Firesetter in Blackwood Township, a Winnebago County Mystery
Page 28
“All right. Well I think that’s all we need for today. How about you, do you need anything?” Smoke asked her.
Sybil shrugged then shook her head.
“Detective, I have a question, if I may?” I said.
“Go ahead, Sergeant.”
“Sybil, last summer I responded to a call at your grandparents’ house. It was about a sick-looking dog. I didn’t find the dog, but there was an awful stench by the house. Do you know anything about that?”
She nodded. “It was my grandpa. I hated burying him in the cellar. I thought deputies would check out where that awful smell was coming from.”
“If I’d had any idea, I would have. But why didn’t you report what happened, ask for our help?” I said.
“My grandma would have found out and then what?”
Then what?
I waited in Smoke’s cubicle for him to get back from the jail. “Well Sybil certainly turned out to be more forthcoming than I expected,” he said.
“No kidding.”
“Now that we’ve got her fingerprints, we’ll see if they match the one on the lighter. There’s a lot more I want to ask her about, but we got plenty for the complaint. We’ll get her statement typed up and signed.”
I shook my head. “Sybil seems to know right from wrong, but she messed up on the two wrongs don’t make a right part.”
“Yep. I’m interested in her diagnosis. The trauma of Roberta’s death must’ve caused her to have a psychotic break. She talks like her sister is right there with her, that she can see her, hear her. My understanding is visual hallucinations are very rare.”
“Sybil lives in a different reality. I mean, to call nine-one-one and report a loose dog, hoping the deputy would catch wind of the stench, and investigate it. And then figure out her grandfather was buried in the cellar? It’s not rational. Like when she was twelve and wanted us to investigate, what? That her sister had been abused and killed herself, that her father had killed her uncle? Another cry for help, but she couldn’t bring herself to come right out and ask us. It breaks my heart.”
“Mine too.”
I showed him the photo of the plaque Sybil had nailed to “their” tree, and he shook his head. “I’ll check with Kenner about that. Maybe Sybil’s mother should have it.”
“Maybe she should.”
“Oh, and I talked to Marcella. She’s going to spend some time with Sybil, but she’ll be shutting down her practice soon, joining a group in Minneapolis. That’s what she’d planned to tell me the other night.”
“Really, why?”
“It seems she’s met someone who counsels there. They’ve been dating and are talking marriage,” he said.
“That’s a surprise. I never did apologize for my behavior.”
“I don’t think she expected you to. Marcella and I were never romantically involved, but we’ve been good friends and she wanted to tell me in person, and have one last supper together.”
“She is a good person and a great psychologist. We’ll miss her,” I said.
“That we will. So it’s okay if I bring you dinner tonight? Or would you rather grill at my house?”
“Either one sounds good.” My phone buzzed, and when I saw it was Weber, I nodded at Smoke before I answered it. “Hey Vince. How are you doing?”
“I’m doin’. Say, I heard from the crime lab about the DNA test. And guess what? It was Darcie’s blood on my windshield. And I’m guessin’ on yours too, but they haven’t run that one yet.”
I almost dropped the phone. Weber had been half right—Darcie had left the blood, but not the rabbits. “I’m stunned. I’m with Detective Dawes and will let him know.”
“Sure, and thank him again for checking in with me earlier, seeing if I was okay.”
It was the first I’d heard of it. “Will do.”
“And I got a miracle call from my in-laws. First my mother-in-law talked to me, apologizing for Darcie, what she did. And then my father-in-law got on the phone and did the same. Then they invited themselves over to my place for a visit later on. They said they shoulda treated me better over the years, that they knew how happy Stacie was with me,” Weber said.
“That’s great, Vince. They’re finally doing the right thing.”
“Yeah, it only took a near-death experience, but what-ever.”
We hung up and I relayed Weber’s news and thanks to Smoke.
“You just never know. Getting back to tonight, should we plan for six thirty, and I’ll figure out where before then?” he said.
I stopped by my grandparents’ house when I saw John Carl’s vehicle in the driveway. “I used to think Mom was exaggerating about the things you get into, but now that I’m here I understand why she worries.”
“I’m glad you’re here to help calm her. Most of the time my job is pretty routine, but once in a while big stuff happens.”
