All Natural Murder

by McLaughlin, Staci

  As he started past Darlene, she stuck out her cane. Crusher’s shin smacked the wood. He pitched forward into the dirt. I held my breath, but only for a second. He was on his feet almost as soon as he’d fallen, gripping his injured leg.

  Crusher glared at Darlene. “You’re next, old lady.” He limped forward a few steps and then broke into a run.

  I darted inside the enclosure, no clear idea as to where I was going. Metal loomed up on all sides as I ran among the tractors; some missing tires, others missing cabs, all in disrepair. I rounded a John Deere and slumped behind the giant wheel to catch my breath.

  For a moment, all I could hear was my own gasping. As my breathing slowed, I realized I couldn’t hear anything else. Where was Crusher? Waiting for me to come out? Or had he given up and gone after the Steddelbeckers?

  Only one way to find out. I shifted to a crouched position and lifted my head to peer over the rubber. Crusher stood directly on the other side of the tire, a crowbar in his hand. How had he gotten so lucky as to find one of those?

  Our eyes met. He raised his arm and swung at my head. I ducked back down as the bar hit the metal fender, the sound reverberating in my brain.

  I ran, knowing he must be right behind me. I darted between two tractors, then around a plow, the sight of the menacing blades spurring me on. I turned another corner and lost traction in the loose dirt. I slipped, missing a rusty engine block by inches.

  As I regained my balance, I felt Crusher’s fingers brush the fabric of my shirt. The contact gave me another rush of adrenaline, and I sprinted forward, turning this way and that until I was completely disoriented. I was lost in the maze of tractors. Footsteps pounded behind me, and I zigged behind another huge wheel. Running wouldn’t work forever. I needed a plan. And a weapon.

  The ground around me offered exactly zero strips of metal or shards of glass. Too bad I couldn’t stumble over a crowbar like Crusher apparently had. Maybe I could find a weapon in one of the cabs. Or I could lock myself inside. But then what?

  I ran to the nearest tractor that had a cab, but the steps were missing.

  Son of a gun.

  Muscles protesting, I heaved myself up on a tire, reached over, and seized the handle. I jerked open the door and dragged myself inside, just as Crusher grabbed my ankle. I yanked out of his grasp, pulled my legs under me, and fumbled the door shut.

  I checked all around the interior but spotted no loose objects, nothing I could defend myself with. The cab was bare. I pressed down on the horn. No sound. I looked out the window and sucked in my breath.

  Crusher was already up on the tire, crowbar still in hand.

  The lock! I’d forgotten to lock the door.

  As I reached to slap the lock down, Crusher grabbed the handle and pulled. The door opened. The sight sent a surge of panic through me. I grabbed the interior handle and yanked it toward me. The door slammed shut.

  Before I could lock it, Crusher pulled again. The door eased open a crack. I couldn’t afford to take one hand off the handle to lock the door. Besides, he could always break the window with his crowbar.

  That left me one option. I shoved open the door with both hands. The door smacked Crusher in the face. He lost his footing, but hung onto the handle for what seemed like forever. Then he fell to the ground with a thud. The crowbar landed in the dirt to one side.

  I had to get that crowbar. I jumped down from the cab but stumbled on my landing. As I scooped up the crowbar, Crusher staggered to his feet. I swung the crowbar and struck his temple, shuddering at the sensation as the metal connected with flesh. He fell back onto the dirt and moaned.

  Clutching the crowbar, I stood over him. “Stay down. I don’t want to hit you again.” But deep down, I kind of wanted to.

  Crusher raised his hands. “All right. You win.”

  The man had lied before. I wasn’t taking his word on that.

  I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and hit the ON button, ready to call 911. Nothing happened. I hit the button again.

  The battery was dead.

  I glanced around, unsure of my next move. I couldn’t exactly march Crusher out of here on my say-so, crowbar or no crowbar. Then again, I couldn’t leave him here while I went for help.

  A “tap-tap-tap” sounded from behind me. I risked a peek, keeping one eye on Crusher.

  Horace and Darlene rounded a combine harvester and headed toward us.

