Deb Baker - Murder Talks Turkey

I didn’t know what to say. I could have told her things to solidify her decision to leave, but she was hurting enough without more bad news.

“When you and Tony were serving beer at the dance the night Bob Goodyear was killed,” I said, “did you see anything suspicious? Did you see anyone go outside? Hear anything unusual?”

Lyla shook her head. “I don’t remember anything that would make a difference. Look, I know you want to get Blaze off, but maybe he did it. Did you ever think of that? Everybody knows what he went through with the meningitis, and we all saw how he wasn’t right in the head afterwards.”

I sighed as snow covered the top of my head. That’s what they all would say. That Blaze hadn’t been in his right mind and had killed the guy in the parking lot. He’d have to plead insanity and hope it stuck. Not to mention that I might go down with him.

“You heard about Kitty?” I asked. “She’s near death because a killer opened fire on her. Blaze was in jail when it happened. How do you explain that?”

“I have a client in a few minutes. You better go.”

Lyla hurried inside, glancing over her shoulder to make sure I wasn’t following her in.

I was wasting my time. Every single person at the dance had the opportunity to slip outside unnoticed and kill Bob. I didn’t even see Dave at all while I was there. Sue disappeared from the table when I went to get her a beer. Tony or Lyla could have taken breaks from pouring beers. When it came right down to it, the entire community was suspect. I needed to work a new angle – one that would pay off fast.

I walked down to the corner and looked both ways. The truck and Blaze weren’t in sight. But Tony Lento was. He ran across the street right at me. I did another rapid scan for the truck. Where were Blaze and Fred?

Tony had his hands in his coat, making me wonder if he had a concealed weapon. But then I remembered where I was. This was the Michigan Upper Peninsula, Gladstone, to be exact, not Detroit or Chicago. I had mobsters on the mind. Nobody got mowed down on our streets.

He stopped in front of me and smiled. “I need a word with you, Gertie.”

“I’m standing right in front of you, make it quick.”

“What if I told you right here and now that I did it all? That I masterminded the robbery?” Tony’s smiling face was too close for comfort. “The robbery, the killings, the whole works? What would you say?”

“I’d believe it,” I said, narrowing my eyes and thinking about the gun in my purse and the recording unit that wasn’t turned on. I shuffled around, trying to get a hand in my purse to start the machine, but he clamped a strong, painful hold on my arm and didn’t let go.

“What would you do with that information?” he hissed, no longer smiling. “I bet you’d call up Sheriff Snell and lay it all out for him.”

“That would be a good start.” And, I thought, I’d make a citizen’s arrest, slap handcuffs on you right this minute. My purse contents are wonderful. Talk about prepared. Now if Blaze would show up and hold Tony while I cuffed him, we’d be in business.

“Let’s see,” he snarled, showing me the side of him that he hid from the public, the side Lyla had mentioned a few minutes ago. “It would be my word against yours. Who would our good sheriff believe? You? I coach baseball every summer, make donations to all the local events, and go to church every Sunday. You’re nothing but a crackpot with an addled son and a dysfunctional family.”

I kept my face impassive and hard, but his words had shocked me. Just wait, I thought, Lyla’s throwing you a curve ball. We’ll see whose family is more dysfunctional. I envisioned hauling him in, throwing him in a cell, tossing away the key.

Dickey wouldn’t listen to me if I brought in Tony. He’d add new charges to my growing list of crimes. He’d book me for assaulting Tony.

Our truck turned toward me, two blocks down. I had to get away from this slime bucket before he saw our mode of transportation. Walter’s truck was the only reason we were still on the road working the case.

“I’ll get you eventually,” I said.

Tony laughed. “You don’t have a single piece of concrete evidence.”

He continued laughing like he’d just heard a world-class joke. I trotted toward the truck, making small, stealthy motions, which Blaze picked up on. He turned away from Delta Avenue, parked, and waited for me to get in the truck a few minutes later.

“Tony’s our man,” I said to Blaze, trying to dodge a torrent of kisses from Fred. “He confessed.”

I told Blaze about my conversations with Lyla and Tony. “He’s right, you know,” Blaze said. “What you think you know isn’t worth much if you can’t back it up.”

Snow continued to fall while we drove to Escanaba to our motel hole-in-the-wall. I had learned a lot from living life on the wrong side of the law. The latest truth worried me the most.

Once I acquired outlaw status, my word became about as good as a roll of toilet paper.

I HAVEN’T SEEN YOUR STORY in the paper yet,” I said first thing Tuesday morning to Laura DeLand over the motel phone.

“My boss killed it,” she said, with genuine regret in her voice. “I tried hard. Sorry.”

“Did he say why?”

“I have to substantiate the information you gave me before we can print it.”

“In other words, they don’t believe me.”

“That’s one way of putting it. I haven’t given up. I’ll keep working it.”

“How’s your houseguest?”

“She’s okay.”

“I’d like to come by and visit sometime soon.”

“Anytime. That’s the beauty of my job. I have the power to protect my sources.”

Laura DeLand was smart and sweet, but she was young and still had fantasy-land visions of how the world was supposed to work. She’d learn soon enough that no one was safe from suspicion or prosecution. Not even a news reporter. Not even a life-long sheriff like Blaze. Not even an innocent widow like me.

We still didn’t have a new update on Kitty, but we had one on Cora Mae.

“I have a date with Kitty’s doctor,” she said from the center of my bed, fluffing the pillow and grinning. “A doctor. Can you believe it?”

“Sure,” I said. “You’re hot. Why wouldn’t a doc want to go out with you?”

“We’re going to have dinner in Marquette, then David is taking me to the Ojibwa casino to teach me roulette.”

She bounced to a sitting position and rummaged through a tote bag. “I brought you more disguises.” Cora Mae held up one of her man-hunting stretch outfits. Spandex stuff looks great on her, but makes me feel like a stuffed sausage. “And heels.” She hauled out little strappy things.

I shot her a look.

“You have to play the part,” she advised. “What good is changing your hair color if you still look like Gertie Johnson from the neck down? I’ll paint your toenails for you.”

Fred chose that moment to leap on the bed and settle next to her. Blaze came out of the bathroom and plopped in a chair in front of the TV

“Glamorous life we’re leading,” I said, watching Cora Mae layer red polish on my toes. “Actually, it’s the pits. We have to sneak around. And we worry all the time about someone identifying us. We aren’t accomplishing a thing besides racking up more charges against us. It’s only a matter of time before we’re caught.”

“Quit whining,” Cora Mae said. “It could be worse. We could be lying in the hospital with Kitty, riddled with bullets.”

“Or in the morgue,” Blaze added.

In the bathroom, I changed into the clothes that were supposed to make me into someone new. Then Cora Mae and I drove to the grocery store. She went inside and purchased food from a list I had given her. After that, we went to the hospital to visit Kitty.