The Baron Blasko Mysteries (Book 3): Claws

by Howe, A. E.

  “I thought you’d given up on matching me up with Bobby?”

  “I just worry that the man don’t ever eat enough,” Grace said with sincerity.

  “He said he’s going to the diner.”

  Grace huffed. “That food ain’t fit for man nor beast. You should have made him come in and get something.”

  Blasko rose ten minutes after the sun dropped below the trees. It had become his favorite time of day. If he timed it right, he could just catch some light coming through the small windows high on one wall of his parlor. He received a not unpleasant warmth from the diffused sunlight. On the other hand, he never tried to catch the first light of morning before he slept. There was too great a risk of something happening to leave him fully exposed to the sun’s burning rays.

  As he stood in the pale fading light, he decided to make amends with Josephine for his eavesdropping and accusations. I must realize that she has not lived with this for centuries as I have, he reminded himself. What he didn’t acknowledge was the guilt he was feeling from feeding on Hawkins the loan shark.

  After he dressed, Blasko opened the door that led to the staircase and found Anton sitting on the bottom step, apparently waiting for the baron to rise. Blasko didn’t want to admit that he’d forgotten about the man.

  “Ah, Anton, there you are,” he said, clearing his throat and greeting the man in Rusyn.

  “Yes, Baron. Forgive me. I did not know what you wished me to do. So I waited.”

  “Excellent,” he said distractedly. “When do you plan to return to the mountains?” Blasko realized that he didn’t have a need for a manservant.

  “I am at your disposal. I sold my farm to my cousin. I have no home to go home to.”

  “I see,” Blasko said, thinking that he should have quizzed the man more closely the day before.

  “I am still strong. I can do whatever you need.”

  Then again, he might come in handy, Blasko thought.

  “Did you go upstairs to eat?”

  “No,” Anton said, as though he had failed in some great test of character.

  “You must eat. Come. I’ll take you upstairs and introduce you to the other servants.”

  Upstairs, Blasko took Anton into the kitchen and introduced him to Anna. At first, the two looked as nervous as ten-year-olds at their first school dance. But after Anna offered him a heaping plate of potatoes, roast and bread, they began to work out the language barrier. Anna’s mother was French, but had also taught her a fair amount of German. After a few false starts, Anton and Anna worked out a mix of German and English words that they both knew. Soon they were communicating in a mix of languages that Blasko didn’t even try to understand.

  Leaving the two new friends in the kitchen, he found Josephine in the parlor.

  “Is that man still here?” she asked. The tone wasn’t at all what she’d planned when she’d been considering how to reconcile with Blasko.

  “He is my guest,” the baron shot back, more harshly than he’d intended.

  “In my house!” Josephine responded. “No, I didn’t mean that,” she backpedaled quickly.

  “And I should have asked if you minded him staying,” Blasko admitted with a slight nod of his head.

  They looked at each other, feeling a distance that separated them more like diplomats than friends or lovers.

  We have to deal with my feelings, was what Josephine wanted to say. Instead, “I went to see the governor today.”

  You have to come to terms with the situation as it is and then bury it, Blasko wanted to tell her. Instead, “Who will replace Logan?”

  Josephine told Blasko about her day.

  “I think the colonel will be an excellent choice.”

  “That man is still here!” Grace said, coming into the room and pointing back toward the kitchen.

  “He’s going to be staying down in the baron’s apartment for a little while,” Josephine said.

  “You can use Anton for any work you feel is appropriate,” Blasko told Grace generously.

  Grace seemed to consider this for a moment. “You mean I can ask him to do somethin’ around here and he’ll do it?”

  “I’ll instruct him to be available during the day.”

  Grace tried hard to hide her excitement. She had never in her life supervised another person. The thought made her straighten her back. “Yes, sir!” she said and returned to the kitchen to inspect her underling.

  “Do you have any idea what you just did to poor Anton?” Josephine smiled and then downed half the glass of wine she’d been holding.

