Murder Bites the Bullet: A Gertie Johnson Murder Mystery (11 page)

Diane stood up. “We’re done here.”

“Not quite yet,” I stood up too.”There’s the issue of your alibi.”

Diane Aho always struck me as an average-sized woman, but when we stood head to head, or rather my nose to her boobs, I realized that once the woman was out of her apron and away from the stove, she seemed to grow in stature. And attitude. Right now she wasn’t one bit mousy.

I flipped out my deputy credentials.

Then she flipped my arm behind my back and escorted me out the door. Where I stood, rumpled, wondering where Fred was when I needed him. And convinced that I had finally nailed our killer.

Fred came around a corner sniffing the ground. “About time,” I said.

*

Cora Mae is a late riser, and at the moment I didn’t know if she was sleeping at home or Chet’s house, so I headed for Kitty’s. Blaze came tooling down M35 toward me, so I swerved over in front of him to have a chat.

“Nonsense.” How in the world did I give birth to such an anal individual? “You have to go over to Diane Aho’s house and arrest her. She killed her husband and maybe Frank Hanson.”

By now I had my hands on my hips and my Blublockers on top of my head so he could see the glare I’d perfected when I started this business. “Diane wasn’t at the IGA,” I said through gritted teeth. “Have you tried to verify her alibi?”

“Of course. Maybe if you didn’t treat me like some kind of bumbling idiot and show a little respect--”

I interrupted. “So, did her alibi check out?”

“It did. Right from the start. Grandma ran into Diane at the IGA, and they had a long conversation. And it was right during the shooting. So there.”

“She told you this when?”

“The same day Harry died.”

That big liar. She’d just told me she hadn’t lied yet. She’d lied about lying! “Grandma is lying through her false teeth, and so is the widow Aho.”

“Get your truck out of my way.”

*

“Blaze doesn’t believe a thing I tell him,” I crabbed to Kitty after bringing her up to speed. “And Diane fired us for incompetence. And Grandma is collaborating with the killer. The only one getting anything out of all this is Cora Mae.”

“I finished up one of my online law classes, so I’m that much closer to a degree,” Kitty said brightly, pouring coffee for me. “And I have more info on Diane Aho, something that might show she had it in her to off both Harry and Frank.”

Kitty laughed. “No, she does a boot camp exercise class. It’s sort of like real boot camp because you do drills, like jumping jacks and push-ups and running miles while somebody yells at you.”

“Who would volunteer for a thing like that?”

Kitty looked shrewd. “Someone who wants strength and speed and stealth.”

More lightbulbs went on in my head. If this kept up, I’d be blinded by the light. “She could easily have killed Frank then. And she’d know about guerilla suits.”

“Ghillie suits,” Kitty corrected me.

“This whole thing is getting more mercurial by the moment,” I said, testing the word-of-the-day waters and finding them a bit murky.

I shook my head. “Not even close.” Then I gave Kitty the once-over. She’d never survive a senior citizen workout, let along boot camp. “Don’t actually exercise,” I advised her. “This is a fact gathering mission only.”

“Gotcha.”

“And while you’re there, work on a motive. Keep asking yourself why she would kill her husband.” I headed for the door. “Oh, and one more thing, find out if that boot camp owns any of those guerilla suits.”

*

Cora Mae was in her own bed, sound asleep. I woke her up, fed her a few cups of coffee and put a question to her.

“Who was Chet going with before you came into the picture?”

“We don’t talk about our pasts,” she said, looking sexy in some kind of silk black thingee. While most of us wear T-shirts or flannel to bed, Cora Mae is always ready for action.

“Why haven’t you discussed it? Aren’t you interested in what came before?”

“First of all, there hasn’t been much talking going on. Second of all, I’m more interested in
not
telling what came before
him
.”

I gave her today’s assignment. “Find out every single female he came in contact with in the last few months. Send him out on an errand and search his place.”

*

Martin Aho, brother to Gus, son to Diane and the deceased Harry, worked at a lumberyard in Escanaba. Sawmills from olden times are long gone, right with trees the size of which we’ve never seen since. In the old days, floating sawmills and logging camps kept our ancestors from starving to death. Today, we still like our hardwood.

Taking M35, I drove along the bluff overlooking Gladstone, then along scenic Lake Michigan into Escanaba and parked the truck in the visitor’s lot.

Martin was climbing into an enormous logging truck right as I walked up.

He recognized me and hopped back down.

“I’m following up on a few leads,” I explained, making stuff up as I went along. “And I need you to substantiate some claims and fill in some details. Gus said you and he were going to continue running your dad’s moonshine business over in the state park.”

