by JoAnna Carl
But I was still thinking about Moose Lodge. Its rustic atmosphere had appealed to me from the first moment I saw it. On my next visit, I had parked in the yard next to Chip’s rental car…
And at the moment I was visualizing my memories of Moose Lodge, one of those wild coincidences that life hands us struck.
A yellow car loomed up in the other lane, heading east. It came toward us and passed.
“Joe! Pull over,” I said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! I just have to think about something. It’s important!”
“Lee, there’s no place to pull over here.” He was right. The shoulder on that stretch of road is almost nonexistent.
“The nature preserve parking lot is right down the next road. Stop there!”
“Well, okay. But you’d better have a good explanation. I’m ready for dinner.”
After we were stopped in the parking lot, Joe turned sideways, leaning against the door, and stared at me. “You’re obviously having one of your brain waves. What’s going on in that beautiful blond head?”
“I just had a flashback to the second time I came out to Moose Lodge. Let me tell you about it, and you tell me if I’m making sense.”
“Carry on.”
“I parked the van around by the shop. And there was a silver or gray car, a midsized sedan, already parked in the next space over.”
“So?”
“So when I went into the shop, Chip was there.”
“So?”
“Joe, he was driving the car parked outside, a midsized silver sedan. But when we met him at the Willard General Store, he was driving a flashy yellow compact. Both of them had rental stickers on the bumper. Same company.”
“Why would he change?”
“Maybe the ashtrays got full, and he demanded a new vehicle. I don’t know. But I do know one thing that happened between the time I ran into him at Moose Lodge and our lunch at the General Store. In the meantime, somebody chased me through the nature preserve.”
“You didn’t see who it was.”
“No. But I did see a midsized silver or gray sedan pull out of this very parking lot.”
Joe frowned. “You think it was Chip? Why would he chase you?”
“Because the person who chased me had destroyed the tracks a prowler made out by the Reagans’ garage, and he didn’t want me to see who it was. So the real question is, why would Chip destroy those tracks?”
“Because they were incriminating for some reason.”
“Right. Like maybe they were made by him.”
“But why would Chip prowl around either the Reagans’ place or Moose Lodge?”
“Because he’s looking for some sort of papers.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because the other day a prowler went through the desks used by both Wildflower and Sissy.” I tapped a finger on Joe’s chest for emphasis. “And the person who killed Buzz also went through the desks. Plus, he destroyed files from Buzz’s computer.”
“You think Chip might have done that? But Chip denied knowing anything about Buzz’s novel. And he was supposedly Buzz’s best friend.”
“True. So, why has Sissy been the main suspect in Buzz’s death?”
“Because she was Buzz’s wife.” Joe nodded. “I know, I know. The people closest to the victim are the most obvious suspects.”
“Yes. Now the catch is that Chip was apparently abroad—working for that defense contractor in some exotic spot—when Buzz died.”
“That can be checked.”
“I know. But Chip already blew that story. At the Willard General Store. When I commented on how crowded the place was with its oddball stock, he said, ‘You should have seen it last February, when they were painting.’ Or something like that. If Chip was abroad, how did he know the General Store was painted in February?”
“You’re right. He did say that. And if he was somewhere abroad, he wouldn’t have known.”
“Plus, Joe—something about that pistol made both Ace and Sissy change their whole opinions of each other. You saw them at the police department! It was a regular love feast! And every other time they’ve been together, it was a dogfight. That pistol was key to the whole change in their attitudes.”
I leaned toward him. “Rosy Reagan teased Wildflower because she doesn’t want firearms on the Moose Lodge property. What do you bet that when Buzz moved in there, he took his pistol—the special one his dad had given him—to Ace’s house and left it there? He wouldn’t want to get rid of it, but he would have wanted to respect Wildflower’s wishes, too.”
I took a deep breath. “So, if he was shot with that pistol, the shooter had to have access to Ace’s house! And Sissy and Ace knew it.”
“Chip again!”
“Right. And Helen.”
“Right! Helen could have figured out that the pistol had been used.”
“She could also have figured out that the house had been used. If Ace was in Florida when Chip showed up to try to get his important papers from Buzz, why would he go to a hotel? Ace’s house is a year-round house. Chip could simply have stayed there. Even if he tried to hide that he had slept or eaten there—there are dozens of ways Helen could have figured it out.”
“McDonald’s sacks in the trash.”
“Sure. Or used towels. For someone familiar with the household routine, it would have been a snap. She lived on the property. If someone had been staying at Ace’s house, she would have known.”
I pulled out my cell phone. “You’re not poking any holes in this, Joe.”
“That’s because I’m afraid you’re right.”
I called information.
“Who are you calling?”
“Sissy.”
“Why her? Why now?”
“Because of the yellow compact.”
“What yellow compact?”
“The car that passed us, going east, just before I yelled for you to pull in here.”
“I didn’t see it.”
“You were looking into the sun. I couldn’t see it clearly either until it was past us. Then I looked back, and I saw it. I’m afraid it was Chip.”
