Blow Up on Murder

by Linda Townsdin

  The beam came from above the embankment now, scanning the area again. She hadn’t called out, maybe she wasn’t sure she’d heard anything. I compacted myself into a tight ball, cold water soaking my jeans.

  A sudden gasp above me and feet pounding away made me curious enough to stand up. The light bounced in a crazy zigzag. Someone, with bushy hair fanned out behind, ran into the barn. I scrabbled to pull myself up the bank. What I saw at the top nearly caused me to fall backward.

  The grey wolf’s eyes glittered in the moonlight. Easily a hundred pounds, it trotted toward a line of trees and vanished into the woods. I pressed the agate against my heart whispering a thank you to whatever brought it to the clearing. It might have saved my life. I emptied the water from my boots and, giving the house and barn a wide berth, ran to my car.

  Even the trees loomed in close as I drove home along the dark and seldom-used road. I cranked the heater and watched steam roll off my jeans.

  Once back on the highway headed toward Spirit Lake, I relaxed. With luck, Emmaline believed the sound outside came from the wolf. But how did she know someone was there? I hadn’t made any noise when I crept up to the barn.

  When I got home, Rock greeted me with a tail wag and sniffed at my damp jeans before climbing back onto his warm bed. After a hot shower, I tossed wood into the stove and made a cup of Emmaline’s tea. Little praised the wonders of chamomile before bed, but it didn’t have the power of Emmaline’s concoction.

  As the tea warmed me, my thoughts warmed toward the odd woman. There was no law against being peculiar. People might even include me in that category. Lars would have snorted if he’d heard me say that out loud. He said I was the master of stating the obvious.

  The judge and jury in my head held court. What I did was dangerous and stupid. Where was the gain? So what if the woman was mercurial? So what if she was a night person and used the barn to work on her organic herbs and flowers or whatever at two in the morning? It was none of my business. I set the empty cup on my nightstand, said goodnight to Rock snoring by the stove, and drifted off to blessed sleep.

  *

  I flung my hand out from under the quilt, slapped at the night table for my ringing phone and answered it with a sound like a mallard’s squawk.

  Violet yelled, “Mom’s hurt! Someone threw a rock in the window!”

  I grabbed my jeans. “Did you call an EMT?”

  “They’re on their way.” Her voice broke, panic rising. “Can you come until they get here? She’s bleeding!”

  “See what you can do for her. I’m coming.”

  Bella was on the floor, her jaw and fists clenched, panting from the pain. I kneeled next to her. “What happened?”

  She appeared dazed. “The window exploded.”

  A rock that weighed about five pounds lay in the middle of glass shards.

  On her knees next to her mother, Violet held a cloth toward the cuts on Bella’s arm, her hand shaking. “Some glass hit her. I’m afraid to touch it and make it worse.”

  “I hear a siren. The paramedics will know what to do.”

  Violet’s voice broke into a half-sob. “The glass breaking scared Mom and she jumped up from her rocker and tripped over her yarn basket. She can’t get up.”

  Outside, brakes squealed and the EMTs rushed in with a gurney. Violet and I stood at the back to give them room. Violet pointed to a pile of white towels in a heap on the floor. “I was bringing them in from the dryer at our place. I opened the back door, there was a loud crash and Mom jumped up.” She blinked back the tears. “She landed on the floor so hard.”

  The EMTs loaded Bella into the ambulance. Bella’s faint words floated back. “More bad luck. A rock on the back step is what made me break my hip in the first place.”

  I said, “Violet, go with your mom. I’ll call the sheriff.”

  She grabbed her purse and hurried after them.

  I called Sheriff Wilcox, then took photos of the blasted window and the rock. No one came forward to say they saw the rock-thrower. The fudge shop and antiques store next to Bella’s were closed for the season. A light was on at Dick’s barber shop on the corner. I trotted across the street.

  The old barber sat in one of the two chairs staring at a blaring television. I asked if he’d heard or seen what happened at Bella’s. He cranked up his hearing aid and asked me to repeat myself.

