Dixie looked over at me and busted out laughing. “You crack me up, Tammy.”
“Why, now,” I said, acting like I hadn’t just looked like I was superstitious as all get out.
“Slow down, would you,” Dixie shouted, but it was too late as the Dodge Dart I was driving slid sideways, narrowly missing a truck. The car spun around into a donut, landing smack in a ditch with a thump.
I pressed my hand against my chest as my heart hammered away and glared at Dixie like it was her fault. “Well, so much for good luck charms.”
“All that crossing yourself didn’t do anything for you, either, but it sure was funny.”
It was snowing so hard now that I couldn’t see much at all. “I told you to rent a four-wheel drive truck!”
“I tried, but they didn’t have any.”
Dixie and I crawled out of the car, still arguing, when the truck I almost nailed also stopped. A tall man hopped out and proceeded to pull out chains from the bed of his truck, then walked toward us. Not one to be intimidated, even though I was in unfamiliar territory, I stood my ground, trying to look all brave. It really wasn’t an act. My dad always told me never let them see you sweat. I wasn’t actually sweating, but I was possibly perspiring a little. I’m so blaming that on the near-death experience I just had, or thought I had, anyway.
The man was covered from head to toe with a feather-down jacket and snow pants. He never said a word as he hooked the chain around the undercarriage of my rental car. It was hard to see what he even looked like since he had a ski mask covering his entire face. Under other circumstances, I’d have worried about a man in a ski mask, but then again, I was from Louisiana and I was used to seeing people in masks during Mari Gras in New Orleans. Plus, it was quite cold and neither Dixie nor I were prepared for it, jacket-wise.
Finally, the man stood up and yelled, “Get behind the wheel and I’ll get you out of there. All you have to do is help steer the car.”
I wanted to say, “Hey, buddy, tell me something I don’t know,” but he was being neighborly, so the least I could do was be nice and act all frail. Hey, if it helped me get the car back on the road, I was game.
I crawled back in the car and started the engine, gripping the steering wheel hard as the car jerked when the chain tightened against it. The engine of the truck roared, and the car was easily pulled from the ditch. My feet pounded the floorboard in my version of a happy dance. I watched as the man moved from his truck and removed the chains. I got out and thanked him.
“You sure talk funny,” he said, referring to my Louisiana accent, no doubt.
“So do you,” I fired back.
“Are you Louisiana Sassy, by chance?”
I put my hands on my hips. “What if I am?”
He laughed. “Of all the luck. You have quite a reputation.”
I didn’t like that a bit, but before I had a chance to teach this Michigan man a lesson about how to treat a lady, Dixie said, “She sure does. She’s deadly with a bow. We’re here for the archery competition.”
“Well, you might just want to turn around now because I’m going to win that competition. I’m not about to let a girl one-up me.”
“I see,” I began. “I have been beating men in competitions for years and I’ll have no problem defeating you. Louisiana Sassy doesn’t take any guff from anyone, least of all a man wearing a ski mask.”
He swiped the ski mask off, flashing me his cat-green eyes. A smile curved his lips. “It’s so on, little lady, but I hope you brought plenty of tissue for when you lose to me. I’m a national champ. I’ve never been beat.”
I leaned forward until I was eye-to-eye with the man. “Me, either.”
He eyed my car. “You can’t even seem to stay out of a ditch.”
“Oh, that little thing. Back home we have bigger potholes.”
“Is that right? Well, you certainly couldn’t have drove yourself out of the itty bitty ditch,” he laughed. “You better move along now before you catch yourself a cold. This isn’t Louisiana. If you plan to last long enough to enter the competition, you better buy yourself a parka. It’s going to be in the twenties tonight.”
Our conversation was interrupted as flashing lights illuminated through a cluster of pine trees further up the road. As the cop cars screeched to a stop, I bit my lower lip. Was this standard policy in Michigan when a car goes in a ditch? I then shook my head, as that didn’t make a lick of sense since I had never even called a wrecker. Something was wrong; I could just feel it in my bones.
Cops staggered from their cars that had careened down on us only moments ago. One of the cops froze when he scrutinized the man who had pulled us out. “What’s going on here, Daniel?”
“I was just helping these ladies out of a ditch.”
There was something about how he said ‘ladies’ that I hated, but then again, I was surprised someone from the north even knew what a lady was.
“Is there something wrong?” I asked the trooper, noting the state police emblem on his car.
“Yes, we found a dead guy in a wooded area not far from here.”
“Oh, my,” Dixie said. “That’s just awful.”
Daniel waved his hands. “Don’t look at me. I just got here. I can’t say the same for the women here. For all I know, they might be responsible.”
Dixie had to hold me back before I smacked this fool. “You just pulled us out of the ditch—or have you forgotten?”
“We take murder investigations seriously here, and as such, we have enough probable cause to search your vehicles,” the trooper informed us.
