The Wild Turkey Tango (Jackrabbit Junction Humorous Mystery)

by Ann Charles

  She’d planned to impress Grady later today with her hostess abilities and refined etiquette at the dinner table, hoping to show him she wasn’t really the unruly, immoral lawbreaker type she’d appeared to be over the last month. But now here she sat with egg on her face. A piece of crust fell off of her cheek onto her shirt. Make that pie on her face.

  “Well …” She licked her lips and tasted brown sugar. After wrestling a freaked out turkey, she was too distracted to come up with any justification for the chaos that had just ensued.

  One of Grady’s eyebrows inched up as he waited.

  She squared her shoulders. She could fit into his Mayberry lifestyle, dammit. She just needed a chance to prove it—along with a shower and some new clothes. But first … she pointed her thumb back at her youngest sister. “It all started when Katie kidnapped a wild turkey.”

  “What!!?” came from the backseat, followed by, “You two are nothing but big mouthed tattletales!”

  A slice of chocolate pie flew from the backseat and splattered onto Ronnie’s cheek.

  She gasped. Scooping up the chocolate mess from where it had slid onto her shoulder, she threw it back at Katie.

  “Stop throwing pie in my Jeep!” Claire yelled at the two of them.

  Katie wiped the chocolate pie goop from her chin. “I can’t believe how easy you just rolled over on me, Ronnie. Whatever happened to family comes first?”

  Family did still rule for Ronnie, but she figured Grady was less likely to throw a pregnant woman in jail than her or Claire. “Calm down and stop acting so crazy,” she said quietly, trying to diffuse Katie before the wild monkeys in her sister’s head started shrieking and flinging poo as well as pie. “Especially in front of the Sheriff.”

  “I’ll show you crazy,” Katie said, scooping up another handful of chocolate pie.

  “Kate, don’t!” Claire said, glaring her down in the rearview mirror. “If you throw that, I’m going to come back there and give you a chocolate pie noogie.”

  “This is starting to remind me of the mud pit at Dirty Gerties,” Chester chuckled. “I’ll wager a ten spot on Ronnie. I’ve seen her take down a young strapping buck and hogtie him in the blink of an eye like a rodeo superstar.”

  With a “harrumph,” Katie reached over and smeared the handful of chocolate pie down Chester’s cheek. “Wager on that, old man!”

  “That’s it!” Grady’s voice resonated through the cab. He yanked open Claire’s door. “Everyone out, now!”

  Claire and Ronnie exchanged worried glances and then stepped out into the sunlight. Katie and Chester joined their huddle behind the Jeep after dumping the turkey into the back again. They lined up along the shoulder while Grady took his favorite wide-legged Sheriff stance and glared them down one by one.

  A semi-truck rolled past, laying on his horn while he waved at them. A tail wind blew along behind him, coating their sticky pie stains with road dust. Ronnie scrubbed her face with the hem of her T-shirt, grimacing at the dirt and pie that came off. That stupid turkey had really done a number on them.

  She glanced at Katie, who was going to need to be pre-soaked before going through a hose-down. The poor girl had been at ground zero when the turkey had gone wild on them. Her blonde hair was smeared with chocolate and cherry pie filling. Her face and neck were splotchy with the goop, too. Mixed in with the smudges of pie and crust were scratches from the turkey’s claws. Dried blood crusted the bottom of her earlobe.

  Chester had fared better. While his clothes were a mess, he seemed relatively unscathed besides the chocolate swipe Katie had left on his cheek and the cherry filling caught in his beard scruff. He offered Ronnie a bite from the pan with the remains of the cherry pie in it. When she shook her head, he shrugged, picking out a feather and tossing it aside while scooping up another piece for himself.

  The least damaged from the killer turkey attack was Claire with only a few pie splotches and one scratch down the side of her face. Unfortunately, her new Jeep showed the results of the multiple pie fatalities.

  Grady held up his finger. “I’ll be right back. Nobody move.”

  While Grady strode to his Bronco, Claire stepped over to peek in through Chester’s window at the back seat.

  “The Sheriff said not to move,” Chester said and then popped a cherry in his mouth.