  I raised my voice. “Someone threw a rock in Bella’s window. Did you hear or see anything?”

  He cupped an ear. “Sorry, I don’t hear so well and I’ve had my shows on. Is Bella all right?”

  I yelled, “I don’t know, they’ve taken her to Cooper.”

  I called my brother on the way back to the salon. He wanted to come straight over, but I told him Bella and Violet were on the way to the hospital.

  Ben arrived shortly after. I met him outside the salon and hugged him.

  He said, “Wilcox was going to send a deputy, but I asked to come. It’s Bella.”

  “Violet’s going to call as soon as she finds out how bad it is.”

  We went inside. Glass covered everything. I stood to the side as Ben studied the rock, window and shattered glass pattern.

  I said, “Unless he was a huge guy, he couldn’t have been that far away when he threw it.”

  “Spirit Lake hasn’t had a problem with vandals lately. It happens of course, but usually they hit the vacant summer homes.”

  He continued to check out the scene inside and out. Half-joking, he said, “Bella didn’t make any serious enemies in the hospital, did she?”

  “There was some drama here yesterday. Violet and Bella had an argument. Bella made Violet return Emmaline’s products and Emmaline wasn’t happy about it.” Then I remembered Emmaline’s sour attitude became gracious mid-sentence when I caught a shape in the upper window.

  “Who’s Emmaline?”

  I filled him in. “She’s borderline crazy if you ask me. But I can’t imagine a grown woman would resort to throwing a rock in retaliation, even the strange Emmaline.”

  Ben rubbed the stubble on his face. “I’m having a hard time believing this was about beauty products. It’s all we’ve got, though. I might as well talk to her.”

  “Mind if I ride along? I know where she lives.”

  He pulled me close. “That would be great, but maybe we should stop at your place first.”

  Ben was usually all business when working a crime. I said, “We probably don’t have time for that this morning.”

  The right side of his mouth twitched and he tucked my uncombed hair behind my ears. He leaned in close. “Your hair smells like you’ve been swimming in stagnant water, your jeans are damp, it’s forty-five degrees and you’re wearing a tank top and no shoes.” He studied the blood-smeared footprints I was making. “We’d better check your feet.”

  Sitting on the step outside, I lifted one foot and then the other. “Ow.” It hadn’t hurt until I saw the blood. Ben removed a shard of glass from my left foot, cleaned it with one of Violet’s white towels, rummaged through the cupboards for a first-aid kit and then bandaged it. He put the Closed sign on the door and went across the street to get Dick to watch the salon until we returned in case there were still vandals lurking around. I’d always admired the way Ben handled situations with such calmness and deliberation, except sometimes with me. I brought out his bluster.

  They walked back a few minutes later. Dick stood on the street outside Bella’s, muttering, “Young hooligans are ruining the town.”

  Ben pulled out a notepad. “Any names you can give me, Dick?”

  The old guy ducked his head. “I don’t know of anyone, but who else would do it but kids?”

  We stopped at my house for clothes and shoes. Ben ran a hand over my jacket hanging on the coat tree. “You been rolling around in the dirt?”

  I decided not to reply.

  *

  Emmaline’s car was parked in the same place as the day before. As we walked toward the front door she came out of t
he house, wiping her hands on her skirt. “I’m in the middle of steeping my herbs. Is there something I can do for you?” Her tone said we’d better make it quick.

  Ben did a double-take at her browless forehead but recovered quickly. I introduced them to each other.

  He said, “I’m sorry to bother you but someone threw a rock in Bella’s window. I know you’ve had differences with her over selling your products in the shop.”

  He didn’t sound like he believed what he was saying. “Could you please tell me where you were at nine this morning?”

  I watched her closely as Ben talked. Her eyes flicked toward the barn. She bit off the words. “I haven’t left this place in two days.” She glared at me. “The only people I’ve seen were Violet and Britt here yesterday when they brought my basket back.”

  Ben cleared his throat. “It’s a routine question, Ms. Moreau.”

