Mind-Bending Murder Page 5

  Kelly pressed. "Why?"

  "Because he's a copper!" Betty said.

  "I don't think the mayor killed Pancratz," Kelly said.

  "How do you know?" Betty narrowed her eyes. "Were you there?"

  "No…" Kelly started to say. She looked at me, but she was on her own.

  Betty slammed her right fist into her left hand. "Then we drop the hammer and send him up the river."

  "Guys," Caterina piped up. "I think we should focus more on Mrs. Wrath not doing it, instead of Pancratz being dead and all that."

  "How about Free Wrath?" one of the Kaitlyns asked.

  "She's not wasting away in the stir." Betty pointed at me.

  "How about Don't Put Wrath In Jail?" another Kaitlyn suggested.

  Hannah suggested, "Or She Didn't Do It!"

  "We don't need any T-shirts," I insisted.

  Ava, whose goal was to become CEO of an insurance corporation, said, "Yes, we do. We need to counter their message!"

  "Technically, their message doesn't implicate me directly," I reasoned.

  Betty turned the T-shirt over. Merry Wrath Is The Killer! was written in dripping red letters on the back.

  I stood corrected.

  "Okay. Then ours should say Merry Wrath Didn't Kill This Guy."

  Inez thought about that. "But that implies that she's killed other guys."

  "Which she probably has." Lauren nodded.

  "I haven't killed anyone…" as a citizen.

  "I think Merry Wrath Has Killed Lots Of People But Not This Guy is too long for a T-shirt," Ava said.

  "It has a nice ring to it," Betty said.

  "We are not going to put that on a T-shirt." Kelly held her hands up. "That's not what our meeting is for. So let's move on, please."

  "We've got your back, Mrs. Wrath," Hannah said.

  "Thanks," I said. "Now, Mrs. Albers is right. We planned this meeting a long time ago to talk about goals for this year."

  "Absolutely." Kelly nodded. "The school year is starting. You guys are in fifth grade. It's time to talk about what we'd like to achieve this year."

  Betty raised her hand. "I think our goal is for Mrs. Wrath not to kill anyone this year."

  My jaw dropped open. "That's your goal?"

  "Well." The kid thought about it. "She should only kill bad people."

  "We agree!" said all four Kaitlyns at once.

  No one seemed to notice that Betty had stopped talking in noir. It probably got old after a while.

  "That is not one of our goals," Kelly said. "Our goals should be what we want to accomplish as a troop."

  "Right!" Caterina said. "Our goal is that we don't help Mrs. Wrath kill anyone nice."

  Ava held one finger up. "But if she does, I think we should have a plan to help her."

  "And to dispose of the body," Inez agreed. "We've never covered that. So it's new."

  "You guys, that is so sweet and thoughtful." I was touched.

  "But." Kelly narrowed her eyes on me.

  Oh right. "But this isn't about me. This is about your new year in scouting."

  "She's right," Hannah agreed. "We are a lot older this year."

  "I'm glad you mentioned that." Betty pulled a stack of IDs from her bag. "I made everyone fake IDs so that we can help her investigate in places like the Cornhole."

  The Cornhole was a dive bar outside the city limits with a University of Iowa theme. There were fights almost every night, and the crowd was dangerous. It was the closest thing we had to a biker bar.

  Kelly confiscated the IDs, and I joined her to study them. They were really good. Professional, even. Each of the girls' faces had been aged up to look like they were 21 or older.

  I held Betty's up to her little kid face.

  "Yeah, no one is going to fall for this. You're ten, not twenty-one."

  Betty snatched it out of the air. "I'm eleven. Which is practically a teenager."

  "Where did you have these done?" I asked. Kelly shot me a look, but I ignored it. "Our guy at the CIA couldn't have done much better."

  Betty appeared to preen. "My grandpa has contacts. Some Russian guy in Des Moines who used to work for the FSB," she said, referring to what used to be known as the KGB.

  "Oh really?" That got my interest piqued. "I wonder if I know him?"

  "You can't use fake IDs!" Kelly snapped. "Now, ladies, can we please get to work?"

