Smoke Stack

by Andrew Gruse

  The two exited the car, crossed the road, and sauntered towards the bulldozer. Julie looked around. No one else around. The bulldozer operator, an older gentleman who clearly spent most of his adult life sitting in that chair, overeating junk food under the sun without the protection of sunscreen, stopped the machine, shut it down, and slowly forced himself out of the seat and got to the ground.

  He took off a pair of brown leather work gloves, wiped his wrinkled forehead, and smiled at the couple in front of him. “Can I help you?”

  Zack motioned to the house. “This just burned down on Saturday.”

  The man turned around, looked at it, and shrugged. “I just go where I’m paid to go.”

  “The wood is still smoking,” Julie said.

  “Yeah, kind of hot, too,” the man said. “No matter. It’s all clear for me to get out of here. Each building. Shame, really,” he said. “Nice family. Too bad what happened.”

  The confusion inside Zack locked him up. He didn’t know what to say. There were so many red flags lined up in his mind he couldn’t stumble past any of them.

  Julie grabbed his hand and held it. “Did you know the family?”

  The man nodded. “Yep. This farm has been in their family for generations. I went to school with the granddad.”

  “Did you know his son died in the fire?” Julie asked.

  The man frowned and took off his yellow hard hat in respect. “Like I said, a shame,” he said sorrowfully.

  “Who paid you to do this? Was it inspected or investigated or anything?”

  The man shrugged. “I got a call, said the chief cleared it. I guess it was just an electrical fire,” the man said. “No reason to keep it up as a reminder, I guess. Anyway, I got the call yesterday afternoon, and the timing was good since I was between jobs. Having that machinery idle don’t pay no bills,” he said.

  “Who hired you?” Julie asked.

  The man didn’t seem to care what he was asked. He was just doing his job. “A company called Midwest Development Company. I ain’t never heard of ‘em,” the man said. “But a delivery service showed up at the house last night with a simple contract and an envelope full of cash.” He shrugged again. “I don’t typically get paid in cash for jobs this big. Farmers sometimes pay me in cash installments, but never something like this. Anyway, simple job and good money and I got clearance from the Clyde Fire Department so hear I am. Why do you ask? Did you know the family?”

  Zack opened his mouth, but Julie stepped forward. “Met one of their kids recently. I forget the name,” she trailed off.

  “Hmm, the girl, maybe? Bethany? Where’d you meet her? She went off to college up in Chicago last fall.”

  Julie smiled. “It may have been her.”

  “Could have been Mallory, her twin sister. They went off together.”

  “Yes, it was Mallory. We were driving through, and I remembered she said she lived on a huge farm and offered to show us what farm life is all about if we’re ever in the area,” Julie said.

  Zack was impressed. He remained silent.

  “Sweet, sweet girls, they are,” the man said. “Well, they aren’t here. I guess they sold all of it already and moved on.” The man looked at the destruction behind him. “Was nothing to salvage anyway. Like I said, quite a shame.”

  “Would you know how to get in touch with them?”

  “Me?” The man chuckled. “Ah, no, I wouldn’t. Sorry about the wasted trip.”

  Julie smiled. “No, thank you. Sorry for interrupting.”

  “Ah, no, that’s fine.” He patted his sizeable protruding stomach. “Ma always says I need to move around more,” he smiled. “So you’re helping me. Of course, if she wasn’t such a good cook.”

  The two laughed and said goodbye. Zack and Jules got back to the car, and Zack started the engine. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” He sent Michelle a text with the names.

  “Michelle isn’t going to be happy with you,” Julie said.

  “Let’s drive around this property and see what we can see.”

  “What does this have to do with finding Derek?”

  Zack looked at Julie. “Honey, do you really think none of this is related?”

  “Ok. Then we hit the library.” She snapped her belt buckle. “Who knew?”

  CHAPTER 16

  Julie thrived when inserted into her element. The library of Clyde, though small and horribly inefficient for her needs, still worked. Plenty of history on Clyde, and that is all she needed. She could access state news from the computer system there, so Julie knew how to make do.