  Emmaline’s outrage grew. “What kind of sense would it make for me to break her window? I want to use Violet for a reference. She’s been helpful to me. Now if you don’t have any more ridiculous accusations, I need to get back to my herbs.”

  “No one was accusing. It’s my job to check all the bases.” He scanned the property. “You live alone all the way out here, Ms. Moreau?”

  “I do. I chose this place specifically for the plants and berries in that section of woods right there.” She pointed to the trees where she’d seen me the first time I was here, then lifted her long skirt and stomped up her steps.

  I flashed back to last night. She hadn’t been wearing her usual skirt when she ran away from the wolf.

  As we got in Ben’s truck, he said, “That was awkward. I don’t blame her for being offended.”

  I tapped in Violet’s number, told her Ben was checking out the salon and asked how Bella was doing.

  Calmer now, she said, “The fall re-injured her hip. They’ve given her pain meds so she’s sleeping now, but they’re keeping her for a few days. I’m getting a ride home from a friend. Can you ask Ben if it’s okay to replace the window right away?”

  “I’ll check but I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll wait at the shop until you get there.”

  Ben dropped me at the salon, bagged the rock and asked me to send the sheriff my images of the scene. “We’ll see if we can get prints from the rock.”

  I tried to picture Emmaline heaving a rock that heavy with her petite wrists and arms. She’d need to stand directly in front of the window.

  Ben touched my cheek and a rueful expression played across his face. “I’ve got to head back. I’m going to stop in to check on Bella on the way.”

  A new window was installed and the glass cleared away by the time Violet drove up late that afternoon. The lavender scroll proclaiming Bella’s Beauty Salon would have to be redone. The façade looked empty without it.

  Violet was still shaken. “I just wish I hadn’t been so huffy with Mom after she made me return Emmaline’s things. I feel awful about that.”

  “I’m sure she understands. And I doubt she meant to be so rough on you.”

  Little had one of his staff bring dinner for Violet and I headed home. Guilt that I hadn’t told Ben about spying on Emmaline last night raised its ugly head. Once again, I’d avoided being honest because it would make me look bad. I called him, knowing he’d be upset.

  He was. I interrupted before he let me know what an idiot I had been. “My instincts say something other than organic herbal remedies and beauty products is happening at Emmaline’s. Maybe she and a partner run a marijuana or meth business on the side.”

  He said, “Then why sell the herbs for a few bucks a pop, or do the fortune telling in town? Both of those activities would only draw attention to her.”

  “Maybe I didn’t think that part through, but what’s she doing in the barn with all the lights on and what’s making weird noises?”

  “You trespassed on her property. She’d have been within her rights to shoot you.”

  “No chance you’d go back out there with me and ask to see in the barn?”

  “I felt foolish enough asking about the rock. Going back there without good reason would be harassment.”

  The place between my brows hardened, a familiar feeling just before someone accused me of being stubborn. “That’s it?”

  “Leave it, Britt. You were lucky.” His voice softened. “We’ll talk later. Robyn’s called a meeting.”

  “Again?”

  Chapter 17

  Another visit to Emmaline’s to check out her barn might answer some questions, but even though people liked to talk about my recklessness, I preferred not putting myself in mortal danger. Little would laugh at that notion. He’d told me my perception of myself wasn’t always in sync with reality. What would I do without Lars and Little keeping me honest?

  Running was the best way to release tension. Rock was with Knute and he’d hate to miss a jog but I needed to get going before the sun was down.

  This time I wore a neon orange vest over my long-sleeved T-shirt. That bow hunter I’d run into a few days ago reminded me that both bow and firearms were legal now. I set out along the Paul Bunyan Trail, core engaged, arms loose, my rhythm carrying me forward as I worked up a sweat, conscious only of the beat of my feet hitting the ground.

  After a couple of miles, more tired than I should have been and aware of the cut on my foot, I slowed to a stop. A sound like the hum from a group bike riders’ wheels came up behind me. I stepped to the right but didn’t see anyone. Movement in the meadow across from the trail caught my attention.

