Tandem Demise

by Duffy Brown

  Sutter opened the door, sandwiching me between it and the wall. Lights went on. Sutter didn’t pause for a second as if the unlocked door thing didn’t register. I peeked around the edge to Sutter entering the evidence closet. He came back out into the office with John Bernard’s box. He set it on the desk, rifled though the contents just like I’d done earlier, and slid something in his pocket as a voice yelling, “I wan’ Bladen Dowers ‘rested, right now,” echoed up the hallway.

  “Where ‘r the p’lice when you nee’ ‘em, huh?” Was that Curtis at the front of the police station? Sure sounded like Curtis plus enough booze to pickle his brain.

  “Da guy in the black hat said this was the p’lice statio’.” There was pounding on the desk followed by, “He said I shoul’ go to the p’lice ‘cause I wan’ Bladen Powers ‘rested right now, but I don’t see no po’ice here nowhere!”

  “And it’s feeding time at Mackinac Zoo,” Sutter muttered to himself. He charged out of the room calling, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Keep your shirt on, will ya’.”

  “What if I don’ wanna keep my shirt on, huh. What if I wanna be buck nekid and run through the streets in my birfday suit, huh? I got rights, naked birfday rights, everybody’s got naked birfday rights,” Curtis laughed.

  As Curtis carried on about being naked and getting Powers arrested, I wondered what Sutter wanted with John’s stuff. Sutter was the one who put the evidence in the bags so what was the big deal now? I tiptoed over to the desk and the brown envelope and contents scattered across on the desktop. The knife was there, as well as the money clip, driver’s license bag, and wallet, but the picture of Swanky Guy was gone.

  Sutter told Curtis to go home and sleep it off. The front door closed and Sutter’s footsteps thundered down the hall toward me. I scooted behind the door again as he rushed in. He scooped the items back into the envelope, dropped it in the box, and hauled the box to the closet, giving me seconds to sneak into the hall and get the heck out of here. I held my breath and did a quick step from behind the door as the loudest creak in all of North America reverberated through the silence like a cannon blast.

  “Chicago? What the heck are you doing here,” Sutter said from the closet doorway.

  Chapter Eight

  “L...Looking for you.” In a stroke of genius, at least it was genius for me, I stepped further into the office, acting as if I’d just gotten there. I slapped an innocent smile on my face. “Everybody at the Stang is wondering where you are. Thought I’d pop over to see if everything’s okay.”

  Sutter raked back his hair. “I got a drunk fiancé streaking down Main Street and a missing dog that’s probably more about Angelo playing matchmaker. I’ll be at the Stang as soon as Molly can fit her job into her wedding plans.”

  “I’m here, I’m here,” Molly bellowed down the hall. Panting and eyes sparkling, she popped her head in the doorway and grinned, her smudged lipstick halfway up her nose.

  “Looks like you found the Meatball, just not the dog variety,” Sutter grumped with a hint of a smile sneaking through. “Is that spaghetti sauce on your chin?”

  Molly swiped her face. “Best meatballs ever and not the canine variety. You two go to the party and I’ll lock up around midnight like usual. Luca’s going to meet me at the Stang and good grief, will you two just try and look as if you like each other when you’re together? It’s good for island morale. Folks got enough on their minds with a dead body and no explanation.”

  I glanced at Sutter. He glared at me, frowned and shook his head as we headed for the door and right past the picture of him frowning again. Someone needed to tie the guy to a chair and force-feed him reruns of Seinfeld. “One of these days you’ll have to talk to me,” I said as we sidestepped a carriage trotting towards us.

  Sutter stopped in the middle of Astor and held my shoulders. With the fog closing in around us muffling sounds and lights and swallowing up people and horses, it seemed as if we were the only two people on the island. “Stay out of this, Evie. For once just mind your own business.”

  I jabbed my hands on my hips. “I can help. I already know you were undercover as a mob boss.”

  At least that got a smile.

  “And,” I went on, “that the guy who killed John is after you.”

