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  One Big Bat

  Wedgewood, Minn. Police Detective

  Renee Brown Mystery

  Book 2

  Fay Risner

  Cover Art 2015

  All rights reserved

  by Fay Risner

  Copyright © 2015 One Big Bat by Fay Risner

  Published at Smashwords.com

  All rights reserved.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to the actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locals are entirely coincidental. Excerpts from this book cannot be used without written permission from the author.

  This story in the short story version I entered in the Arkansas Writers conference in Little rock, Arkansas in 2004 under the title one big bat.

  Prologue

  Hello! I'm Wedgewood, Minnesota Police Detective Renee Brown. Actually, I'm the only detective on our police force, and the only woman. There are four in total with me, two patrolmen and the chief. I loosely count Chief Olaf Tollerton who spends most of his time behind his desk.

  Our potbellied, balding chief might come in handy in a pinch, but so far the two patrolmen and I seem to keep the town under control. Pretty much, the chief is just counting the days until his retirement. Secretly between you and me, I'd be all too happy to give him a whale of a retirement party. I'm just waiting to apply for his job.

  I'm single and thirty years old. I date the Pike County Coroner, Ross Klink, when I feel like it. Lately, that has been pretty often.

  I was raised in Wedgewood so I've watched this small town expand. For years, retired farmers outnumbered the younger generations in town. They turned their farms over to a relative or had a farm auction and retired so they could move into Wedgewood.

  These days there are all sorts of strangers moving to town to get the jobs available in the Industrial Park. More than once, my mother has groaned when we passed someone up town. When I give her my what is wrong with you look, she grumbles for my ears alone, “What happened to the good old days when I knew everyone in town?”

  My parents are retired now. My father used to run a shoe store on Main Street that he inherited from his father. Mom has always been a homemaker. She keeps busy volunteering in the town's various volunteer groups along with her best friend Mrs. Pestkey. Personally, I think that woman is an instigator. She knows my mother is a good worker for any cause, and Mrs. Pestkey is bossy. She figures on giving the orders, and Mom doing the work.

  Life for me in my early years was kind of like living the Father Knows Best show. That's about it in a nutshell as far as my growing up was concerned.

  I have one sister, Diane. She's two years younger than me. Since we've grown up, we have always gotten along all right, but that might be because we went our separate ways.

  Usually, I see Diane and her husband, Paul, on holidays at my parents house. Family dinners are a must for special occasions so designated by my mother. Suits me fine. Holidays are about the right number of visits for me with my parents, my sister and her husband.

  A large Victorian house in the old part of town sold a few years back. My landlord, Ervern Chaloupek, turned the house into apartments. As soon as I was hired by the police department, I was ready to leave home so I headed to the landlord of that old Victorian home and was lucky he had one apartment vacant. My four room apartment is on the ground floor, facing the front.

  Growing up, my family passed by the house every Sunday on our way to church. I've always liked the looks of that grand old house. Now I enjoy living in my cozy apartment in it. The rooms are small, but that's all right. Doesn't take long to clean house that way. Not that I make much of a mess.

  One afternoon I came home from work to find the landlord on my doorstep, waiting to talk to me. My first fear was Ervern was going to raise the rent.

  It was a relief to find out all he wanted was to paint the apartments. Ervern planned to start with my place first, and he wanted me to move out until he finished. He said he'd have to move furniture so he didn't want me in the way, and he didn't think I'd like smelling fresh paint until he was done.

  He estimated it would just be for a couple of weeks. Yeah! Right! The man has a day job. He wasn't fooling me. That means he'd only be painting nights and weekends. If he took a night off now and then that meant who knows how long it would be before I moved back in again.

  The way I saw it, I had four choices of places to stay, and I didn't like any of them. Number one was the hotel at the county seat. A fancy hotel like that one costs too much. On my piddly salary I'm not about to pay the going rate for a hotel room for two weeks. On top of that expense, I'd have to commute to work, and with gas prices what they are, it would be cheaper to stay in town.

  Choice number two was the motel. Cozy Inn sets on the edge of town by the busiest highway coming into Wedgewood. That L shaped building does a good enough business to keep it open, but that's no thanks to the tourism.

  The inn's regular renters are the local, friendliest women in town. They spend most of their nights entertaining men in the inn's rented rooms. With the prices the women charge, they can afford to rent by the night, and they get the same room all the time. No confusion that way about knocking on the wrong door if a customer has a particular woman friend he likes.

  I saw the downside of staying there right away since I'm a cop. As soon as the manager warned the women to cease business because a cop had moved in, I'd have some unhappy ladies after my hide for losing them their income. I've heard those gals are good shots when they're angry. I'd have to demand the manager put a double lock on my room's door. For sure, I'd have to stay away from the windows, too.

  If all that news about the Cozy Inn wasn't bad enough, I recently overheard a conversation at Joe's Bar and Grill one night. A man was saying to another guy that his brother and sister-in-law rented a room at the Cozy Inn while they visited in town. When his relatives left, they packed home bedbugs courtesy of the motel.

