Blaze

by Dale Mayer

  “Oh,” the sheriff said, pushing his hat back and scratching his head. “So why would somebody try to make it look like it was Blaze?”

  She shrugged. “Because he’s the new guy in town? If somebody wants to cause trouble, well, he looks like a nice choice for a fall guy?”

  “No idea why though,” he said. “Blaze has been around here for a lot of years. Don’t make no sense.”

  She led the sheriff into her kitchen so he could take a look at the broken window pane on her French door. He walked around and then said, “You better give Scott a call.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that.”

  “You got insurance?”

  “Yes, I have insurance,” she said. “But it might not be worth the deductible to just get the door fixed.”

  “Unless the door has to be replaced,” the sheriff said. “Then you’re looking at a couple thousand.”

  She winced at that. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t. I’m trying to stick to a budget.”

  “Hence the insurance,” the sheriff said, looking at her.

  Hearing something, they both looked into the backyard to see Blaze coming through the separating hedges and toward them. “Black pants, black hoodie,” the sheriff said in a neutral tone. “You sure it wasn’t him?”

  “Positive,” she said firmly. “Just look at him. Broad shoulders, athletic hips. But this person I saw in my yard was tall and skinny with narrow shoulders, and looked like running wasn’t necessarily something he was prepared to do, but he could certainly sprint for a short distance,” she admitted. “I sent Blaze to check out where I saw the intruder disappear to.”

  “You don’t know much about Blaze. Remember that,” the sheriff cautioned.

  “I know,” she said. And she flashed him a bright grin. “But what I do know, I like.”

  He chuckled. “I know his dad, and his dad is good people, and Blaze used to be good people. But I also know that sometimes, when the men and women come back from service, they’re different.”

  “I just heard last night,” she said, “that he returned with a medical discharge.”

  “Yeah, none of the family talks about it much. But apparently Blaze went through a pretty rough time. That’s why he didn’t make it to his mom’s funeral. He couldn’t travel.”

  “Ouch,” she gasped softly. “That would have been very difficult.”

  “For everybody involved,” the sheriff said calmly. They waited in silence for Blaze to reach them, the sheriff opening the back door for him. “Did you see anything, son?”

  Blaze shook his head. “Just vehicle tracks parked back there, which took off very quickly and sprayed tons of gravel all over the road.”

  “Well, that would make sense,” the sheriff said. “Trying to get the hell away.”

  “But why just throw a rock?” Blaze asked. “Once you’ve thrown the rock, don’t you hang around and see what people do, or don’t you try to come in and take something?”

  “Or it was just vandalism?”

  “Then why all the way around to the back of the kitchen?” Blaze questioned.

  “Because they can’t be seen from that side,” Camilla said suddenly. “It’s the one area that’s not open to view from the road.”

  The men studied the road that curved around her place and confirmed that she was right.

  “But they still took a chance,” Blaze said thoughtfully. “Something more is behind this.”

  “I don’t think I want to know what,” she said quietly. “As far as I’m concerned, this is bad enough.”

  “It’s nuisance value only,” the sheriff said slowly. “I can’t see any reasonable explanation.”

  She looked over at the sheriff and said, “You got an anonymous tip about a black truck somewhere out here close by?”

  He nodded.

  “Yeah, mine,” Blaze said, “but it’s hardly like I’ve been out here throwing rocks at windows.”

  “Of course you haven’t,” Camilla said warmly. “I’ve been with you the whole time.”

  “Well, not quite,” he said. “But you’ve certainly been with me before and after we learned about the broken window at the rec center, and you saw me just arrive here and now.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “This makes no sense.”

  “Unless somebody’s trying to make it look like it was Blaze,” the sheriff said. “I can’t help noticing you’re wearing black jeans and a black sweatshirt with a hood.”

  “Yeah, and that’s what the person who threw the rock was wearing apparently too,” Blaze said. “So that’s a consideration, but it’s obvious I wasn’t here, and we now have another perpetrator.”

  Camilla’s phone dinged at that moment, and she snatched it up, swiped to take a look at the message and then frowned. “Stay away from him,” she read out loud. As she scrolled down, she saw images of Blaze. Blaze from a few years ago maybe. She held it up and said, “Recognize that?”

  He took the phone from her hand and frowned at it. “Sure, it’s me,” he said. “A few years ago though, like ten maybe.” He handed it back to her. “Who sent it?”

  She scrolled up to see the email address and then said, “From best­happiness­interest@hot­mail.com,” she said drily. She handed it over to the sheriff. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a stalker,” he said slowly. “Somebody who doesn’t want you to get too close to Blaze here. Particularly if that message is anything to go by.”

  “Stay away from him? That almost sounds like a jealous girlfriend,” she said, her gaze going to Blaze. “Did you leave behind a trail of broken hearts when you went off to the navy?”

  He leaned against the kitchen doorframe, his arms across his chest and shook his head. “No, I sure didn’t, and, even if I did, that was ten years ago. Who cares now?”

  “Well, it depends if you left behind a pregnant teenager or some other such thing,” Camilla said, studying his face. Camilla thought he looked uncomfortable at the line of questioning, but then it was very private and very disconcerting. He did not look guilty.