  Bobby Tucker came by an hour later.

  “Baron, I was hoping you’d go with me to talk with some suspects in the Handlin case. I had one of the deputies put together a list.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll stay here. Not that I was invited,” Josephine said playfully.

  “You are—” Bobby started.

  “No. Really, I’m quite tired,” she told him. “However, I would be interested in seeing the list.”

  Bobby pulled it out of his pocket. “Five names. Three of them were given to us by Mr. Handlin. The other two came from talking to the immediate neighbors.” He held the paper out to Josephine, who took it and ran down the names.

  “I know Silas Palmer. That old goat is a thorn under the community’s saddle.” Josephine frowned.

  “He and Mr. Handlin had an argument a couple of weeks ago over a bill for a load of coal. Handlin works as the manager for the All Alabama Coal company. They delivered a ton of coal to Silas’s house and he claimed they shorted him. Silas went so far as to pull his truck up in the coal yard and got his son to start shoveling coal into it. Handlin went out to talk to them. Long story short, Silas personally threatened Handlin before driving off.”

  “What is Charlie Parsons’s name doing on this list? He’s the nicest guy in town,” Josephine said.

  “A story from one of the neighbors suggests that Charlie was a little too nice to Mrs. Handlin,” Bobby said. Josephine was amused to see him blush.

  “I don’t know Benny Byron or Lee Brooks.”

  “Benny is a neighbor they played bridge with once a week until about six months ago, when he accused the Handlins of cheating.”

  “What about Lee Brooks?”

  “He works at the bakery. Makes deliveries. Apparently, Mrs. Handlin thought he was looking at her funny one day and said something to the owner. I know Brooks. He’s a little slow, but a good guy. One of our deputies went and talked to both of them at the time. Bottom line was, the only person who thought there was anything funny going on was Mrs. Handlin. Deputy Olson told the owner to just have Brooks go in the back whenever Mrs. Handlin came in.”

  “Okay, this last one has to be a joke. Daniel Robertson? My Daniel Robertson?”

  “According to Handlin, Robertson threatened them over a mortgage payment that Handlin said they made and the bank had no record of.”

  “Daniel has never threatened anyone,” Josephine said with a dismissive wave.

  “There must be some bad blood between them for Handlin to make the claim,” Bobby said, looking at his watch. “We need to get going if we’re to have a chance of questioning everyone this evening.”

  Josephine watched Blasko and Bobby leave, fascinated by the strange twists of fate that had brought them all together. She thought of the note that her cousin Franklin Carter had placed inside the book that had so angered Blasko.

  Dear Cousin Josie,

  Of course I cannot send the Necronomicon, but until I can return, I’m sending this book instead. Read it carefully. There are errors throughout, but I can vouch for the major themes. No vampire can be trusted. If you need further help, call me. I feel that I will soon be drawn back to Semmes County. Fate is drawing all of us closer.

  Yours,

  Franklin

  Josephine had just turned from the door when there was a knock. Thinking that Bobby had forgotten something, she swung the door open again. She was su
rprised to see Matthew Hodge standing on the porch.

  “The baron just left with Deputy Tucker,” she told him, expecting him to turn and go.

  “I know. I wanted to talk to you.” His voice was almost too soft for her to hear.

  “Certainly. Come in,” she said. “Let’s go to the parlor. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Water would be nice.”

  “I didn’t mean to offer you a… Everyone is impressed with how you’ve maintained your sobriety,” Josephine said, getting a glass of water for both of them.

  “It’s okay, you can drink in front of me,” Matthew said with a small smile for her kindness.

  “Sit.” She offered the chair across from the sofa. “What can I do for you?” She hoped that it wouldn’t be about money. There had been more than one friend and neighbor who had misunderstood her relationship with the bank.

  “I was hoping you’d introduce me to François LeSauvage.”