  The smile vanished. “Go paint bikes and your nails and help Molly plan a wedding before she and Luca drive us all nuts. I mean it, Evie. Put your purple paperclips away and quit breaking into places where you shouldn’t be. Let this go for your own good.”

  “If that mattered I would stop riding bikes and I wouldn’t have come here in the first place.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Sutter continued on to the Stang and I followed at a slower pace. Sutter never called me Evie. I was Chicago and he was Sutter and that’s the way we rolled. This time he was serious, really serious, and Sutter and I didn’t do serious. We did getting in each other’s way, peaceful coexistence, and maybe a little fun now and then...but this?The Stang was packed and loud. Free beer and eats tends to have that effect on island locals. Garth Brooks’ Friends in Low Places blared from the yellow and green vintage jukebox. I wandered up to the bar and sat down beside Irma, her arm linked though Rudy’s. Scooter slid a Bud Lite in front of me then hurried off to fill more glasses. When the bartender knew what you wanted before you asked, maybe it was time to switch to Coke.

  “You look happy,” I said to Irma over the din. “Good day at the fudge shop?”

  “Good enough, especially for this time of year. Business is slowing up for sure.” Beaming, Irma squeezed Rudy a little tighter. “But the best part is come December we won’t be here freezing our buns off on this island like we usually do and worrying bout freezing pipes and shoveling snow off the roof. We are now officially snow birds.”

  Irma pulled a set of keys complete with a pink flamingo from her pocket and dangled them in the air. “We’re heading south to the land of margaritas and flower shirts and joining the old fart migration to the surf and sun.”

  “A cruise?”

  “A Winnebago!”

  “Business must really be good. At the bike shop I can maybe afford the margarita part.”

  “What’s good is Nate.” Rudy nodded toward Sutter playing darts with Finn and Luca. Rudy kissed Irma on the cheek. “Nate gave us the Winnie. Said his ship came in and this was a belated wedding gift. Like he didn’t do enough with decorating the bike shop for our wedding ceremony.”

  “It that was such a lovely event.” Irma looked dreamy and clasped her hands to her chest. “He completely transformed the shop into a wedding wonderland and I have no idea how he did it. The only thing I can think of is he watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding when he had the flu in high school and it must have somehow rubbed off on him.”

  Some guys learned to knit, some took up gardening. Sutter had been known to redo flower arrangements and table settings as if on auto-pilot. We all just thought of it as his thing, an escape from jail cells and paperwork. But the big question tonight was where did Nate Sutter get Winnebago kind of money? A bank loan? What did he use for collateral? Shakespeare? He was a great horse but not winning the Kentucky Derby great and Sutter’s old Victorian over on Church Street would have This Old House doing the happy dance. How’d Sutter get so rich so fast? And what was this payout for? Cops didn’t have payouts, they had paydays and mortgages.

  I passed on the second beer and asked for a Coke just as Finn won the dart match. He pulled on the blue Winner t-shirt and Sutter and Luca reluctantly slid on white Loser shirts. Fiona waved to me over the crowd. “Evie, we need pictures of second place Nate. This never happens.” She planted a kiss on Finn’s cheek. “I want pictures of me with the winner.”

  I got Sheldon from my pocket and wound my way through tables and the meandering crowd as Fiona took horn-rimmed glasses off one of the waiters. She slid the glasses on Sutter saying maybe they would help him win the next match. Fiona looked great. That mani-pedi appointment must have included a complete makeover
of understated makeup, including matte pink lipstick and fake eyelashes, plus a sleek New York haircut with auburn highlights.

  I snapped some shots then made my way back to the bar. I reclaimed my seat, flipping through the pictures hoping at least one turned out without somebody’s eyes closed and my heart stopped dead in my chest. I flipped back to the picture I’d taken of the guy from John’s wallet then back to the ones of Fiona, Finn, and Sutter. Fiona and Finn looked like two people in love, Nate looked just like…

  “Honey,” Irma said putting her arm around me. “You’re white as beer foam. Are you okay? What’s on that phone that’s got you so upset? You young people spend way too much time behind those screens. It’ll make you all half-blind and totally ga-ga before you’re forty.”

