by Lyn Cote
“Hal, I grieved over losing Sarah, too, but Audra isn’t Sarah, and I’m not you.”
Audra listened to this exchange with growing unease. It was always the same, this bickering between her uncle and mother. At least, it had been ever since Audra’s father and Sarah had died, and Evie was born. If it weren’t so distressing, it would be droll, almost comical. She handed her uncle his cup.
He ignored her except to hand her two dollar bills. “Lois, you just don’t get it, do you?” He shook his head and marched away like the admiral of the fleet.
“And he wonders why both his wives left him,” her mother murmured, gazing after him, and then turned to Audra. “Is there anything I should know about this Chad? Or is that all in my brother’s twisted mind?”
My brother’s twisted mind. Maybe Audra wasn’t alone in worrying about her uncle’s mental state. Not meeting her mother’s eyes at first, she wiped the glass counter. “Chad is Shirley’s foster son. He did have a record of setting fires before he came to live with her last year. But he’s done nothing recently.” Audra met her mother’s eyes. “There were two fires last weekend—”
“I know. I read the local paper last night. Do you think Chad set them?”
“No, I don’t,” Audra stated, keeping eye contact with her mother. “The sheriff questioned Chad but didn’t charge him. Brent and Chad are at odds. I think he’s just a convenient suspect for Uncle Hal.” And everyone else.
Her mother nodded. “Very well. Your uncle has never been a good judge of character. How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing.” The question sizzled embarrassingly through Audra. “My pleasure.”
With the coffee and biscotti in one hand, Lois slipped a five-dollar bill from her pocket and onto the counter. Before Audra could object, she moved away. Over her shoulder, she called, “Oh, by the way, when can Eve spend an afternoon with me?”
Audra opened her mouth but no words came forth. Her mother had never invited Evie to visit her alone. Audra swallowed, swallowed again. “When would you like her?”
“How about Wednesday afternoon? Megan can bring her home for lunch.”
Audra nodded, feeling as if she had missed a step while running downstairs. What was going on with her mother?
With a wave, Lois turned away. Halfway down the flagstone path, she paused to have a word with her granddaughter. Evie beamed and Lois patted her cheek. Motioning Evie to join her, she sat at a table to drink her coffee. After Lois finished her light breakfast and departed, Evie ran up to Audra. “Mama, Grandmother Blair says I’m coming to visit her! On Wednesday! Don’t forget, okay?”
Audra took pleasure in her daughter’s excitement. Were things about to change between her mother and her? Her pleasure dimmed as her fears over who might be setting the fires and why prickled the hair on the back of her neck. Maybe she was crazy to suspect Hal. But the worry tugged at her.
ARRIVING AT THE THIRD fire of the tourist season, Carter watched the gray-and-black smoke billowing skyward. And did a slow burn, too. Over two weeks had passed since the first two fires. He’d dared to hope a third wouldn’t occur. Now in the early-June evening, Carter stood back as the firefighters finished putting down the fire on the grounds of the Blair lakeside summer home.
Fortunately, the target of the fire had been the garden shed and not the main house. Carter glanced to the rear deck, which overlooked Lake Superior, and glimpsed a woman. That must be Lois Blair, Audra’s widowed mother, watching the firefighters. She wore white slacks and a navy-blue blouse and stood aloof with her arms crossed. How would she react to this? After all, Ramsdel was her brother. Anything was possible.
“That’s it,” the local fire chief called to Carter. “We’ve soaked everything. Let it cool and then you can begin your investigation.”
Carter waved his thanks. He then turned and headed toward Lois. He needed to get information from her first. Another factor intruded on this investigation. The more he tried to stay away, the more incidents drew him to Audra and her family.
Now he was here to question her mother about a fire. From Tom and from general comments he’d heard around town over the past seven years since Audra came to live with Shirley, Carter knew that there was some kind of breach between Audra and her mother. All this zipped through his mind as he approached the tall slender blonde. He mounted the steps up to the deck. “Mrs. Blair, I’m Sheriff Harding.”
