The Baron Blasko Mysteries (Book 1): Fangs

by Howe, A. E.

“Serfs.”

  “What?”

  “What do you call them… tenant farmers? They work for the man that owns the land.”

  “’Bout right. He also runs a small store down here where they can buy stuff on credit. Might as well be slaves. The warehouses are right up here on the last bluff before the river.”

  “Pull over before we get there,” Blasko said.

  The main road paralleled the railroad tracks. Matthew turned onto a dirt road that crossed the tracks, then pulled off on the other side under a group of large live oak trees.

  “The warehouses are about a hundred feet down the road. There are buildings on both sides of the road and the tracks. Oh, yeah, there’s also a loading dock by the tracks.”

  “Wait here,” Blasko said.

  “No problem.” Matthew settled back in his seat.

  Blasko got out and walked toward the warehouses. The night was alive with the sounds of frogs and crickets. Off in the distance, a screech owl gave its trilling call. Blasko’s ears picked up every sound. Mixed in with the noise of the insects, amphibians and birds was another sound that came from the cotton warehouse on the left side of the road. He stopped and listened more intently for a moment. Once he was sure of what he was hearing, he continued on.

  Blasko could see a sign pointing to the office as he walked closer. His eyes picked out the soft glow of a cigarette coming from inside a car parked beside the office. Just then, the car engine roared to life and the vehicle came bumping up out of the dirt parking lot. Blasko just had time to move back into the bushes to avoid being seen. As the car drove past, he thought he recognized the square-jawed face of Thomas Kelly. A woman was in the passenger seat, but Blasko couldn’t see her face well enough to tell if it was Sarah or not.

  He continued down to the warehouse, more cautious now in case anyone else was there. But as he circled the buildings, he didn’t see any other cars or people. Finally, having snooped around the buildings to his satisfaction, he headed back to the car.

  “Find anything?”

  “There was a car parked down there.”

  “Okay. So…?”

  “They left in a hurry. Curious.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I could hear them as I approached. What I heard was… distinctive. Why would someone park their car out here and…Well… Do…” Blasko stumbled to find the right words.

  “Do what? Oh, you’re a real bluenose. You mean they were puttin’ the boots to it.”

  “Yes, I suppose they were… Right. Why here?”

  “Ha, ’cause they can’t do it anywhere else.”

  “I think it was Kelly.”

  “Thomas Kelly? Now that’s interesting. I think you can take it to the bank that the woman wasn’t his wife.”

  “I didn’t get a good look at her. But I take your point. It sounded like they were… doing it in the car.”

  “Yeah, quick and dirty. Didn’t want to go in the office or couldn’t wait.”

  “We can go home now.”

  “The hell you say. I ain’t goin’ to be your chauffer all the time. You can’t be out in the sun, right?”

  “No, as I’ve told you, I’m—”

  “Allergic. Yeah, I got that. Come on. We still have plenty of time.” Matthew got out and made Blasko switch places with him.

  Matthew explained all the intricacies of the clutch, shifter, brake and gas pedal, slowly and carefully. “Think you got it?”

  “I understand the principle,” Blasko said.

  “That’s as good as it gets without the engine running. Go on. Turn the switch and press the button.”

  Blasko did as instructed and the engine started anemically.

  “Yeah, give it a little gas.”

  Ten minutes later, they were creeping slowly down the road. It had been a ragged start, with Blasko frequently panicking when the car would lurch forward from too much gas and then overcompensating with too much brake.

  “I think I’ve got this,” Blasko said, eventually speeding up. The car bumped and jostled down the road. “I see why you like driving.”

  Matthew just nodded, still nursing an elbow that had banged into the dash more than once and wondering what sort of monster he might have created.

  All seemed to go well until they approached a turn in town. Blasko went too wide, bounced over a curb and hit a lamppost.

  “It’s not too bad,” Matthew said, examining the damage to the car.

