by P. B. Ryan
Smoke swirled in the air. The smell of burning wood caught the wind and came my way.
I opened the door and the buzzer went off, telling me that the keys were still in the ignition. I slipped in as quickly as possible, hoping Floyd’s hearing was poor enough to miss the sound.
“Surrender,” Floyd screamed over the frantic wail of the whistle and the screaming wind. “Or she dies.”
Kitty’s car leapt from the shadows. I bore down on the sauna. Flames licked out from the doorframe, completely covering the front of the building. Floyd saw me coming and ran toward the car, pointing his gun at the windshield.
I didn’t let up. Floyd, his face frozen in shock, flung himself at the hood of the car, rolling and crashing into the windshield as I carried him with me into the wood frame of the sauna.
The sauna buckled. I threw the car in reverse, backed out, and screeched to a halt. Floyd rolled off the car groaning, his leg at an unnatural angle. I leapt from the car, kicked the gun out of his reach and continued on, running into the flaming building.
Kitty and I collided and I started to fall, but she grabbed my arm and dragged me out with her through the gaping hole.
“I blew on that whistle till I thought my brains would ooze out,” she said between sputters and coughs. “What took you so long?”
The very best thing about my friends is the level of gratitude they display whenever I help them out.
o0o
Before we could decide whether to leave Floyd on the ground to freeze to death or to make a call and save him, Blaze screeched into the driveway with George and Cora Mae beside him.
Blaze called an ambulance after throwing a blanket over Floyd, who had stopped moaning. I wanted to straighten out his leg for him and see how loud he could scream, but I restrained myself and told my story instead.
After the ambulance crew loaded Floyd and Blaze had made arrangements for a deputy to meet the ambulance at the hospital, Kitty and I followed Blaze’s sheriff’s truck to his mobile home. Mary waited with hot cocoa and warm blankets. We all pile in—Blaze, George, Cora Mae, Kitty, and me.
“I suspected Floyd had killed Chester all along,” Kitty said, black smudges from the fire blotting her face. “Kid in a private college out east, big satellite dish in the yard, wife in a private nursing home. It didn’t add up. When George told me the gold pan belonged to Floyd, I knew for sure.”
I glanced at George. “I thought it belonged to you.”
George shook his head. “I saw it in Floyd’s car when he stalled out last summer and I gave him a jump.”
“You even said it belonged to you.”
“You sure have been acting strange,” George said.
“I’ve been acting strange? You were the one who said you owned it.”
“I would have told you who owned it if you’d asked me outright. I thought we were talking code or something.”
George is a fine man, but he’s still a man, and their logic escapes me. I opened my mouth to try to make my point again.
Kitty interrupted. “George is the one who told Floyd he was picking you up for cards the night your house was searched. That’s how Floyd knew you weren’t home.”
“When did you two have this enlightening discussion?” I wanted to know.
“Outside the restaurant right after you found the gold pan.” Kitty slurped cocoa. “Don’t you two ever talk?”
“Not since you convinced me he was trying to kill me.”
George and I exchanged stares and I shrugged as if to say, sorry about that. George grinned. “That’s why you’ve been running away from me like I’m a rabid skunk.”
“Well, I was wrong,” Kitty said when I glared at her. “Can’t I be wrong once in a while?”
“Why did you tell me you weren’t in Gladstone when we followed you…” I stopped and covered my mouth.
“You’ve been following me?” George had a gleam in his eyes.
I felt embarrassment coloring my face. “Maybe once. Just once.”
“Carl’s driving a rental car while his is in for repair. We swapped vehicles so I could watch Cora Mae’s house without anyone recognizing me. You must have been following Carl.”
Cora Mae sat at the kitchen table, not saying a word, and I noticed tears welling in her eyes. “What’s up?” I asked.
“To think I almost lost both of you. She jumped up and after a round of hugs we settled back in and Cora Mae wiped her eyes.