“That’s nothing new,” Martin said, growing wary. “The sheriff knows all about it, and he looks the other way.”

“Don’t we all when it comes to homemade liquor?” I said to reassure him. “I’m not complaining one bit. What you do is your business. But Frank Hanson was in on it too. Right?”

Martin didn’t say anything for a minute. Then, “Gus told you that?”

I nodded, even though Gus hadn’t. “It really surprised me.”

“I don’t know why Gus would say a thing like that.” Martin leaned against the semi. “Hansons and Ahos don’t do business together.”

“Whoa there!” Martin put his hands up in the air like I was drawing on him. “Nothing of the sort. I already went over this with the sheriff and he checked out my whereabouts. I’m clean.”

I stood watching him pull out, shifting through all those gears, and while I did that, I had a few choice thoughts about my son. Martin had an alibi. If Blaze had shared information with me like he should, I wouldn’t be wasting all this time retracing his steps.

Before Fred and I took off in my truck, I made sure the bean bag gun was fully loaded and operational. Then I tucked it under my seat where it would be handy if I needed it.

*

“You’re cracking up,” I said into the cell phone, the one that everybody but me thought I should own. I’m a technically challenged adult, I tried to tell them. Most of the time, I don’t even turn it on unless I need it. Unless I’m in the middle of an investigation, like now.

“Can you hear me,” Cora Mae said.

I pulled off the road because that’s what you have to do in the Michigan Upper Peninsula if you want to stay connected. “That’s better.”

“I sent Chet to pick up Kitty,” she said.

“Why does she need to be picked up?”

“She went to that boot camp you sent her to and ended up on the ground, passed out cold. I can’t believe you sent her off to do such a thing, considering her size.”

“I specifically told her
not
to exercise. Besides, you had a chance to trade. Is she okay?”

“One of the drill sergeants was a nurse. He checked her out. She’s fine, but he advised her not to drive right away. Chet will take her home, get her settled, and stop at the store for me. I searched his house like you asked me to. And guess what? I found something.”

This was getting stranger by the minute. Here I was, sitting on the side of M35 with people I knew driving past and waving, all of them understanding exactly why I was parked. We’ve all been here, done this. At least those of us who have been forced to carry a cell phone.

“A purple umbrella with panties inside is a good start,” I told her. “But it doesn’t give us the next lead. And we don’t have fancy DNA equipment.” Although that was a thought. I wonder how much it would cost for a machine.

Diane Aho!
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I said.

“You mean that Diane Aho had an affair with my Chet?” Cora Mae didn’t sound exactly thrilled at the idea. “Those were some pretty fancy panties, too. I think she left them there intentionally, so if he opened the umbrella, he’d think of her. I wish I’d come up with that. I better try to outdo her.”

“I’ll call you back,” I said before Cora Mae could launch into details. If she put half as much effort into her investigator job, she’d be the best in the business. “Keep your phone on.”

I pulled back onto the road, thinking hard. There’s something about driving my truck that brings creative thoughts into my head. Maybe it’s the monotony of the road ahead that clears my mind of all the clutter. This time was no different. For every question I posed to myself, I came up with a pat answer.

Maybe, to be with Chet. Passion is a powerful emotion. Besides, Harry Aho would have killed her first for even looking at a Hanson. She just beat him to it.

What about Frank Hanson? Did she kill him too? And if so, why? Had he seen something or found out something he shouldn’t have?

And why hire the Trouble Busters to find evidence against Chet if Diane had killed her husband to be with Chet?

Then I remembered that she hadn’t hired us. Her sons had. She’d actually wanted them to hold off, but they wouldn’t listen. The last thing she’d want is for anyone to find out she’d been sneaking around with Chet.

But she wasn’t with Chet Hanson now. Cora Mae was. Were those two laying low because of Harry’s murder? Maybe Diane had asked Chet to stay away a respectable amount of time, at least until after the funeral.

Then why was he seeing Cora Mae?

Did Diane know?

I thought back to the report I’d given her. How she’d studied it? Had I imagined it, or had there been a certain harshness in her voice after she read the part about Cora Mae? I didn’t like where my analysis was taking me. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

Diane Aho had an umbrella just like Mary Poppins.

Only Diane was more like Scary Poppins.

I must have been a little under a mile from home, when I saw Diane’s car go by. And it was heading in the direction of Chet’s place. Of course, that was the way to her house, but still... My heart pumped faster. I had a ginormous lump in my throat. Because I’d seen the expression on Diane’s face as she passed, and if looks could kill…