Firesetter in Blackwood Township, a Winnebago County Mystery

by Christine Husom

  “Oh. Well I don’t know if the barn was insured, but I’ll check on that.” She gave him the company’s name then stared at the charred remains of the barn for a few seconds. “What do you think started the fire?”

  “At this point, we don’t have a clue. I’ve got a form for you to sign, giving us your permission to search, and hopefully we’ll get to the bottom of it very soon, get some answers for you.”

  Sybil nodded, and her eyes were drawn back to the barn.

  “You can get us started by answering a few more questions,” Smoke said.

  She turned back to him with the same quizzical expression. “Like what?”

  “Has the barn been in use recently?”

  “No, not for quite a few years.”

  “So it’s sat empty?”

  “My grandfather used to milk cows, but it’s been a long time. I’m not sure what was in there now. Not much. Maybe some straw left over from when they had animals.”

  “Some critters have likely made themselves at home in there by now. Mice. Birds. Bats,” Smoke said.

  “Maybe.”

  “From what I was able to observe, there wasn’t a lock on the main door. Was there one that someone may have removed?”

  “No, I guess there wasn’t,” she said.

  Smoke gave a nod. “So just about anybody would have access.”

  Sybil lifted a shoulder. “I never really thought about that. I mean, I don’t think there was anything in there worth stealing.”

  One person’s trash was another one’s treasure, as they say. And people had other reasons to trespass. Like if they were into barn burning and the owners weren’t there to protect their property. It was likely Sybil hadn’t considered that possibility. She came across as keenly bright, yet with a naiveté about her. And something else I couldn’t put my finger on, something that didn’t mesh with my brain-smart, but not street-smart observation.

  “Sybil, this isn’t the first time your grandparents had an unwanted guest. Some years ago, someone used their home phone when they were away and made what turned out to be a prank nine-one-one call,” Smoke said.

  Sybil’s eyebrows shot up, and she pulled her chin in slightly. “What was that about?”

  “You can ask them about it. Meantime, are you the only one who’s keeping an eye on their place while they’re out of the country?”

  “I am.” Her nostrils flared slightly, and her nose twitched, likely due to the tentacles of smoke that had shifted in our direction.

  Smoke reached out, put a hand on each of our elbows, and steered us north, out of its path. We stood side by side a moment, watching a blackened plank fall over onto the floor of the barn.

  “I’ll grab that form from my car,” Smoke said.

  Sybil nodded and was silent until Smoke returned with it attached to a clipboard and handed it to her. She barely glanced at it when she accepted the pen Smoke offered and scribbled her signature on the bottom line.

  4

  Belle and Birdie

  Belle stared with awe as hundreds of elongated fiery fingers reached out from inside the barn, separating, darkening, and reducing the planks to charred remains that became drifting ashes in no time. A series of feelings rolled through her like waves, moving in, cresting, and then crashing. How to describe what she felt? Mournful for all that had happened there, wishing a tornado or the strike of a match had taken it down years ago.

  And now satisfied it no longer stood, holding the dark secrets that had both crippled and taken lives. She also felt conflicted because the people who should have seen it go down weren’t there. On the one hand, she was glad they weren’t. On the other hand, she wished they were.

  The barn had been a chamber of horrors for her sister. Watching it succumb to the fire’s power, with no ability to wage any kind of defense, gave her more pleasure than she could have imagined. The firefighters and cops were unable to save it. No surprises there. It was downright laughable how they kept spraying water at something they would never have control over.

  And in this case, that was a good thing for her and her sister. The times they’d needed the authorities to help them, they hadn’t been there. They’d failed them. It was about time the tables were turned, and they were the ones who felt helpless. She and Birdie would keep one step ahead of them until they’d finished all they needed to do.

  She turned to her sister and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We’re turning the tides, Birdie. Vengeance is finally ours.”

  Birdie stared at the fire and nodded.