  Zack, on the other hand, despised research. Julie knew it. The people he worked with knew it. He would do it if he had to or if he was laid up due to injury. But that wasn’t his forte. Zack preferred to be on his feet. To listen and learn and watch.

  So their expedition to the library as vital as it was turned out to be an opportunity for a nap to Zack. Even watching over Julie’s shoulder didn’t keep him occupied. It drove her nuts, and after he found a quiet corner and she refused to fool around with him there during a break, he realized he had to do something productive.

  And that’s when he remembered an adjustment knob on the tripod for his spotting scope was minus a locking nut so it would swivel uncontrollably, which made focusing on diving ducks or seabirds in the wind extremely difficult. When he combined that with the knowledge of the local hardware store a block away, that provided an opportunity for Zack to escape the monotony of research that tested his patience.

  He got out of the hard-backed chair at a table behind Julie and walked to her. Zack leaned over her shoulder and kissed her neck. “Honey, I’m going to walk down to the hardware store.”

  Julie turned her head and looked over the top of the reading glasses she wore when at a computer. “Why?”

  “I need a part for my tripod. Remember how wobbly it was?” He kissed her again. “I’ll be right back.”

  She stared at him. “Zachary Ulysses, you better not have anything else up your sleeve.”

  He smiled. “No, I just have a limit on how much time I can spend at a library. I promise I’ll be right back.”

  “Come here,” she said. She reached up, pulled Zack’s head closer, and kissed him. “Don’t break that promise. If I have to come looking for you, I’m cutting you off for a month.” She smiled, and Zack nodded.

  Zack exited the library, took in the weather, looked at the lazy street, and walked down the block to the hardware store. He entered the small Main Street store and stopped a step inside as bells clanged atop the door announcing his entrance.

  The store was like Zack imagined. The aisles were narrow, shelves high, filled with everything imaginable sometimes not even in a systematic order. Stands on each end of each aisle further constricted movement, and the clutter created a confused yet homey feel to the store.

  A small-town hardware store.

  It had everything from shovels to cat food to hammers to nuts and bolts to bar-b-q grills to sunscreen and coolers. An aisle of lawnmowers and yard tools against the back wall gave the place an airy feel until he turned the corner and walked into a wall of fish tanks filled with fish, exotic birds, and snakes, which Zack quickly backed away from.

  Then he found an aisle with nails and screws when an employee appeared from behind the desk. “Can I help you find anything?”

  A girl of maybe twenty to twenty-five, Zack had a hard time guessing age since young girls dressed to make themselves look older and older girls dressed to make themselves look younger, smiled at him with dark blonde curly shoulder-length hair.

  “Yes, I hope so. I’m looking for a set screw. Seven thirty-seconds. Would you have that?”

  The girl smiled and blushed. “I was hoping you’d ask me where are the leaf rakes or cans of lubricant.”

  “Lubricants? Why would a girl your age know where the lubricants are?”

  The girl looked confused until Zack winked. She blushed again. “Umm, let me ask Gary. He j
ust got here. He’d know since he’s the owner.”

  Zack nodded. “That would be a good place to start.”

  The girl disappeared, and Zack continued to browse the over-crowded aisles. Two minutes later, he heard the girl say, “there he is.” Zack looked at the same man he watched at the high school.

  The man recognized Zack, too.

  He approached Zack. “You’re looking for set screws?”

  Zack nodded. “Yeah. Until I can get home and order a part for my tripod, a set screw will work just fine.”

  The man nodded. “Aisle twelve. I’ll show you.”

  Zack followed Gary, the owner of the hardware store. He was as tall as Zack but not as broad in the shoulder though Zack could tell Gary was fit. The girl returned to the counter and out of sight.

  Gary stopped and pointed at a set of pull-out trays with boxes of set screws. “Will you need an Allen wrench with that?”

