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

wax (ex. waxed paper);
    A process to remove unwanted hair;
    The act of being killed, usually because of a deal gone bad.
     
    By morning, I’d put together a rough outline for the day – talk to Frank Hanson, since he was at the Aho shooting range when Harry died, ask the widow Diane a few questions, although I hadn’t compiled any yet and I’d have to tread softly, and track Chet’s actions around the time Harry bit the bullet.
    Before I got out of bed, while considering possible suspects, Fred rose from the floor and gave me my morning face wash. The smell of burnt coffee wafted from the front of the house. I adjusted my scarf and went to face the challenges and rewards of a new day.
    Sure enough, Grandma was up and ready to go a few rounds for kitchen domination. “What do you need?” she said, blocking my path to the kitchen.
    “Coffee,” I replied, pushing back, but only a little. Grandma doesn’t have much meat on her bones. She might be lippy, but she isn’t hippy. “I’m making a new pot,” I said. “That one smells old.”
    “I just made it. And get that dog out of here.”
    I glanced out the window. The guinea hens hadn’t arrived yet, so when Grandma went for her flyswatter, I let Fred out and gained temporary control of the kitchen.
    Grandma almost forgot herself and swatted me.
    After a fresh cup of coffee and one of Kitty’s doughnuts, I hit the road with my canine partner, leaving Grandma to plot her next overthrow.
    Blaze’s sheriff’s truck was parked in Diane Aho’s driveway. Since I still hadn’t had time to renew my temps, I blew right by and revised the order of my to-do list. After finding a place to tuck away my truck from Blaze’s view, Fred and I made our way through the trees between the Ahos and the Hansons
    Open land is plentiful in the U.P. Neighbors aren’t right on top of each other like they are in most places. Almost all of us own at least forty acres. Several hundred acres isn’t uncommon at all. We like our personal space.
    Enjoying the smell of fresh earth and the sounds of the woods, I passed a “No Hunting” sign that had been shot full of holes. A bluejay screeched overhead and dragonflies fluttered past.
    Summer is my favorite season in the U.P. Lots of sunshine, not too hot, a little breezy, just the right amount of rain. The only downside is bugs. I’d forgotten and left my scarf in the truck, so a gang of horseflies found out and targeted me for a blood feast. I had to keep flapping my arms over my head to keep them at bay.
    Then the no-see-ums struck.
    A cloud of them appeared out of nowhere, but I plowed right through, keeping my mouth shut so I wouldn’t swallow a bunch of them. No-see-ums are really tiny, but they have a big bite that itches just like a mosquito bite, only worse.
    Fred didn’t seem worried at all. He was too busy sniffing and marking. Besides, his thick coat of fur prevented them from getting through.
    Chet Hanson’s house came into view. I hung behind a big maple tree, watching until I was sure he wasn’t outside. Then I moved closer, stopped at the tamarack tree I’d selected for the best possible viewing, unstrapped the camera, and made my way out with at least some of my blood still flowing through my veins.
    Back where I left my truck, Kitty was waiting for me in her white Lincoln. What a beater that car was! She’d banged into more stuff than she’d missed. Mainly because she gets overly excited at times, and she doesn’t care that much about car appearances.
    “How did you find me?” I wanted to know.
    “Process of elimination.” Kitty had her head tightly wrapped in pin curls. If we passed anything with a magnetic field, she was gone for good.
    “I’m about to check out what’s on the camera,” I said. “Hop in.”
    It took a few minutes to get it functioning correctly. And that was with the “help” of an instruction booklet. Then we crowded in on Fred, who sat between us like he was waiting for the show to