Murder Talks Turkey by Deb Baker

pulled up right behind Dickey Snell’s truck. That’s all I needed, the state boys involved.
    George walked over to talk to them, having helped take control of the situation prior to their late arrival. I hoped he hadn’t seen me pocket the Glock. Not that George would tell, but too many people knew already. And I didn’t want him thinking I was a crackpot, even though I was beginning to think I was.
    The only way out of my murder weapon mess was to find the real killer before Dickey and the state troopers found me and the Glock.
    Blaze pushed through the crowd. “What can I do to help?” he said, sounding sane for a change. My son had his ups and downs, but he also had brief moments of reality that were growing longer every day.
    Dickey glanced at him with a lot of doubt in his eyes. “I don’t know, Blaze.”
    “Where’s the ambulance? Has anyone touched anything?” Blaze asked, assuming a take-charge position just like the old days.
    Dickey relaxed a bit as Blaze spoke. He motioned to him. They stood over the body, talking low enough that I couldn’t hear. Blaze walked up to the window of my truck and peered in without touching anything.
    “Ma,” he fired at me after a moment of silent thought. “Why the hell are you at the center of everything that goes wrong around here?”
    I had my boy back! Maybe not permanently. Tomorrow he might be fighting the war again, but for right now, Blaze was close to his old self.
    “Gertie’s nothing but trouble,” Grandma said from behind me, clacking her new false teeth. She didn’t notice me right in front of her. When I turned around, she jumped a foot. Pearl, next to her, clutched her heart.
    Gossip is one thing. Grandma’s disparaging remarks about the only family member who was foolish enough to take her in was another.
I made a suggestion to her through gritted teeth. “Go find Star,” I said.
“And miss this! Fat chance.”
I slid as far from the old-smelling woman as possible.
    Between the excess law enforcement teams, they managed to separate out the potential witnesses. Grandma was forced into the nothing-but-gawkers group, complaining all the way. Star, who was supposed to be watching her, caught up and steered her toward the church parking lot.
    The ambulance arrived and carted the body away, heading for Escanaba and the medical examiner’s office.
    Eventually George and I were the only bystanders still outside. We told our story, what little we knew - that we had wandered outside for fresh air and practically tripped over the body. That George had tried to find a pulse while I ran inside for help. Our explanation sounded honest and innocent. If only they knew.
“He had a Kromer,” George said in case anyone missed it.
I had forgotten in the excitement. My attention had been more focused on the Glock lying in plain sight.
“That’s the guy who killed the robber at the credit union,” I said to Dickey. “I’m sure of it.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Hole in the front of his head,” Blaze announced.
“Execution style,” Dickey said. Like he’d know.
“Never saw the guy around here before the heist,” I offered. “I think he was in it with the guy he killed.”
    “She’s right,” Blaze said, still right on track to a full mental recovery. However, the old Blaze never would have given me any credit. He would have escorted me away with a firm grip on my arm and told me to mind my own business. I liked the new Blaze better.
    George stood close to me. “Two strangers, a bag of paper instead of money, and they’re both dead with shots to the head.” He shook his head in bewilderment. The snake wrapped around the brim of his cowboy hat seemed alive in the shadows.
    “They had a partner,” I said. “A third guy.” It should have been obvious, but who knows with this bunch? The bad guys were picking each other off like dominos.
    “Threesomes never work,” Blaze said. “Two, sometimes, if they both keep their mouths shut. You put