“If you say so. I didn’t get to tell you this last night, but grandma called and we talked about what you said about including Taylor in dividing up the things they want to give us. She liked it. Said it was a thoughtful thing to do.”
“Good. John Carl, did you tell Grandma about Darcie trying to hit Weber and me?”
“No, we talked before that happened. And I know how you are, that you’d want to be the one to tell them,” he said.
“I do, and I’ll take care of it tomorrow, give myself another day to let it sink in. Oh, and Mother got a surprise this morning.”
“The ring, Denny moving? She told me.”
“I’m pretty sure David Fryor has been waiting in the wings for her,” I said.
“No, he’s been closer than that,” he said and smiled.
I got ready for the evening with butterflies flittering around in my belly, anticipating my first real date with Smoke. He’d ordered a meal from a local caterer and pulled into the driveway promptly at 6:30. I went out to help him carry in the food. There were two boxes and two bottles of wine. Two bottles of wine?
“Gosh, I never thought of ordering dinner from a caterer before,” I said and grabbed the smaller box.
“Except Kristen, you mean.” He picked up the other box, laid the bottles on top of it, and followed me inside.
“Except.”
“Where’s Queenie?”
“Staying overnight at Gramps’. They both love it. So what have we got here?” I said as we set the boxes on the counter.
“First things first.” Smoke swung me around and pulled me in for a kiss that held promise and drove sensations of longing to my core.
Then he rested his lips on my forehead and massaged my shoulders and the back of my neck.
My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “What changed?”
He took a step back, moved his hands to my arms, and studied me. “Nothing. And everything. I’ve wanted you—all of you—for a long time. But you know the reasons I didn’t let myself go there. I worried it wasn’t the best thing for you. And then this morning when I found out I’d almost lost you, I knew we couldn’t keep going through life in this limbo. I’ve loved you a long, long time, and I’ve been in love with you almost as long.”
Tears blinded me for a second before they rolled down my cheeks. “I feel like I’ve loved you my whole life. And I’ve wanted to make love with you for forever.”
Smoke used his thumbs to wipe my tears then took my hand. “Corinne, will you marry me, be my wife?”
“Of course I will, to have and to hold.”
We kissed again and again and when we needed more, he turned and put his arm around my waist. “I think dinner can wait,” he said, and we climbed the stairs to my bedroom.
Smoke had more patience than I did as he unzipped the back of my sundress, slid it off my shoulders, and let it fall to the ground. I stepped out of it then stripped off my underwear. I reached over to help him with his clothes, but he pulled his polo shirt over his head, unbuttoned his shorts, and was out of them before I could.
We stood facing each other, apprecia
ting our nakedness, and one another’s bodies. “My God, you’re perfect,” he said. Before I responded, he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me with such intensity that every nerve in my body jumped for joy. He backed me up to the bed, tore back the covers, got in, and pulled me on top of him. It turned into a free for all after that. Smoke’s lips on me, my lips on him, him nibbling, me nibbling, me on top, him on top. And when neither of us could wait another second, he took me on the most exquisite ride of my life. Then his body collapsed against mine for a moment before he rolled onto his side, still clinging to me.
I turned and kissed his lips, and when I saw tears roll down his cheeks, I kissed them too. “We have a lot to make up for,” he said.
We couldn’t get enough of each other for the rest of the night. In the shower, for dessert after dinner, in the middle of the night, hungry for the other’s touch.
The sound of rain hitting the roof and pelting the windows woke us early the next morning. A welcomed relief from the drought.
We turned to each other, smiled, and embraced. “Now that’s worth celebrating,” he said.
Smoke was right. We had a lot to make up for.
Christine Husom is a National Best-Selling Author from Minnesota. She served with the Wright County Sheriff’s Department. Husom writes the Winnebago County Mysteries, the Snow Globe Shop Mysteries, and has stories in many anthologies. She is a member of the Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America.
Also by Christine Husom
Winnebago County Mystery Series:
Murder in Winnebago County, 2008
Buried in Wolf Lake, 2009
An Altar by the River, 2010
The Noding Field Mystery, 2012
A Death in Lionel’s Woods, 2013
Secret in Whitetail Lake, 2015
Snow Globe Shop Mystery Series:
Snow Way Out, 2015
The Iced Princess, 2015
Frosty the Dead Man, 2016