Geared for the Grave (A Cycle Path Mystery)

by Duffy Brown

  “Sounds like you’d be good at writing murder mysteries,” Fiona said.

  “Hate murder mysteries. I’m more of a make love, not war kind of guy. So, are you two going to blackmail me too?”

  “I’m more of a paint the bike kind of girl, and Fiona’s all about smiling pictures.”

  “And there’s that cement block and gasses scenario you just told us about to consider,” Fiona said with a shudder. “Besides, every island needs a hit man. Good local color. But if I were you, I’d get better locks and update the mustache.”

  “And maybe you could give us a book once in a while,” I threw in.

  “So,” Fiona asked me as we left the house and headed for town. “Is he Bourne or Lovelace?”

  “Probably always be Bourne to me, and we can cross him off our Bunny Festival list. That leaves Huffy and Speed. I don’t know about you but I’m in serious need of a beer.”

  “The Clarkstons are celebrating their fiftieth anniversary and having a big to-do down at Mission Resort. If I don’t get pictures and put it in the Crier, they’ll lynch me.”

  “The Town Crier is not the New York Times.”

  “Girl, around here it is. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.” Fiona promised she’d get me a piece of anniversary cake and went to the newspaper office to get her camera. I continued on to the Stang, the watering hole for locals. Heck, I’d been here nearly a week, so I was entitled.

  The place was jammed, “Boot-Scootin’ Boogie” was blaring from the jukebox and Dwight was dancing with some hot-looking girl in a low-cut top and high-cut shorts who was not Huffy. It wouldn’t be a problem if it were one of those I’m here, you’re here, let’s shake it kind of dances. This was more let me buy you a drink, baby, and let’s get a room.

  I found a place to stand at the bar and got a Bud Light to offset the calories from the order of fried green beans. “If Huffy gets wind of this, there’s going to be hell to pay,” Sutter said, coming up behind me, his breath hot on my neck, making me nearly bite the top right off my beer.

  “Shouldn’t you be back at the ranch minding the felons?”

  “Mother’s there. She’s ready to shoot me with my own gun. It’s safer here. Find anything out on the three-seventy-five building?” He snagged one of my beans and popped it in his mouth.

  “Jason Bourne didn’t kill Bunny, and you’re doing it again. You distract me and then you eat all my green beans.”

  He grinned. “Maybe. And I know Bourne didn’t do in Bunny, ’cause Rudy did.”

  “No wonder Irma wants to shoot you.”

  Sutter took a drink of my beer and I gave him a hard look, noticing how he favored one leg, his left shoulder sagging slightly, a hint of pain etched in his face. “Then again, I’m guessing somebody already beat her to it. Detroit ain’t Disney World, is it, cowboy?”

  “You ask a lot of questions. When did you say you were heading back to Chicago? Tomorrow? Good idea.” Someone knocked into Sutter and he stumbled against me, my hands against his chest, the heat from his body washing over me, my heart skipping a beat, my brain fading to crumpled sheets on a bed.

  “Rudy and I are going to be partners in the bike shop,” I said to fill the void. “So I’m not going anywhere. What do you think of that?”

  Sutter closed his eyes for a second and let out a long breath. “Dang,” he said in a low voice smooth as the bourbon behind the bar. His hand trailed down my arm, his eyes black with a flash of summer lightning, my toes curling into my shoes. His fingers twined slowly into my hair, his palm pressed against the small of my back, and he kissed me full on the mouth right there in front of God and half the population of Mackinac Island. Then he headed for the door.

  “Vodka,” the bartender said, shoving a shot glass in my hand and pouring one for himself. “After that, we both need a drink.”

  I downed the booze, the jolt snapping me back to the real world, which wasn’t nearly as mind-blowing as the one I’d just been in with Sutter. I turned for the door as Huffy came barreling through, almost knocking me over. “You no-good bastard.”

  Usually that didn’t refer to a woman, but I’d been called worse. “What did I do now?”

  “Not you,” Huffy huffed, pushing me out of the way. “Him!” She pointed to Dwight and Dance Girl, who were sitting at a table engaged in a rousing game of tonsil hockey. Everyone backed away, Dwight doing the cool dude bit.