“Sheriff.” She offered him a cool, manicured hand. “Please sit down.” She motioned him toward one of the two nearest green-and-white-striped padded chairs.
Carter settled into one as Lois sat in the other. He pulled out a notebook. “Mrs. Blair, I promise I’ll make a thorough investigation of this fire.”
“Do you think the same person has set all three?”
He shrugged. “It’s too early to tell. The three fires have nothing in common except that all three have been set in Winfield.”
“That young man, Chad Keski, did some yard work for me here this afternoon. I believe he’s set fires in the past?”
Chad being on scene here was unwelcome news to Carter. But he couldn’t avoid the unpleasant. “Do you know that he had something to do with setting your shed on fire?”
Lois Blair eased back in her chair. “I don’t know. But I do know that he evidently didn’t want to do the simple mowing and raking job for me. That’s all I wanted him to attempt his first time here. I decided I’d better do the flower beds myself.”
“If he didn’t want to do it, why did he?”
“I think that man, Tom...” Her brows drew together.
“Tom Robson, my stepfather?”
“He’s your stepfather?”
Carter nodded.
“I guess that’s how it is in a small town.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Tom’s your stepfather, Shirley Johnson’s sweetheart, and Chad’s employer.” She paused. “I think Tom pushed Chad into doing my yard work.”
Carter let the part about Tom being Shirley’s sweetheart go by. “Why would Tom make Chad work here?”
“I don’t know. You know your stepfather better than I do.” The woman shrugged. “But I got the feeling it was something along the line of ‘Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.’ Tom said he didn’t have enough work to keep this Chad busy. My daughter did tell me that Chad had set fires before he’d come to be Shirley Johnson’s foster son.”
“Yes, that’s right.” He didn’t like acknowledging this but it was, after all, common knowledge.
“However, you don’t think he’s the one setting these new fires?” Her eyes narrowed at him.
“I don’t have any evidence linking Chad to either of the two fires.” Or anyone else. “It’s too early to say what I’ll find out from this crime scene. Now, is there anyone other than Chad that you can think of that would have motive and/or opportunity to set this fire?”
She pondered this, looking past him to the blue of Lake Superior rippling about two hundred feet behind him. “I’ve been in and out all day. I was here when Chad came, and I stayed while he did the work. And then I left again, had to run an errand in town. Could it have just been an accident?” she continued. “I smelled tobacco on Chad. Could he have just discarded a match or cigarette in some dry grass or leaves and it took time for it to ignite? That’s something a teenager would do.”
“That might be possible.” But too much to hope for. “Anyone angry at you?”
Mrs. Blair gave a dry chuckle. “Only my brother, Hal, but then I don’t think he really likes anyone but Audra.”
Carter didn’t know what to make of this sardonic comment. Evidently Hal Ramsdel and his sister didn’t get along. But who did Ramsdel get along with? Ramsdel might dote on Audra, but from what Carter had observed, she didn’t appreciate it. “No one else with motive or opportunity?” he repeated.
“Well, as I said, I was gone. The shed sits back from the road and my property is wooded. Anyone could come from the beach or road and if they were cautious, no one would s
ee them. Plus I don’t have any neighbors very near. In fact, a jogger on the beach reported the fire on her cell phone.” She shrugged.
So it was as bad as he’d expected. No obvious suspect. He rose. “Mrs. Blair, I’m going to start my investigation now. My deputy, Trish Franklin, may show up here in the future to do a follow-up. Please leave everything as it is until I tell you we’ve collected all possible evidence.”
“Of course.” She nodded, dismissing him. “I’ll be calling my insurance company, but I’ll wait on you before doing anything else.”
Carter strode toward his Jeep to get out his gear and begin combing the remains of the Blair garden shed for clues. Equal parts irritation and eagerness surged inside him. The last thing he’d wanted was another fire. But this did provide him an opportunity to find clues to solve these cases. A clue, just something to follow up.