  In the clearing, a herd of deer chomped on some bushes. I unzipped the pocket that held my iPhone, switched to video and inched closer. An eight-point buck rose on his hind legs, stretched his long neck and tore off a mouthful of leaves. He stayed balanced for several minutes, dropping down once and heaving himself up again. I’d never seen a three-hundred-pound buck do that.

  The rest of the herd milled around, then lifted their noses to the sky. The buck dropped to all fours and raised his majestic head. Something had spooked them. In one fluid movement, the herd leapt into the woods, white tails disappearing in the waning light. I squinted into the sky and almost made out something hovering near the tree line. I heard the humming again, louder as it headed toward me.

  A dark blue drone, three feet in diameter was almost above me. I raised my phone and clicked. The drone rocked a few times and steadied. Its lights strobed. Bullets smashed into the ground beside me. Shock rooted me in place for a split second until my body, powered by adrenalin, tore off at a sprint toward home.

  Ben flashed across my mind and then Little. What would my brother do without me, especially now, with Lars still not himself? My pause was enough for the drone to catch up to me. More bullets rained down, something sharp stung my arm and I threw myself behind a tree. A bullet thudded into a thin branch above, severing it. How did the drone know without a visual to maneuver to the other side of the tree where I hid? I scooted to the other side, my legs buckled and I slid to the ground.

  The nightmare enveloped me and I was back in the Nigerian marketplace. I covered my ears to drown out the noise. My brain too scrambled to function, I froze.

  Barking startled me out of the mental fog. The marketplace receded. I raised my head. Yards away, Rock barked so hard he lifted himself off the ground. What was he doing here? I left him at the garage with Knute.

  Springing up, I tried to catch up to him, jumping over bushes, tripping on logs, razor sharp branches tearing my skin. He stayed near the trail, deep enough under the thick canopy of trees, but the drone continued firing. How did it know my every movement? The person controlling it couldn’t possibly see me. I pulled my phone from my back pocket, knowing it was futile to expect someone to get here in time to save me, but at least they’d know where to find my body. And then I got it. The drone tracked my phone. I flung it hard toward a small clearing behind us.

  The craft altered direction. Gunfire strafed the area where the phone land
ed. Then the drone flew straight up in the air no longer firing and vanished behind the trees. The controller must have assumed he hit me.

  I bent at the waist, gulping in air, adrenalin pumping through my veins in jackhammer bursts. Rock was on the trail, still barking. When I caught my breath, I followed Rock onto the trail and we ran home.

  Once inside, I lurched through the kitchen, locked myself into the windowless secret office and dropped to the floor with my back against the wall. It had happened again. Every time I heard gunfire the images returned, sometimes in the moment, sometimes when staring at the news on TV, only this time my affliction nearly got me killed. I’d been unable to react until Rock barked.

  When the roar in my ears quieted, I pulled the wolf paw agate from my pocket and rubbed my thumb over its surface remembering Edgar’s vision of a large insect buzzing around me. Twice now and this one was no accident.

  Something scratched at the office door. I stiffened, then Rock’s familiar whine penetrated. He was talking to me. My body wouldn’t obey the command to get up. He scratched again. “Okay, Rock, I’m coming.” Furious at my physical weakness, I untangled myself and opened the door. Red rivulets trailed down my orange vest, onto Rock’s mat and along the white tile.

  Rock sniffed at his mat, one black and white ear lifted. The blood source was my left arm, midway between my shoulder and elbow.

  In the bathroom, I pressed a washcloth against the wound, wincing at the pain, remembering that sting on the trail. Thankful it was only a scratch, I rummaged in a cabinet for a bandage.

  The padded bandage stuck to the scrape while I ripped tape from the roll with my teeth and wound it across the bandage in awkward loops. Then I sank into a chair. There was no need to rush to tell anyone about the attack. The guy could have been five hundred feet away from his drone and was certainly even farther away by now. They wouldn’t investigate the site until it was light out. Excuses aside, I didn’t have enough energy to talk to anyone.