Mind-Bending Murder Page 7

  "Sorry about that." And I was. It was too bad Rex was a cop, because it would be fun for both of us to investigate all these murders that always seemed to frame me. Oh, I know most normal people wouldn't think of being a suspect in a murder as fun…

  "Merry." Rex turned toward me. "You know that this has been a problem for some time."

  "I know." I pouted. "And I always promise it will never happen again. But what am I supposed to do? The Bladdersly police department hates me. Which means that an entire police force hates me. And since Bladdersly is made up of your garden variety village idiots, there's no way they're going to solve this! I'll go to prison!"

  "But…" Rex started.

  I cut him off. "And you can't help me. Vanderzee isn't going to listen to you. He isn't going to listen to Carnack, and since he believes he's got everything he needs to convict me, he won't look for the real killer!"

  "I know, but…" Rex said.

  "And then," I kept rambling, "I'll have a jury from Bladdersly, and considering that they name all their streets after bad presidents, it might as well be a jury of goats."

  That caught him off guard. "Goats?"

  I nodded. "They actually do that in parts of Moldova and Uzbekistan. And those goats are corrupt as hell."

  Rex opened his mouth and then closed it.

  "Since I don't want to get you in trouble or run the risk of you losing your job, I have to investigate this myself."

  He held up one finger. "Technically, you have Riley and Jane Monaghan."

  I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, unless killers are a cabal of hot, slutty blondes, I wouldn't put too much weight on Riley. After all, I solve most of his cases." I thought for a moment. "Jane's really good though."

  I stretched. "Let's hit the hay. We can talk about this more tomorrow."

  Rex got to his feet and offered me his hand. "Good idea, but I'll be working most of the day tomorrow. Someone is stealing those little libraries all over town."

  I stood up. "Are you kidding? Who would do that?"

  "That's classified, Wrath." Rex took me in his arms.

  I kissed him. "I'll bet I can get it out of you."

  He kissed me back. "Nope. This is one case you're not involved in." He walked to the stairs and then looked back at me. "But I think I should see what you had in mind."

  I joined him, and we went upstairs.

  Later that night, while he was sound asleep beside me, I realized what I had to do in order to keep the peace around here.

  I had to leave.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "You are calling me?" Kurt asked eagerly.

  It was midmorning the next day when I got up. Rex was gone, so I packed a small bag with a few essentials and told him I wouldn't be home because Kelly and I had a sleepover with the troop at her house.

  Then I called Kelly and told her we had a sleepover with the troop at her house, except that I wouldn't be there and (if she was lucky) neither would the girls. She took it pretty well and said she'd lie to Rex for me if I kept in touch and texted where I was every few hours.

  And then I pulled up a number on my cell and called my bounty hunter. I figured I'd head him off before he got all excited and thought I'd skipped bail. It was a simple courtesy call. Nothing more.

  He answered on the first ring, and I started to talk. "Hey, Kurt. I wanted to let you know that…"

  "This is my first business call!" he shouted. I imagined him pumping his fist in the air.

  I congratulated him. "That's great and all, but I just wanted to…"

  He cut me off. "Hold on." It was silent for a minute. Then I thought I heard a click. "Okay. I'm back."

  Back from what? "You'd better not be recording me," I warned.

  "Oh! I'm not! I just wanted to take a selfie of me on my first business call so that I can send it to Kayla. But I couldn't take a picture of me on my phone with my phone, so I had to use my iPad."

  "I'm sure Kayla will be impressed," I deadpanned. "Are you done? Can I talk now?"

  "Huh? Oh yeah! Sorry about that. I was just excited. What do you want?"

  It was just too damn tempting. I couldn't resist. "I'm going on the lam. Leaving town, the state, and the country, and you'll never find me."

  There was a moment of tense silence, and then his voice exploded as he began screaming in all caps, "Are you serious? That is awesome! Yes! Yes! Yes!" He grew quiet for just a second. "Kayla wouldn't like me bringing in the Bird Goddess, but she would like me making my first collar, because then I'd be successful at this. Aw hell, I'll go for it!"