AT THE SOUND OF A KNOCK on Audra’s rear kitchen door, she jerked to a halt. She was nearly done cleaning up after another Sunday evening of pizza-making. Over a week had passed since her mother’s garden shed had been set on fire. Each day had increased two urges she resisted. The first was her desire to put into words the idea that her uncle might do something as irrational as start fires. But it was ridiculous. More and more her uncle seemed to be a fuse easy to light, but she couldn’t really see him setting fires at such odd places. The second was to steer clear of the sheriff—her uncle played into this too, but this wasn’t ridiculous. Her uncle’s hatred of Carter was all too real, and irrational.
Finally she couldn’t help herself. She had to know if the sheriff had discovered anything. Of course, he probably wouldn’t tell her anything, but she couldn’t put off seeing him any longer. The pull to talk to him was too strong. So earlier this evening just before Brent had arrived, she’d forced herself to call the sheriff and leave him a message to call her. But had he come instead? Or maybe her nasty caller had come... Fear came, a single cold wet finger down her spine. “Who is it?”
“It’s the sheriff.”
Inside her, sudden relief tripped over tenseness, and the two tangled together. She wanted to see the sheriff. She probably shouldn’t see him.
She unlocked the door and opened it wide. “Thank you for coming.” Her throat was dry. Her heart beat like a stammering child. Carter was in uniform as usual, but without his hat that often masked his green eyes. And for a moment his blatant masculinity held her in place.
“I WAS PASSING BY AND thought I might as well just stop in instead of calling.” Carter didn’t meet Audra’s eyes as this altered version of the facts slipped out of his mouth. He could have called her. But instead, he’d parked his Jeep behind Shirley’s and walked here so he could escort Audra home. He had no business wanting to walk her home through the quiet moonlit alley, but here he was. “What did you want to discuss?”
She took off her apron and hung it up. Underneath, she wore a light pink T-shirt and figure-hugging blue jeans. She turned away, rinsed out a washcloth, and began wiping down the already clean-looking counter. He followed her every move, unable to hide how she captivated him. Fortunately, she was avoiding his eyes.
“How is the investigation of my mother’s fire coming?” she asked.
Disappointment flared inside him, disintegrating his unspoken hope that Audra wanted to see him as much as he craved seeing her again. The fire. He should have known it was the investigation that prompted her call. Of course. What else? Certainly not a desire to see him again.
“The investigation of the crime scene is finished,” he said. Finished. But a complete bust.
Three times, he’d gone over every inch of the charred remains of the shed and every inch of the yard and so had Trish. He’d come up with the fact that the fire had been ignited with a simple long-burning fuse, buried among lawn debris and nearby gasoline-soaked rags. Nothing more. Nothing that matched the modus operandi of the first two fires. And nothing to follow up. The third handful of pennies he’d found there had not helped, either.
“And you still don’t have any clear suspect?”
“No.” He considered her. She looked ill at ease, very ill at ease. “Why do you ask?” He spoke in a measured tone.
She rinsed out the cloth again, washed her hands, and then turned slowly toward him. “I’ve been uneasy...”
“About?” He waited.
“About my uncle,” she muttered, staring down at her feet.
He followed her gaze. She was wearing thick-soled turquoise sandals that tied around her ankles. He became fascinated with her small toes peeping out from the colorful cloth toe. He forced his eyes up. “What about your uncle?”
She folded her arms. “It’s nothing concrete. Just a feeling I have that he’s near a...a breakdown of some kind.” She cast him a covert glance. “You know why he and Brent moved north, don’t you?”
“I’ve heard rumors. Why don’t you tell me?” He rested a hand against the wall.
The phone rang and the answering machine picked up, reciting her message. Audra looked unnecessarily alarmed. “I’m done here. Why don’t you walk me home?” She nearly pushed him toward the door as if fearing another message.
What’s going on with the phone, Audra?
She switched off the lights. The answering machine shut off and the caller hung up. Her shoulders relaxed but she still moved toward the door. Carter stepped out into the dim light as she locked the dead bolt on the door. The deep twilight of the summer, a lingering glimmer of daylight still on the horizon, closed around them. Street lamps shone at each end of the block, leaving the middle in veiling shadow. They started walking side by side.