  “But you’ve been following him for weeks,” she said with a laugh, baffled by the request.

  “I’d like to try one of his séances.”

  “You could just ask him. He seems to be open to letting anyone join in. No charge,” Josephine said, still not understanding why he wanted her help.

  “I would feel… odd. I have been following him. I was just hoping you could take me to one.”

  Josephine stopped herself from pushing him to go by himself. She could see that he was embarrassed to be asking her for a favor. If he had felt comfortable going to a séance alone, he already would have. He was obviously nervous about it and this was the least she could do for him after what they had already been through together.

  “Okay. What do you hope to accomplish by going to one?”

  “I’m not any different than a million other guys. I’ve got a few ghosts from the war that I’d like to put to rest. I’ve heard that, at these séances, if someone… on the other side needs to contact you, they will. I just thought I’d give a few of my old buddies a chance. In case there’s something I can do for them or… if they think I owe them something.” This last was said so softly it was almost a whisper.

  “I’m sure you don’t owe anyone anything.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  She waited, but he didn’t say anything else. “I’ll make the arrangements. What day would be best for you?”

  Matthew looked surprised that she thought he had a calendar to check. “Any day would be great. Best if you didn’t tell the baron. He doesn’t seem to like that guy much.”

  Josephine told him she’d send word to his boarding house when she had a date and time, then walked him to the door. Watching him walk away, Josephine reflected on the influence Blasko had had on the county. Little more than six months ago, Matthew had been the town drunk, ignored by those who didn’t openly despise him. No, Franklin is wrong. There is more good than bad in Dragomir.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You pick a name from the list. ’Cause I don’t know how to decide which of them is most likely to turn into a wolf,” Bobby told Blasko.

  Blasko looked at the names and remembered what Bobby had said about each of them. “Maybe we should use age. The witness who saw the man walk away from the garage thought he was in his late thirties or forties.”

  “That leaves Silas out. He’s sixty-something if he’s a day and looks like he’s been living rough the whole time. Your witness didn’t think he was black, so that would leave Brooks off the short list. Daniel is also outside the age range. That leaves us with Benny Byron, the card player, and Charlie Parsons, who might be playing other kinds of games. Both of them live in the right direction from the garage. Benny’s house comes up first.”

  Five minutes later, they pulled into the Byrons’ driveway. The house was nothing special—a small clapboard structure—but the property boasted an impressive ancient live oak whose massive branches spread the width of the entire front yard. There were lights on in the house and a face peeked out from behind the front curtains as Blasko and Bobby made their way up the stone walk to the small porch.

  When Bobby knocked, they heard the sound of kids shouting to their parents that there were two strangers at the front door. A woman yelled at them to stay away from the windows.

  “Who is it?” a male voice asked from the other side of the door.

  “Deputy Tucker.”

  “How do I know you’re a deputy?”

  Bobby pulled out his star and held it up to the small window at the top of the door. He tapped it on the glass to get the man’s attention. After what sounded like furniture being pulled across the floor, the door opened.

  Blasko looked the man up and down, trying to judge how well he fit George’s description. It was a slight stretch to call the man’s build average as he was a bit stocky, but there was nothing that would completely rule him out.

  “We’d like to ask you some questions about the murder of Mrs. Handlin,” Bobby said.

  “You should be out there looking for the animal or crazy man that did it,” Benny said, waving at the darkness behind them.

  “We just have a few questions for you,” Bobby said and started to walk forward.

  Obligingly, Benny stepped back so they could enter the house. Mrs. Byron was standing in the living room with her hand up to her mouth, looking baffled at the evening’s turn of events.

  A young boy and girl peered into the living room from the hallway, spurring Mrs. Byron into action.

  “You two get back down to your room,” she said, shooing them in that direction.

  “I don’t know what I can tell you,” Benny said.

  “I understand you accused the Handlins of cheating at cards,” Bobby said. In an instant, Benny’s face turned red and angry.