“But Ace said Chip left to go back to—to this exotic place where he’s working, wherever it is.”
“Let’s just make sure.”
I called information and got the number for a person named Hill, east of Warner Pier, then punched the magic button that automatically called Sissy and Wildflower. After five rings I got an answering machine. I didn’t leave a message.
Joe frowned. “I can’t believe Sissy wouldn’t pick up, Lee. After all, you’re her boss.”
“Joe, Wildflower doesn’t have caller ID. She told me.”
“But they can’t have gone anywhere. Sissy wanted to put Johnny to bed. I suppose they might have gone out to the shop.”
“Wildflower has a phone extension in the shop. It was sitting on a display case right beside a cute little black squirrel.”
Joe started the truck. “We’d better go back and check.”
Chapter 21
“Now wait a minute!” I said. “Let’s not rush into this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean stop the truck a minute, and let’s talk tactics.”
Joe halted the truck just before its nose reached the road. He kept the motor running, but he turned toward me with a questioning look.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s plan for the worst-case scenario. Let’s assume Chip really is over at Moose Lodge. We can’t just bull into the place. He’ll shoot somebody.”
“I thought I could walk quietly down Wildflower’s drive and peek through the bushes. I should be able to see if that yellow car is parked by the house.”
“What if it’s parked behind the house?”
He frowned. “I see what you mean. I might need to go to the door and ask if everything’s okay.”
“And if it’s not, Chip might—” I stopped. I didn’t want to think about what Chip
might do.
Joe and I both stared into space for a moment. “Maybe we’d better consult Hogan,” he said. “I didn’t want to call him if it was nothing, but if it’s something…”
I held up my cell phone.
“I’ll use mine.” Joe punched the button that called Hogan’s cell phone. “Busy,” he said. “I’ll try the office.” All he got from the dispatcher was a promise to give Hogan a message.
“I’ll call the house,” I said. “Maybe Hogan actually went home to dinner.”
But that line was busy, too. “Darn!” I said. “Hogan and Aunt Nettie are probably talking to each other.”
“We can’t wait,” Joe said. He put the truck in gear and headed toward Moose Lodge. “Now, here’s the plan. You get out of the truck there by the old fruit stand. You keep trying to call Hogan. I go on down the drive, just as if this were a casual call. Do you have a notebook or some sort of papers?”
“No. I left all that in my van.”
“Then reach around behind my seat. I’ve got some papers back there. It’s a receipt for varnish, but it’ll look official.”
I got the papers and found a marking pen in my purse. I used it to write, “Is everything okay?” in big letters across the varnish receipt.
“Good,” Joe said. “If I can get that to Sissy or Wildflower, they ought to get the picture.”
“Joe, Sissy works for me, not you. Wouldn’t it be more logical for me to be the one who goes down to the house with papers for Sissy?”
“Lee, do you have a gun?”
“No. I don’t routinely carry a gun. And neither do you.”
“How about Chip?”
“I’m afraid he’s likely to have a gun. But I don’t want to shoot anybody! I just want to figure out if they need help. I don’t even want to hit anybody.”
“I don’t want to hit anybody either. But if it becomes necessary, Lee, frankly, I think I’m better at hitting people than you are.”
“You were a high school wrestling champ. Chip is probably trained in combat techniques. That’s a whole different thing.”
“Even so, I can hit harder than you can.”
“Nah! Nah! But you’re not bulletproof!”
“In this case, Lee, I am. I’ve got to be.”
Joe swung the truck into the drive of Moose Lodge and stopped. “Out. And be sure you have your phone.”
“Joe! I don’t want you to go alone!”
I’d always wondered exactly what the word “hauteur” meant. Now I knew. It meant the look I got from Joe at that moment. And that particular look at that particular time could have been translated as “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” It might be logical for me, rather than for Joe, to approach Moose Lodge, but he wasn’t going to let his woman go into danger.
“Out,” Joe said. His voice was as firm as I’d ever heard it.
I got out of the truck. There are times when even a liberated, modern woman has to respect her man’s pride.
“I’ll keep calling Hogan,” I said. “And be careful!”
“The whole thing is probably all in our imaginations.”
I got out, closing the door gently so that it wouldn’t make a noise in the quiet country atmosphere. Then Joe drove off.
Darn him! Joe wasn’t bulletproof. But he was strong, and he really had once been a state wrestling champ. Joe doesn’t pick fights, but a couple of times one had picked him, and when he grabbed his opponent, the opponent stayed grabbed. I had to respect his wishes.
I pushed the knowledge that Chip was probably trained in hand-to-hand fighting down into my subconscious.
Over and over, I muttered a phrase as I punched Hogan’s cell phone number. “Joe is bulletproof. Joe is bulletproof.”
I was so relieved when Hogan answered his phone that I said it out loud.
“Joe is bulletproof! Hogan! You’re there!”
“Yes, Lee. I just got home. And I’m glad to hear that Joe has unusual powers. But what are you talking about?”