  “You got him,” Horace said. “And here we were fixing to help you.” I was almost offended by his slightly amazed tone.

  Darlene lifted her cane. “This should be registered as a deadly weapon.” She poked Crusher’s leg with her cane. “Old lady, my eye.”

  I held up my phone. “Can you two go call the police? My cell’s not working.”

  Darlene waved her own cell phone at me. “Already did.”

  Even as she spoke, I could hear the wail of approaching sirens. I allowed myself to relax a notch, and even grinned.

  When I got up this morning, I never would have guessed that hours later, the Steddelbeckers would help me catch a killer.

  34

  A short time later, an ambulance had carted Crusher off to the hospital with a police escort, and I was telling my story to Detective Palmer for the four hundred and fifty-second time. Okay, maybe it was only the third time, but it felt like more. I was ready to go home and sleep for twelve hours straight, so that I’d be ready for yet another yoga interview in the morning.

  “Are we about done here, Detective? I’m bushed.”

  He flipped through his notes. “Another minute. You really put yourself in danger here. You should have let the police handle it.”

  “For the last time, I didn’t realize Crusher was the killer until I was already alone with him at the track. Otherwise, I most definitely would have called.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The detective didn’t sound convinced, but I meant it. I’d let trained professionals with guns handle lunatic killers over me any day, no problem.

  “All right, I need to interview Mrs. Steddelbecker,” he said. “You can go, and I hope I don’t see you for a long while.”

  “You won’t. I’m all done with this murder business.” Especially now that my sister’s name was cleared.

  I watched Detective Palmer walk over to Darlene, who leaned on her cane and waited for him. I wasn’t even sure he’d introduced himself before she started talking. I could hear her words as she practically shouted at him. “Imagine, a killer staying right next door. We could have been murdered in our sleep. My daughter-in-law will never hear the end of this. She’s just lucky I’m so handy with my cane and was able to take down that Crusher fellow.”

  Horace patted her hand while Detective Palmer shuffled back a step.

  Darlene pointed in my direction. “And her . . .” she began.

  I sighed, wondering what complaint she might have this time.

  “That one’s a spitfire. You should hire her on your police force.”

  What was this? Was Darlene complimenting me?

  She faced me. “If you ever visit Wisconsin, we’ve got a room waiting for you.”

  “Um, thank you,” I said.

  Darlene turned back to Detective Palmer. “Now who do I talk to about suing that Crusher fellow? You wouldn’t believe the emotional distress I’ve suffered.”

  I rose from the curb, still a bit unsteady, and saw a silver Volvo speed across the lot and brake hard near where I stood. Jason leapt from the driver’s seat, shirt halfway untucked, wrinkles obvious.

  He rushed over and swept me up in a bone-crushing hug. “Are you all right?”

  I’d managed not to cry up until now, but the concern in his voice started that telltale burning along my eyelids. I swallowed. “Yeah, I’m more shook up than anything. I can’t believe Crusher killed Bobby Joe.”

  I started trembling as I recalled the struggle in the tractor graveyard. Jason led me to his Volvo and eased me down into the passenger seat.

  He
squatted next to me, one hand on my knee. “It’s all over. You’re safe.”

  My mind tried to convince my body that Jason’s words were true, but I couldn’t stop shivering. “At least the whole town will know that Ashlee didn’t kill Bobby Joe.”

  Jason squeezed my knee. “The whole town already knew that,” he said.

  “But once word gets out, people will also know that Crusher was staying at the spa. They already think the place is cursed. No one will ever stay there again.”

  Jason stood and draped an arm over the car’s roof. “Are you kidding me? The spa is the safest place in town as long as you work there. That’s two killers you’ve caught now.”

  “You’re nice to say that. Are you buttering me up so I’ll tell you everything that happened for your newspaper article?”

  Jason chuckled. “I can gather enough information from other people without making you answer questions.” He lowered his arm. “Now I have to spend this evening writing up the story so it’s ready for tomorrow’s edition. And you need to go home and recover.”