“Everything happened at once,” she said. “I closed up the sale and right after that George stopped by concerned about Gertie. Kitty was missing. Now Gertie was missing, too. We called Onnie and he said that Barb and Floyd had both tried to buy the mineral rights and when Floyd found out Onnie didn’t have them anymore, he blew up. Onni said Floyd always had a short fuse, even in the Marines.”
“We called Blaze right away,” Cora Mae sniffled.
“Let’s go out tomorrow,” George said to me, right in front of everybody. “Now that I’ve been cleared of all charges against me.”
I blushed, feeling awkward and shy. “We can talk about it later,” I said, not sure I was ready, but not ready to say no to him either. He took my hand and squeezed in understanding.
“Sure,” George said. “Take your time. There isn’t any rush.”
I looked over at Blaze. “Now we can forget about this court stuff. Right?”
Blaze wasn’t nearly as understanding.
Chapter 15
Word For The Day
IMPUGN (im PYOON) v.
Attack by argument or criticism;
oppose or challenge as false or questionable.
I MADE A FEW concessions for court. Instead of my hunting jacket and boots, I wore a black skirt, a crisp button-down white blouse, and a pair of old penny loafers I found in the back of my closet. The alternative would have been worse—Cora Mae wanted to dress me.
I thought Blaze would give up this ridiculous hearing after I almost single-handedly brought in a deranged killer and saved Kitty’s life, but he dug in his heels and wouldn’t budge.
He claimed all I single-handedly did was mess up and come close to getting myself killed. Maybe there were a few things I could have done differently, but Chester’s murder might have gone unsolved if it wasn’t for my efforts.
Blaze continued to insist that I haven’t been myself since Barney died and that I needed supervision. Of course I wasn’t the same--none of us were the same after Barney died.
The first thing I did after Floyd’s arrest proved I still have my wits about me. I ripped up the deeded rights to the minerals on Chester’s land. Bill and Onni worked out an agreement to share in the proceeds from any gold found on the land, which, they discovered through a survey, didn’t amount to a whole lot. They’d never be rich, but their lives would improve.
Blaze’s spiffy lawyers sat stiffly next to him in the courtroom. I took my table alone with my friends right behind me. Cora Mae, Kitty, and Star sat in a trim line.
Kitty leaned forward and whispered to me. “Impugn their case. You can do it.” And she patted me on the shoulder.
I don’t know how she’s figuring out what my word for the day is. She must be sneaking a peek at the scraps of paper I write them on. It’s the only explanation. From now on, I’m committing them to memory.
The judge wasn’t too happy with me for ignoring his advice about legal counsel. After complaining about it, he read the letter from the psychological evaluator. It blah-blahed along, with the final paragraph saying it all. “While Mrs. Johnson tends to be unorthodox in her methods and eccentric in her behavior, I saw no signs of incompetence as defined by the laws of our state.”
My fans clapped and shouted until the judge threatened to remove them.
Heather, my disloyal daughter from Milwaukee, was a witness for the other side.
“She’s always been like this,” Heather stated. “So what’s the big deal now?”
Apparently, as it was explained to me later, that comment
helped our side a lot. I could tell Blaze wasn’t happy with Heather’s testimony when he dropped his face into both hands.
I told the judge about the murder and how I had saved Kitty. I told him I had spray-painted Blaze’s truck and I had bored screws into his hall floor out of love and caring. And finally, I showed him a brand new savings book from the Escanaba bank where I had returned my money after digging it up. I even let him see the balance.
The judge cleared his throat and began. “Mrs. Johnson is not incompetent simply because she knowingly chooses to do things most of us would consider foolish. We all have the right to make mistakes. Mrs. Johnson just makes more than her fair share.”
He glared at the opposing side.
“Anyone,” he continued, “who takes on her own case without legal representation and argues it as effectively as Mrs. Johnson has can’t possibly be incompetent to manage her own affairs.”
“Guardianship denied.” He slammed his gavel on the bench.
My fans went wild.
o0o
Grandma Johnson was waiting in my living room, A large suitcase next to her chair.