  "Mrs. Albers is right," I said with a smidge of regret.

  We divided the girls into two groups of five, with Betty, Lauren, Inez, Ava, and Caterina in one, Hannah and the four Kaitlyns in the other. The two groups would get fifteen minutes to brainstorm ideas, and then we'd come together and see what they came up with.

  "Any news?" I asked Kelly after she'd handed out the paper and pencils.

  My co-leader and best friend took me off to the side. "Not much yet. Riley's confirming cause of death with Soo Jin. And I have to tell you, I can't find anything else on this kid. It's like he did nothing but eat, sleep, and go to work."

  "Give me an address," I said. "I'll go search his place."

  Kelly gave me a look usually reserved for when I did something stupid. Which, in all fairness, I did a lot.

  "Do you really think it's a good idea for you to break into his apartment? Wouldn't that make you look guilty if you were caught?"

  Aha! "So! He has an apartment. That's something."

  My best friend shook her head. "No. You can't go there. It would only make things worse."

  "Of course I can go there. I don't want you getting busted."

  Kelly folded her arms over her chest. "I have no intention of breaking into a dead guy's apartment. You're my best friend. It would look just as bad."

  I threw my arms in the air. "Well, I can't have Rex do it. It would ruin his career if he got busted. What about Riley? He's handling this case for me."

  "That's a thought," Kelly mused. "But he's got a personal connection to you too."

  Argh! "Everyone does. But you're right. I can't ask anyone to do this on my behalf. That's why we're back to me doing it."

  "When are we breaking in?" Betty appeared at my elbow. "I have some new tools I want to try out."

  "We aren't doing anything," I said.

  "You can't go alone," Betty scoffed. "What if you get caught? Who's going to signal you to let you know someone's coming? And besides, you can't fit into a duct. I can."

  "No," I said.

  "Betty!" Lauren yelled, and the girl returned to her group.

  "Alright," Kelly said. "You can break into the apartment."

  I stared at her. "What changed your mind?"

  "I'd rather it was you than Betty. Seriously, Merry. You're a bad influence on the girls."

  "I am not," I said weakly. "I'm a model of maturity, remember?"

  Her eyes grew round. "Where on earth did you get that idea?"

  "You called me that," I pointed out. "Or something like that. Once. It might have been a while ago."

  "I most certainly did not," Kelly insisted.

  "Guys!" Inez shouted. "Are you done arguing? We've got ideas."

  We joined the girls as the Kaitlyns selected Hannah to read their list.

  "Okay," the girl said. "Here's what we want to do. 1) Go camping. 2) Pet horses. 3) Visit Mr. Fancy Pants, Mrs. Fancy Pants, and Hilly."

  "Those are nice, but we do those things every year," Kelly said gently. "You girls are older now. Isn't there something new and a bit more ambitious you'd like to try?"

  Hannah said, "I'm not finished. We also want to cure the common cold, give everyone in the world ice cream, and lastly, make world peace." She sat down, and all five girls eyed us triumphantly.

  "That's definitely more ambitious," I said. "You asked. They delivered."

  Kelly, for once, was speechless. I took it upon myself to call on Betty's group.

  "We kinda went in a different direction," Lauren said as she lifted the sheet to read.

  "1) Travel to South America to adopt all the
king vultures, 2) Set up an exchange program with girls from Catalonia."

  Betty was obsessed with Catalonia and used every opportunity to advocate for them. I often wondered if they were paying her.

  "3) Have the Magnolia Girls arrested for crimes against Girl Scouts, 4) Go camping, 5) Pet horses, and 6) Look into this murder and elect Mrs. Wrath for president so that she can't be arrested ever again. Amen."

  I looked at Kelly and shrugged. "Makes sense to me."

  "Okay." She ignored me. "Well, there are some workable ideas in there. I especially like the idea of an exchange program. But maybe with some other country that's closer. Maybe Canada?"

  Betty squinted. "Are the Canadians free?"

  "I don't think so," Inez said. "The queen of England bosses them around too."