  I turned Sheldon off and kissed Irma on the cheek. “Congrats on the Winnie and you better remember to send lots of postcards so we can all have Winnie-envy. Bring me back an orange.”

  I headed for the door, flung it open and gulped in the fresh air to try and keep from passing out. Fingers shaking I turned on my phone and flipped through the pictures again, slowly this time. The guy in John’s wallet had on a white jacket, Sutter had on the white Loser shirt. Both guys had dark rimmed glasses and scruff and an awkward stance. Wallet Guy had a blond-streaked ponytail and Sutter had short dark hair, but twenty minutes and a box of Lady Clairol would take care of the color and hair extensions and a glue gun would make the ponytail.

  Sutter was Wallet Guy? Possibly? I flipped again. A really big possibly. If Sutter was the guy in the picture and John was looking for that guy because he ran off with the five million, did that mean Sutter took the money? Is that why Sutter took the picture? I was getting to close to the truth? Did Sutter kill John so he could keep the five mil?

  Okay, this was crazy! This was me on black cloud overload trying to solve a murder. Sutter was not a thief. Sutter was definitely not a killer. All I had were tiny little photos on an outdated phone, a tired brain, and a boatload of imagination. But the thing is, if I’d jumped to this stupid wrong conclusion about Sutter, maybe someone else would and they would think he was a crook with the loot and a killer. I had to put this to rest.

  First off, I had to know what the Detroit undercover operation was about and who was involved. It wasn’t only John – there had to be others if all that money went missing. Sutter wouldn’t keep personal info about his past at his office, so that meant a trip to his home. With Sutter at the party, there was no time like the present to snoop.

  I crossed to Main Street as I zipped my fleece. The fog had started to lift, and a hint of that full moon causing everyone to go loopy peeked through the clouds that were now dancing across the sky. I turned right and headed for Church Street figuring it was about a thirty minute walk away, fifteen if I put my mind to it. I had no idea how long Sutter would be at the Stang so I took off in a run.

  “Evie, me dear girl,” Irish Donna said trotting up beside me in her buggy. “Why ever are ye out here working up a sweat when you need to be at Fiona’s shindig?”

  I stopped to catch my breath, cursing every Nutty Buddy I’d ever eaten. Irish Donna bent down from her perch, the gold shamrock she always wore around her neck catching the lamplight and her red curls framing her always happy face. “You need to be enjoying the moment ’cause we all know Fiona springing for drinks and eats is not likely to be repeating itself anytime this century. I’m parking Patty boy here and taking advantage of the situation myself for a bit. My guess is Shamus is already there and flirting up a storm with the girls like he does. The only reason I don’t mind is that it keeps him energetic in the bedroom if you get my drift.” Irish Donna laughed then held out her hand to me. “Climb on up, me dear.”

  “I need a ride but not to the Stang and I need you to not ask any questions. Can you do that?”

  “Nothing better than a bit of late night intrigue.” Green eyes sparking, Irish Donna sat back in her seat and pulled her green wool cloak to the side to make room for me. “And as luck would have it, I’m in need of a body to help deliver a wedding cake tomorrow up there to the fort and you not get paid for the experience. I guess the question is, can you do that?”

  Still panting, I climbed into the carriage. “Deal. I’ll get Rudy to mind the bike shop for a few hours.”

  Irish Donna slapped me on the back, jarring me clear through to the bone. She flicked the reins. “So where we be heading and why is it so important to be getting there in a hurry?”

  “The where is the corner of Church Street and as for why, what happened to no questions?”

  “That part was me being polite. Now that we got polite out of the way, I’m thinking and hoping the why is you going to Nate Sutter’s house and planning a little late night surprise for the boy?”

  “That’s one way of putting it.” Especially if he caught me.

  Irish Donna added a sassy laugh. “And you and I both know ye can’t be having me drive you right up to the front door of Nate’s house with Mira Brindle watching with her telescope like she does. In five minutes there’d be no surprise and the whole town would be knowing about it.” Irish Donna gave me a once over and shook her head. “Dearie, I be no Kardashian, but an old yellow jacket and messy hair in bad need of a trim is not the way to be winning over a man.”

