by Jess Lourey
“What’s the most difficult item you’ve ever blown?” My voice came out squeaky.
He shot me a glance. “Trees are hard. People request them a lot around Christmas.”
“What sizes do they come in?” I was inching toward the passenger door. I slid my mittened hand around the solid metal of the handle. As soon as we reached Battle Lake, I was jumping out, running to the nearest car or house and begging the owner to bring me to the police station.
Monty looked at me again. Ahead, a twinkle of light broke through, marking the Standard Oil gas station on the south edge of town. “It was the dress, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” My pulse was knocking at the back of my throat with gagging force.
“I mentioned the color of her dress. It gave me away.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a handgun. It was long-nosed, a poison shade of silver, glittering in the dashboard lights. “My apologies.”
A wave of nausea-crested inertia threatened to overwhelm me. I forced myself to stay focused. “Did you talk Clive into shooting Tom?”
“I was there the night the suggestion was made and the check written.” He flicked his right turn signal and steered with the same hand, easing onto a back road to Hallie’s. The black eye of the gun stayed trained on my face. “I’d ask you to move away from that door. There’s no place to run. This town is asleep.”
He was right. The unplowed streets were virgin white, unmarred by prints, animal or vehicle. The heavy snow made it difficult to see farther than twenty feet. A person would be crazy to be out in a night like this. “How could he have done it? They were best friends.”
“Jealousy is an ugly incubator.”
“How about Lyle? Did Clive do that?”
“I’m afraid that was me. Clive got cold feet.”
I pictured the vehicles raised on car lifts in Lyle’s garage the night he was murdered. How had I not recognized the old Ford pickup I was currently sitting in? The Jeep must have been a rental. “And you think Hallie is the only loose end.”
“Besides you. I’m sorry. That’s the way it has to be. I’m not going back to the stony lonesome for anyone.”
I grabbed for purchase. “What about the statute of limitations?”
He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that the knuckles of his left hand were white. “Doesn’t apply when there’s DNA evidence.”
“You’ll get caught.”
He curled his lips. “I imagine someone will. My guess is Clive. He’s already looking suspicious after Tom’s death. This is one of his guns.” He tipped the pistol before retraining it on my face. “I used it to shoot Lyle, and left some of Clive’s belongings at Lyle’s. Freddie’s got almost as much as I to lose. He’ll never talk.”
“Hallie doesn’t know. I’m sure of it.”
“Too many chances of her finding out with all those medical tests they run. We already covered that.” He pulled up in front of her grand old Victorian. The bay windows facing the street flickered with the glow of a fireplace. “Let’s go. Quick will be better.”
I stepped out of the car, acutely aware of the gun pointed at me. I landed in snow halfway up my calf. The street was deserted. I could make out one street light on either side of me through the blizzard. The only sound was the mouse-soft footsteps of snowfall.
Monty came around the truck and stood behind me. “Come on.”
I started trudging with him at my back. I couldn’t bring the devil through Hallie’s door. If I yelled for help, though, I’d be shot. My survival instinct warred with reality. Better one dead than two, I decided. Before I had a chance to talk myself out of it, I pretended to fall, twisting to the side and away from the barrel of the gun. On my way to the ground, I shot out my foot, kicking toward Monty’s knee. I heard the sickening wet sound of knee cap popping, and Monty toppled into the snow with a scream.
Frantic, I searched for his gun, but it must have landed underneath him. I tried to run, but the deep drifts handicapped me. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew it had to be away from Hallie’s. All her neighbors’ lights were off. If I risked one of their doors to find out it was locked, I was dead. I plowed through the snow toward the alleyway on the opposite side of the street. My navigation wasn’t always true, but I was pretty sure if I followed it three blocks, I’d come out at the Rusty Nail parking lot. The bar would be open. I risked a glance behind me. Monty was dragging his leg 20 yards away and moving toward me with superhuman speed, a black demon in the howling snow.