  5

  It was some time later before the last trails of smoke lifted from the rubble, lazily drifted upward, and disappeared into the atmosphere.

  Sybil Harding excused herself and wandered off. Aimlessly, it seemed to me, and I felt compelled to follow her. “Sybil?” When she didn’t stop, I speeded up so I was walking next to her, but she didn’t appear to notice me until I touched her forearm. “Sybil?”

  She stopped and cocked her head with a puzzled look on her face. “Sergeant?”

  “I wanted to make sure you’re okay, that you have someone to help you deal with all this.”

  She paused a moment then nodded. “I do, um, thanks. If I didn’t hear you, it was because I was thinking. Sorry.”

  “I understand. You have a lot to think through, that’s for sure. We didn’t ask if you have brothers or sisters, or other relatives close by.”

  “No, no I don’t. Only child.”

  I nodded. “Detective Dawes gave you his card, but here’s mine, too.” I pulled the thin case out of the wallet in my back pocket, withdrew a business card, and handed it to her.

  She gave it a quick glance then stuck it in the multi-colored cloth shoulder bag that was strapped across her chest, clinging close to her ribs. “Thanks.”

  “Call me any time. Will you do that?”

  Sybil nodded, looked away for a second then back at me.

  “Good deal,” I said.

  I watched as she walked toward the house, looking over her shoulder at the barn every few steps. She was like a lost lamb that had gotten separated from the flock. I’d make it a point to check in with her until I was convinced she was truly okay. Her grandparents were out of the country, and their barn was in a collapsed, burned heap. They knew their granddaughter as well as anyone and entrusted the care of their property and estate to her. I hoped she had good legal counsel because my gut told me Sybil Harding needed guidance more than a lot of others did.

  If I’d known the scope of what that all entailed, I would have kept much closer tabs on her.

  I joined Smoke and Corey Evans midway through their conversation.

  “We’ll put barricades with some Keep Out signs at the end of the driveway, and on the four sides of the rubble. Not that it will keep everyone out, but it will be a deterrent, and serve as a warning anyway,” Smoke said.

  “Good idea. It should be safe to start poking around in the rubbish later on today,” Evans said.

  “If we can locate the source of the fire, that’ll be a good thing. Carlson will be rolling with the Major Crimes van any minute. Mason over there is the other half of the team today. The two of them will help me process this,” Smoke said.

  Vince Weber came walking down the driveway with his eyes on the barn, shaking his head.

  “What are you doing in this neck of the woods?” Smoke asked him.

  “On my way to Fairhaven County Park to do some fishing and, lo and behold, I come across a whole bunch of official vehicles belonging to you guys. Which explains all the sirens I heard an hour ago.”

  Evans drew his eyebrows together. “You didn’t turn on your radio to find out?”

  “Nah. You can’t be on duty all the time.” He nodded at me. “Of course our sergeant here basically ignores that rule.”

  I shrugged. “I have a thing for old barns.”

  “Yeah well, I can see why. Your mother has about the coolest barn in the county, maybe the whole state,” he sa
id.

  I smiled. My great-grandfather, with some help from his brother, had designed and constructed the barn my mother now owned. They’d had a traditional barn raising, and that gave me pause every time I thought of how difficult construction must have been before the days of power tools. The main part of the barn was shaped like a hexagon and rose twenty-four feet to the roof. The six sides tapered and met in the apex. It also had two wings jutting out from the back sides. On the high point of the roof sat a cupola, a miniature model of the barn with a copper weathervane. Cut and hammered letters N, S, E, and W were attached to dowels, pointing the four directions. And there was a Belgian workhorse at the top.

  “I’m partial of course, but I agree. The Harding barn wasn’t as unique as hers is, still it was picturesque. When I heard the call I hoped the crews could get here in time,” I said.

  Weber nodded. “I drive by here often enough on duty and gotta admit it’s going to be kind of sad the old barn is gone.”

  “Hey, send me on another guilt trip,” Evans said.