  “They shouldn’t put the lampposts that close to the street.”

  “Yeah, that’s the problem,” Matthew said dryly.

  “A trip to Clarence’s garage might be in order,” Blasko said contemplatively.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Josephine saw the note from Blasko when she got up. “I can’t believe that man,” she grumbled.

  “I seen that,” Grace said, shaking her head. “What’s that fool doing drivin’ around? Can he even do that?”

  “The state is thinking about passing a law that would require all drivers to have a license. But they haven’t done it yet.”

  “Another thing poor people goin’ to have to pay for,” Grace said.

  Josephine didn’t bother to ask her which was worse: having unqualified drivers or charging people for a license.

  After breakfast, Josephine looked again at the note telling her of the damage to the car. Now that she was fully awake, she understood the significance of Blasko telling her to keep an eye out when she took the car to Clarence’s garage to get it fixed. A little thrill went through her at the thought of doing some detective work. I’m getting as crazy as he is, she told herself.

  An hour later, Josephine pulled up in front of the garage. The original part of the building was a very small store with a couple of gas pumps out front. A large addition had been built after Clarence had taken over the business. Everyone knew it had been old man Erickson’s money that had built it. It would have been more fodder for gossip if Clarence hadn’t been a good mechanic and a hard worker.

  Josephine parked in front of an empty bay. A large man with a chocolate complexion and wearing greasy grey overalls walked quickly over to the car. He put his fingers up to his cap in greeting.

  “Howdy, Miss Josephine. If you need gas, just pull up to the pumps. Or I can do it for you.”

  Josephine recognized the man. He was a cousin of Jerome, her yardman, and had come over to help Jerome a few times with large jobs.

  “It’s Mills, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Josephine got out and showed Mills the damage to the front of the car.

  “Mr. Clarence ain’t here today. He and Mrs. Erickson are too broken up over his daddy’s… you know.” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word “murder.”

  “Of course,” Josephine said, feeling disappointed.

  “You could come by next week. I expect he’ll be back then. They going to bury Mr. Erickson this weekend.”

  “Did Mr. Erickson come by here often?” Josephine realized that Mills might be a good source of information.

  “Nah, not often. Mr. Clarence didn’t like it when he did.” Mills looked around, making sure no one was listening. “When Mr. Erickson come around, Mr. Clarence would be yelling and cursing up a storm the rest of the day.”

  “They didn’t get along?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I just don’t think Mr. Clarence liked his daddy looking over his shoulder. Mr. Erickson would always tell him what he was doing wrong.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, prices were too low or too high. New stuff needed to be out front where it could be seen. How Mr. Clarence shouldn’t give anyone credit. Stuff like that. Mr. Clarence didn’t mind as much if Mrs. Erickson was along.”

  “His stepmother?”

  “That’s right. Both Mr. Clarence and Mr. Erickson were a little better when she was around.”

  “What about Amanda?”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Mills said quickly.


  “I just meant did she come by often?” Josephine understood his nervousness. Black men weren’t supposed to notice the comings and goings of white women.

  “Nah, I don’t think she liked the garage much. Always worried she was going to get dirty. She’d stand right in the middle away from everything.”

  “Was Clarence in a good mood after his wife would come by?” Josephine asked, knowing that she was probably pushing the bounds of conversation beyond common gossip and into the realm of nosiness.

  “Guess he decided to come in after all,” Mills said suddenly, looking past Josephine to where a striking red Packard roadster convertible was pulling up to the garage.

  Clarence was behind the wheel. He looked over at Josephine with an expression that might have conveyed interest or suspicion. Josephine wasn’t sure. She waved to him as Mills walked over to the car.

  Clarence and Mills spoke for a moment in voices too low for her to hear. If I’m going to be a detective, then I’m going to have to learn to read lips, Josephine told herself, smiling inwardly at the thought of herself as a detective.