  Well, I couldn't let this go on. "No. Of course I'm not serious. You don't really believe that someone who skips bail is going to give you a heads-up, do you?"

  It was a little harsh, but I wasn't in the mood.

  Kurt sounded a bit sad. "I guess you're right. I didn't think about that."

  Now I felt bad. "Look, I was just giving you a heads-up that I am, in fact, not staying at my house. I'm not on the run or anything, but I'll be staying somewhere else for a little bit."

  "Okay," Kurt said. "But I'll have to put a device on your car…or maybe an app on your phone so that I can see where you are every moment of the day and night."

  "I'm not under house arrest, Kurt. So, no, you won't be tracking me, thank you very much."

  "I think." He sounded dubious. "That I can do that legally."

  I shook my head, even though he couldn't see it. "Only if I allow it, probably. But I'm not allowing it."

  Kurt sighed. "I'll just tail you 24/7, then. It's just…it's just that when I sit too long in a car, I get a rash on my…"

  I cut him off. "Nope. Do not go there. You can't tail me."

  "I'll come right over," Kurt agreed. "Where are you so I can do that?"

  "Fine." This conversation had been over five minutes ago. Kurt just didn't need to know that. "You know the Cornhole outside of Who's There?"

  There was a gasp of hushed reverence. "That place? I've never been there!"

  The Cornhole was a dive bar outside of town. It was an Iowa Hawkeye bar supporting the University of Iowa. If you weren't wearing black and gold when you went in, they'd probably beat you up. If you ordered beer that had a brand name, they'd probably beat you up. If you looked at people funny, they'd probably beat you up. In fact, the hospital emergency room was so used to treating fight injuries from the Cornhole, they had a code for it: Code Twit. They wanted to call it Code Dumbass, but the CEO said that wouldn't send the right message to civilians overhearing in the waiting room.

  It was one of my favorite places. I had taken my friend Hilly, the assassin (who isn't an assassin), there once or twice.

  "Yeah, I'll be staying there." It felt a little mean, considering I was lying to get him off my tail. "But don't go in there. I'll be pitching a tent in the cornfield. Never go in there."

  There. See? I gave him good advice. He'd never survive the Cornhole. They'd eat that kid alive.

  "Roger! Over and out!" Kurt said cheerfully.

  "That's not…" I started, but he'd already hung up.

  It was only a few seconds later that I realized my error. Kurt might be my best resource. He knew the town and almost everyone in it. I called him back and asked him to meet me for breakfast at a fast-food place in Who's There.

  When he arrived, I had a makeshift map of the downtown area, including the shed where Tyson was murdered and all the businesses around it. It was time to start talking to people in Bladdersly. And it would go much easier if I had the right intel for the job.

  After ordering breakfast burritos, we sat down, and Kurt took the map, redrawing the parts I'd missed and filling in the blanks.

  "You have the two sides of Main Street," he explained. "On the left is the Pump & Pawn, the shed where you killed Pancratz…"

  I ignored it.

  "On the other side of that is The Opera House, run by Uncle Harold."

  I studied his diagram. It wasn't half bad. "Yeah. Him, I know."

  Kurt cont
inued, "And on the other side of that is Elrond's Comics."

  As a Lord of the Rings fan, I couldn't help but smile. "Elrond's Comics. Huh. That's the most literate thing I've seen in this town."

  Kurt seemed surprised. "What do you mean?"

  I explained, "Elrond is the elf leader in Rivendale in the Lord of the Rings books."

  He shook his head. "No. That's the owner's name. Elrond Shire. I don't think it's a literary thing."

  "Shire is also from Lord of the Rings," I insisted.

  "I don't have any idea what you're talking about." Kurt was confused. "Is that a band or something?"

  I gave up. "What about the other businesses? They might have seen something. Because, obviously, I didn't unconsciously frog march a dead Tyson into the shed."

  Kurt went on. "Then you have the two restaurants, Ela's and Ella's."

  I stared as he wrote out the same name, exactly across the street from each other. "They have the same name? Is one like an offshoot of another?" I mean, I'd heard of Starbucks that were on opposite corners from each other. Maybe it was like that?