A sob pushed out my lips and I forced my legs to pump faster. I felt the rush of the bullet past my ear before I heard the crack of it firing. I screamed in fear and zagged left, into the alley. I was out of his line of vision and prepared to bolt toward civilization when I came face to face with the wall of ice. The city had been storing the snow plowed from the street here. I was trapped.
“I’m sorry, Mira. I really am,” he yelled over the shrieking wind.
I whipped around and backed against the two-story snow bank. Monty stood at the mouth of the alley, his face screwed up in pain. He held the gun with two bare, shaking hands.
The shot exploded.
I screamed.
Thirty-nine
Monty’s hands shattered in a spray of red. The gun fell to the ground, and he quickly followed. First I was paralyzed, but then some B-team gland jolted my brain. You’re a sitting duck here, it urged me. I pushed through the snow to seize the handgun from the obscenely red puddle of Monty’s blood and bone. The weapon felt warm and sick through my mittens. I didn’t know whether to point it at Monty, who was writhing in pain and cursing in an unrecognizable language, or in the direction from which he’d been shot. The snow was blinding, disorienting, and I wanted to cry out, but I didn’t know who was friend or foe.
A black form emerged from the snowfall in the direction of Hallie’s house. It was tall and moving slowly.
“I have a gun.” I held up the weapon, my mittened finger just curving the trigger. I was surprised to see my hands were steady even if my voice wasn’t. I’d have an adrenaline debt to pay later.
“So do I.”
“Clive?”
He stepped underneath a street light, ten yards away. He was dressed for a snowstorm, the only identifiable features his face and the one hand holding a rifle directed at the ground. I pointed at it with the handgun. “You shot Monty.”
“You best go home. I have business to finish.”
I closed the distance between us, fighting the urge to faint so I could just wake up when the worst of this was over. “What are you doing here?”
“Carla called to tell me about your visit. I figured where he’d take you next.”
“You came to shoot Monty?”
“I came to end all this.”
I was within five feet of him. He was a scarecrow of a man, his face haunted. The imbalance that had rimmed his eyes the day he’d threatened me in the library was gone, replaced by resignation. I stared him straight on. “He confessed to shooting Lyle. If you let him live, you won’t have to go to jail.”
“I was sober when I shot Tom.” He kept his eyes on mine, but the pain that crossed his face was crippling. He was stripped raw, his mask gone and his vulnerabilities laid bare. I saw it all in that moment. He’d never be free. He’d been offered money to shoot his friend, and he’d taken it. Maybe he’d shot Tom because of years of jealousy coming to a head. Possibly it was greed. Or, it could have been the worst option of all—a moment of what if triggering a flash-second of immutable action. We’d all stood on the edge of that cliff. Maybe it was that Clive had jumped. His eyes told me that no one would ever know for sure the final reason, possibly not even him.
“Come on, Clive. It’s over.” I pointed him toward Hallie’s house. He resisted at first, glaring at the spot where Monty finally lay still, his body saturating the snow with a pulsating red. But then Clive gave in, all the fight leaking out of him. As we walked, I wondered what the la
rgest size plastic underpants came in. At this rate, it’d be worth it for me to invest in some.
Forty
Despite the blizzard, the Battle Lake police were on the scene in under ten minutes. The ambulance, on the other hand, had to come all the way from Fergus and took over an hour in the storm. By the time they arrived, Monty had regained consciousness. Chief Gary Wohnt, the first officer on the scene, had staunched the bleeding in the area where Monty’s hands used to be, but it was clear that he would be forever maimed. It was a helluva shot, I overheard one of his deputies saying, and in a snowstorm.
Once Gary had Monty stabilized, he led me out of the snowstorm and into Hallie’s house. Clive was taken to the station. While Hallie fed me warm apple cider, I repeated what Monty had told me. The deeper I got into the story, the more my teeth started chattering, despite the warmth of the fireplace. Gary leaned over and grabbed my hand.