  “Hello, Josephine. Mills says you’ve got a damaged fender,” Clarence said, walking over to her.

  “I don’t want to bother you. You should be with your family.”

  “I’ll just take a quick look and give you an estimate. But you’re right. I need to get back to the house. I just wanted to make sure that Mills didn’t need anything.” Clarence walked around the vehicle, looking it over. “Nice car. Your father asked me for a recommendation when he was thinking about buying it.”

  “He didn’t know a thing about cars. I’m sure he appreciated your advice.” Josephine watched him closely. “Have you heard anything from Sheriff Logan?”

  Clarence looked up at her with narrowed eyes. “He told me that you all shouldn’t have been asking questions and looking in the bedroom the other night.”

  Josephine felt her cheeks grow warm. “I know we were overstepping our bounds a bit. But the baron really does have experience in… these areas. He thought he could help.”

  “He’s a strange duck,” Clarence said flatly.

  “Yes, he is that.” Josephine couldn’t help but agree.

  Clarence seemed surprised at her comment, his lips turning up in a small smile. “I’ll be able to clean this up for, say, about nine dollars,” he said, looking at the damaged car.

  “How’s business been?” Josephine asked him. This would have seemed like an odd question coming from most women, but as she had a controlling interest in the bank, folks tended to accept her interest in business.

  “Oh, you know. Like everyone else, we take a few more chickens or bushels of corn in trade than we did before the crash, but it’s always been hardscrabble around here. My grandfather had a cotton farm that got wiped out by the boll weevil.”

  “‘Hard times come again no more,’” Josephine quoted.

  “Exactly.” Clarence paused for a minute and then added, “Sheriff hasn’t got any leads. They chased down a bunch of hobos, but nothing came of it. I got to talk to Mills and then get back to the house. Bring the car in next week.” Clarence tipped his hat to her, then headed over to where Mills was taking the tire off of an old Model A.

  A black car with a gold star on the door was parked in front of her house when Josephine pulled into the driveway. Deputy Bobby Tucker was waiting for her at the front door.

  “Howdy,” Bobby said.

  “Have you been waiting long?”

  “No. I came by and Grace said you were out. When I turned around to leave, I saw you pulling into the driveway.” He paused.

  “And?”

  “I want to talk to you.” He seemed unsure how to continue.

  “Well, I’m here,” Josephine said, a little exasperated. She’d been avoiding Bobby since she’d gotten back from Europe. She didn’t want to invite him inside, knowing how much harder it would be to end the conversation if he was ensconced in the house.

  “Why are you sticking your nose into this murder?” he blurted out. “This isn’t really any of your business.”

  “That’s not fair. Mr. Erickson was my neighbor. I can see his house from here,” she said, pointing at it. “That murder was almost literally in my front yard.”

  “It’s that freak you have living here,” Bobby grumbled.

  “How dare you come here and pass judgment on a guest in my house?” To herself, Josephine had to admit that, yes, Blasko was a bit of a freak. But that wasn’t any of Bobby Tucker’s damn business.

  “Guest?! He’s been here six months. I tell you, Josie, people are talking.”

  “I couldn’t care less what people are saying behind my back. If they have a problem with me or my friends, they should come right out and say it to my face.”

  “And how are they going to do that? You control the only bank in town. Most of the folks around here owe money to the bank one way or the other. All of the farms need loans to plant every year.” Bobby stopped. Having stumbled into this argument, he was surprised to be verbalizing thoughts that had previously been just nebulous ideas in his head. For the first time, he was seeing how important Josephine had become in the community.

  “That’s stupid. The bank is run by a board, and what we do or don’t do is determined by rules set up by my father and other good men.” She fought back the urge to say: And if they’re really worried about their money, then they shouldn’t make me mad. Josephine sighed and asked, “Why are you here, Bobby?”

  “You’ve been avoiding me ever since you got back.”

  “And if I have, then what do you think that means?” Josephine was beyond irritated. She liked Bobby and she really didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she didn’t like having to explain herself.