  She pulled under the streetlight and handed me a bag as I climbed down. “These here be blueberry scones just baked for Mrs. Gilmore. She’s been feeling a might poorly but you’ll be needing them more than her. Nate Sutter’s a man and with you looking like something the cat coughed up these here scones are the only hope you got of getting anywhere in the romance department tonight.”

  Irish Donna trotted off and since romancing Sutter was not on my list of things to do, I dug into the bag for a taste of pure heaven. I crunched my way though dry leaves piled across the sidewalk as night crickets chirping their last songs of autumn. The scent of wood burning fireplaces wafted though the air and an owl hooted off in the distance. For a second I remembered life in Chicago with cars, horns and lights everywhere. Chicago was fine but Mackinac was a million times better.

  I slipped into the bushes to keep out of sight from the prying telescope. Gnarled apple tree branches drooped low over the back walkway of Sutter’s house and I scooted under, catching a spider web in my hair. I screamed, swiped at my head like a woman possessed, tripped over a rock, and landed face down in the weeds, strewing blueberry scones everywhere. The whole island was falling in love and I got spider webs. If Nate Sutter wasn’t guilty of something after all this I intended to beat him to a pulp.

  I pushed myself up, wiped my muddy hands on my jeans, found one scone not too badly damaged, and applied the five-second rule of not all that dirty. Okay, it was probably twenty seconds, but when it came to scones, close enough. I tossed the ruined pastries in Sutter’s garbage can and stuffed the good one in my pocket. I headed for the back porch.

  The chief of police would lock windows and doors but I’d give them a go anyway since Plan B was climbing the spidery apple tree to the second floor and I didn’t even want to think about that. Rotting porch boards sagged under my weight, making me rethink the bazillion calorie scone. I pushed up on the first window. It didn’t budge, but the lock mechanism holding it in place was like the rest of the house... antiquated.

  From my back pocket I pulled my one and only credit card that I used for emergency C and E, that being cash and entering. I wiggled the card between the upper and lower double-hung window casing and flipped the hook off the latch. Considering how easily I got in the house it was hard to imagine there being five million bucks lying around.

  I pushed up the window and hoisted one foot over the sill then the other. I poked Sheldon’s flashlight app and looked around. I knew this was the kitchen from a previous unannounced night visit to Sutter’s house two years ago. That time it was to check on a cat. No doubt Winchester was still slinking around somewhere or maybe hiding behind all the boxes piled everywhere or the
stacks of fresh lumber, slabs of wallboard, buckets of nails, unopened paint cans, shutters, and a really sweet cherry dining room table and chairs covered in plastic. There was everything in here but the kitchen sink. No wait, a really nice country kitchen sink leaned against the far wall just waiting to be installed.

  Right here were all the supplies needed for a complete gut job to make the house a showpiece. My guess was the other rooms were packed with new furniture and fixtures as well. With the island’s construction ban from April through October so Mackinac looked pristine and perfect to the fudgies, Sutter couldn’t start work on the house until next month. But everything was sitting here ready and…

  Did a shadow of something just slide past the door? I spun around to a low growl and two beady eyes. It wasn’t Winchester, but a really ticked off mean, snarling, not one bit happy I was on his turf, dog. “Hi?”

  I got another growl and this one was accompanied by a lot of teeth and slobber. Cujo lives.

  “Okay, I get it, I know my being here looks really bad, but actually I stopped in for a good reason.” I slowly backed up toward the window I’d come through hoping to get there in one piece. “I’m trying to get Sutter off the hook for something it looks like he’s done but probably didn’t do,” I added in innocent nice little-girl voice, “and somebody might be after him and I’m trying to figure that out too so maybe you can let me out of here in one piece.”

  I eased back a few more steps and my back hit something solid, warm, and completely unmovable. Slowly I craned my neck around.

  Chapter Nine

  “Sutter?”

  “What the heck are you doing here?”

  “What the heck are you doing here?”

  “I live here and at the moment I’m saving you from being doggie dinner.”