The Baron Blasko Mysteries (Book 3): Claws

by Howe, A. E.

  “And because the local politicians need your support, then they would be likely to push your candidate for sheriff when speaking with the governor. This all seems more complicated than is necessary.”

  “Precisely. But I’m not above using my influence when it will do some good. We shouldn’t be talking about this yet. Logan has been pushed over the edge with everything that has gone on in the last six months, but he’s a good man. He’s a bit… hardnosed, even military, in his approach, but most of the time that’s served him well. Less of the good ol’ boy and a little more chain of command. I really hope he’ll recover.”

  “Of course,” Blasko said noncommittally.

  Josephine put down her book. “I need to get some sleep.”

  Blasko looked at the clock and saw that he had only a few more hours of darkness. He said goodnight and went down to his room to read.

  “Vasile, my friend, could I really have been so wrong about this spiritualist?” he asked, gently stroking the bat as it crawled along his arm. “I will only admit it to you, but the truth is, I’ve been wrong in the past. This time… I’m not so sure that I am. Maybe the man has the power to mesmerize his audience. Make them think they’ve spent hours with him when in fact they’ve been sitting there in a stupor while he’s been out ravaging people.”

  Blasko thought about this for a moment. “Could he have put Matthew in a trance when he was across the street? Bah! Even I can’t do that.”

  Blasko decided he’d have to let it go for the moment. He picked up Murder on the Links. He liked Holmes better than Poirot, but Christie’s stories were much more current.

  “Maybe I envy Poirot his little grey cells,” he suggested to Vasile before settling into the book.

  Chapter Eleven

  Despite her late night, Josephine was up early on Saturday morning. If Bobby made it back to town in time, she wanted to be ready. She couldn’t shake the feeling that talking with Molly Chester could answer some important questions.

  “I can’t be goin’ out at night no more,” Grace said as soon as Josephine came down the stairs. “And you shouldn’t either.”

  “So you heard about the attack last night.”

  “Everybody in this town has heard about it. First that boy was killed and now this. There’s a monster loose, for sure. Does the baron have any idea who’s doin’ these horrible things?”

  “Right now, everyone is in the dark.”

  “People are sayin’ that the sheriff was attacked too. They took him to the hospital in Montgomery,” Grace continued as Josephine made her way to the kitchen and the promise of coffee.

  “He wasn’t attacked. Sheriff Logan had a stroke. At least that’s what the doctor thought it was last night.”

  “What is this town gonna do now?” Grace said, shaking her head and following Josephine into the kitchen.

  “Don’t spread rumors. The truth in this case is bad enough.” Josephine grabbed the coffee that Anna held out to her.

  “My husband won’t let me come home in the dark either.”

  “Okay, no one has to go out at night. Grace, you have your room upstairs. No reason for you to go out. And Anna, we can take our meals at five and Grace and I will clean up.” Josephine thought Grace might object to taking on some of Anna’s work, but apparently the current crisis was enough to mitigate any concerns about domestic responsibilities.

  “You get home and lock your doors before it gets dark,” Grace told Anna.

  “That woman was attacked in her own kitchen,” Anna said, making it sound like the worst part of the crime was that it had been committed in the kitchen.

  Before anyone could say anything else, there was a light tap on the back door. Josephine looked out and saw a very rumpled Bobby Tucker standing on the porch.

  “I didn’t want to disturb anyone if you weren’t up yet,” he explained as he came inside.

  “I’m up. But I’m amazed that you are after driving to Montgomery and back.”

  “I just stayed until Mrs. Logan and Jessie got there. I managed to get a couple hours’ sleep.”

  “I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t want to miss our window of opportunity.” Josephine finished her coffee and, in a very un-ladylike manner, gulped a fist-size piece of apple fritter that Anna had made.

  Ten minutes later they were in Bobby’s car, driving slowly through Sumter’s business district, looking for the Chesters’ truck.

  “I think that’s it,” Josephine said, pointing to a black truck that looked like most of the other black trucks parked along the street.