  “I don’t know,” he said with an expression that reminded her of a lost puppy. “I thought we were… I don’t know… more than friends.”

  “We’re friends. I don’t know about anything more than that. I’ve known you since grade school, but…”

  “You aren’t even treating me like a friend. Now you admit you’ve been avoiding me. Is that fair?”

  “Damn it! Okay, sit down,” Josephine said, indicating one of the wicker chairs on the porch. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw motion at the window and turned to see Grace pulling her head back quickly behind the drapes.

  Bobby sat down. The holster on his hip made it awkward for him to get comfortable in the small chair.

  Josephine sat down across from him. “With my father dying and the trip overseas, I’ve just been spending the last few months trying to settle back into a routine.” She really didn’t want to discuss Blasko and hoped to avoid bringing him up again.

  Bobby had other ideas. “I just don’t understand who this baron guy is. You said he was some sort of distant relative, but… I don’t know. Why did you bring him home?”

  “What business is that of yours?”

  “You said we were friends. Shouldn’t a friend be concerned if he sees a friend getting involved in something that maybe that friend shouldn’t be involved in?” Bobby blurted out.

  Josephine found it hard to stay angry in the face of his obvious sincerity and hangdog expression. “It’s a long story. He needs to be here right now. You just have to take my word for that.”

  “Why is he so interested in this murder?”

  “For the same reason I am. It happened across the street. Have you all been making any progress in solving it?” she threw at him to change the subject.

  “No. The sheriff got it in his head that it had to be a stranger and we’ve been chasing bogeymen for the last few days. But I tell you, Logan’s going to have to come around to the idea that it’s someone closer to home. When he does, your friend could find himself in the crosshairs.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We’ve already gotten a call claiming that he could be involved. I’ll just leave it at that.” Bobby’s eyes hardened.

  “What
busybody was that?” Josephine asked, already suspecting the nosy Evie.

  “Doesn’t matter who it is. Sheriff Logan is eventually going to give up on his hobo theory and, when he does, his next choice is going to be people who arrived in town during the last year. And your puffed-up baron is going to be right at the top of the list.”

  “Exactly. So now you understand why we’re interested in finding the killer,” Josephine said, feeling vindicated.

  “I hear what you’re selling, but I’m not buying it. What y’all are doing just draws more attention to the pair of you.”

  “You’re accusing me now?”

  “No, you know better than that. I just mean you aren’t making friends with the sheriff by interfering.”

  “Who do you think killed him?” Josephine tried again to divert the conversation. Besides, she was curious about Bobby’s opinion. Bobby was a bit of a teddy bear, but he wasn’t stupid and he took his job seriously.

  “I’ve hardly had time to think about it, chasing down every hobo in southern Alabama and Georgia. But I think we need to look at Erickson’s enemies. The man had a lot of them.”

  “What about the family?” Josephine asked.

  Bobby’s face was conflicted and Josephine understood why. The idea that one of Erickson’s family chose to bludgeon him to death seemed too brutal.

  “Maybe,” Bobby finally said. “But I’m telling you, the sheriff is going to be most interested in someone like your baron. Someone who hasn’t been in town that long and who insists on hanging around the investigation.”

  “Maybe you have a point.” Knowing she’d gotten all the information she could on the murder investigation, and afraid that Bobby would try to turn the conversation back to their relationship, Josephine stood up quickly. “Bobby, I appreciate you stopping by, but I need to go in now. I really should see what Grace is up to.” She thought she heard a small huff from the other side of the window.

  Bobby stood reluctantly. “Okay. But we need to talk… about us,” he said, looking embarrassed.

  “We will. Later.” If I can’t avoid it, Josephine thought.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After spending all of Friday fretting about whether taking Blasko to the viewing of Erickson’s body was a good idea, the time had arrived. Josephine knocked on his door, which flew open immediately.