It took me a couple of minutes to explain. First, I had to tell Hogan why Joe and I thought Chip was at Moose Lodge. Second, I had to clarify why we considered him a likely menace, and third, explain that Joe had gone down to the house to see what was going on.
Even without a cell phone I probably could have heard Hogan’s roar across the fifteen miles from Moose Lodge to Warner Pier.
“You two are going to be the death of yourselves and me, too! Where are you now?”
“I’m out by the old fruit stand at Moose Lodge.”
“I’ll have the state police there ASAP. Don’t hang up! And don’t go anywhere! Especially not down to the house.”
Hogan left the phone for a minute or less. I could hear him talking in another direction. He finished up with “And no sirens!”
Then he was back on the phone. “Well, as long as you’re there, tiptoe down to the turn in the drive and peek through the bushes. Tell me if you can see anything. For God’s sake, don’t let anybody see you from the house!”
Clinging to my phone and shaking in every limb, I obeyed his command.
The buildings on the Moose Lodge property were beautiful as the setting sun dappled through the trees. Joe’s truck was sitting in front of the larger house. There was no sign of the yellow rental car.
“But something’s happening,” I told Hogan in a whisper. “Joe wouldn’t have left me this long to stand here and be afraid of what was happening to him. I mean, I’ll murder him if he just left me hanging here when there’s nothing wrong. But, Hogan, Joe and I have just been guessing about Chip. We could be wrong.”
“You’re not wrong,” he said grimly. “Ace checked. He was able to get hold of Chip’s boss—wherever the hell Chip’s assigned by that mysterious company that supposedly is working for the United States in some obscure corner of the world. Chip was on leave when Buzz was killed. So he lied about that. And Buzz had left his gun in a closet at Ace’s house. Chip had access to it.”
“Oh! But maybe that wasn’t the gun that killed Buzz.”
“How likely do you think that is?”
When I spoke again, I could tell how small my voice was. “I was hoping I was wrong.”
“Lee, stay on the phone. Go back to the fruit stand and stay there. Keep out of sight of the house. I’m in my car and on the way. Don’t hang up until I get there. Or until the state police get there. One of us will be there momentarily.”
But the first car to arrive was not official. It was a large black Buick, and the first person to get out was Colonel Ace Smith. He ran over to me.
“Where is he?”
I wasn’t sure if he meant Chip or Joe. But the answer was the same. “I think he’s down at the main house.”
“He needs to walk out on his own.”
I decided he meant Chip. “Hogan will give him a chance to do that. The last thing they want is some kind of gun battle.”
“No, no!” Ace put his hand up to his head, and I thought he was going to tear out a handful of hair. Then he took a few steps down the road, toward the house.
Before he could get to the first bank of trees, Hogan’s patrol car pulled in, followed closely by a Michigan State Police car. Ace turned around and came back to meet them. The lawmen parked silently, with no throwing up of gravel or squealing of brakes. Both men jumped out of their vehicles. No one spoke to me, but the lawmen and Ace gathered in a clump and conferred. There was a lot of arm waving, fist punching, and excited whispering.
Then Ace spoke. “I’m going down there.” He moved toward the drive again. Hogan and the state police officer got even more excited, and the state policeman blocked Ace’s path.
The whole episode looked ridiculous because they were all determined not to make any noise. There was whispering, gesturing, foot stomping—the whole works—but not a sound. It was ridiculous—but not funny.
Finally, Hogan was apparently able to lay down the law to Ace. Ace wasn’t to go in on his own—absolutely not.
&
nbsp; Ace came and stood beside me, staring at the ground. I felt a lot of sympathy for him. I wanted to be in there, too. I was willing to recognize that I might cause more problems, but I wanted to be in there. Not knowing what was going on was torturing me.
I spoke to Ace quietly. “I’m sorry, Colonel Smith.”
“He’s ruined. Maybe it’s best if he dies.”
“No! No one should get hurt.”
Ace and I exchanged a long look. “Chip’s got to be given a chance to walk out, to surrender quietly. And I’ve got to know why.”
“Why?”
“Why Chip went haywire like this.” His eyes narrowed. “Your husband’s in there, right?”
I nodded.
Ace moved his mouth close to my ear. “Is there a back way in?”
“Just from the nature preserve. Oh! And there’s a path from the neighbor’s house.”
“Is it screened from the Moose Lodge house?”
“In there everything’s screened from everything else. There’s an unbelievable number of trees.”
He squeezed my arm. “Let’s go.”
Right then I should have turned my back on him and walked away.
But I didn’t. I pulled my arm out of his grasp, and I slowly began to walk toward the gravel road where all the law-enforcement cars were parked.
Hogan saw me and spoke, still keeping his voice quiet. “Where are you going?”
And I told a lie. “I’m going over to the Reagans’ house,” I said. “If they see all these cars, they’ll be running over to tell Wildflower something’s going on.”
“Good idea,” Hogan said.
Chapter 22
Hogan didn’t ask why Ace was going to the Reagans’ with me. This, I think, was because of dumb luck. Two more state police cars and the other Warner Pier patrolman arrived just at that time, and they distracted Hogan.