  “How can you tell?”

  “I noticed the crack in the back window when we were out at the farm.”

  “You need to learn to be more observant,” Bobby joked with a shake of his head. He put his foot down on the gas pedal and they rumbled out of town toward the Chesters’ place.

  “Looks like you were right,” Bobby said, studying the farm from the road as they drove up. “Though that doesn’t mean Mrs. Chester isn’t home.”

  “Or that Molly is,” Josephine said as Bobby pulled through the farm gate and up beside the house.

  “Maybe you should wait in the car,” he said.

  “That’s not going to happen. We’re talking about a young woman. I’ll have a better chance of talking with her than you will.”

  Josephine opened her door and felt a strange sense of dread as she stepped out of the car. The farm didn’t look much different than it had when they’d been out there before, but it felt different. She noted that Bobby’s hand was hovering over the gun that rode in a leather holster on his belt.

  “Front door or back door?” Bobby asked.

  “If she’s up in her room, she’s more likely to hear us at the front door.” Josephine looked up at the two sets of second-story windows. White curtains hung in one set while the other appeared to have boards behind the curtains. “That’s strange.”

  Bobby followed her gaze. “Let’s try the door,” he said with a frown.

  The steps up to the porch creaked as they walked up to the front door, which was in need of a coat of paint. Bobby rapped on the door, waited and rapped again. Nothing. He reached down and tried the knob. It turned, which surprised him only a little. Not many people bothered to lock their doors out in the country. At least they hadn’t before the killings.

  “In for a penny, in for a pound,” Josephine encouraged him.

  Bobby pushed the door open and the smell of old tobacco and musty furniture wafted out.

  “Hello to the house! Anyone home?” Bobby shouted into the semi-darkness. No sound answered his call. He looked back at Josephine.

  “In for—”

  “I heard you the first time.” Bobby stepped over the threshold, continuing to call without getting any response.

  “Is it me or is there something… off about this house?” Josephine said, looking around warily.

  “Come on, let’s see if she’s here. I wouldn’t want to be in Mr. Chester’s house when he comes home,” Bobby said, and quickly checked the four main rooms that made up the downstairs. Finding nothing, he said, “I’m coming up,” as he put a foot on the bottom stair.

  “This seemed like such a good idea yesterday,” Josephine said, following close behind him.

  On the second floor, which was laid out in the same four-room pattern as the first, only one of the four doors was open. They checked that room first, but it was empty.

  “Molly, it’s Josephine Nicholson. We’re just checking to make sure you’re okay,” Josephine said, trying to keep the nervous quiver out of her voice. The house was too quiet for a place that didn’t feel empty.

  They checked the first closed door and found that it opened into a room full of old clothes and furniture that had been made in the last century.

  “Looks like these might have belonged to Molly’s grandparents,” Josephine suggested.

  The next door led to one of the front rooms. Bobby tried the door, but it was locked. He knocked gently a
nd Josephine called Molly’s name again. Still nothing. They left it for the moment and looked in the last room, which appeared to be a seldom-used guestroom. Bobby went back to the locked door, reaching up and feeling along the ledge just above the door frame.

  “Clever boy,” Josephine said when he revealed the key he found.

  “Molly, if you’re in there, we’re going to open the door. We just want to make sure you’re okay,” Bobby said to the closed door before inserting the key in the lock. He twisted it and the door started to swing open as soon as the bolt was clicked back.

  The room was a mess, but not filthy, and the wooden-frame bed looked slept in. Only slices of light coming through the boards illuminated the dark room.

  “Why did they board up the windows?” Josephine asked.

  “Because of the monster,” came a hoarse whisper from the far side of the bed, making both Bobby’s and Josephine’s hearts skip a beat. Josephine moved around the bed and saw a young woman crouched down low, hugging her knees. Josephine couldn’t make out her features in the dim light.

  “Molly?” she asked and saw a slight nod of the girl’s head.

  “I’m going to turn on the light,” Bobby said.