  He shook his head. “To the best of my knowledge I have no children anywhere,” he said coolly. “And I get that maybe my return has disturbed some people’s peace of mind, but I wouldn’t know who, and I wouldn’t know why.”

  “Were you involved in anything before you went away?”

  He shook his head. “No, and I didn’t leave under a dark cloud either. I was accepted into the navy, and I left. That was the end of it. I’ve been back several times to visit while on leave, and I haven’t been back since about four months before my mother’s death.”

  “That’s right. You didn’t make it for the funeral.” The sheriff slipped his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels as if thinking about that and trying not to pass judgment.

  Then Camilla figured he was just looking for confirmation of their earlier conversation.

  “I was in my own hospital bed at the time,” Blaze said quietly. “I wasn’t mobile enough to be released from the VA hospital.”

  The sheriff nodded quietly. “I remember your father saying something about that.”

  “But still, this is pretty petty, and it’s obviously not well-thought-out,” Camilla said. “I mean, I saw the person running away.” She didn’t mention the dog to the sheriff but was dying to ask Blaze if he’d seen Solo out there—or any sign she might have been the dog Camilla thought she’d seen.

  “I know,” Blaze said. “Of course you and I had dinner together last night, but what’s the chance that whoever is doing this didn’t know that?”

  She frowned. “Well, it’s possible. Normally I would have gone straight home. In fact, I did tell everybody I was going home.”

  “Who did you tell?” the sheriff asked.

  “Blyth, for one,” she said. “My assistant. And Lizzie’s wedding party as they invited me out for drinks with them, but I just wanted to go home,” she said with a wry smile. “I didn’t tell anybody
Blaze and I were going out for dinner together.”

  “Sure, but anybody in the restaurant could have seen us,” Blaze said.

  “True enough,” she said with a tilt of her head. “We weren’t trying to keep it secret.”

  “No, but somebody has been alerted to the fact that potentially you’re dating, and they are not happy about it,” the sheriff said with a frown. “This can get pretty ugly. I don’t want to see it going in that direction.”

  “Neither do I,” Blaze said. “But now that her stalker has this in their head, what’s the chance that even me staying away from her will make it stop?”

  “It’s hard to say,” the sheriff said. “If that’s what he wants you to do, it might be enough.”

  “I don’t care if it is or not,” Camilla snapped. “I go out with whoever the hell I want to go out with. Throwing rocks in my kitchen door, like, what’s with that?”

  “I don’t know,” Blaze said. “Except that it was something they could do. An outlet for rage. Better than taking a rock and smashing you.”

  At that, she could feel her blood thin and her limbs get cold. “Are you saying I’m likely to be attacked next?” she asked in a low voice, searching both men’s faces. But what she found there did not invite confidence.

  “Anything is possible,” the sheriff said with a nod. “This isn’t normal. I wouldn’t have tied the two rock-throwing incidents together until we got that email. … Well, except for the timing.”

  “If they had thrown the rock at something else,” Blaze said, “God forbid, your Mustang, while it was parked downtown or something, then it could have still been random. But, to come to your house, it’s very specifically targeted at you.”

  She walked back into the kitchen to put on another small pot of coffee. She stared down at the coffeemaker while it dripped. When it was finally done, she filled her cup and turned to look at the others. Nobody had said a word for the last five minutes.

  Blaze held out his cup, and the sheriff nodded. She filled one up for him too and said, “So, now what?”

  “Now you watch out,” Blaze said before the sheriff could. “Now you look at everybody sideways, wondering who would do this and who sees you in an odd light, either as a suitor or maybe a frustrated stalker.”

  She stared at Blaze blankly. “I thought this was about you, as the newcomer,” she said with a small cry. “I thought it was about you being either dangerous or …”

  He stiffened and then shrugged. “That’s another possibility too. I wasn’t really thinking that.”

  “How can we not?” the sheriff asked. “‘Stay away from him’ can mean either that somebody wants Camilla to himself or that someone is afraid you’ll hurt her.”

  “Or,” he said, “it’s got nothing to do with me, and this guy’s just a crazy-ass lunatic.”

  “That’s all too possible too,” the sheriff said. “As we well know, these situations can get difficult, and we lack answers. At the moment, literally just stay safe. Don’t go out alone, look after yourself. If you get any more weird incidences like this, then give me a shout.” He put down his empty coffee cup and headed outside.

  “Aren’t you going to look for fingerprints or anything?” Camilla asked.

  “Fingerprints? The only thing to fingerprint would be that rock,” the sheriff said, “and do you think they had gloves on?”

  “Yes, I do think so,” she said, “but I couldn’t be sure of that.”

  “Well,” Blaze noted with a head tilt toward the sheriff, “considering the fact I’m standing here without gloves on, and you saw him with gloves on, you can see again it wasn’t me.”

  She nodded.

  As the sheriff walked away, the rock now in a plastic bag, she said, “If you get any fingerprints off it, let me know.”

  “I can if there’s anything to get off,” he said. “I’ll try, but there still has to be somebody to match them to.”

  “I’m thinking you should collect the rock from the rec center too,” Blaze said.