  I felt a bud of disappointment bloom. “Guess we should postpone that dinner. On the condition that you let me know everything you find out from the police, of course.”

  “Deal.” Jason glanced at his watch. “Tell you what. If you’re feeling up to it, how about coming by the newspaper office at seven? If I haven’t finished the story by then, I should be close. I can give you all the dirt.”

  “I’ll be there.” I rose, and Jason offered his arm for support. I felt strong enough on my own, but I leaned on him a little anyway.

  “I called Ashlee on my way over,” Jason said. “She’ll be here any minute to drive you home.”

  I started to protest, and he held up a hand. “I know you’re a big strong grown-up, but you’d be doing me a huge favor if you’d let someone else drive you home. You can always pick up your car later.”

  It might be nice to lean back in the passenger seat and let someone else take control, even if it was my driving-impaired sister. “As a favor to you,” I said.

  Together, we surveyed the parking lot full of cop cars. Jason had mentioned that an officer was posted at the entrance, so at least I didn’t have to deal with any curious bystanders.

  As we watched, a bright red car veered into view, a dust cloud billowing behind. I didn’t need to see the driver to know it was Ashlee.

  She bounced over a pothole and sped across the lot. Just when I thought she’d launch the car onto the sidewalk, much like Crusher had, she cranked the wheel, tires squealing, and slammed on the brakes. The car shuddered to a stop.

  “Maybe you’d be safer driving yourself home after all,” Jason commented.

  “It’s not so bad if you close your eyes.”

  Ashlee got out of the car, slammed her door shut, and practically bounced to the curb. “Sorry it took me so long to get here,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if there’d be a photographer for the paper, so I had to fix myself up first.”

  Indeed, now that she’d reached our spot, I could see freshly applied lip gloss, eye shadow, and blush. She’d even taken the time to curl her blond hair. Glad to see her sisterly love had made her rush right out here.

  Ashlee peered at me. “You don’t look so hot.”

  “Thanks. Let’s not forget I was fighting for my life, and your reputation.”

  Ashlee smoothed down my hair like Mom did when she was trying to calm me. “But, you’re okay, right?”

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear her voice held a hint of concern.

  “I will be.”

  Jason gave my shoulder a squeeze and stepped back. “I should really get going on this story. I’ll leave you in the capable . . .” He paused and looked at Ashlee. “I’ll leave you in Ashlee’s hands, and hopefully see you later.”

  He offered me a smile, then headed toward a cluster of officers, his reporter persona already taking over. He’d shown restraint by not pestering me for an interview, but he’d get all he needed from his police sources.

  Ashlee grabbed my hand and yanked me toward the car. My head snapped back from the force, and my neck yelled at me.

  “Come on, get in. I want to hear everything that happened while I drive you home.”

  “Not much to tell,” I said as she let go of my hand and I made my way to the passenger side. “I finally saw that great trick Crusher did and recognized it as the one Bobby Joe had sketched out in his room. I’m not sure, but I think Crusher killed Bobby Joe so he could claim it as his own.”

  Ashlee was already halfway in the driver’s seat, but she popped back out and looked at me over the roof of the car. “He killed my boyfriend over that stupid roll thing? You gotta be kidding me.”

  “He made references to owing money. With all his previous sponsors dropping him, he must have thought this was his big comeback chance. Then he could pay off the debts and start his career over.”

  I bent down and settled into the seat. Ashlee took her place behind the wheel.

  She shook her head, tears appearing in her eyes. “It was a pretty cool trick. No wonder Bobby Joe wanted to surprise me with it. He knew I would have been so proud.”

  I dug a napkin out of my pocket, in case those tears started to fall. “At least we’ve caught his killer. And now everyone knows you’re innocent.”

  Ashlee perked up and started the car. “That’s true. And now I can start dating again. In fact, I already lined up a date for this weekend while I was driving over here. He just finished a tour in the army. Well, he got kicked out early, but that sergeant was being a butt. Clyde had every right to hit him.”

  I groaned at my sister’s taste in men, or lack of taste, and laid my head against the seat. I closed my eyes as Ashlee slammed her foot on the gas pedal, and we zipped out of the lot.