  “No, I have a set in the car,” Zack said.

  “Anything else you need?”

  Zack shook his head while Gary stared at Zack. “You work in the fire department, don’t you?”

  Gary nodded. “You’re the out of towner that was inside the school.”

  “Zack Stack,” Zack said and offered his hand. Reluctantly Gary shook it.

  “Gary Pritchett. I’m also the fire inspector.”

  “I suspect then,” Zack said as he pulled out a tray, popped the top of the case, and searched the set screws, “that you’ll want to take my statement about the fire, huh?”

  Gary scratched the tip of his nose. “Yeah, I have to take care of some business here, then I was going to find you,” he said.

  “I just saved you some time then. How serendipitous.”

  Gary cocked his head a moment. “If you say so. I doubt you really have anything to say about it that could help me with the investigation,” Gary said. “I’ve learned that most people in fires are unreliable and can’t remember things that could help.”

  Zack found the size he wanted, checked the threads, then grabbed a longer screw. “I’m not most people.”

  Gary nodded suspiciously. “Ok, I’ll bite. What do you think you saw in that fire? You were in it for how long?”

  “Seemed like an eternity as the flames spread much faster than they should have,” Zack said. “Probably thirteen minutes. I never checked my watch. Not dying was my top priority.”

  “You shouldn’t have gone inside.”

  “Then I’d be living with the knowledge I could have saved a woman and didn’t. I don’t need that guilt,” Zack said. “The fire alarm didn’t work. The flames seemed to have started atop the building, not below, and the origin was somewhere in the back corner not far from the boiler room.”

  Gary nodded. “You know much about fires?”

  Zack sighed and shrugged. “I liked the movie Backdraft.”

  Gary smiled. “One of those, huh. Well, let me tell you, the movies never get it right when it comes to fires.”

  “I’m not pretending to be an expert, Gary. But I’m not an idiot, either. I saw orange smoke twice on Saturday. Once at the Johnston house fire when the silo exploded and again at the high school when the smokestack exploded.”

  “Orange smoke doesn’t mean anything, Stack. Lots of things could give off orange smoke when it burns.”

  Zack nodded. “This was only right after the explosion. Not during the fire.”

  Gary looked up and down the aisle. There were no other customers in the store. “And in your expert analysis, what does that tell you?”

  Zack shrugged and eyed the set screw again. I really don’t want to buy this from this jackoff, but I may need my scope before the next town. “Well, this was a few years back, but I spent some time doing security for an ordnance team. They liked to blow shit up and did it a lot. They used C4. You know, plastique,” Zack said to make sure Gary was on the same page. “And I distinctly remember orange smoke every time. In fact, I got used to the pitch of the explosion. Turned out to be a necessary key to survival.”

  “You some kind of survivalist?” Gary asked. “Plastic explosives. Really?”

  The tone suggested more than incredulity. Zack ignored it. “No. I was in the Marine Corps. I spent a lot of time overseas and a couple years in the Middle East. Recognizing what blew up told us who did the bombing, which told us to either get ready for a fight or just stay put. Some things like that stick with a man, know what I mean?”

  Gary eyed Zack and nodded. “Plastic explosives, you say?” The disbelief didn’t dissipate. “Well, I’ll keep my eye out. So you’re saying, based on your military experience and the fact that you watch movies that the fire at the high school was intentional and that plastic explosive was used at the high school and at the Johnston house?” Gary laughed and shook his head. “You should write television shows.”

  Zack smiled a little just to ward off the desire to punch the arrogant jackass in front of him right in the face. “I don’t believe in coincidence, Gary. By the way, the man who died in the fire. Have they said what he died of yet?”

  Gary lost his smile. “No. Not that I’m aware.”

  “Someone else was inside the school, too, Gary,” Zack said. Show him some cards and stir the pot. See what happens. This guy is an amateur. Amateurs make mistakes. “Besides the principal, myself and Molly Lockett. Someone pried a table under the door handle of Molly Lockett’s classroom door. She said it wasn’t there when she arrived at school that morning,” Zack said. Might be putting Molly in danger, but someone is already outside her house. Might as well let everyone know that we know it’s related to what she saw at school.

