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

me right here in my own home. I want to make a report. I was going to let it go, but since you’re here -”
    “Oh, okay.”
    So I went back to the truck and rummaged around for a scrap of paper and a pen for him to write his complaint. Then I had to hold a straight face while Frank bald-faced lied right there on the back of the grocery receipt. He had some of the facts right, the ones that helped his case, but he forgot to mention his own part. Like firing at me just for being in his yard. Not only that, I did not throw teargas into his house like he wrote down.
    When he finished, he said, “You should stop suspecting my family and take a good look at the Ahos. Especially that crazy wife of his.”
    “I’ll take it under advisement,” I said, trying to sound as professional as possible.
    “She hated his guts.”
    I could have said that I know a lot of women who hate their husbands’ guts. That doesn’t mean they would take such drastic measures. Instead I said, “Is that right?”
    “She’s been feeding him crappy for years, hoping he’d keel over with clogged arteries. Maybe she got tired of waiting.”
    Fred started howling from the truck. Once he gets going, it’s impossible to stop him.
    “I’ve got to go,” I said. “By the way, you have a flat tire.”
    “Really?” Frank glanced at his car. “You’re right, I do.”
    My ponytail bounced all the way back to my truck.
     
    *
     
    I was cruising down highway M35, minding my own business, when I spotted red lights flashing behind me. Blaze! I didn’t have time for this. You’d think my son would cut me some slack, appreciate me just a little bit more for all the help I give him. Instead he acts like I’m at the top of his most wanted list.
    I refused to pull over. Why should I? I hadn’t done anything wrong. He came alongside, making demands through that fancy PA he added to his siren. I could see him talking into the mic. “Pull over,” he hollered. “That’s a police order.”
    So I did, mainly to save him from smashing into some tree.
    I barely had time to hide the beanbag gun under the seat before he wrenched open my driver’s door, almost tearing it right off the hinges.
    “Watch your blood pressure,” I advised him. “You get worked up too easily. Deep breaths.”
    “What’s with you?” he yelled. “Not an ounce of respect for the law.”
    “I need to drive,” I said, realizing he was still on that stupid driving permit kick. “It’s part of my job.”
    “Then get a license like everybody else.”
    “There you go, comparing me to everybody else again.”
    “What’s that on your head?” Blaze finally noticed my cute new ponytail. “Please don’t tell me you’re running around in disguise.”
    I hadn’t thought of that, except to fool Frank, but I liked the idea. A new do, a new badge, life was good. My son must have read my mind and didn’t like what he read, because he actually banged his head on the hood of my truck.
    “Don’t dent my truck,” I said.
    He stopped banging, but left his head where it was for a few seconds, then he raised up and said, “I’m giving you one week to take care of this. If you haven’t by then, I’m impounding your vehicle until I see the proper paperwork. I’d put you in jail right this minute, but you’d drive me crazy.”
    “Fair enough,” I said. I wanted to tell him I was working the same case as he was, but I didn’t want to trigger another blood pressure spike.
    “Any new leads on Harry Aho’s murder?” I asked now that the minor details were behind us.
    He headed for his cruiser, but paused. “I’ve got some ideas.”
    “Care to share?”
    “Not really.”
    Okay, then, I could have predicted that answer.
    But at least I had bought some time, and he wouldn’t be pestering me about my driving.
     
    *
     
    “Diane Aho never made any secret out of her feelings for her husband,” Kitty said when I found her and Cora Mae at their stakeout, eating fried chicken out