Firesetter in Blackwood Township, a Winnebago County Mystery Read online

  FIRESETTER

  IN BLACKWOOD

  TOWNSHIP

  Seventh in the Winnebago County Mystery Series

  Christine Husom

  The wRight Press

  Copyright © 2017 by Christine Husom

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved, including the reproduction in whole or part in any format without permission, except in brief quotations used in news articles and reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations and events are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any event, locale or person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The wRight Press first edition published

  November 2017

  Cover design by Precision Prints

  ISBN 978-1-948068-01-7

  www.christinehusom.com

  [email protected]

  This story is dedicated to the firefighters who risk life and limb, putting themselves in danger to save people, other living beings, and structures of all kinds. You are true servants. Many thanks.

  Acknowledgements

  It’s a team effort to turn an idea into a published book, and into the hands of readers. My humble thanks to my faithful team of beta/proofreaders who gave me their time, careful reading, and sound advice: Arlene Asfeld, Judy Bergquist, Ken Hausladen, Elizabeth Husom, Chad Mead, and Edie Peterson. I greatly appreciate your willingness to lend a helping hand. To my editor, DJ Schuette, at Critical Eye Editing for the superb job questioning, challenging, guiding me in the final process; aiding me with publication. And with love to my husband and the rest of my family for their patience and understanding when I was stowed away for hours on end, researching and writing. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

  1

  “Sergeant Corky, I think I’m in trouble.” Deputy Vince Weber’s raspy voice came across the phone line with hushed intensity. It put me on alert.

  “What do you mean, what’s going on?”

  “It’s kind of personal, and with you being female and all, I thought you’d be a good one to talk to.”

  “Okay.”

  “Would it be all right if I swung by your place sometime? Like now, maybe?” Weber’s appeal piqued my curiosity. Had he ever discussed any personal problems with me in our years together at the Winnebago County Sheriff’s Department? Not that I could think of. He kept his gentle-heart side private and was more comfortable with his wise-guy side instead.

  “Sure. I’m home all morning.” It was the last of my three scheduled days off, with nothing major planned.

  “Thanks, I’m almost at your house.”

  We disconnected, and I shook my head back and forth wondering what kind of personal trouble he was in. Queenie, my English Setter, pushed her nose against my hip and whimpered. I reached down and gave her head a little scratch. “I’m not shaking my head at you, girl. It’s Weber. He’s got me going, that’s for sure.”

  I heard a vehicle rumble down the driveway, and Queenie was at my heels when I opened the front door. Weber’s truck came to a quick stop then the door flew open and he slid to the ground. He had the body of a defensive tackle, and it had served him well in his college football days. He could outsprint me any day of the week, even though I ran on a regular basis. Weber was skilled at shorter distances. I paced myself for longer runs.

  Sunlight reflected off his shaved head, but did nothing to brighten the strained look on his face. He lifted his hand and waved me over, not wasting time on greetings. “You gotta come out and see this.”

  I jogged down the sidewalk with Queenie close behind and joined him at his truck. She busied herself sniffing the wheels and the driver’s door. Weber pointed at the windshield where there was an almost round deposit of what looked like blood on it. Its diameter was about one and a half inches and partially blocked the driver’s view. “What is that? What’s this about?” I asked.

  “I’ve been wracking my brain over this whole deal since I saw it. So much that it hurts. Okay. Something similar, and equally weird, happened last week. It kind of gnawed at me, but I sort of let it slide till this morning when this stupid blob on my windshield brought it up again.” He clenched his jaw.

  I turned so we were face to face and studied him a moment. “Tell me what’s going on, Vince. On the phone you said it was personal.”

  “Yeah well, I think it is, but I’m not a hundred percent sure of that.” He made a fist and rubbed his cheek with his knuckles, maybe to help loosen his muscles.

  “Has someone got a vendetta against you and you’ve been keeping it on the down low until you get it all figured out?”

  He did a loud “ahem” throat clearing. “Something like that. If it’s personal, I’m in trouble. If it’s not, I’m in bigger trouble.”

  Not good. “Hey, if we’re talking about something criminal going on here, we need to open a case. Involve the sheriff’s office.”

  “Sergeant, you and me, we’re both sworn deputies in the sheriff’s office. And I’m already involved.”

  “And now that you’re here with your show and tell, I am too. Tell me about the incident that happened last week and how it ties in with that.” I pointed to the red droplet.

  “It’s like this, and it’s kind of embarrassing.” He paused so long I thought I’d have to pry it out of him. “I let myself get involved with someone I shouldn’t have.”

  “You’re not talking about Mandy?” Amanda Zubinski was a fellow deputy Vince had been hanging out with. I didn’t know if they were officially dating, or what their status was.

  The lines in his forehead deepened when he raised his eyebrows. “Mandy? Nah. We’re more pals than anything else. So far, anyhow. Geez, I hate to even say this out loud. It’s my sister-in-law, my wife’s sister.”