“Where you been? I’ve been sitting here pretty near all day. And look at this place. What a dump!”
I eyed the suitcase. “Who brought you over?”
“I called George for a ride. Don’t know where my family is half the time. Avoiding me as usual. Nobody’s answering their phone. Nobody’s home at Blaze’s. Star’s gone. Someone said Heather’s in town visiting and she hasn’t even stopped by. Everybody’s forgetting about me again.”
I plopped down on the couch and pushed off the penny loafers.
“What you all dressed up for? It’s not like you to look decent for a change.”
“What’s the suitcase for?” Maybe Grandma Johnson was finally packing it in and checking into a nursing home. Hurray. No more going over there to help clean or to make her meals.
“I’m movin’ in with you.”
I almost swallowed my tongue.
“It’s only temporary to see how I like it.”
I pried my tongue out of my tonsils. “You sure you want to give up your freedom,” I stammered.
“All’s I’m giving up is loneliness, if you ask me. And if you ask me, this place needs some work. You git a bucket of hot water and we’ll scrub up the spare bedroom so I can stand to sleep in it. And hurry up about it.”
At ninety-two, Grandma Johnson still has a lot of vinegar left in her. If you ask me.
The right side of my face started twitching.
-THE END-
Crack of Dawn Recipes
Early morning is my favorite time of the day. I throw back the covers in the dark gray haze between night and day, fix my first cup of coffee, and sit at the kitchen table listening to the birds beginning to stir and sing out to each other. I watch out over the east field with eager anticipation. With a blaze of orange, the sun bursts over the rim of the field, rays dancing across the golden rye. I sip my strong rich coffee and smile at the thought of another day’s possibilities.
Stove-Top Coffee
The Old Timers didn’t have fancy coffee makers and still managed to make a great cup of coffee, which is the staple beverage in the backwoods. Guests in our homes are always offered a fresh cup of coffee, no matter what time of day it is. An enamel pot will do, as will a quart pan. The secret to really good coffee is soft water. Rainwater makes the best coffee. If you ever find yourself “roughing it”, here’s what to do.
Makes 8 cups
8 tablespoons coffee
8 cups cold water
pinch of salt
Measure coffee, salt, and cold water into a clean pot. Very slowly bring to a boil. When the coffee boils, let it cook for 5 minutes. Remove from heat. Add 1 cup of cold water. Let it rest a few minutes to settle the grounds. What a way to start the day!
Kitty’s Fried Doughnuts
Finns and Swedes love their bakery. A cup of strong coffee and a doughnut will make them happy all day long. Kitty has been known to carry these around in her purse in case she gets hungry later. The secret to perfect doughnuts is the mashed potato.
Don’t forget to dunk them in coffee.
Makes a bunch
5 cups white flour
4 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 cup mashed potatoes
1 1/2 cups sugar
2 eggs
1/4 cup melted butter
1 cup buttermilk
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp grated lemon rind
oil for frying
powdered sugar or granulated sugar
cinnamon (optional)
Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon. Add mashed potatoes and sugar. Mix well. Blend in eggs and melted butter. In separate bowl, combine buttermilk, vanilla, and lemon rind. Add to flour mix, blend well, cover, and let stand for 15 minutes.
Roll out dough and cut with doughnut cutter. Fry in oil in pan or in deep fryer until golden brown, turn with fork, brown other side. Remove, lay on paper towel to drain and cool. Shake doughnuts in bag with granulated sugar or powdered sugar. Try 1/2 cup powdered sugar and 1 tsp cinnamon for a special treat. Serve warm.
Grandma Johnson’s Milk Toast
This should not be confused with the phrase “milk toast” which refers to someone who is a pushover. Grandma Johnson is ninety-two years old and she didn’t get there by being an easy mark.
Grandma Johnson taught me to make milk toast for my kids when they were home sick with the flu. But she did it grudgingly because she always thought they were faking. Milk toast is so good they probably were faking.