  He snorted. "Of course not! They don't have the same name. They're spelled totally different. Besides, they have different menus. Ela's serves burgers and fries. Ella's serves hamburgers and french fries."

  Even though I love burgers and fries, I decided I did not want to know the difference.

  Kurt explained, "And don't go into one thinking you'll also eat at the other. The rumor is that Ela and Ella hate each other so much that they have been known to poison your food if they see you at the competing restaurant."

  My jaw dropped open. "They poison people?" That seemed extreme even for Bladdersly.

  He waved it off. "Well, it's not fatal or anything, but you'll wish you were dead."

  I did not have time to get poisoned, or whatever, by rival diners. "Then the plan is we go in there and ask but don't order anything."

  He waved his hands in front of him. "No, I can't go to Ela's. My family are Ella's patrons. If you're one, you never go to the other."

  That, I sort of understood. We have two grocery stores in Who's There, and everyone goes to one or the other. No one ever goes to both. Ever.

  "Okay," I decided. "We'll split them up. You go to Ella's, and I'll hit the other. Is it the same for two taverns?"

  "No." Kurt wrote the names of the bars where they sat, opposite the Pump & Pawn and The Opera House. "There's The Dew Drop Inn, opposite the Pump & Pawn, and The Rabid Squirrel next to it. They're owned by the same couple. They just have different themes. The Rabid Squirrel is classier."

  In spite of it being morning, I was thinking I really needed a drink in order to make sense of Main Street in Bladdersly.

  "What makes it classier…" I started to ask, but then I decided that I didn't care. Besides, I'd find out soon enough. "Never mind. You left out the two tattoo shops."

  Kurt drew one on the other side of Ela's and the other directly opposite on the other side of Ella's.

  I squinted to read his handwriting, which was terrible. "And both tattoo shops are named Tattoo Shop?"

  His eyes grew wide. "Are we getting tattoos?"

  I shook my head. "This is just intel gathering. No tattoos."

  Kurt started bouncing in his seat. "Because that would be awesome! You could get one that says something like Property of Kurt Hobbs, Bounty Hunter, and I could get one with I Captured The Bird Goddess Serial Killer!"

  "No."

  He looked doubtful. "Are you sure? Because why else would we go into those shops? Both of them are run by bikers. Dangerous bikers."

  Now that was interesting. Dangerous bikers sounded murdery. "Like Hell's Angels?"

  Kurt Hobbs shuddered. "Worse. Like guys who rode with Lance Armstrong."

  My cell rang, taking me away from this idiocy. "Hey, Ivan. What's up?"

  "Merry! My favorite sister-in-law!"

  "Don't let Ronni hear you say that," I warned. "She'll stuff you and have you holding toilet paper in her bathroom."

  He didn't seem the least bit phased. "She has already done that with an emu. You should see it."

  "What's up?" I cut him off before he could tell me any more.

  "We are bored." Ivan sighed to prove his point. "Ron and I have not found jobs. I wondered if you would like us to hurt someone for you? We will give you a family discount!"

  The thought of hiring these two former Chechen goons was tempting, and maybe I could have them threaten Kurt if he even thought of getting such a tattoo. And then I had an idea.

  "I could use you to help me get some information."

  "Will we get money?" he asked hopefully.

  "Give me a day to work out the specifics, but yes. Can you meet me tomorrow at Oleo's for lunch? Bring Ron."

  Kurt looked up. "Are you hiring someone to help you? I thought I was helping you."

  "You are." I tapped the map. "I need a little more information on Bladdersly."

  We spent the next two hours there with him telling me all the boring stuff about the town, including zoning laws (that seemed unnecessarily draconian) and tax incentives (there were none). My head was spinning when he left. I grabbed a burger and shake to go and headed over to Riley's office.

  "Wrath." Riley ran bronzed fingers through his golden, slightly too long hair. "I can't hire Ivan and Ron to work for me." He leaned closer so that Claire and Kelly wouldn't hear. "I can barely afford the staff I have."

  "You cannot fire Kelly," I declared.

  "And I would never do that. She's a really good researcher. And I sure as hell can't fire Claire."

  I glanced at the glamorous, super smart redhead at her desk near the door. "What does she do exactly?"