Should he ask her why her phone ringing caused this quick retreat? Did it have something to do with the last time, that angry voice demanding Audra pick up? He tried to think of a way to ask this diplomatically and failed.
He waited, but when she said nothing, he prompted, “So why did your uncle come north?”
“He and his second wife, Brent’s mother, broke up a year ago.” Audra’s voice was quiet, subdued, concerned. “The divorce was messy and Uncle Hal had to sell stocks and property at just the wrong time for the settlement.”
“So he couldn’t afford two homes anymore?”
“That’s right.”
“Why did he choose to come to Winfield?”
“I think it’s something like making a fresh start. He took his insurance sales licensing tests and put his remaining capital into the agency here.”
“Okay.” He considered her comments. His footsteps crunched loud on the gritty pavement while hers made a soft padding sound. “Are you telling me you think that after all this, he’s headed for some kind of...breakdown?” he finished, using her word.
“He’s always been outspoken and opinionated.”
Carter could think of a few more pithy ways to put this.
“But it’s worse now,” she explained earnestly. “He’s just so emotional about everything these days. His every response is over the top. It’s like he’s spoiling for a fight with someone. All the time.”
This was not news to him. “Where is this leading, Audra?” Her distress broke over him in waves. He wanted to reach out and help her in some way.
“I’m...I know this’ll sound nuts, but I was wondering if he could have something to do with these fires.”
“Your uncle?” Her words, so unexpected, nearly floored him.
“I know. I think I’m crazy too.”
“No. I...no...why do you think he might be involved?”
She hesitated, walking slower.
He waited, matching her gait.
“I probably am crazy,” she mumbled. She made a sound like a cat hissing. “When I think of my uncle, I don’t really see him lurking in alleys setting fires. But he...carries such anger and such a grudge against you.”
Carter made the connection. “You think he might be doing this to cause me trouble now that I’m sheriff?”
“I know it sounds stupid, doesn’t it?” She gaz
ed up at him, her large eyes luminous in the low light.
He fought to keep his mind on the topic at hand. “Not stupid, really. Just unsubstantiated.”
“I feel like an idiot telling you this.” She stopped walking and faced him. “But I’ve been so stressed about him...”
“It’s understandable.” He touched her shoulder. “But I doubt your uncle is involved.”
“I feel better hearing you say that.” She took a deep breath. “And I’m concerned about Brent. My uncle’s just so agitated all the time.”
You’ve got that right. He dropped his hand but moved closer as if supporting her. He didn’t say anything. What could he say?
For the rest of the block, they walked along in silence. Carter listened to the night sounds—muffled voices in the distance, the lapping of waves against the wharf nearby. But the woman beside him dominated the quiet night, tempting him to focus only on her.
Audra’s voice finally broke their silence. “You don’t have any suspects yet for the fire at my mother’s?”
He contemplated the clear, starry sky. “Since he’d been at the property that day, I questioned Chad.” Carter could tell her that because it was common knowledge, no doubt. He didn’t tell her that another stack of pennies had been found under all the debris. Pennies were the only link between all three fires. The coins were always blackened by the fire, so it wasn’t someone leaving them after the fact. But pennies? The fire-setter had a strange sense of humor.
They started up the last block to Shirley’s. Carter didn’t want the walk to end. In spite of the heavy topic they’d discussed, he felt more at ease than he had for days. Audra had that effect on him; she relaxed him in one way and sparked tension in another. He had no doubts about her goodness. Her corn-silk-blond hair captured the moonlight. He wished she’d worn it down.
As if hearing his thoughts, she unclipped it and let it fall to her shoulders. She shook her head and ran her fingers through the long golden strands, each one highlighted by moonlight. He imagined letting his own hands slide in after hers. No way. Stop. He needed to take captive his attraction toward her. He would not be touching Audra Blair’s hair any time soon. Probably never.