  “We have a plan,” Huffy snarled, hands on hips as she came up to Dwight. “Bunny’s gone, and that means you and I are together.”

  “You have a plan,” Dwight said in an even tone, taking a swig of beer. “Fact is, I think this was all your plan. You knocked off my mother to get the house, to get the money, to get me.” Dwight did cool dude kicked up a notch. “You framed Rudy for what you did.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Is it? Everyone knows you’ve been after me forever. Well, I don’t want you, and I sure as heck never signed up for baby duty.” Dwight kissed Dance Girl, then said to Huffy, “You’re on your own, Huffy.”

  “You’re not getting away with this,” Huffy yelled, her face red.

  “You’re the one not getting away. In fact, you’re going to prison, and I’m going to help put you there.”

  “Go to hell, Dwight.”

  “You first.”

  Huffy snatched a tray of beers and crashed it over Dwight’s head. Dance Girl jumped out of the line of fire as Dwight sprawled onto the floor. Huffy peered down at him. “You led me on, got what you wanted from me all these years and then when it finally happens, you run.”

  Huffy turned to Dance Girl. “Stay away from him.” She jabbed her finger at the floor. “That piece of slime-sucking crud’s mine and going to stay mine, or he’s not going to belong to anybody—you get what I’m talking about?”

  Huffy stormed out the door, and the bartender helped Dwight to his feet and dusted him off. “You owe me thirty-seven fifty for the beers, Romeo. Try and stay alive till you write me a check.”

  I headed back to the bike shop determined to think less about Sutter and the kiss and more about the Stang, Huffy and the beers. One got me in a lot of trouble; the other got Rudy out of a lot of trouble. Did Huffy plan the whole Bunny thing, or was Dwight shooting off his mouth to get out of being Papa Dwight? By the time I got back to the shop, all I wanted was for this day to end. I fed Bambino and Cleveland, promised them Rudy would be back soon and told them a Twain story that was really another one from the back of a cereal box—but the cats weren’t buying it for a minute. As I took out the trash, someone grabbed me from behind.

  Speed spun me around and pinned me against the deck railing. His eyes blazed and his hands were around my throat. “You mess up my life, I end yours. I warned you once; you should have listened.”

  Black dots danced in front of my eyes, and breathing was tough. Think, Evie, think! Shaking, I pulled the nail file from my pocket and jabbed it at Speed’s middle.

  “Ouch!” Speed yelped, stumbling back, looking down at my file sticking out of his black jacket, which had taken most of the impact. “You stabbed me.”

  “You choked me,” I wheezed, collapsing against the back wall of the shop. I plopped down on the floor beside the blue paint smear from when Angelo had scared the heck out of me. I seriously needed to stay off this deck.

  Speed tossed down the file and slid up his shirt. “I’m bleeding.”

  “And not nearly enough,” Mother growled, running out onto the deck. “Evie, get a kitchen knife, we need to do a better job.” She gave me a follow my lead look, then grabbed Speed by his jacket. “You tried to kill my daughter just like you killed Bunny.”

  “I wasn’t going to kill your daughter, and I didn’t do anything to Bunny,” Speed said, trying to back away from Mother, a touch of fear in his eyes. “She was the one blackmailing me.”

  “For wha
t?” I asked, my brain cells starting to function. “Paying off a racing judge? Taking a shortcut? Cheating in a race, like the Tour of Texas maybe? That’s why you didn’t look thrilled when you got the picture of you in Sports Illustrated, and that’s why you shoved it in the back of your closet.”

  “How’d you know about the closet?”

  Best defense was a scary offense. “You were doping?”

  “Heck no. I didn’t cheat in that race or in any other. I used to tell Bunny I took my super vitamins and that’s why I was so speedy. It was a running joke between us till she threatened to tell the press it was for real that I was taking stuff. Any hint of scandal, true or not, would cut me off at the knees for raising money, and she knew it.”

  “So that’s why you killed her.”

  “It was easier for me to keep paying Bunny, least for now. Once I got the Speed Challenge off the ground, I would have made my move, and no one would have ever found the body.”