  Weber had married his high school sweetheart and was left widowed when she was killed in a car crash a year later. He’d been cut to the core and kept it secret from his co-workers for a long time. When he spilled it out during a work-training exercise, I was taken aback and had felt closer to him ever since.

  “Vince, you’ve been pretty private about your personal life, and I respect that. What happened to your wife is very painful for you—I can’t even imagine. But you haven’t told us much about her. Like that she even had a sister.”

  “Yeah well, she has two sisters. One’s normal, one’s not so normal. A little off would be a polite way to put it.” He stuck his finger into the side of his head a few times.

  “And I take it you got involved with the not-so-normal one?”

  “Correctamundo. A big, big mistake and I’ve been paying for it ever since. Stacie, my wife, has been on my mind a lot lately, even more than usual. I just want to hold her in my arms again. I sort of let that slip to Darcie, and she came on to me, big time. Things got out of hand, and I stupidly let myself get persuaded to ah, you know what.”

  I knew what. “And now she’s giving you a hard time about it?”

  “Let’s say a harder time of it. Darcie’s liked this mug of mine since my high school football days. I took her out a few times back then. And then I met her sister, and it was all about Stacie from then on out.”

  I nodded. “When did it happen, with Darcie?”

  “A little over three weeks ago now. She was living out of state and moved back maybe two months ago. She’s staying with her folks up by St. Cloud.” He paused and shook his head. “And this is what made the three little hairs I got on the back of my neck stand up. After we were together, and I was still trying to believe it actually happened, she says to me, ‘I always knew we were desti
ned to be together. That’s why God told me to move back to Minnesota. To be with you.’”

  That made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up, too. “Oh boy.”

  “I know, right?”

  “What about her parents, her other sister?”

  “Her folks never really cozied up to me. They thought Stacie could do much better. Which she probably could have, if you’re talking about marrying up.”

  “I don’t know about that. You’re as true blue as they come, Vince.” I bopped his bicep with my fist.

  He shrugged. “Thanks. And the folks thought we were too young. Yeah, we were kids, but it was the real deal so why wait?” He thought for a moment. “Enough about that and back to Darcie. After Stacie died, maybe three months after, not much more, Darcie very strongly hinted that she was waiting in the wings for me whenever I was ready. I managed to put her off long enough so she finally took a job offer in Kansas. I thought she’d given up on me. At least I was off the hook for some years.”

  “But now she’s back. Would you say she’s harassing you?” I said.

  “Sort of, yeah. She’s bugging me to no end. It’s obvious she needs help, but she won’t listen to anything I got to say about that.”

  “Have you thought about getting a restraining order?”

  He shook his head. “You and I both know if someone’s made up their mind to make your life miserable, those orders are only as good as the paper they’re written on. And easy enough to burn.”

  “True, but at least it gives you reason to report her if she doesn’t let up. And if so, she’ll get arrested, and you won’t be the one dealing with her.”

  “That sounds good in theory.” He shrugged.

  “And if she keeps harassing you, she’ll get arrested again.”

  “Yeah well, it’ll be bad enough when the guys find out I got a girl pestering me that I got no control of. But to get a restraining order on top of it, that would really frost the cake.”

  “Vince, I’ve been through things similar to this a few times myself, as you know. The difference is, I didn’t have a personal relationship with any of them. I was just the unlucky one who got in their way.”

  “And that’s the difference, all right. That’s what the guys would razz me about to no end. How I got myself so jammed up.”

  “You can’t worry about that, and you might be surprised. It’s not like any of us have perfect lives. We’ve all made bad choices here and there. From what you’ve told me, it sounds like Darcie might be delusional, thinking you have a future together when you’ve told her you’re not interested.”

  He leaned in closer. “Are you ready for the capper?”

  There was more? “Um, okay.”

  “She told me she’s sure she got pregnant during our one time together.”

  “No. Why does she think that? Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

  Weber’s shoulder hitched up and down. “I don’t think so. But it’s the reason I think it’s gotta be her doing this crap. Last week there was a dead rabbit, a little cottontail, laying by my back door at the bottom of the steps.”

  “A dead rabbit? I don’t get it.”

  “You know that old saying about if the rabbit died it meant you were pregnant? It was some sort of test they did in the old days. I remember my mom using that expression.”

  “Sure, some people still say that. You think that was Darcie’s way of telling you she got a positive pregnancy test?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I think her craziness must be rubbing off on me. And the other thing is she wouldn’t even know for sure. I mean we’d only been together about two weeks before that.”

  “They do pregnancy tests pretty early nowadays. But leaving a dead rabbit on your steps as the way to deliver the news seems pretty far out there, Vince.”

  “I’m with you on that one, but we’re talking about a not totally rational person here.”

  “Did you mention finding the rabbit to Darcie?”

  “Nah, I haven’t initiated a single conversation with her since she moved back. Or for umpteen years, as far as that goes. And I wouldn’t have given the dead rabbit a second thought if I hadn’t found this big blood drop on my windshield. If that’s what it is. All I know is there is some crazy shit goin’ on,” he said.

  I considered his dilemma for a moment. “Getting back to the rabbit, any idea how it died?”