  At one minute to seven, I pulled into the Blossom Valley Herald parking lot. After a quick nap that afternoon, I’d retrieved my car with Ashlee’s help, then spent the rest of the time sitting in the recliner under Mom’s watchful eye, repeatedly assuring her I was okay. When she offered to reheat last night’s cabbage rolls for dinner, I declined. After the day I’d had, I planned to pick up a big, juicy cheeseburger after I met with Jason. And fries. And a chocolate shake. She checked with me another six or seven times, then finally departed for her dinner with Lane. I found myself actually looking forward to hearing about the details of her date when she got back. As long as it didn’t involve any kissing. Or hand-holding.

  The lobby area was dark when I entered the single-story building, but I could see a light down the hall and headed toward it. I found Jason hunched over his desk, typing furiously. When he looked up and saw me, he stopped.

  “Dana, I’m almost finished. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m sure I’ll be sore tomorrow, but right now I feel great.” The Advil had a lot to do with that, along with seeing Jason.

  He resumed typing for a moment before he stood. “Follow me.” He led the way past the other desks, the monitors all dark, their users gone this late in the evening.

  As we walked, my stomach emitted a growl that sounded like a fighter jet in the quiet room. I clapped a hand over my belly as Jason chuckled. “Sorry,” I said.

  “Actually, that’s a good sound.”

  He stepped to the side of a doorway so I could enter first. I found myself in the newspaper break room. On a small round table, two takeout containers and a bottle of wine waited.

  “I took a guess that you’d like chicken parmesan,” he said, sounding a little bashful. He offered a half shrug.

  “I love chicken parmesan.” Good thing I’d decided to wait for that burger and fries.

  He pulled a chair out for me, and I sat down. He grabbed some silverware and napkins from a nearby drawer and sat across from me, passing me a takeout carton and accoutrements before pouring us each a glass of wine.

  I took a sip, savoring the tangy flavor. “Has Crusher talked at all?”

  “The cops can’t
shut him up,” Jason said. “Apparently Bobby Joe kept hinting about some great move he was working on. Crusher decided to spy on him that night, and when he saw the trick, he knew he had to do it himself. He’s up to his eyeballs in gambling debt, and the loan sharks are losing patience. A couple even followed him up here.”

  I remembered the man who’d visited the spa and the one who’d yelled at Crusher after the fireworks show. Guess they weren’t old buddies after all.

  “So he saw Bobby Joe’s trick, then grabbed the nearest tailpipe and crushed his skull?” I asked. It all seemed so unnecessary.

  “Not exactly. Bobby Joe caught Crusher lurking around and confronted him. They got into a blowout. Bobby Joe must have realized Crusher would try the trick himself. Crusher swears Bobby Joe took the first swing and he grabbed the tailpipe in self-defense, but we’ll never know for sure.”

  “Either way, what a total waste.” I shook my head as I cut off a piece of chicken, added some spaghetti with marinara sauce, and popped it in my mouth. Definitely better than a burger.

  “Agreed, but the man was desperate. He even took an iPod off Bobby Joe’s body, said he was worried it’d have pictures of the trick on it or something. The cops say it didn’t even belong to Bobby Joe.”

  “No, it’s probably Ashlee’s.” I thought of the photos Ashlee had put on there of herself in risqué poses. “Did you get a look at it?” I asked.

  Jason took a sip of wine. “No, it’s already tagged as evidence and locked away.”

  Ashlee would be glad to hear that. At least she didn’t have to worry about those photos popping up on the Internet anytime soon. “You know, Todd was at the fairgrounds when I first got there today, and I was almost convinced he’d come back to make sure he hadn’t left anything incriminating behind.”

  Jason sipped his wine. “The cops talked to him after you mentioned seeing him there. Turns out his boss is participating in a job fair next weekend and sent Todd out to see about table space and such.”

  “Man, I had that guy figured all wrong.” I took another bite of spaghetti.

  “Everyone makes mistakes. You were trying to clear your sister’s name.”