  “You got yourself a wild conspiracy going, don’t you Stack?” Gary chuckled. “Look, on weekends, there are maintenance people at the school moving things around. I’m sure someone was rearranging things and put the table there and then heard the fire and left the building. I’ll note your remarks in my report and see if I can make anything of it. Anything else you think you know about the fire?”

  I have to give him credit. He isn’t afraid of me at all. I doubt he’d be a fireman after I dislocate his knees and snap his elbows. Relax, Zack. He might not be that bad of a guy. Just a small-town guy with a chip on his shoulder.

  Zack smiled. “How about the search for Derek Willows? Any sign of him at the school?”

  “He’s not there,” Gary said assertively. “But we’ll keep looking.”

  “Why won’t anyone search the forest behind the school?”

  Gary’s smug smiled disappeared. “The kids know better than to go in there. Even Derek. He’s not there,” Gary again said with the same assertiveness. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “No. I’ll buy my set screw and be on my way.”

  A dollar and eighty cents later, high for anywhere but Zack figured part of that money went to the wages of the girl at the counter so was ok with it, he left the store and made it back to the library. He found Julie, snuck behind her, and tickled her sides, which caused her to let out a yelp and jump out of her chair. She smacked him and looked around. No one else around.

  “You scared the hell out of me,” she said. “Get what you were looking for?”

  Zack sat beside her. “I think I got more than I was looking for. How about you?”

  Julie shook her head. “If you like puzzles, I found several pieces.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The end of a long day didn’t look so good for Sheriff Orbison. No results, a pissed-off fire inspector, and a worried-sick grandmother made him wish the day was longer. Not even Stack and his girl helped much. A beer and bed were all he wanted. But as he pulled his official police Tahoe into a long driveway alongside a giant Victorian house and stopped the truck, he suspected this meeting was more than just about what’s new.

  He exited, walked further down the driveway, and to the side of a large four-door garage. The building was over forty feet deep and wider than that. A regular entrance door near the back corner had a
small amber light above it at the roofline over fifteen feet above the door. It was pitch-black outside as high clouds thickened and blocked out the view of the moon.

  Orbison reached the door and knocked. The door creaked open, shut, the chain on the inside undone and opened.

  “Orb, you’re late,” said a large older man inside the garage.

  Orb stepped inside the garage, but it was not a garage at all. Inside the large building was a section walled off with sound-proof walls and furnished better than any man-cave Orb knew of. Six men were inside the room, all sat or stood at the bar.

  The man shut and locked the door behind Orb. “Where were you?”

  “The school,” Orb answered. “Is one of those beers for me? I sure could use one.” He stared at a twelve-pack of cold Goose Island Matilda. One of the men handed Orb a bottle.

  “I was told,” began the large man that opened the door, the leader of the group, “that you enlisted the aid of the outsider. That PI that was at the school the day of the fire. What’s that all about?”

  Orb finished his long pull off the beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I have a missing high school kid. I could use all the help I can get.”

  Another man stood from his chair. “Orb, you know it ain’t no good to be bringin’ in outsiders. That kid is probably just partying somewhere with his classmates.”

  Orb looked at the smaller man. “Maybe. But his grandmother is worried sick, and we found his car buried underneath two feet of bricks, dust, and debris.” He put down the empty bottle and grabbed another off the cherry-wood bar. “As soon as it is uncovered, I’m heading back to inspect it.”

  “Alone, or with the outsider?”

  Orb looked at the man but said nothing and looked back at the leader of the group. “I need to find that boy.”

  “We all want the Willows kid to be found safely. We just don’t like the idea of those outsiders messing around in our business. They were at the library this afternoon researching the town and asking all kinds of questions. Questions we don’t need, you know what I mean?”