  Claire stalked back and stole the pie from him. “I’m going to kill that freaking turkey,” she growled in Katie’s direction as she dug out a finger full of pie. “That bird better not have torn my seats, you bleeding-heart bozo.”

  Katie lifted her chin. “This was not the turkey’s fault.”

  Claire scoffed, shoving the cherry pie back at Chester. “You should have shot it when you were waving that damned gun around.”

  Grady must have heard her, because as soon as he returned he nailed Ronnie with a squint. “Veronica, give me that derringer sticking out of your back pocket.”

  She handed it over. It looked silly in his large palm.

  He flipped it one way and the other, and then nailed her with a frown. “Where did you get this?”

  “Katie got it out of Ruby’s safe,” she told him.

  Katie punched her in the arm. “Would you quit blaming me for everything, you rat.”

  “It belonged to Joe,” Claire clarified.

  “Maybe you should arrest Miss Big Mouth here for carrying a firearm,” Katie suggested, still glaring at Ronnie.

  “We’re in Arizona, sweetheart,” Chester said, licking cherry goop off one of his fingers. “The land of guns and sunshine. It’s not illegal for Ronnie to have a firearm on her person.”

  “That’s true.” Grady’s attention remained on Ronnie. “But riding around with one stuffed in your back pocket is a surefire way to get shot in the ass.”

  “It’s not loaded,” Ronnie told him.

  He double-checked her claim. “I see that.” He closed his fingers around the little handgun. “So which one of you clowns put the bullet hole in the back of Claire’s Jeep?”

  Ronnie shared a worried glance with Katie before facing off with Grady again. “You don’t miss a thing, do you, Sheriff?”

  He lowered his sunglasses, eyeballing her over the top of the lenses. “Not when it comes to you, Veronica Morgan.”

  A blast of heat washed over her that had nothing to do with the bright rays of Arizona sunshine warming her shoulders.

  “Let’s make a deal, Sheriff,” Chester said, ruining the moment. “You take Ronnie in exchange for our freedom.”

  Katie snorted. “That’s no deal when she goes to him willingly already.”

  “I don’t know,” Grady said, pushing his sunglasses back up and studying each of them in turn, starting with Claire. “The list of crimes is long this afternoon, with running a red light, crossing over the center line, reckless driving, and speeding for starters.”

  He moved to Ronnie. “Then there’s not wearing a seatbelt and reckless endangerment with a firearm.”

  His attention shifted to Katie. “Not to mention hunting wild turkey out of season.”

  Chester snorted. “It sounds to me like you should take all three of these hoodlums to jail while I skip along on my merry way.”

  Katie jammed her hands on her hips. “Really, Chester? And what about when you attempted to discharge a firearm at Dirty Gerties?”

  Grady pushed his hat back and scrubbed at his forehead before yanking the brim down again. “What do you mean attempted?”

  “The bullets were all duds,” Ronnie explained.

  Claire elbowed her, shaking her head at Ronnie.

  “How many rounds did you attempt to fire?” he asked Chester.

  “I lost count.”

  “Seven,” Katie supplied. When Chester squinted at her, she said, “What? If we go to jail, you’re going with us this time, buster.”

  “How is it all seven rounds were duds?”

  Each of them looked elsewhere, avoiding Grady’s scrutiny. If this went any further, they’d hav
e to give up their secret about a possible buried treasure.

  “Chester?” Grady pressed.

  The old buzzard wiped the cherry goop off his face with his shirt sleeve. “I’d like to request the presence of my attorney before I answer that.”

  A loud gobble-squawk came from the back of the Jeep. They all turned as the turkey poked its head out of Chester’s open window.

  After a raucous fluttering of feathers and wings, the turkey hopped up on the window sill. With a dismissive squawk in their direction, it made a leap to freedom, landing in the ditch next to a collection of tumbleweeds that waited for the next strong breeze. Then it was off, racing like the Roadrunner across the open desert valley toward the western horizon.

  “Free bird!” Katie yelled after it, holding both hands in the air with a two-fingered peace gesture. Ronnie shook her head. The remaining members of Lynyrd Skynyrd would have been so proud.