  “Sounds good except that finding Bunny’s body framed Rudy for the murder and you wanted his shop. You even came to me to get Rudy to sell it to you.”

  “I wanted to make sure I got the place and not Huffy. It was already going under; I didn’t have to frame Rudy to get it. A dead body attracts the wrong kind of attention, and I don’t need that—something you, Granny Scone and Foxy Mamma here need to remember. Just stay out of my life, will ya?”

  Hunched over, Speed trotted down the back alley. I picked up my file from the deck and turned to Mother. “So what do you think, Carmen? Is he our killer?”

  “Dear, he called me Foxy Mamma; I’m biased and proud of it. But even if I weren’t, Speed didn’t do in Bunny. He’s right about the body thing. He would have gotten rid of it; any killer would have, unless . . . unless finding the body was necessary for whatever reason.”

  “Like securing an inheritance?”

  “That would work. Got somebody in mind?”

  I was out the door and heading for the police station before Mother was up and the first ferry of the day zoomed across the lake. I truly wanted to avoid Sutter because of the kiss, and I had no idea what to do about it, but I wanted to get Rudy out of jail more. Sutter and I needed to chat. I pulled an organic strawberry smoothie out of my bag and handed it to the desk clerk, Molly. “Is Sutter here?”

  “Pissed and in his office.”

  I pulled out a chocolate doughnut. One can only take so much healthy food.

  Molly’s eyes brightened. “He got a call from the Detroit PD. Seems he was doing more than writing parking tickets back there, and some bad guys are looking for him.”

  I headed down the hall, Molly yelling halfheartedly between smoothie slurps and doughnut chomps how I couldn’t go back there. It wasn’t that I liked Huffy all that much—actually, I didn’t like her at all—but she’d been messed over by a crappy guy and I’d been messed over by a crappy guy, so we belonged to the same crappy club and I felt bad for her. Plus I thought she was innocent. She was a mamma and her baby came first. She wouldn’t chance jail.

  “Oh good, now you show up, my day’s complete,” Sutter said when I walked in. Huffy was sitting in a chair across from him.

  “I don’t think she did it,” I said.

  “Thank you, Sherlock Holmes, now you can leave.”

  Sutter took my arm, hauling me toward the door as I said, “Can you really see Huffy here knocking off her kid’s grandma, even if it meant she’d get the man of her dreams, who’s actually turning out to be the man of her nightmares?”

  “Kid?” Sutter stopped and looked to Huffy as she made the rounded belly sign over her stomach.

  Sutter pointed to a plastic bag on his desk. “We found this gray curly wig and crutch in her apartment. She cut Bunny’s bike cable, then dressed up like Rudy to frame him.”

  “Let me guess.” I held up my hands. “An anonymous tip put you onto the wig and crutch?”

  “This is all Dwight,” Huffy said. “You gotta see that he planted those things to make it look like knocking off Bunny was all my idea and to frame Rudy for it. It’s him getting rid of me and the baby. He wants us out of his life so he can carouse and carry on like he always has. I say we neuter him.”

  I was just about to tell Huffy to count me in when the captain barged into the room. “I did it. I’m guilty. I knocked off Bunny and framed Rudy. Sorry about Rudy, but I’m glad Bunny kicked the bucket.”

  The captain held out his hands. “Put on the cuffs and let my daughter go. This is no place for the mother of my grandchild.”

  A big, sappy smile slid over the captain’s face and he reached in his back pocket and pulled out a baby captain’s hat. “Got this on eBay for ten bucks and it’s just like mine. Cutest thing I ever saw. Draw up anything, Sutter, I’ll sign it. Which way to the cells?”

  He turned to me. “By the way, that other bike Rudy ordered came in yesterday and I dropped it at the bike shop on my way here. The bikes you’ve painted look great. If you do one on the ferries, can you put me in? Maybe my hat?”

  “You got it,” I said. “Congrats on the baby.”

  “That’s it.” Sutter stood up. “I’ve heard that pregnancy makes people crazy; I just didn’t expect it to be contagious. Everybody get out. The Mackinaw Bridge walk starts in one hour and I’ve got to be there. I swear if any of you come near me, I’m throwing you in the lake.”