  Smoke gave him a pat on the back. “Your crew got here fast, and you kept it from spreading.”

  Evans grinned a little. “I know that, I just like giving Vince here some grief. Like Corky told me earlier, we would have had to be on site the minute it started for any hope of stopping it. It was dry kindling and made for a giant bonfire.”

  “No doubt. Well, I’m going to take a closer look-see, snap some photos,” Smoke said.

  Smoke headed to the barn and Evans went to his rig.

  Weber leaned in closer to me. “Say Sergeant, thanks for helping me out and all, with my . . . ah, situation.”

  “Vince, you know I want to. We need to put a stop to the harassment.”

  “Yeah well, I don’t know about harassment, but it is some weird shit, all right.”

  “If it’s intentional, it’s more than just weird,” I said.

  “Yeah well, my sister-in-law is more than just plain old weird.”

  I nudged him with my elbow. “Get out there and catch some fish. Forget about Darcie for a while. When we get the results back from the lab, we’ll know if there’s any meat to that theory of yours.”

  He folded his hands. “I’m prayin’ there isn’t.”

  “Me too.”

  Vince hitched up his shoulders then took off.

  The fire crews loaded the last of the equipment in their rigs. I looked around the scene, watched Smoke snap photos for a minute then headed to the Hardings’ house for a final check on Sybil. I tried the doorbell, and when there was no answer, I knocked on the door. I waited some seconds then gave a final series of three hard raps.

  If Sybil was inside, she wasn’t answering and likely needed time alone to process losing the old barn. Not to mention breaking the news to her grandparents, possibly filing an insurance claim, and arranging to have the rubble removed. And whatever else might come up along the way.

  Smoke was standing by the front southeast corner of the barn’s base, and when he saw me he pointed. “The rocks are cooling down, now the fire’s doused.” The barn was built on a three-foot-high base of fieldstones. “They sure provided a sturdy foundation for the wood structure on top of ’em. It’s no wonder it stood all these years, even given the weather and temperature swings in our fair state,” Smoke said.

  “How right you are. And with some maintenance, it could’ve been here another hundred years. I don’t suppose they’ll want to rebuild it.” I studied the variety of sizes and colors of the rocks in the base and admired how the builder had fit them together like an intricate puzzle.

  Smoke shook his head. “In another era, on a working farm, a new barn could be resurrected on that foundation. But with the Hardings, I have a strong hunch, given their advancing years—and the fact they haven’t used it for years—the chances of that happening are slim to none.”

  My eyes scanned the ruins inside the stone wall. “Are you going to be able to find the needle in that haystack?”

  Smoke looked at me over the top of his readers. “You mean figuring out what started the fire?”

  “Yes.”

  Smoke’s shoulder raised up a titch. “If we discover an accelerant was used, that will give us the evidence it was intentionally set. And it makes my job a whole lot easier when the party responsible leaves the fuel container at the scene to boot.” He studied the scene a while. “I’m not spotting any irregular burn patterns on the dirt floor that would indicate an accelerant. But when we do our investigation, check out what’s left of the animal stanchions, and the rest of it, we’ll see if it tells us something different.”

  I watched some remaining puffs of smoke rise from the burned mess. “Evidence of an accelerant is one thing, but you still have to figure out who used it. And why.”

  “That we do. That’s when the fun begins.” He tapped the screen of his phone to disengage the camera then dropped it into his pocket. “Change of subject. Speaking of evidence, I’m curious why you brought that blood in for testing earlier. What’s going on in Weber’s life that he needs somebody’s blood identified?”

  Smoke’s question shifted my thoughts from the barn to Vince Weber and his problem with his not-very-stable relative. “We don’t know for certain that it is blood, but the big drop on his windshield naturally got his attention.”

  “It’s not duck hunting season so it probably wasn’t an injured bird flying over that dropped some blood.”

  “Hmm. I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

  “You might have. Go on.”