  Riley waved his arms around him. "Everything. She keeps this place running. I don't even know how it's organized."

  "Tell you what," I said, taking out my checkbook. "I'll cover Ivan's and Ron's salaries. Just don't tell them."

  I was running out of time before Vanderzee issued a warrant for my arrest. Paying Riley to hire my brothers-in-law probably sounds idiotic, but I had received a very nice settlement from the US government when I was "accidentally" outed. In addition, I'd recently inherited a relative's (who wasn't a relative) estate. And since I wasn't a big shopper and didn't have any flashy needs, it just sat there in my bank account. I pitched in to household expenses and all that, but Rex and I lived pretty simply.

  "I can't do that, Merry," Riley said. "It wouldn't be right." A thought occurred to him, and he brightened. "Unless, of course, you are paying me for this case."

  My first reaction was, like back in the county jail, no. But I thought about it. I needed help to hit the street, and I had a feeling that since everyone there creepily watched everyone else, it might not make people very forthcoming with the truth if they'd just seen me at their competitor. Besides, my retainer could cover the expenses of Ron and Ivan and would make their employment more like a probationary period.

  "Fine. Have Claire send me an estimate." I stuffed the checkbook back into my purse.

  "Of course." Riley grinned. "It's a pleasure doing business with you. Now, how are we going to handle this?"

  "First, you are going to let me crash in your guest room, and you aren't going to tell Rex that I'm there."

  His eyebrows wiggled suggestively. "Go on…"

  I held up my hands. "Whoa there, slugger. Don't get any ideas. I just need to distance my husband from my investigation so he won't get in trouble."

  "Right." He grinned. "Whatever you say."

  "And you're staying at the Radisson."

  Riley started typing. "Adding that to your bill…"

  "And tomorrow we meet up for lunch at Oleo's with the guys and take it from there." Simple. Easy. I stretched. I hadn't realized how tired I was.

  "It's the middle of the afternoon, and you're tired?" Riley asked.

  I looked at my cell. "You have one hour to pack whatever you need. It's only for tonight. I'm going to eat, do a little diggin
g on my laptop, and crash."

  He got up from his desk. Riley knew how to pick his battles. You might think I was being bossy and unreasonable, but if you'd had to put up with all the crap Riley put me through these last few years, you'd do the same.

  I ran to the grocery store and bought way more junk food than I needed. Riley was a health nut. Glucose and flour never graced his kitchen. Maybe I'd leave a little behind in case I had to stay at his house again.

  Riley's home was an adorable, fully restored craftsman with gorgeous woodwork, expensive furniture, and Tiffany lamps. It was kind of strange for a bachelor pad, but he had expensive tastes, and it probably scored him points with the ladies, if they were into such things.

  After making a platter of Oreos, Ding Dongs, and potato chips, I poured a glass of wine and sat down in his living room with my laptop. For several hours, I looked up everything I could on Bladdersly. I even searched their newspaper's online records, The Bladdersly Beard. It's surprisingly one of the more normal small-town papers in the state.

  And there she was—Medea Jones, intrepid reporter. That girl with the pink hair used to write for our paper. Then she made me her mission to score a Pulitzer Prize. The obnoxious and angry young woman figured that someone who gets accused of murder so much must have a closet loaded with skeletons.

  She was right, but she'd never found that out. Eventually, she fled Who's There and set up her quill in Bladdersly. Medea was probably having a field day with this. My name and face would soon be blasted all over town, which was why we were doing our interviews tomorrow.

  I took a break and texted Rex good night. He responded with the same, thinking I was currently wrangling ten little girls at Kelly's house. It sucked that I had to deceive him. But there was no time. I had to move on.

  Into the night, I read boring article after boring article online. Bladdersly, for all its morons, was boring. There was no mention of Tyson Pancratz. There were hundreds of articles on how wonderful Pastor Buddy Malone was.

  I read those too. Which was a bad idea. The man was an absolute saint. When they told me he was loved by all, they understated it. With a sinking feeling that made me feel worse with every word I read, I realized that this witness truly was unimpeachable. I'd need to come up with a strategy to interview him.