  “Okay you Keystone Kops.” Grady’s voice rippled with an undercurrent of laughter. “We’ve reached the end of today’s episode of The Wild Turkey Tango. Now, which one of you is going to spill your big secret?”

  Ronnie hesitated, weighing how big of a deal it would be if Grady knew about Joe’s X marks the spot message. She didn’t want him put in the position again of dealing with the aftereffects of Joe’s criminal acts, especially with everything else he was balancing thanks to the hitmen her ex-husband’s goons kept siccing on her.

  “Well, then.” The Sheriff crossed his arms over his chest. “If nobody feels like talking, I guess all four of you win a free trip with me back to the station until we can sort out this whole mess.”

  Chapter Five

  Two seconds later …

  “The bullets were filled with clues,” Kate blurted.

  “Kate!” Claire nailed her sister with the stink-eye.

  “What? I don’t want to go to jail. It always gives me a rash. Plus, I promised Butch I’d open the bar today and by the time I help clean up your Jeep, I’ll be running late.”

  “I told you the last time we were in Sheriff Harrison’s holding tank that those were just hives.” Claire blew out a sigh of frustration. Now the law was going to be paying a visit to the Dancing Winnebago R.V. Park, sniffing around and digging up truths she’d rather keep hidden for Ruby’s sake.

  The Sheriff rubbed his jaw. “What clues?”

  “X marks the spot over and over,” Chester answered instead of Kate. When Claire gave him a what-the-hell look, he shrugged. “I’m hungry. Jail is no place to spend Thanksgiving. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

  Knowing some of what she did about Chester’s past with batty women, Claire didn’t doubt him for a minute.

  “Grady didn’t say he was going to throw us in jail.” Ronnie sounded as exasperated as Claire felt. “Just take us to the station.”

  “Close enough,” Kate said.

  Claire shook her head, looking out to where the damned turkey had stopped to peck at something on the desert floor. At least Ronnie had held her ground, which was surprising considering her intimate relationship with the Sheriff. Claire wondered how Grady felt about his girlfriend withholding information from him.

  “What do you think that means, Claire?” The Sheriff singled her out, surprising her.

  She squeezed her lips together, forming her response carefully. As much as being around the cops made her squirmy, she didn’t want the Sheriff as an enemy. Cholla County was too small to be playing tag with the law, especially with her older sister sharing a bed with the head honcho.

  “Well,” she shoved her hands in her back pockets, “I suspect it’s a distraction.”

  “A distraction?” His gaze didn’t waver. “Where were these rounds being stored?”

  “In Joe’s office,” Ronnie answered.

  Claire glanced at her older sister. Ronnie was being purposely vague.

  The Sheriff’s radio came to life, a voice ringing through loud and clear, rattling off a string of numbers that sounded like a bingo ball announcement.

  The Sheriff listened and then cursed under his breath when the radio returned to silence. “I need to go take care of that.” He focused on Claire. “Load them up and get them out of here.” His gaze shifted to Ronnie. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Don’t forget your Aunt Millie,” Ronnie said.

  One side of his mouth curled. “Trust me, she isn’t letting me.” He held out his hand to her. “Walk with me for a moment.”

  Ronnie looked at his hand for a couple of heartbeats and then took it, leaving Claire to round up the other two and get them back into the clown car, or in this case the jester Jeep.

  The inside of the cab smelled sweet and chocolaty with a hint of fruitiness. Claire wondered how long it would take for the milk-based chocolate cream pie to start going sour. She’d fastened her seatbelt and started up the engine by the time Ronnie had returned and climbed inside.

  “Everything okay?” Kate asked from the backseat.

  “No, Katie, everything is far from okay,” Ronnie sounded more tired than angry. “Grady is keeping the derringer for now. He said he’ll bring it back later.”

  “Was that all he had to say?” Claire asked, watching the Sheriff’s Bronco do a U-turn and head back to Yuccaville.

  “No, there was more.”

  “Start with the dirty stuff,” Chester said. “All of that sugar in the cherry pie is starting to wear off. I don’t want to fall asleep before you get to the sex part.”

  “There is no sex part.” Ronnie settled into her seat as Claire rolled out onto the highway. “He knows,” she said, staring out the window.

  “He knows what?” Kate asked.