  “They were cheating! I know they were. But Pete kicked us out of the card circle. What was that…” His voice suddenly trailed off. “You don’t think… I would… it was just cards.”

  After watching Benny’s outburst, Blasko raised his eyebrows at this.

  “Where were you the night before last?” Bobby asked.

  “Here. I’m always here in the evening if Mittens and I aren’t going out to play cards or go to a movie,” Benny said, his face all open innocence now.

  “Did you make any threats against the Handlins?”

  Benny’s face went from innocent to flustered. “Threats? Like what? I was angry. I might have said something in the heat of the moment.”

  “When Pete asked you and your wife to leave the card circle, he said you told him that the Handlins would pay a price for cheating.” Bobby waited, giving Benny time to squirm.

  “I might have. Like I said, I was really angry… but not that angry. I was upset. I might have said that,” he finished lamely.

  “Don’t mind Benny,” his wife said, walking back into the room and putting her hand on his shoulder. “He gets upset all the time. Dr. McGuire has warned him not to get so worked up, but…” She paused, then added, “Benny was here with us the night before last. We had pork chops. A real treat. Didn’t we, Benny?” Benny nodded. “I think we listened to Tarzan and then a music show out of Atlanta,” she continued, waving at the radio.

  Bobby tried a few more questions without any luck. Mittens had formed a fortress around her husband and wasn’t going to let Bobby or Blasko breach it.

  “She would lie for her husband every day through Sunday,” Bobby said as they left the house. “I know the type. She’d make the perfect gun moll.”

  “I remember a battle once. We’d broken through the enemy’s main line and were approaching their camp. A woman came out of a large cooking tent with a cleaver in one hand and a butcher knife in the other. As one, our victorious soldiers stopped and watched the woman. She would stab and slice at anyone who made a move toward her camp kitchen. We made much fun of her, but she was still there with her tent, kettles and pans when we moved on.”

  Bobby gave Blasko a sideways glance. He knew that there was something n
ot quite natural about him, but he didn’t know Blasko’s true nature or his history. Hearing the baron talk about the battle as though he’d been there yesterday struck him as very odd.

  “Yeah, exactly,” Bobby said, not knowing how to respond. “Charlie Parsons lives just a couple of blocks over.”

  Their reception at Charlie’s house stood in stark contrast to the one they’d received at Benny’s.

  “Come in. I am devastated by Mrs. Handlin’s murder.” He looked it. Charlie’s eyes were red and underlined by dark shadows, as though he’d been crying recently. “That sounds so trite.” He shook his head and waved them into his living room.

  “How well did you know the Handlins?” Bobby didn’t want to tip his hand.

  “I manage the local office of the Southern Alabama Dairy Company. I’ve been doing that for a year. Before that, I was making deliveries myself and the Handlins were on my route.”

  Bobby wondered if the rumors of an affair stemmed from the trope of the randy milkman. “So you had an opportunity to talk to the Handlins on more than one occasion?”

  “I talked to all my customers. I was good at my job. Knowing your route and the folks on it is what the job is all about. I remind my drivers of that every week. To remember that we don’t just make deliveries; we’re salesmen too. There are occasions when you have to know what your customer needs, even if they don’t.”

  “Milk delivery business aside, how well did you know Mrs. Handlin?” As soon as he asked the question, he saw Charlie’s mask slip a little. Bobby knew then that there was some truth in the rumors.

  “I don’t know what you’re implying,” Charlie said unconvincingly.

  “Yes, you do. By saying that, you just proved to me that you’re stalling. We know you had a relationship with Mrs. Handlin.” They didn’t know any such thing, but Bobby decided to go for the gold ring.

  “I did not,” Charlie said firmly. Bobby’s gamble had fallen short.

  “Are you married, Mr. Parsons?” Blasko asked. He’d gotten up and was walking around the small living room. It was furnished with a mix of furniture that wasn’t very valuable, but was sturdy and well made.