  Choice number three was my old room at my parents house. It was always available. At least that's what my mother tells me every chance she gets.

  Mom keeps the bedroom decorated like it was when I was a kid. It took me a long time to figure out why. I thought it might be since I hadn't married yet, my mother expected me to move back in some day. Maybe she had this crazy idea that I'd take care of Dad and her in their old age.

  Finally, it came to me why Mom hadn't redecorated my room. When I was fourteen I put a large poster of Elvis Presley on one wall, because I thought Love Me Tender was the most romantic song I'd ever heard. At least it was romantic to me, the way Elvis sang it.

  Secretly, I think Mom has a crush on him, too, since he was popular when her age group was teenagers. She just uses leaving the room as I decorated it as an excuse to keep Elvis on the wall.

  Even if the stay at my parents was just for two weeks that would be fourteen days too long. Just enough time for my mother to get possessive of me again. She'd forget I was thirty years old, had a mind of my own and an important job as a police detective. No sir, I just don't take well to the idea of being mothered and smothered at my age.

  That only left me the last choice, number four. I'd have to call my sister, Diane, and beg her to let me spend the two weeks at her house. J
ust in case she hesitated, I'd fail to mention that two weeks might turn into a month if Ervern wasn't in a big hurry to get the apartment painted.

  I steeled myself for what I was about to do and poked Diane's phone numbers. To my surprise, my call to my sister didn't go as bad as I thought it might. She was happy to hear from me and more than willing to help me out. She even told me to get there as soon as I could. We had a lot of catch up to do about what had been happening in our lives lately.

  Now when I think back about my stay at Diane's house, I feel as if I was the most gullible human being there ever was. I should have known with my luck staying with my sister wasn't going to be easy. That is Brown's Law in case you're interested. Sort of similar to Murphy's Law which is what can happen will happen. Believe me when I say it sure did this time.

  Chapter 1

  I had a supper date with Doc Klink on Saturday night at the country club which I really didn't enjoy. I try to limit Doc taking me there since I don't like dressing up and letting the women members at the club stare at me. I just know our date will be a topic for gossip the next time the old bitties are together. I can just hear them say I was a poor choice of dates for the good Doctor Ross Klink.

  Sunday morning, I got up early and cleaned house. Not that I needed to do much, but I didn't want the landlord to find dust bunnies when he moved the furniture and think I was a slob. It was late afternoon when I packed my bag. I stopped by Ervern's house to let him know I had vacated my apartment and took off for the housing development.

  It's rather sad to think we still call those houses the development like they were newly built. Truth was, the Wedgewood construction boom happened in the forties and fifties, and it's the only housing development Wedgewood has.

  The shape and size of the houses pretty much looked the same. I suspect one architect plan was used to build all of them. What made each house different was how the owners had remodeled or landscaped the yards over the years.

  Diane and Paul Logan's house set in the middle of a block. It stood out from their neighbors homes, because Diane is a nut about flowers. When they first moved in eight years ago, Paul built an arch over the front gate which was now thickly covered with a red rose vine.

  Along the inside of the white picket fence that surrounded the yard were rose bushes in various colors. The whole area smelled as if a rose air freshener aerosol can exploded.

  With so many rose bushes, the yard looks like an advertisement for the local greenhouse, B. F. Smothers Greenhouse and Landscaping. Drive by the Logans and get an idea, with beautification, what your yard can look like, too.

  I pulled up in front of the house and took in the suburban view. The sun was setting. Its red glow bounced off the windows and square nine pane front door glass. That bright lighting gave the place and the rock bluff behind it the look of one of those English cottages that are illuminated by the sunlight in Thomas Kinkade's cheerful paintings.

  Sided a pale yellow, the one story house has dark green shutters by the windows. The structure had been small when the Logans bought it. After my sister and her husband, Paul, moved in, they had rooms added to the back, and had walls taken out to make the kitchen and living room larger. By the time Paul finished remodeling the interior, the house now has a modern look about it.

  The attic receives light from a small window on the front of the house shaped like the one in Grant Wood's American Gothic painting. On the back side of the house was an attic opening with a door, so if they needed to work on the wiring, electricians could go in that way.

  Diane must have been watching for me. Her long, pale hair bounced off her shoulders as she rushed down the sidewalk and beckoned me to get out. “For goodness sakes! What are you doing just sitting in the car? Get out and come in.”

  I came around the car and opened the passenger door to get my bag. “I was admiring how pretty your yard looks with all the flowers in bloom. It's been a while since I've been here. The rose bushes have filled out and look so nice,” That compliment should score me brownie points.

  Diane smiled from ear to ear. “We're proud of how our yard looks. Roses are my favorite flower, and the yard smells so good when they're in bloom.”