  “Will do,” the sheriff said. “I’m on my way over there now.” He took his leave.

  Blaze turned to her and said, “Do you know anybody who would be against the two of us going out on a date?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” she said, turning and walking back to the coffeepot. She stared down at it, saying, “I really don’t need more coffee, but I want it.”

  “Sometimes having the coffee is more about comfort than it is about caffeine,” he added gently. “But, if you can talk to me, maybe we can figure this thing out.”

  “I’d love to,” she said, “but are we really thinking a rock through the center last night was intended to hurt me?”

  “No,” he said. “Intended to hurt your business or intended to put you off me,” he said. “Not trying to hurt you physically, and I don’t think that’s the direction this is going but more about keeping you away from me.”

  “I guess”—her voice fell short as she was lost for words—“I guess the only way to know depends on what he does next. From the Stay away from him email, I would say he’s not trying to hurt my business, but last night’s rock through the center does try to hurt my business.”

  “Unless that was sheer frustration,” he said slowly. “If people had heard I was in town and happened to see me there.”

  “That’s possible,” she said. “But somebody must have a longstanding feud to see you and have it suddenly triggered again now that you’re in town,” she said. “So I’m back to thinking this is more about you than it is about me.”

  “And that’s possible,” he said.

  It was possible, but he didn’t know how as he hadn’t left with any bad feelings from anyone as far as he knew. He’d had a girlfriend, but they had broken up amicably a long time ago, and she was currently married with several children. Although he hadn’t looked her up, he planned to. She’d married a guy he’d known in high school and had been good friends with. It wasn’t like he wished either of them ill—Blaze couldn’t imagine her husband giving a damn about Blaze either. He shook his head. “I know what you’re saying,” he said, “but it doesn’t make any sense. Why don’t we shelve the entire problem for now? And, if you’ve got lots of work to do, and I know it’s still really early in the morning, maybe I can help you.”

  She shook her head. “The last thing you want to do is sit here and fold napkins in fancy ways and tie ribbons around candlesticks and put rocks into jars, and that’s just for starters.”

  He swallowed hard at that. “No, can’t imagine I would,” he said. “I would much rather clean up this glass and take measurements and run down to Scottie’s Glass and see if we can get a new glass panel to fix this door.”

  She brightened. “Would you do that?”

  He looked at her in surprise. “Absolutely.”

  She said, “Perfect. I’ll even fix you breakfast then.”

  “That works,” he said, “just point me to a broom and a tool kit.” He grabbed the broom she handed him and carefully cleaned up all the glass inside and outside of the shattered door.

  She stood around, like at a loss for something to do—or not knowing what to do next.

  “Here,” he said, pulling out a chair to her breakfast nook. “Sit down with your coffee and relax a bit before getting back to work.” And then, rummaging around in her hall closet for the few tools she had, he grabbed the pliers and carefully pulled all the remaining broken glass from the frame. The frame was one that came apart. He took careful measurements, wrote them down, took out a piece of the frame and turned to look at her. “I can take this down to Scott’s when I go and see if we can get something to fit.”

  She nodded and smiled. “I really appreciate this,” she said.

  “No problem. Are you feeling better?”

  She looked at him blankly, then smiled. “Yeah, I guess. So how about breakfast?”

  “What have you got?”

  “Not a whole lot,” she confessed, opening the f
ridge. “I haven’t shopped in a few days.” He looked over her shoulder to see eggs and not a whole lot else. “Well then, how about eggs?”

  She laughed. “If we’re lucky, there’s bread here too.” She pulled out her bread drawer and spied a few pieces of salvageable bread and half a bun. She cried out in dismay. “Maybe not,” she said, “those look pretty sad.”

  “Do you have any potatoes?” he asked.

  “Maybe a couple. Why?”

  He shook his head and said, “You want to check?”

  They walked over to the pantry and there, beside the onions, were two potatoes.

  He snatched them up. “Perfect. Do you have a grater?”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “So you’ll be cooking now? What are you thinking of making?”

  “You obviously like potatoes or you wouldn’t have them in the house,” he said, “so why don’t you just wait and see?”

  She seemed happy with that. She pulled out the eggs while he grated the potatoes. He let her watch as he seasoned them, drained off some liquid, added an egg and some flour. He then took two fry pans and made two mid-size patties in the center of each. He fried them up gently on a moderate heat until they were golden brown and flipped them and cooked them for another few minutes. As soon as they were done, he moved the patties off to the side of the pans and cracked eggs in both pans.

  He glance over at her then chuckled at the look of astonishment on her face.

  “I can cook, but I don’t do anything very adventuresome.”

  “This is hardly adventuresome,” he said. “It’s just basics.” And before long, he flipped them onto plates, and they had hash brown patties and two fried eggs.

  They sat down together. He watched as she dove into the potato pancake.

  “This is lovely,” she said around the food in her mouth. “Really nice and crispy.”

  He ate a little slower than she did, and, when she was halfway done, she stopped, looked at him and his plate and said, “I feel like I’m inhaling my food, and you’re dawdling.”

  “Savoring,” he said. “I’m really enjoying the potatoes.”