Buzz Off - By Hannah Reed Page 0,25

I tried to pull my truck out from its parking space at The Wild Clover. Johnny Jay blocked me in, got out of his vehicle, hitched his pants, and approached my truck. I refused to roll down the windows or step out of the truck until he threatened to smash my windshield with the butt of his gun. Then I rolled down the window on the passenger’s side, but only partway. He was standing on the driver’s side, so he had to walk around to the other side.

“What?” I said, glaring over and acting annoyed, an offensive response I learned from the master of emotional manipulation—my mother.

“We need to talk,” Johnny Jay said. “Right now.”

“I’m a little busy.” I glanced at my watch. If I didn’t get moving, Gerald Smith would beat me to Manny’s place and I’d lose my window of opportunity. “Move your SUV.”

“This isn’t an optional request. We can do it nice and easy or we can do it my favorite way.” He dangled a pair of handcuffs.

“Where’s Hunter?” I wanted to know. Johnny had local jurisdiction, but Hunter’s Waukesha County credentials might trump Johnny Jay’s. Or so I hoped.

“Hunter Wallace doesn’t have anything to do with official business in this town,” the police chief said, dashing my hopes. “Other than responding with C.I.T. when we have a situation.”

He played with the cuffs.

“This might be one of those situations,” I suggested.

“Besides, how do you think a dog trainer can help you? Don’t you know he transferred from being a real cop to the K-9 unit to train mutts?” Johnny snickered, like the K-9 unit and dog training were the lowest of the low.

When Hunter had shown up with a dog in the back of his SUV, I never imagined police dogs were his full-time job. Since he and I usually stuck to flirting, and more recently to finding dead bodies, that wasn’t a subject we’d covered yet.

Johnny Jay tried to open the truck door, but I’d locked it. He reached in the window, unlocked the door, opened it, and said, “Get out. Now!”

After that, I ended up “downtown” just like in the movies. Only the station wasn’t downtown because the new building was way too enormous to fit inside the business section of town. Why is it that every small town thinks it needs its very own, state-of-the-art, big-tax-drain fire station? In Moraine’s case, at least they combined fire with police in the multimillion-dollar taxpayer-funded monument. After 9/11, fire and police were high on everyone’s referendum agenda, and that’s how Johnny Jay got his special facility.

My interrogation was conducted in a sterile conference room that contained nothing more than an empty table, six chairs, and a picture of an eagle hanging on the wall. The police chief grilled me back and forth and sideways about Hunter and the kayak and the ill-fated canoe trip. My story stayed straight and simple, focusing mostly on Hunter as guide and decision maker. I already knew that Johnny Jay was not my friend.

And based on the intensity of his questioning, chances were good that Faye Tilley had been murdered. I’d been worried about that even though I hadn’t spotted any blood in the kayak or any other signs of an attack. My first thought was, if she had to get herself killed, why did she have to do it in my kayak? Then I felt bad for having the thought.

But steel bars did not go with any of my outfits, including the black one I was wearing at the moment.

“I’ve told you what happened at least sixteen times,” I said, exaggerating. “And Hunter told you, too. How much more information do you think you can squeeze out of me? That’s it. The whole deal.”

“You still haven’t explained why the deceased was in your kayak.”

Johnny Jay was flopped back in a swivel chair with his feet plopped up on the table, crossed at the ankles.

“How should I know why she was in my kayak? It was missing. I thought kids took it for a joy ride again. Hunter helped me look for it, we found it, she was in it.”

“You have to do better than that.”

I sighed as heavy and disgusted as possible.

Suddenly Johnny Jay’s feet came up off the table so he could lean into my face. I wanted to smirk and tell him where he could go, but it might not be in my best interest to go with my first impulse. What he said next scared me almost to