television, but our efforts were wasted. In the movies the keys to the jail cell would be left dangling a distance away and a dog would bring them over. In our case, there wasn’t a key in sight and Fred was with George anyway.
By the time Blaze walked into the jail with Dickey right behind him, we’d exhausted all means of escape but had come up with a workable plan, as unsavory as it was.
We were going to give up an innocent man to protect the multitudes. My son had pulled fast ones on me more than once or twice, but I couldn’t help feeling like a big smelly rat. Hopefully, the end would justify the means. I kept reminding myself that Blaze was used to jail bars from the free side. He most likely wouldn’t mind sitting tight on the other side for a day or two.
Our idea was to convince Dickey that we had been covering for my son, that his mental illness had something to do with the parking lot murder.
As it was, Blaze helped out without even knowing about our covert plan to finger him.
“Ma!” he exclaimed when he saw me behind bars. He whirled on Dickey. “Release her right this minute. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“The evidence says otherwise,” Dickey said.
Blaze fixed him with a glare.
“Where’s Mary?” I wanted to know, relieved that Blaze’s wife wouldn’t have to witness the shameful actions I planned next.
“Grandma Johnson showed up at our house,” Blaze said.
“The poor old lady is distraught,” Dickey said. “She’s been evicted from her own home. Mary’s trying to calm her down. She has her hands full, so Deputy Sheedlo stayed to help her.”
Kitty watched me closely for a signal and I understood that it was up to me; it was my family and she wasn’t about to make the first move. What I wanted to do was give Dickey another sample of Blaze’s mental state then…I couldn’t think about it anymore, or I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.
“Blaze,” I said, with shifting eyes, so he knew I was talking around the others. “It’s here.” I pointed my head and eyes at Dickey. “Your fortune. He’s had it all along.”
“My money?” Blaze turned red.
“And your Glock.” I put on the finishing touch.
“You have my weapon?” Blaze roared at Dickey, jabbing an angry finger at him. “I knew it was you, stealing my stuff. Give everything back. Where’s my Glock?”
His eyes swung to the desk where the evidence bag lay. He had that far away look he gets when he relives his war. Once he enters his own private universe, it’s hard to call him back. Before I knew it, he lunged for Dickey’s sidearm.
I hadn’t seen that coming. I expected to implicate Blaze in the dead guy’s murder and get either Kitty or myself released, so we could track the killer down as fast as possible and save the other two. Things weren’t going as planned.
Blaze was fast for a big man. He had Dickey weaponless with his hands in the air in no time at all. “Throw me the keys,” he hissed at him, never taking his cop-trained eyes off of Dickey. “Nice and slow. One-handed. Don’t make me use this.”
Before we knew it, the tables had turned. Dickey was behind bars, Blaze was searching for his millions, and Kitty and I had commandeered Dickey’s sheriff’s truck.
“Now what?” Kitty shouted from the shotgun seat. “We’re in big trouble. We just broke out of jail and stole a law enforcement vehicle.”
“We’ll ditch the truck,” I said, making things up as we went along. My investigation service was good training for what lay ahead. “Don’t touch any thing. We’ll wipe it down and deny we ever took it.”
“What will Dickey do to Blaze?”
“Let’s stop at my house and pick up supplies,” I punted. “Then we’ll call Mary. She’s good at negotiation, she’ll figure it out. By the time she talks Blaze back from the war zone, we’ll be good and gone.”
“I was supposed to start my new job,” Kitty said. “I can’t believe it. We’re in such big trouble.”
She said the same thing at least six times before we pulled into my driveway, scattering guineas every which way. Then I spotted Fred, which gave me a brief moment of pure joy. George must have dropped him off before driving off to save us from the jail. I hated the thought of trying to explain the latest circumstance to George, so I didn’t mind that he was gone.
Fred ran a cautionary loop around us, dodging hens, while I banged a hole in my barn with the front of Dickey’s trunk. Things weren’t going as planned. Not one bit.
Chapter 16
BEING ON THE RUN ISN’T as romantic as I used to imagine. For starters, we had to figure out where to go- someplace not too far away so we could still work the case, but not too close so we would stay out of jail. Cora Mae’s house was out as a place of refuge. So was almost everyone else’s that we knew. I couldn’t involve my baby Star or Red or Ed, who were trying to scrape by at the bar.
I considered taking Grandma as a negotiating tool and threatening to dispose of her if Dickey didn’t let Blaze go. But I’d rather drink Drano than spend three minutes with that evil woman.
I stuffed a suitcase with necessities in two seconds flat, then we raced by Kitty’s house for her belongings.
No sign of trouble so far, no law vehicles in sight. Blaze must still be holding Dickey in lockup.
We ended up on Walter Laakso’s rutty gravel road, kicking up dust with Fred riding between us. I dodged as many holes as possible but we still arrived a little rattled up inside.
Walter Laakso is suspicious of every single governmental body and totes a sawed-off shotgun filled with buckshot. That’s why his place would be the perfect hideout. He’s also nearsighted, so Kitty and I had to go through the standard ritual.
“Put ’em up,” Walter said, leveling the shotgun our way.
“It’s Gertie Johnson,” I said through the open window, not getting out of the truck until introductions were over. “This is Kitty and my dog, Fred.”
Walter lowered the weapon but I could tell he hadn’t completely relaxed. I could also see that he hadn’t done any serious grooming in awhile, and hadn’t replaced his two front teeth since I’d seen him last.
“What you doing driving a sheriff’s truck?” he wanted to know.
“Stole it,” I answered truthfully.
He lowered the weapon. “Come on in then. I have a fresh pot of coffee ready.”
Just like a Finn. They’re always ready for company, even if it doesn’t come visiting often. Walter’s kitchen table wasn’t exactly fit for guests-food grime cemented on it, cans of toxic yard chemicals scattered across it, unidentifiable spilled liquids.
Kitty didn’t even notice. She sat right down and shoved a few items away before crossing her arms in the mess. I sat down gingerly beside her, avoiding any contact with the table.
“No brandy today,” I warned Walter after he poured three cups of coffee and picked up a liquor bottle. He shrugged, splashed some in his coffee cup, and held up the bottle, offering it again with an expression on his face like we were missing out on something special if we refused.
“We need our wits about us today,” I said firmly. “No brandy.”
It’s not our way to rush into the main topic without dancing around it for a certain amount of time. The weather is always good for a few minutes, so we did that. Then we had a few minutes of silence while we sipped our coffee.
“Gertie, you’re pert-ner stressed out as a doe delivering a fawn,” Walter finally said, using Kitty’s word for the day. Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard her use it even once. I guess we’d been too busy breaking laws to worry about a silly little word challenge.
“We’re wanted by the law, Walter. We need help.”
“Why didn’t you say so right at the start?”