I pointed in the direction of my rental car. “Knock yourself out, but I’m warning you, our gear is packed tightly in the car.”
Daniel was stone-faced for the moment as he surveyed the cops going through his truck. I, on the other hand, was livid as I helplessly watched as the cops toss our belongings on the ground. “Hey,” I shouted. “Take it easy, would ya.”
When they removed my bow, I rushed forward. “Don’t you dare throw that on the ground. I need that for the competition.”
“Where are you from, Miss?”
“Estelle, Louisiana. Why?”
“I was trying to identify your accent.” He allowed me to hold the bow, but when he came back with an arrow, he frowned. “Have you been bow hunting today?”
“No, I hardly think it’s bow season in January.”
“Even if it was,” Dixie said, “we’re from out of state.”
“Good point.” He waved the other cops forward. “This arrow looks similar to the one we found in the victim.”
“How is that?”
“It also had white and pink feathers.”
“You mean fletches, don’t you? You obviously know nothing about archery, and I imagine arrows like that can be found anywhere.” I gave him a hard stare. “There is an archery competition in Bear Paw, don’t forget.”
“I know all about it, young lady,” a man behind me said. “I’m Sheriff Simon Price. We’ll be taking your arrow to compare it to the one used in the crime.”
I stared at the silver-haired sheriff with less than enthusiasm. “I see. Well, we just got here, so surely we can’t be suspects and you’ll find my arrows all have field tips, which are used for tournaments. Whoever killed the victim must have used a broad-head tip. That’s what most hunters use.”
“You can check our GPS unit in the car if you’d like,” Dixie volunteered. “It will prove that we just got here.”
“I see. Well, like I said, we’ll be retaining the arrow. I hope you ladies plan on sticking around in town until the investigation is cleared up.” He stroked his mustache. “I have a friend in town who could offer you a place to stay while you’re here. Margarita Hickey, she owns the local restaurant, Hidden Pass.”
I sighed. “Sure, whatever you say.”
The sheriff then gave me directions, which I only half listened to. How hard could it be to find? My thoughts were more on Daniel, who seemed to have some
kind of death wish for suggesting Dixie or I could be capable of murder. Oh, I have had dark thoughts, all right, but it’s not something I’d ever act on. My family already had a black mark against it and didn’t need another.
The cops left our belongings on the snow-covered ground and I just wanted to scream at them to put everything back the way they found it, but I knew that would be impossible on account of how hard it was for Dixie and me to pack the car the first time around. I had some harsh words for that Daniel character, but he had piled into his truck and sped off.
As the sheriff made for his car, I asked, “Can you give me the full name of the man who helped us out of the ditch? I haven’t properly thanked him for helping us out.”
“Daniel Adams. He’s our local archery champ. I’m fairly certain that he won’t let a woman beat him.”
Oh, I’d like to beat Daniel, all right. Instead, I just nodded in agreement. “I’m so used to the type, and it’s always so gratifying to me when I—”
“Meet them later for a congratulatory drink,” Dixie interjected.
Dang that Dixie for interrupting me before I could add that I’d kick that man’s ass all the way to China. I suppose I should thank Dixie. Otherwise, we might not run into him again until the competition, and that just wouldn’t do. For all I knew, the Daniel character might be the one responsible for the murder, although it didn’t appear that the cops had found any bow or arrows in his truck, but he sure lit outta here fast.
Other books by Madison Johns
Coffin Tales Season of Death
Agnes Barton Senior Sleuths Mystery Series
Armed and Outrageous
Grannies, Guns and Ghosts
Senior Snoops
Trouble in Tawas
Treasure in Tawas
A Cajun Cooking Mystery
Target of Death
Kimberly Steele Novella
Pretty and Pregnant
Agnes Barton/Kimberly Steele Cozy Mystery
Pretty, Hip & Dead
Stand-alone Romance
Redneck Romance
USA Today Bestseller Madison Johns
When independent writer Madison Johns began writing at the age of forty-four, she never imagined she’d have two books in her Agnes Barton Senior Sleuths mystery series make it onto the USA Today Bestsellers List. Sure, these books are Amazon bestsellers, but USA Today?
Although sleep-deprived from working third shift, she knew if she used what she had learned while caring for senior citizens to good use, it would result in something quite unique. The Agnes Barton Senior Sleuths mystery series has forever changed Madison’s life, with each of the books making it onto the Amazon bestseller’s list for cozy mystery and humor.
Madison is a member of Sisters In Crime. Madison is now able to do what she loves best and work from home as a full-time writer. She has two children, a black lab, and a hilarious Jackson Chameleon to keep her company while she churns out more Agnes Barton stories with a few others brewing in the pot.
http://madisonjohns.com
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Madison Johns - Agnes Barton 06 - Bigfoot in Tawas Page 19