  Betty and the other girls whispered for a few seconds. I decided not to correct them because I wanted to see what they came up with.

  "We'll do it," Betty announced. "We will free Canada."

  "And go camping and pet horses," Hannah said.

  All ten girls stared at us so intensely that I was worried I'd catch fire.

  "Okay," Kelly said at last.

  Canada had no idea what was about to hit them.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "Merry! Over here!" Jane waved me over to a quiet table in the corner of Oleo's. She'd already ordered appetizers. She was my favorite lawyer for that reason. Well, and for being good at what she does of course.

  "Thanks for ordering!" I said as I sat down and dug into the potato skins—all at once.

  "I got you a burger and fries. I remember from last time." My lawyer grinned.

  Jane Monaghan was a petite blonde powerhouse who at one time worked on my father's campaign. She had helped me recently, but this would be the first time she actually represented me directly. Considering how clever she was, I figured I was in the clear.

  "I got the files from the sheriff's office. I have to be honest. At first glance, it doesn't look good."

  Why did people keep saying that? I deflated like a popped balloon, but kept eating because not doing so would be wrong.

  "Before we do anything." She pulled a pen and pad folio from her bag. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

  It took all of two minutes to explain. Seriously, there wasn't much more to going to bed at home and waking up in Bladdersly with a body.

  Our food arrived, and I began to dig in.

  "We can try to discredit the witness," Jane mused. "But we need to know what you really were doing that night."

  I toyed with suggesting that the druids would alibi the Bird Goddess but decided against dragging them into this.

  "I'll look into a few things," Jane continued. "Don't worry. It looks bad because they found you at the scene of the crime with the body, but everything else is questionable. I'll need to find out how they got that phone call transcription. That part seems dicey."

  "Have they found the weapon?" I took a breath from inhaling french fries.

  Jane thought about this before answering. "No. They think it was a stiletto knife. And if they find it, it could have your fingerprints on it. If I were framing you, I'd place the knife in your hand."

  "Then why wasn't it at the scene?" I asked.

  "A valid question. I need to dig around on some statutes. But don't worry. It looks bad on the surface, but there's nothing solid beneath."

  While she ate, I told her about my troop and how they wanted to help. Then I went off the rails with some interesting stories about Betty.

  "She may need my services by the time she's a teenager," Jane laughed. "Either that or she'll make a crack investigator."

  I nodded. "It's kind of a fine line between law and crime with her. But we have a few years yet…I think."

  I snatched up the check when it came and paid it. Jane protested, but I told her that since I was giving her such a problematic case, the least I could do was buy her lunch. I left Oleo's and went home feeling better about the whole thing.

  I was even cheered by the fact that, as a ten-year-old, Betty already had a lawyer waiting to represent her should she pursue a life of crime.

  "In my professional opinion, it looks bad, Merry," Rex said later, back at home. "They've got a ridiculously credible witness who saw you shove Tyson into the building and heard him scream."

  "Witnesses can be bribed," I said as I poured a glass of wine.

  His right eyebrow went up. "By who? Who bribes a retired pastor into lying to convict someone of murder?"

  "It's not that strange. Once, in Estonia, I bribed a Greek Orthodox priest to rat out his bishop. It only cost me a llama and five pigeons." I pointed my glass at him. "And if you think it's hard to find a llama in Estonia…you'd be right."

  "Merry." Rex ran his hands through his hair. "This is no joke. You have to take this seriously."

  "I'm not joking. Bribing Father Kokkinos was a hard sell! It took me weeks to land that deal!"

  Rex sat in a chair. "It doesn't help that Bryce Vanderzee is calling for your head. He really doesn't like you."

  "About that." I set down my glass of wine as Philby, my cat who looked like Hitler, entered the room. "Why doesn't he like me? I've never met the man."

  His dark eyes studied me. "Your reputation precedes you, I'm afraid. He knows that you've meddled in several cases here and in the county."

  "I haven't meddled," I groused. "I've investigated."

  "You've meddled, and you know it," my husband insisted.

  Philby trotted over to my wineglass. She sat her enormous bulk down and looked from it to me.

