And, believe it or not, they really can fly. How else would they dodge night predators? They roost in trees in great big extended-family flocks. Depending on the time of year, turkeys congregate in hen flocks, bachelor flocks, and mating flocks.
Turkey season was in high gear, but I hadn’t heard one shot yet this morning. The turkeys must be holed up safe and sound, busy watching the calendar for the end of hunting season.
I chose a tree with a substantial trunk to hide every last part of my body from view. I wore camo, so I blended in, and thick gloves and boots because our April mornings can be a “mite” chilly. The outdoor thermometer registered a brisk thirty-six degrees when I left home, creeping out undetected. Kitty never missed a snore from the couch, and Grandma and Blaze were still bedded down.
Tony Lento should be arriving any minute.
I could see my breath in the cold air, so I covered my mouth with my glove when I peeked out to watch Tony’s spot. Lyla had walked me out here when she hired the Trouble Busters and assured me that Tony would be behind bales of straw some hundred yards away from the tree I hid behind. He hunted every morning, she’d said, like clockwork.
My job was to find out what species he was hunting.
Lyla had sworn me to secrecy. A private investigator has to be discrete. We wouldn’t stay in business long if our clients couldn’t trust us. So the rule was, no telling anyone outside of the three partners. No telling now and no telling later. While I waited, I worried about Kitty’s blabbermouth. Our lips were supposed to be sealed till our deaths, and if Kitty couldn’t keep it reined in, she’d make a quick departure from this world.
Which is what I promised her, if she whispered one word about our client to anyone.
There isn’t a turkey flock in the U.P. as large as Kitty’s hen flock. She’s the queen hen because she knows more good gossip than anyone else in Tamarack County.
Kitty rules her roost of biddies from a formidable physique. She wears a bunch of pincurls in her gray hair, rarely combing them out, and she’s built like a semi. That’s why she makes the perfect bodyguard when I get into trouble, or when I need her to watch over my kooky family.
A branch snapped to my left, and I almost let out a yelp. Good thing I was nearly frozen to death, or I might have screeched. Another branch broke. Leaves shuffled under someone’s heavy boots. Any turkey worth half his salt was in the next county by now.
I cautiously eased one eye out from behind the tree to get a good look at Tony’s makeshift turkey blind.
A mean, snarky, green-uniformed creep named Rolly Akkala glared back at me from the straw bales.
“What the hell are you doing behind that tree,” the local game warden asked. “Why aren’t you in your own blind? Come out here. Lord, I hate this job. You nearly scared me to death.”
His demise would make all of Stonely happy enough to throw a party at Herb’s Bar. A Rolly Akkala’s Bit the Dust party would draw more revelers than a Packers versus Lions football game.
I popped out from behind the maple. My cover was blown, thanks to the warden. Rolly walked toward me. He had tree-stump legs, a barrel chest, and a jaw like a bulldog.
“Cough it up,” he said, holding out his hand.
“What?”
“Turkey license.” He snapped his fingers two times then extended his hand, palm up. “Let’s see it.”
“I don’t have a license,” I said. “I’m not hunting.”
I was hunting all right but not for the feathered kind of turkey.
Rolly rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard that one before.”
“I’m really not.” I spread my arms wide. “Do you see a gun?”
“Just in case you get any ideas, I’ve got one right here on my side,” Our warden said, tapping his holster. “Good thing, too, with the likes of you hunting illegally.” He walked around the maple tree, parting brush with his foot. “Your weapon’s around here someplace. Put your hands up against the tree and no monkey business.”
Just then Tony Lento walked into our friendly gathering. “What’s going on?” he said. Tony carried a shotgun under his arm and his standard I’m-a-great-guy grin.
“I don’t need to look at yours, Mr. Lento. I’m sure you’re within the law.”
“Well, Rolly,” Tony said. “I have it right here. Take a look anyway.” He held out his turkey hunting license. “Everybody should be treated the same. Hello, Gertie.”
“Hi, Tony.”
“Didn’t I tell you to put your hands up against that tree?” Rolly said to me. “Help me search the ground for her weapon, Mr. Lento, and shoot her if she moves.”
By the time the surrounding woods and my physical person had been thoroughly searched by the warden, half the day was gone.
Not only that, Tony had given up on getting a good shot after the brouhaha with Rolly. He’d chucked it in for the rest of today, leaving me hugging the tree, unable to follow after him.
Someday, someone is going to clean that warden’s clock.
After Rolly satisfied himself that I wasn’t armed, I traipsed out of the backwoods-cold, hungry, and having lost my man.
____________________
Grandma Johnson sat at the kitchen table having coffee with her friend Pearl, who claimed she had saved us at the credit union by whacking the robber with her purse to give the rescuers a clear shot. She was experiencing a bit of fame among the old age set and she wasn’t about to miss out on the glory.
Fred had been banished to the great outdoors. He and Grandma don’t see eye to eye, which is all the more reason for me to like my dog. He came inside with me, all ten tons of black hair and red eyes. Pearl squealed. So did Grandma. “Get that thing outta the house,” she said.
“Where’s Kitty?” I swung my head. Fred plopped down by the door, ready to bolt if Grandma grabbed the fly swatter. “And where’s Blaze?”
“That lippy friend of yours took Blaze along to the sheriff’s station.” Grandma clacked her false teeth in agitation. “Don’t send her over to babysit me no more.”
“She wasn’t here to take care of you,” I said. “She was here to make Blaze comfortable.” Who would want to keep this old battle axe safe from harm? If she tried to stick her fingernail file into a light socket, I wouldn’t say a word to stop her.
Pearl piped up, “Blaze said they stole the money.”
“Blaze has a few mental problems,” I said.
“Says who?” Grandma asked, staring at me with eyes beadier than Fred’s.
“Says the doctors. He thinks he has millions stashed away, and thieves are after it.”
“He told me about that,” Pearl said. “Such a shame. But this is different money. This news came from one of the deputies.”
“Never did like that Dickey Snell,” Grandma said, stating the only fact we’ve ever agreed on. “Gertie’s going to drive us over to Trenary for bingo tonight. Now that she has her driver’s license.”
“That’s an easy one to get,” Pearl said.
“Took her long enough,” Grandma said.
I haven’t informed my mother-in-law of my status, because she doesn’t need to know everything about my personal life. After enough crabbing and threatening from Blaze, I went to Escanaba and passed my written test. I’m official now. Except, I’m supposed to have a fully licensed driver in the car with me at all times. The rules they make! I have a temporary license for six months, then I get the real one.
“What did Dickey say?” I asked, still wondering about Kitty and Blaze. Kitty knew better than to take Blaze down to the sheriff’s office. But what if something important was happening?
“The money’s missing,” Pearl said again. “It’s gone.”
“Serves Blaze right,” Grandma said, picking up her cup from a pool of spilled coffee and taking a drink.