  “Is that okay with you?” Josephine asked and received another small nod.

  Bobby flipped the light switch and the single electric bulb clicked on, casting the room in a dull yellow glow. With the light, Josephine got a clearer look at the girl. There were dark circles under her eyes and her shoulder-length blonde hair was uncombed and tangled. To Josephine, Molly looked like she hadn’t slept since her boyfriend had been killed. Her eyes look haunted, she thought, instinctively crouching down beside the girl.

  “Molly, this is Deputy Tucker. We’d like to talk to you.”

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Did your father lock you in here?” Bobby asked.

  In response, Molly gave an odd little giggle.

  Josephine gently reached out and examined the girl’s arm and face to see if there were any marks or bruises, but she didn’t see anything that a bath wouldn’t remove.

  “Has anyone hurt you?” Josephine asked and Molly answered with another strange laugh.

  “It killed him,” she said, looking at the boarded windows.

  “Were you there?” Bobby asked, coming closer and kneeling down beside Josephine.

  “It was horrible. When I woke up, I thought I’d had a nightmare. Then… then… I heard about Seth.”

  “Did you go out to meet him that morning?” Bobby said.

  Molly’s eyes grew wide and her lower lip trembled.

  “It’s okay,” Josephine said, taking the girl’s hand. “Can you tell us who killed Seth?”

  “A monster. It was awful. Blood everywhere. Wolf. A great wolf. Standing up.” She started to shake and cry. Awkwardly, Josephine hugged the girl and held her, trying to calm her down. She looked up at Bobby, who shook his head sadly.

  “Do you know of anyone who was angry with you or Seth?” Bobby asked after a minute.

  “I…” Molly went quiet and looked lost in thought.

  “Did either of you have an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend who might have been jealous?”

  “Tom. Tom wasn’t happy when I quit steppin’ out with him. I just didn’t love him.” Her eyes were still unfocused.

  “Tom who?” Bobby pressed.

  “Bradford.”

  “Luke Bradford’s son?”

  “That’s right,” Molly said. “But the monster killed Seth.”

  “The monster,” Bobby repeated with a sigh.

  Josephine looked at the helpless young woman. How can we just get up and leave her? she thought. She hadn’t realized until that moment that they hadn’t developed an exit plan. How could they leave this poor girl in this condition? What were they going to tell the Chesters if they came home while she and Bobby were still in the house? And, anyway, Molly was likely to let the Chesters know they’d been there. I need to work harder at thinking my plans through, Josephine chastised herself.

  “Is there anything we can do to help you?” Josephine asked the girl.

  “I want to die,” she moaned.

  “I know you do. I understand the impulse, but you can’t give in to it,” Josephine said, hugging the girl to her.

  Then they heard the sound of a truck pulling up outside.

  “Hell,” Bobby said under his breath.

  Within minutes, heavy boots stomped onto the front porch. “I don’t know who you are, but you better make yourself known quick-like!” came a shout from downstairs.

  Bobby opened the door. “It’s Deputy Tucker, Mr. Chester. We just come by to—” Bobby tried to explain, but Chester was already pounding up the stairs.

  “What? Break into my house? Damn you!”

  Bobby was standing in the doorway and could see the shotgun that Mr. Chester was carrying.

  “We were concerned for your daughter,” Bobby said, keeping an eye on the shotgun and ready to move if Mr. Chester looked like he planned to use it. Bobby remembered the advice Sheriff Logan had given him years earlier: Try to keep an eye on the end of the barrel and the man’s trigger finger. You’ll know you’re in trouble if the barrel starts to point toward you or if the man puts his finger on the trigger.

  “Who asked for your help?”

  “No one has seen her for days. Not since the Taylor boy was killed,” Bobby said, trying to make it sound reasonable that they’d come out and entered the Chesters’ house uninvited.

  “You mean since her beau was killed. That’s what you mean. Sure, I know about it,” Mr. Chester growled.