  "Don't do it," I warned.

  Philby cocked her head to one side. She stood up and kicked the glass over with her back leg. Then she sat down and stared at me again.

  "She hasn't forgiven you for bringing home the golden poison frog." Rex pointed at the intruder in question. The frog swallowed.

  I scooped up my glass that fortunately hadn't broken. "Rufus isn't bothering her in the least. He's in his terrarium."

  As I walked to the kitchen, I gave the frog a little nod. He blinked. We had a bond. At least, I think we did. After returning to the kitchen with paper towels and cleaning up the mess, I sat back down sans glass of wine, which made me sad.

  "Philby." I stroked her fur. "You are my first pet. How can anyone replace you?"

  The feline führer narrowed her eyes.

  "You've even helped me solve cases…"

  "Meddle in cases," Rex amended.

  I ignored him. "You have nothing to worry about. That frog won't replace you."

  "She's waiting for you to get another glass of wine," Rex pointed out.

  "I'm not wasting another glass. That's the wine from New Zealand by the guy who was in Jurassic Park! I will, however, have a glass of the cheap chardonnay."

  Rex sighed as he got to his feet. "This conversation is not over. I'm worried about you."

  I waved him off. "Riley and Kelly are helping me."

  He paused in the doorway. "You hired Riley's firm?"

  "No, of course not. He owes me. This one is pro bono."

  Rex stretched his six-foot-three frame. "And how much has he done so far?"

  "And Sheriff Carnack is on the case." I shook my head. "You worry needlessly. Ed Carnack is always on my side."

  "About that…" My husband came over and started to rub my shoulders, which was either a good sign or a bad one.

  "What?"

  His fingers dug into my shoulders. "Since Bryce Vanderzee is back, Carnack had to hand the case over to him."

  I turned to look at him. "He's back?" Then I faced forward and indicated that he should go back to massaging me.

  "And he's fast-tracking it. He's been bragging that you're going to be his big catch." Rex let go and went into the kitchen.

  "You'd better bring me the whole bottle," I shouted. "Of the good stuff."

  I stared at Rufus. He gulped. I totally agreed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Bladder
sly is weird at night. Sure, most small towns only have streetlights on after dark, and there's usually no traffic except at a tavern. But Bladdersly was creepy. No streetlights, and I think I spotted a couple of tumbleweeds blowing down Main. The only real action I spotted came from The Dew Drop Inn and The Rabid Squirrel. And they weren't my targets tonight.

  I pulled off onto Fillmore Street, double-checking the addresses. The streets of this town appeared to be named after failed presidents, from Hoover and Harding to Buchanan and Nixon. Huh. I guess I'd never noticed that before. Why did they do that? Did they do it to distract from Hoover—Iowa's only president who was considerably loathed? Or was it because they were idiots? My vote was for the latter.

  That was one mystery that could wait. I pulled up to a duplex with Tyson's address. I double-checked Kelly's handwriting, which was despicably perfect. Yup. This was the place. A one-story duplex. It shouldn't give me too much trouble.

  Lights were on in the attached apartment, but nothing was on in Tyson's. That was good, but I'd still need to be careful not to draw the neighbors' attention by making any noise. I parked around the corner and worked my way to the building from behind.

  No one was in the shared backyard. And there were no porch lights. Very carefully, I slid up to the back door and tried it.

  Locked.

  I started to pull out my lockpicks, but I thought of my visit to the shed. It was worth a shot. Easing my way around to the front, I slipped a gloved hand into the mailbox, and my fingers closed around a key.

  What was with this town? Did everyone leave a key in the mailbox? What if people figured that out? Were there a rash of burglaries that the Bladdersly PD could solve if they just remembered that everyone did this? The thought made me smile, but there wasn't time to worry about this town's stupidity. I slid the key into the lock and heard a satisfying snick.

  Looking around, I made sure no one had spotted me. I very slowly slipped inside, closing the door behind me. The place smelled like it was brand new. Like it had just been painted and cleaned. Had the real killer come over and taken care of the evidence?