorrow,” she continued, “I’ll do it then, too.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know,” Star said, with a twinkle in her eye, which left me pondering what she meant by that remark. Star’s husband ran off several years ago and she’s been playing the field ever since. My baby is cute and cuddly and I miss spending time with her. Between helping the boys keep Herb’s running and her active social life, I don’t see much of my daughter.

I drank my pop, then headed home to wait for Star to get off work.

____________________

“What do you mean, you lost him?” Cora Mae said from her kitchen table as the sun set in orange stripes outside the window.

“It’s harder than it sounds,” I said, digging into the platter of pan-fried chicken Kitty had made on Cora Mae’s little-used stovetop. “It might help if you could drive. Kitty and I are doing all the surveillance work.”

“You can practice behind the wheel with me,” Kitty offered, licking her fingers. “You had your license at one time, so you must know how. You’re just rusty.”

“I better start right now,” Cora Mae said. “Because you and Gertie are doing an awful job of tailing him.”

That was the truth, but I hated to admit it. “That’s not true,” I said.

Cora Mae used her fingers to pop one measly piece of lettuce into her mouth from the salad in front of her. “I’ve been doing research while you two have been busy losing Tony.”

“You found out who he’s seeing on the side?” Kitty asked.

“No. I found out about the orange sneakers on the bank robber.”

“We should look into that case, too,” I said. “Since I was one of the hostages, I’m interested.”

“Nothing could keep you away from a case like this,” Kitty said. “Even if you hadn’t been in the credit union when it happened.”

Cora Mae ate another bit of lettuce. “Kent Miller came from the Soo, that’s his legal address, but he was trying to break into a gang.”

“Imagine applying for a gang position. Is that how it’s done?” I said. “And what are they called? The orange shoe gang?”

“That’s their logo, or whatever a gang calls its individual mark.”

Kitty rolled a mouthful of chicken into one cheek. “He was a gangbanger? Wow. A gangbanger right in our backyard.”

“An amateur one,” I reminded her. “A real one would have shot all of us.”

Kitty tackled another piece of chicken. “Why would he announce himself that way?”

“He never expected to get caught. Gang members aren’t very smart,” I guessed with some confidence. Not that Stonely ever had a gang. The closest we came was two years ago when Jesse Olson and his gang took baseball bats and beat up all the local mailboxes in broad daylight. That gang wasn’t too bright, either.

“It’s an inside job,” I said. “His accomplice has to be Dave Nenonen. He’s the manager, so he’s the only one with total access to the cash. And you should have seen what a hurry he was in to open the vault. Didn’t put up a fuss at all.”

Kitty nodded. “Maybe Dave siphoned out the money over time and the robbery was intended to draw attention away from him.”

“Dave’s like family,” Cora Mae said. “He’s not our guy.”

Every man in town is like family to Cora Mae. She’s dated almost all of them and doesn’t have a mean word to say about a single one. Before Dave married Sue and while Cora Mae was between husbands, they had a little fling. When they meet here and there in town, I can’t help noticing that Dave won’t look Cora Mae directly in the eye. Like if he did, he’d remember something so special, he’d lose control of his married life.

That’s what Cora Mae does to a man.

Tonight, after nibbling her few crumbs of rabbit food, she dressed all in black-dainty boots, tight black jeans, and a soft and fuzzy sweater with glitter. Kitty wore a housedress tent thing and had combed out all but a row of pin curls in the front.

“You still have pin curls in your hair.” I thought I should mention in case she had missed them.

“I know,” the beauty queen answered, without offering an explanation. “How’s it going with you and George?”

I’m a recent widow, so George and I are taking it slow at my request. George has been a family friend for as long as I can remember. He’s sixty years old and can fix anything that’s broken. The two of us are like soul mates. To top it off, he has tight buns and great muscles in all the right places.

“He’ll be along later,” I said. “He’s finishing a carpentry job.”

Since Star was babysitting Blaze and Grandma, and had agreed to take them to play bingo, the three of us had free reign to handle business. The big occasion that had Kitty doing a comb out was the spring dance in Trenary. It was held in the senior center, next to the church that hosted the bingo games Grandma and Pearl were going to.

Friday night dances in the U.P. aren’t as filled with excitement as non-Yoopers might think. However, all the locals would be there, including Tony and Dave. We could pick up a lost trail and question Dave at the same time. Kill two birds with one stone.

As it turned out, only one bird died, and it wasn’t either of those two boys.