  I noticed, and I'm trying not to breathe too deeply. The scent was so strong it made me worry my allergies would flare up. Instantly, I thought my eyes were itchy, and my throat felt scratchy, but that might be happening because the idea of an allergy occurred to me.

  Walking through the dark shade under the rose vine snarled trellis, I had this inner sense telling me I might have worse things than allergies to worry about. My cop instinct was kicking in, and I didn't understand why.

  So I chose to ignore the dreaded feeling as I was swooped along by Diane like I was Alice in Wonderland when the poor girl swirled down the rabbit hole.

  Diane escorted me along the sidewalk that cut through her yard's flowering jungle. I noticed the garage doors were closed, and their cars weren't parked on the driveway. “Paul home yet?”

  “He is. Right now he's on the deck in back, grilling our pork chops for supper. He said head you out to the deck to say hello as soon as you got here. Come on in and put your bag in your room before we join him.” Diane opened the front door for me and stepped aside.

  We entered the long, narrow living room with the kitchen-dining room combination on one end, and the other end was a hallway.

  Diane led me through the hall past the master bedroom on one side with the bathroom next. Two smaller bedrooms were on the opposite side.

  The doors to the rooms were staggered for privacy I suppose. Not that I figured on ever leaving the bathroom door open when I was in it or my bedroom door when I was changing.

  Diane led me to the bedroom just passed the bathroom door. She stepped in. “This is your room for your stay. The other bedroom at the end of the hall is a small guest room. You'll like this bedroom better since it's larger. Besides, it is closer to the bathroom.”

  Right! Like a few feet will make a difference to me. I threw my bag on the bed.

  Diane said, “Unpack and hang your clothes in the closet. I don't keep much wardrobe in it so I pushed my clothes to the far end of the rod.”

  “Thanks, but I figured since I'm only staying a short time I'd just take out what I needed as needed. I can put the clothes back in the bag when I'm done with them. That will save me time when I'm ready to go home.”

  “Whatever you want,” Diane said, shrugging her shoulders.

  I wasn't sure what she was thinking, but I wanted to make the point that this visit was going to be short. I didn't want to impose on her more than was necessary. Besides, I like my privacy and preferred to be in my apartment to sleeping in a strange bed.

  Sliding glass doors in the dining room opened to the deck. Since the house faced the west, the deck was shaded during the hottest part of the afternoon and evening. The shade helped if there was any kind of cool breeze at all.

  The view wasn't that desirable since the small back yard ended at a straight up, bare, ugly rock bluff. The same type of bluff I'd seen once driving through Missouri that had signs at the base that read look out for falling rocks.

  Diane slid one of the sliding doors opened so we could walk out on the large redwood deck.

  “Hello, Paul. You're cooking my supper I hear,” I teased.

  The dark haired, handsome man looked up from the grill with a long handled fork in his hand. “You bet. The meat anyway. I can't take credit for what's in the bowls in the kitchen. Diane worked on that.” He laid the fork on the small table beside the grill and came to meet me. “It's good to see you, Sis.” He gave me a peck on the cheek. “It's forever between visits. Maybe while you're staying with us, Diane and I will get caught up on what you've been doing these days.”

  “Ah, not much to tell about me,” I proclaimed.

  “That can't be so. Seems to me you've had plenty of excitement. It's been in the news how you solved Mrs. Hutson's murder,” Paul said.

  Dia
ne handed me a glass of wine. “Sit and relax.” She pointed to the line of plastic white lawn chairs along the deck wall. She sat in the one on the end and took a sip. “We were so glad you solved that case. Mrs. Hutson is such a loss to the community. I worked with her on some committees. The others on the committees miss her, too. She was such a good helper.”

  “I know she did a lot for the town,” I said.

  “Just too bad it was her son that killed her,” Paul said as he flipped the chicken hind quarters

  “Even if it had been someone else, and we did have plenty of suspects to pick from, it was just too bad Alice Hutson had to die that way,” I said.

  “And Bill Hutson shot you when you tried to arrest him! How scary was that? Mom and Dad were beside themselves with worry about you.” Diane patted my hand. “I must admit I was, too. You looked so weak and pale when I visited you in the hospital after the surgery. Are you all right now? Health wise, I mean.”

  “Outside of a little muscle tenderness when I lift my arm too high, I'm fine. I have a small scar to show for the bullet hole which is well hidden.” I tried to sound nonchalant about the gun shot wound.

  Paul must have decided it was time to change the subject. He grinned at me. “So how is our esteemed County Coroner, Ross Klink, these days?”

  I turned red. Silly at my age I know to feel embarrassed and bashful about my family knowing who I date. It showed that I certainly didn't feel comfortable discussing my love life with them.

  Diane stared at me a second and turned to her husband. “Paul, maybe Renee would rather not talk about him,” she scolded.

  I waved my hand at her. “That's fine. No reason not to I guess. I'm sure most of the town already knows we're dating. You know how fast gossip spreads in this town. We enjoy each other's company, but we're both busy and work odd and long hours so we find it hard to spend much time together.”