“You’re safe,” he said gruffly.
I couldn’t stop the shaking that threatened to control me. He reached to hold me, but Hallie was quicker. Despite her illness, and the pain of hearing the whole story of her father, she was born with a made-for-hugging body. And maybe she was as scared as I was. She held me tight and smoothed my hair with her hands, apologizing over and over again.
“I’m the one who feels terrible,” I said, my tremors reduced to a low staccato. “I uncovered that terrible story about your dad. You didn’t need to know about it.”
“He’s responsible for his own actions, and it sounds like he paid his whole life for them.” She pulled in a ragged sigh. “I had an inkling, you know. Not about the attack on that poor woman, of course, but children always know more than their parents tell them. I sensed there was more to my mother’s story.”
My nerves settled enough for me to take a quivery sip of the cider. I didn’t know what to say. “I want to go home.”
After waking one of her neighbors to stay with Hallie, Gary drove me, each of us deep in our own thoughts. He slipped his Jeep into four-wheel drive before tackling the driveway. I’d never been happier to see the doublewide.
“Thank you for the ride.”
“I told you to drop the case.” His voice had a raw edge. It wasn’t anger. It was almost remorse.
I didn’t have the energy to argue. “It’s over.” I started to get out.
“Mira—”
He grabbed my left wrist, the one still sore from my fall in Lyle’s garage. I winced, and he dropped my hand like it was hot. “What?”
He looked away. “Take care of yourself.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me, shut the door tight, and made my way to bed.
Forty-one
We gathered at the Fergus Falls nursing home, decorating the party room. Mrs. Berns had been in my company all of thirty minutes, and she’d pried most of the story from me as well as gotten the phone number of an attractive 50-something male nurse. She looked tan and fit, the warm caramel tone of her lined skin accenting her white hair beautifully. She wore a pretty blue sweater, jeggings, and a pair of white tennis shoes. “I tell you what, this is a whole damn lot better than Arizona. Everyone lays around there like vulture bait, swallowing their pills and rubbing on their jellies. Minnesota is where the action is!”
“Arizona doesn’t sound so bad,” I said. “No snow, right?”
“No young people, either. The whole state is a raisin ranch. But quit changing the subject. Do we know the full extent of Tom’s crimes?”
“According to Kennie, when Gary questioned Clive later that night, he confirmed that Tom never laid a hand on Clara back in ’62. He’d served as the watchman for his friends and had carried the burden of that horrible choice every day for the rest of his life.”
“The hell, you say.” Mrs. Berns was standing next to the piñata, a stick in her hand.
If I had picked her up at the airport, she’d already know everything, but I’d sent Peggy so I could decorate for Julius’ birthday party. It’d been almost a week since he’d first been admitted to the hospital for pneumonia and only two days since he’d been released. I’d reserved the nursing home activities room and decorated it as un-Christmas-y as possible, so the focus could be on Julius, a man who’d always had to share his special day with Jesus. Hence, the Cinco de Mayo birthday theme. Mrs. Berns had insisted on being driven straight to the festivities, and Peggy had been happy to oblige.
“No lie.”
Mrs. Berns shook her head in disbelief. “I leave town for two weeks and you uncover the biggest scandal in its history. That blows.”
“I could have used your help.” I indicated her empty glass. “Can I get you another?”
“Margaritas are like boobs. You should only have two.”
“But that’s your first.”
“Exactly.” She passed me the glass.
I walked over to the contraband bag I’d smuggled in and topped off Mrs. Berns’ plastic cup. Across the room, Peggy was engaged in a Go Fish rematch with the original group she’d met when we’d first visited. Their laughter was drowning out the salsa music I’d brought. Julius was in his wheelchair, a warm brown quilt across his lap. Johnny was swapping fishing stories with the old man, who looked as animated as a teenager. I caught Johnny’s eye and gave him a big smile as I walked back to Mrs. Berns.