  “Nothin’ apparent. No outward sign of it being anything other than natural. It wasn’t bloody, like it’d been run over, or shot, or anything like that. I didn’t exactly examine it, though. One odd thing I thought of when I saw it: I’d never had any kind of little critter laying dead in my backyard before. Not that it hasn’t happened, but none that I ever seen. A predator would find it in no time.”

  I thought about that. “Now that you mention it, I guess I haven’t either. Like a squirrel or chipmunk. Or a rabbit. So what’d you do with it?”

  “Buried it behind my garage where the grass never grows.”

  “Where the grass never grows? That sounds like another mystery altogether, Vince.”

  He shrugged.

  “We need to get some pictures of this red drop then we’ll scrape it off and put it in an evidence bag before it gets compromised. With the sun beating down, it’s getting hotter by the minute,” I said.

  “Yeah well, I guess we gotta try to figure this out. I took a few shots with my phone when I saw it, right before I headed over here.”

  I kept a supply bag in my squad car the days I was on duty then stored it on a garage shelf on my days off from work. I punched in the code on the keypad of my garage door opener and scooted in as the door lifted. I grabbed the bag then retrieved my camera, latex gloves, a scraper, and a small paper evidence bag from it.

  When I was back outside, Weber nodded at the motion- detection camera mounted unobtrusively near a light on my garage. “So, no more exciting action captured on that thing after we finally caught and nailed gorilla man, huh?”

  “Not that I know of, but I don’t look at footage unless there’s reason to. At least it’s there in case something suspicious happens. And I have to admit it makes me feel more secure.”

  “I guess it wouldn’t hurt for any of us to have one. Like you said, in case,” he said.

  Weber and I busied ourselves collecting evidence over the next minutes. Queenie had been exploring the yard until we started working on the car, and then returned to resume her sniffing. I studied the vehicle’s windshield and hood from a few angles. “I’m not finding any fingerprints to lift—none that I can see anyway—that we can add to the probable blood evidence. You have one clean truck.”

  He squinted and had a close look himself. “Yeah, I washed it yesterday, so they’d be fresh prints too, if there are any. From what it looks like, whoever left this little dandy didn’t touch the vehicle.”

  “Or they were wearing gloves.”

  “Right. Came prepared. And musta done it when I was sawin’ zees sometime in the night. Too bad your pooch can’t tell us what she’s smelling.”

  “No kidding. Well, I’ll get this into an evidence locker. Our guys will be able to determine whether or not it’s blood, and will get it to the regional lab for DNA if it is.” Weber looked down, like he was considering his options. “And Vince, nobody has to know about Darcie unless you decide to tell them,” I assured him.

  “I s’pose.”

  “You take off, and I’ll take care of this.”

  He nodded. “Sarge, I didn’t mean for you to have to work on your day off, and I appreciate it.”

  “Not to worry. And don’t beat yourself up over this. We have a team that’s got your back no matter how this turns out.”

  Weber gave a single nod. “Thanks.”

  I waved as he backed out then reached down and gave the fur on Queenie’s head a little scratch. “Vince has me curious, that’s for sure.” She followed me into the living room and sat at attention as I opened the blinds and
let the sun shine in. The beams danced across the floor, and I stood by the window for a moment, admiring my backyard acres. The property edge ran down to a small, very fine fishing lake. In the heat of summer, Queenie loved swimming there. And we’d had some hot days the past week, not atypical weather for July in Minnesota.

  I thought of the evidence in my car. “I better get cracking,” I told Queenie.

  On my way to the Winnebago County Government Center I pondered the predicament Weber was in. If it turned out his sister-in-law was stalking him, would her parents comprehend how serious that was and side with Darcie anyway? They hadn’t wanted Vincent Weber as their son-in-law all those years ago, and if Darcie was pregnant, he would be in a world of hurt all the way around.

  The courthouse government center stood on the rise of a hill overlooking Bison Lake. I sat in my 1967 red, classic GTO for a minute, watching the rippling waves on the water’s surface stirred by a gentle breeze. Then I gathered the evidence from the passenger seat and headed into the south side of the building, the outside entrance to the sheriff’s office. Detective Elton “Smoke” Dawes was walking down the corridor in my direction. Long and lean and sexy as all get out in a light gray suit, white shirt, and black and gray tie.

  “Good morning, Detective. Special occasion?” I lifted my hand, indicating his fine outfit.

  Smoke smiled enough to deepen his long dimples. “Yep, I got court.” He glanced down at the paper evidence bag. “What have you got there? If memory serves, you have one more day off.” He gave me a once over. “Not to mention, you’re wearing jeans.”

  I lifted a shoulder. “Weber had a big drop, or drops, of what looked like dried blood on his windshield, so I wanted to get it checked out.”

  His eyebrows squeezed together. “Blood on his squad car?”

  “No, his F-one fifty. We’ll get it processed and see where that leads us. I got a case number started on it.”

  “Sounds to me like he thinks somebody purposely left a gift of blood for him.” Smoke lowered his voice. “Is he being threatened in some way?”