1 serving
2 slices of your favorite bread
1 cup milk
1 tablespoon of butter
salt
pepper
Pour milk into a pan and bring to a boil. Remove from heat and stir in butter. Meanwhile, toast the bread. Place toast in a bowl. Pour hot milk mixture over the toast, cover, and let stand for a few minutes. Salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot.
Swedish Pancakes
Swedish Pancakes are a special treat at my house. I make them on days I feel especially chipper because I know I’ll be standing at the stove a long time. Each pancake covers the bottom of a large skillet and must be paper-thin. Everybody keeps clamoring for more, and I can’t flip them out fast enough. Don’t worry if the first one doesn’t look right because that first one never does. If you can hold everyone back, stack the pancakes in a warm oven and all sit down together. This is hard to do.
The only drinks to serve with Swedish pancakes are milk or coffee.
Makes 10 pancakes
1 cup flour
1 cup milk
1 cup water
1 tsp salt
2 tablespoons sugar
2 eggs
2 tablespoons oil plus some for skillet
Mix everything together except the oil. Whip with electric beater until foamy. Add 2 tablespoons of oil. Stir often while making and add more water if needed. Warm skillet over medium heat. Add small amount of oil for crispy pancake. Cover bottom of pan with thin layer of batter. Let the edges run out. It will be about the size of a plate. When it bubbles and browns, flip (this is tricky), and cook the other side. Serve with jam or maple syrup.
Finnish Pancakes
Finnish pancakes (Pannukakku) are easy on the cook since they are baked in the oven as one great big pancake and cut into serving sizes. Try them with strawberries and whipped cream or maple syrup. You can also add 2 or 3 chopped apples and a dash of cinnamon to the batter right before pouring into the baking pan.
Serves 4
2 cups milk
4 eggs
1/2 cup flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons butter, melted
Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Pour melted butter in 8 x
8 inch pan. In a separate bowl mix milk and eggs with beaters. Add flour, sugar, and salt, and beat lightly. Pour into pan. Bake for 20 minutes or until golden brown. Cut and serve.
Black Widow’s Oatmeal
There are a lot more widows in the U.P. than widowers, which suits the widowers just fine but is a major source of irritation to the widows. The competition for a man is fierce among the women, and Cora Mae is the best there is. She’s no stranger to men, having buried three of them in the local cemetery, and she’s resourceful. No man is safe when Cora Mae sets her sights on him. Oatmeal is healthy, filling, and gives her the energy she needs to go that extra mile. You’ll never catch Cora Mae dunking doughnuts. She watches her figure.
Serves 1
1/3 cup rolled oats
3/4 cup milk
1/4 cup apple, chopped
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp ground cloves
dash nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt
2 tablespoons maple syrup
1 tablespoon chopped walnuts
Bring milk to boil. Add oats, apples, spices, and salt. Cook 2 minutes. Remove from heat, cover, and let rest for 3 minutes. Heat syrup and walnuts. Serve oatmeal with walnut on top.
-o0o-
About The Author
Deb Baker grew up in the Michigan Upper Peninsula with the Finns and Swedes portrayed in Murder Passes the Buck. She makes her home in Wisconsin now, but visits her old stomping ground as often as possible.
Visit Deb’s website and get the next book in the Gertie Johnson Mystery Series.
Murder Grins and Bears It
Note: NO animals are harmed in this romp through the backwoods!
On opening day of bear hunting season in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, a game warden is murdered right under Little Donny’s tree stand. Little Donny disappears into the backwoods, forcing sixty-six-year-old Gertie to use her “unique” investigative techniques to find her favorite grandson. Gertie’s search is hampered by her pin-curled bodyguard Kitty, her man-hungry friend Cora Mae, and Grandma Johnson—who should be mushing peas between her new false teeth in the Escanaba nursing home instead of setting up camp at Gertie’s place. To top it off, Gertie’s son Blaze, the local sheriff, seems more concerned with arresting his mom for cruising down Highway M35 without a driver’s license than finding Little Donny or catching the killer.