  “When did you find out they were seeing each other?” Bobby said, trying to take control of the confrontation.

  Mr. Chester glowered. “You think I tore that boy up?”

  “I bet you have quite a temper when you feel like you’ve been betrayed.”

  “I’ll show you what kind of temper I got,” Mr. Chester said, clutching the shotgun in his hand. Then he took a deep breath and slowly relaxed. “You aren’t going to trick me. Sure I was angry when I found out, but I didn’t know nothin’ about what those two were gettin’ up to until a few days after the boy was killed. Ask my wife. She knows when I found out.”

  “You can count on me asking her. What are you doing for your daughter? She needs to get some help,” Bobby pressed him.

  “My family is my business. I told you I haven’t broken no laws. So you don’t have any right to be here.”

  “I’m investigating the murder of a young man. One who was on his way to see your daughter against your wishes. Seems like I got a good reason to be here.”

  Mrs. Chester came up the stairs behind her husband. “Where’s Molly? Is she okay?” she asked, her eyes hooded and sad.

  “She’s as good as she was when we got here,” Bobby said.

  “Stay out of this,” her husband told her, but she kept coming up the stairs.

  Bobby wondered if Mr. Chester would try to block her way, but when she got to him he didn’t move as she edged around him. Bobby moved out of the doorway so she could get into her daughter’s bedroom.

  “It’s all right now, Molly, we’re here,” her mother said, stroking her hair lovingly. Mrs. Chester looked at Josephine. “She’s gotten worse.”

  “She told us she saw Seth get killed,” Josephine said.

  “I don’t know if she did or not. I told her about how they found him. I swear I thought it was the right thing to do. Now I don’t know.” She pulled her daughter to her.

  “You should get Dr. McGuire to come out and see her.”

  In response, Josephine saw a look in the woman’s eyes that she had become very familiar with. We can’t afford it.

  “Would there be a problem if I asked him to check on her?”

  Josephine saw more hesitation. We don’t take charity.

  “If she did see the attack on Seth, then she’s a witness and the county might need her to testify. They’d need her to be
strong and will pick up the cost of any medical bills.” Josephine didn’t know if that was true, but it didn’t matter. She’d talk to Dr. McGuire and pay for any costs.

  “That’d be good.” Mrs. Chester nodded.

  Josephine stood up.

  “We should go,” Bobby said from the doorway as Mr. Chester pushed past him.

  Josephine and Bobby didn’t speak until they had put a few miles between them and the Chester farm.

  “We were lucky to get out of there without someone getting hurt,” Bobby finally said, turning to Josephine.

  “That poor girl.” Josephine couldn’t get the image of Molly’s haunted eyes out of her mind.

  “When we found her, I thought her father had beat her, or worse,” Bobby said.

  “He’s a hard man, but I don’t think he’s mean.”

  “Whatever or whoever killed Seth did a hell of a lot of damage to Molly too. I’d guess she was lucky to escape it that night.” Bobby shook his head. “Man or beast. Or maybe part man and part beast. I know how to hunt down a man, and I’d have a good idea how to go about hunting down a beast, but something that’s both and not all of either? How the hell do we deal with something like that?”

  “I guess you’re in charge right now.”

  “Until we know more about Sheriff Logan’s condition. I feel like we weren’t being very fair to him. Making decisions when you don’t even know what’s doing the killing isn’t easy. I can’t come out and tell everyone that we’re after some werebeast. I’d be thrown off my high horse in a second. Of course, if Logan really is bad off, then the governor will appoint somebody. That happens and we could have a real mess on our hands with somebody who’s not from around here coming in and trying to make sense of things that… don’t really make sense.” Bobby’s voice was tired.

  “I’ve got my own thoughts on that,” Josephine said as they approached town.

  “Don’t go off half-cocked,” Bobby warned.

  “That’s why I don’t want to tell you about it right now. Let me think on it.”

  He dropped her off at her house and promised to go home and get some more sleep. However, when he left, she saw him head toward the sheriff’s office.