Murder Bites the Bullet: A Gertie Johnson Murder Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

ordinary conversation, so how could we possibly know the exact way to say it? But Kitty tended to be right on, a fact that never failed to annoy me.
    I let it go because I was feeling pretty proud of my latest brainstorm to employ cameras.
    I’d borrowed two infrared deer trail scouting cameras from George after I’d weakened his resolve in the sauna. Normally, he doesn’t like to get involved in anything that puts me at odds with Blaze, but I really needed those cameras. They were just the thing for ongoing surveillance of both Chet and Frank Hanson. Here in the Michigan U.P., deer cameras are one of the most popular items a hunter can own. Sometimes we use them to find out what our kids are up to when we leave the house. But mostly we hook them up to trees to establish deer patterns before hunting season. Everybody does what they can to find out where the biggest racks are hanging out.
    Speaking of racks, Cora Mae was still with Chet.
    I saw her when I snuck past a window and took a peek inside. She and Chet were making out on the couch, and they didn’t come up for air. I could have walked right up and watched, that’s how involved they were in each other.
    It only took about five minutes to find a tamarack tree in the perfect location, strap on the camera, and get it rolling.
    Easy as that stupid cake my bossy son thought I should bake.
    Frank Hanson was another story. I should have known my luck wouldn’t hold much longer.
    Chet’s second cousin lives north of Stonely in a little cabin about the size of a hunting blind. I’ve seen bigger outhouses. To compensate, he has a great big satellite antennae on the roof to go along with a fifty-some inch television set he’d crammed inside his crackerbox living area. He also has forty acres behind the cabin that butt up to a state forest, so what he gave up in personal comfort inside, he made up for in total privacy and unlimited expanse of woodlands outside.
    I tiptoed past a rusted out Ford pickup truck and recognized it as one of the vehicles parked near the scene of the crime. But then I already knew that, since Chet had clued me in that Frank had been casing the rifle range.
    I crept along the side of the cabin, feeling a little nervous and sweaty. I cautiously slid an eyeball up to the edge of the window. Frank was inside cleaning his rifle, which seems to be the number one pastime with men in these parts. You can’t sit down in a bachelor’s house without getting sick with cooties from the dirt and built-up grime, but you can eat off the barrel of his gun.
    Frank’s head popped up like he’d heard me, which was impossible. I hadn’t made a sound. His gaze swung my way. I dropped to the ground and waited. Nothing. I was quickly becoming an experienced ground slider, so I tried to gulp without making a sound and inched along just like I’d had to do after breaking loose from the fence. I slowly made my way to the back of the cabin. Behind it, I only had a short crawl from the cabin to the treeline.
    I would have made it, too, if Frank hadn’t installed sensor lights.
    They popped on.
    And flooded the whole area with light.
    I froze.
    A bullet whizzed past, missing, but just barely. I felt the breeze on my face.
    The sound of the shot should have been Kitty’s cue to spring into action, which was the only reason I brought her along. I needed a big diversion and fast. In the meantime, hoping she was on the move, I lifted my body into a crouch, ran on all fours for the back of the cabin, made it in one piece, and flattened against it. Flattened, that is, as flat as a person can with a knapsack on her back.
    My heart thumped in my throat. Swallowing was an effort.
    I expected to hear my truck arriving any second now. Kitty would help me with a getaway.
    I still didn’t hear the familiar sound of an engine.
    Where the heck was Kitty? She’d parked close enough to hear the shot.
    Now what?
    Looking to my right, I noticed that Frank had added a porthole in the