  We all trooped down the hall as Irma came in the station, bandana over her nose and mouth, squirt gun in hand.

  Nate asked, “Is there an outbreak of something besides insanity that I should know about, Mother?”

  She waved her squirt gun. “It’s a jailbreak, dear.” She held up a basket. “I’m taking Rudy for a picnic. It’s beautiful outside and I’m sure it’s against the law on this particular island to keep someone in jail over a holiday.” She shot Nate, a stream of water splattering across his front. “I’m getting pretty good with this thing, so don’t give me any sass.”

  Nate held up his hands. “This isn’t over. Somebody killed Bunny.”

  Irma patted his cheek. “Of course they did, dear. But it’s not Rudy; we all know that.”

  When I got back to the bike shop, Mother had left a note saying that she and Angelo were doing the bridge walk. In Chicago the only bridge Mother ever mentioned was her bridge club and walking was boring exercise on a machine.

  Abigail sent me a text asking about my Labor Day celebration plans on the island and that she was thinking about visiting, making me think the girl was having a breakdown. I hadn’t even been sure she knew what a weekend was. That she said she wanted to visit nearly gave me a heart attack. To try and keep her in Chicago, I sent her an All is terrific here text and a picture of the bikes I had painted. Just when I thought I’d have her out of my life, she wasn’t? What was going on with Rudy’s daughter?

  I opened the shop to get ready for the day. I rented out all my themed bikes before noon. I needed to sketch up more ideas and get painting. Maybe Rudy’s Rides could sponsor a bike parade next year and tie it in with the Lilac Festival. Great promo. Maybe I should tell Abigail that and she’d see I was on top of things and she’d stay the heck away?

  I unboxed the folding bike that the captain had dropped off and screwed on the pedals and seat. Sutter was right about one thing—someone did knock off Bunny. The problem was I had no idea who, and Rudy was still suspect number one, with the cutters found in his kitchen.

  Someone was playing me, and I was falling for it. Speed, maybe? He gave me that no-body spiel, but I wasn’t buying it. He hated Bunny, he had a lot to lose if she blabbed and he wanted Rudy’s Rides. Then again, Bourne had a lot to lose if Bunny blabbed, and disguise was his specialty. He could have easily dressed up like Rudy to do the deed.

  Fiona dropped off anniversary strawberry cream cake from the Clarkstons’ party, along with the latest on her old boss, Peephole Perry, who
had apparently peeped on the wrong person and was now on the lam. As long as he didn’t lam here, Fiona didn’t care what happened to the sleazebag. I draped two bike locks over the handlebars as a little present for Ed and his new purchases so the bikes wouldn’t get stolen when he and Helen the horrible took them out. I put a Be back in thirty sign on the front door and headed for the docks. I wrangled with the dock master again about making a delivery and not robbing everyone, then made my way to Helen’s Heaven. Boats? I took a steadying breath, willed myself not to lose my lunch, then lifted the bike on board. I started to leave, then spotted a bank of angry clouds off to the west. It probably wouldn’t rain till the evening, but I had no idea if Ed would visit his boat today or not, and I didn’t want to leave a new bike in the rain. I had on the same jeans from last night, so I pulled out my handy-dandy file and bobby pin and unlocked the cabin door. I was getting pretty good at this, even on a queasy stomach.

  The inside of the boat was as pristine as the outside . . . if you liked boats. There was a spotless white sofa, cobalt blue club chairs, a white kitchen area and a coral dining area. Helen had expensive taste. I parked the bike in the kitchen, grabbed paper from the drawer to write Ed a note saying that I hoped he would enjoy the folding bike—and stopped dead. Right there next to the pens was a packet of cigars—cheap cigars, with one missing. Ed hated cigars. And there was a wig jammed in beside it. Maybe it was to tease Rudy? Except I’d never seen Ed tease Rudy. They were pals, but not joke-around kind of pals. They were buddies . . . or were they?

  Barely breathing, my stomach rolling for more reasons than seasickness, I opened one, two then three closets and found a crutch leaning against the side, a crumpled white suit jacket hung next to it, a saw on the floor.