  “He knows that we’re hiding things from him and he warned me that he’s not going to put up with games tonight at dinner. He wants answers and is determined to get them from us before the night is over.”

  Claire shook her head. “This is what happens when the law comes to Thanksgiving.”

  “You can’t blame Grady for this.”

  “Fine, I’ll blame you for inviting him.”

  “It’s Katie’s fault, not mine.”

  “Why is it my fault?” Kate asked, leaning forward. “I’m not the one trying to hide stuff from the Sheriff.”

  “If you hadn’t brought that damned derringer along,” Claire started.

  “We’d have never found out about another one of Joe’s stashes,” Kate finished. “You should be thanking me, not blaming me.”

  Chester laughed. “Who was it that wanted to catch that turkey? Next you’ll want us to thank you for a pie-less Thanksgiving.”

  “You ate plenty of pie today, Chester Thomas,” Kate said, “so you keep your pie-hole shut.”

  Several bickering-filled minutes later, Claire pulled into the Dancing Winnebago R.V. Park and killed the engine in front of the General Store. She turned and nailed each sister with a glare. “Neither of you is going anywhere until every turkey feather and piece of pie are cleaned up and this Jeep sparkles again.”

  “It wasn’t sparkling when we got in it earlier,” Kate pointed out. “I distinctly remember dust on the hood.’

  “Just zip it and go get a bucket and some rags.”

  The screen door creaked open. Claire looked around as Mac came down the porch steps. In his white T-shirt and blue jeans, he looked fresh from the laundry. Not a feather or pie stain on him.

  Claire dug some chocolate cream out of the crook of her neck and wiped it on her pants. She tried to tuck her hair behind her ears and wound up with sticky fingers.

  “Hey, Slugger,” he said, coming around to her window. The breeze ruffled his sandy brown hair. “How was Yucca …” The words died on his tongue as he looked inside the Jeep he’d bought for her as a gift just over a week before.

  Claire gave him her best and brightest smile. “How was the drive in from Tucson?”

  “Apparently not nearly as exciting as your trip to Yuccaville. What happened? Is that pie? Why are there so man
y feathers floating around?”

  “Ask Crazy Kate.”

  The back door slammed as the lunatic in the spotlight joined Mac on the outside of the pie-mobile.

  Mac took one look at Kate and burst out laughing. When she threatened to hit him with the only pie left—the coconut cream—he raised his hands and swallowed the last of his mirth. “Sorry, Kate. What’s with the feathers?”

  “I rescued a turkey.”

  “Then she tried to shoot it with Joe’s derringer,” Claire added.

  Chester joined them. “Then the turkey woke up and went bananas in Claire’s new rig, making a mess of the pies the Sheriff’s sister made for Thanksgiving.”

  “And you hogged the cherry,” Claire grumbled.

  “Then we got pulled over by Grady for multiple offenses,” Ronnie said from where she was still sitting inside, her head pressed back against the seat rest.

  Kate touched her bloody earlobe gingerly. “The Sheriff threatened to take us to jail again.”

  “Not jail,” Ronnie clarified, “just down to the station.”

  “And now he’s going to interrogate each of us in between passing the mashed potatoes and stuffing,” Claire finished with a grimace.

  Mac’s grin reached each ear. “It sounds like a mash up of I Love Lucy and the Three Stooges.”

  “I don’t like your boyfriend right now,” Kate told Claire.

  That made Mac chuckle. “It’s a wonder Grady didn’t keel over from laughing when he pulled you over. Wait until Butch hears about this.”

  Looking at Kate, Claire asked, “You know what I’m thinking?”

  Kate opened the coconut cream pie box.

  Claire picked up the pie.

  “Claire, no!” Mac said.

  “You’d look good in coconut, baby,” Claire told him as she pretended to take aim.

  “Do it, girl.” Chester headed toward the porch steps. “It would give a whole new meaning to his nickname, right, Sweet Cheeks?”

  As tempted as she was, it was their last pie. Handing it back to Kate, Claire gave Mac a kiss on the lips instead.

  “Oh, gag!” Kate said from behind her. “I’m going to go get a bucket and sponge for my eyeballs and your Jeep.”