  “First he found a dead rabbit on his steps last week, which struck him as a little strange, like where do wild critters usually go to die—”

  “Yeah, I had a dead squirrel by one of my trees some time back, and it made me realize that had never happened before. I figured the little guy must have just died, and I spotted it before the vultures swept in for him. I was in a rush and left him where he was. He was gone when I got home from work.” He narrowed his eyes. “Sorry for the digression, and back to Weber’s deal.”

  “He buried the rabbit, not thinking much more about it. But when the blood drop appeared this morning, days later, it got him wondering if someone was leaving him messages.”

  “Does he have any idea who that someone is and why they’d do that?” Smoke said.

  “Weber doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks it might be his sister-in-law.”

  “Say again?”

  “Turns out his sister-in-law’s had the hots for him for years, and she’s convinced they should be together. He does not feel the same way. Her reality and his reality are worlds apart, and he figures if anyone’s capable of doing crazy things, it’s her.”

  Smoke frowned. “Is she stalking him?”

  “It doesn’t sound like it’s gotten to that point yet. It’s more like she’s annoying him.”

  “I’m a little lost at how he connected the dead rabbit and blood on the windshield to his sister-in-law.”

  “I was too. According to Vince, they had sex, and afterwards she said something like, ‘we’ll have to see if the rabbit dies,’” I said.

  “She sounds a little wacky, all right.”

  “Poor Vince. He’s beating himself up over sleeping with her in the first place.”

  “And that begs the question, why did he? I thought he and Mandy Zubinski were an item.”

  “I got the impression from Vince they’re just hanging out together, not officially a couple. Still, I have a strong feeling Mandy would not be happy if she found out Vince slept with his crazy sister-in-law. Vince said he let himself get seduced against his better judgment.”

  “And that is something that’s been going on since the beginning of time.”

  “I guess. Keep it under your hat for now. Vince doesn’t want the other deputies to know about it. Not yet anyway.”

  “And if his luck holds out, they may never have to.”

  “I’m hoping that’s how it shakes out. And that his sister-in-law ride
s off into the sunset, or finds another man to love.”

  Smoke’s face broke into a grin. “Yep, I’d say dream on, but what do I know? So, little lady, what are your plans for the rest of your day off work?”

  “The first thing on my list, before the fire detoured me, was to stop by Mother’s shop and see if I could help calm her down.”

  His long dimples deepened. “Kristen needs calming? Do tell.”

  “Where to start? My Grandma and Grandpa Aleckson will be back from their northern resort at the end of the month, and need to get ready for their move into town. You know, so John Carl can move in.”

  Smoke nodded. “That arrangement is a good thing all the way around. It gives your grandparents a reason to downsize, and Kristen has been wanting John Carl to move back ever since he left for Colorado all those years ago. So what’s making her nervous?”

  “I think it’s all the moving parts and how they’ll fit together when all is said and done. My grandparents still have a lot of stuff in that big house, not to mention all that’s stored in an outbuilding. I think they’re hoping John Carl will keep what they leave behind.”

  “I’m starting to feel sorry for John Carl,” Smoke said.

  “I’ve already told Mother I’ll find a place for whatever he doesn’t want.”

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  “Swap out my newer furniture for some of their old pieces. Plus, I’m going to suggest we offer some things to Taylor.” Taylor was our father’s daughter. The one no one in our family—not even our father, before his death—knew about until recently.

  “Taylor, huh? And how do you think your mom will react to that idea?” Mother was still struggling with the concept that Carl had conceived a child with another woman. John Carl, our grandparents, and I were all related to Taylor. But my mother was not, and she felt like the outsider the few times we’d all been together.

  I shrugged. “It depends on the day, and how Denny is doing.” My mother was engaged to Sheriff Dennis Twardy who was still recovering from a stroke he’d suffered. Mother was conflicted about how that, and some other things, had impacted their relationship. “I feel a little guilty saying this, but I think if they really wanted to get married, they would have done so a long time ago.”