Deb Baker - Murder Talks Turkey

“Dave’s wife does the books?” This was important news that she had failed to mention at the dance.

“Just the basic stuff on the computer. She uses a program and plugs in numbers.”

“It must be strange working with the manager’s wife.”

June shrugged. “I mind my own business.”

What did that mean? I couldn’t think of a polite way to ask for clarification so I just said it. “What do you mean,” I blurted. “by ‘I mind my own business’?”

June leaned forward. Her body language suggested busybody, exactly the opposite of her verbal comment.

Antithesis should be the word for today instead of…um…I couldn’t remember. I hate when that happens. It was on the tip of my tongue, since I’d used it on the way over.

“Well,” June said slowly. “If you asked me, I’d say Sue’s been wearing some fine jewelry lately. And…” she dragged it out. “She and Dave are whispering about moving someplace warmer.”

“We all talk about that every winter,” I said for the sake of argument.

“Yes, but we talk about running down to Florida for a week or two in a mobile trailer. Dave and Sue are talking new condo development.”

She threw me a meaningful glance to make sure I got it.

I did.

If they had the stolen money they might be biding their time, planning to live large later.

At June’s insistence, I filled a vest pocket with taffy on the way out.

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.