“Here you go.”
She took a chug. “Sweet, but good. So what’s going to happen to Frederick? And Mitchell?”
“Mitchell is under investigation for running illegal gambling at the hunt club. Seems someone anonymously turned in betting sheets and instructions to a secret room. A lot of money was at stake, and if the charges stick, the jail time could be significant.”
Peggy broke away from her card game to interrupt our conversation. “Can either of you lend me $5? I just got cleaned out.”
I dug in my back pocket and yanked out a ten. “I get interest if you win.”
“That’s fair. What’re you two talking about so seriously over here?”
Despite describing her driver as “sharp as a marble” in a stage whisper when the two of them had first walked into the party room, Mrs. Berns and Peggy seemed to get along just fine. “Mira was just about to tell me what sort of awful consequences Frederick will have to face for his crimes.”
I pursed my lips. “Don’t know. Clive will only confess to his and Tom’s part in the rape, and Frederick won’t confess to anything.”
A look of disgust crossed Mrs. Berns face. “But what if Frederick is Hallie’s dad? Wouldn’t that prove it all?”
“It might have, but he’s not. Clive underwent the tests. He’s definitely Hallie’s father.”
“Shit on a shingle,” she said, whistling under her breath. “That poor thing has had a tough month.”
“No doubt. But Clive is a perfect match and has agreed to donate one of his kidneys. She’s not willing to talk to him yet, but I’m hoping she can find a way to make peace with it, for herself.”
“Good thing that gal didn’t need a liver,” Mrs. Berns said. “And Clive’s wacky tabaccky farm?”
“Gone. I went to grab Chuck the next morning until his daughter can pick him up. When I peeked in the windows of the barn, there was no green to be seen. Clive must have known the law was coming.”
Mrs. Berns tsked. “It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Justice can be messy, I guess. Like life. You’ve got to learn to be happy with what you end up with.”
Peggy sucked in her breath so loudly it sounded like a balloon popping.
“What is it?”
She stared at me, wide-eyed. “I’ve got it.”
“What?”
“My mojo.” She held out her hands expressively, serenely. Mrs. Berns and I watched. A hush seemed to fall over even the salsa music. Peggy cleared her throat. “For the best jewels, shop at Epiphanies.”
Mrs. Berns crowed with laughter. “That’s a doozy! I like that one.”
I smiled. “You have your
mojo back.”
Mrs. Berns put up a hand. “Ach, don’t talk to me about mojo. Have I mentioned how many woo-woo loonies live in Sedona? I felt like I was on some sort of commune but without the sex and drugs. And then what’s the point, I ask you? Boy, I missed you all.” She pulled me in for a spontaneous hug, then abruptly pushed me away. “I don’t know what you’re doing, hugging an old lady when you have that hot slab of beef over there. Not many boyfriends would go with their girlfriend to a nursing home on their only day off of work.”
“He helped me decorate, too,” I added on. “And I’m not his girlfriend.”
She flicked me on the forehead. “Stop it with the control freak act. You still not sleeping with him?”
“Not for six months. I told you.”
“How about that other move I told you about? You know, the cough-a-doodle.”
I blushed.
“Ack. Knowing you, you probably ordered some books so you could figure out how to do it just right.” She rolled her eyes. “Now you go over and grab that boy and pull him into a dark closet. Right now. I mean it.” She turned me around and swatted me on the butt.
I recognized good advice when I heard it. I walked shyly over to Johnny. He immediately took my hand and smiled into my eyes. The touch of his palm on mine sent electric sparks from my hand all the way to the soles of my feet.
“Julius was sharing fishing secrets with me,” he said, his deep voice caressing my ears.
“Not all of ’em, you hear.” Julius wagged a finger. “You have to get me in the boat with you to find the real honey spots.”
Johnny chuckled. “You have my word. Next summer we’ll go muskie fishing. You think they’ll let me take you out of here?”
