From The Shadows (Blaze series Book 1)

by David Carter

  Ryan grinned. “How did you know that?”

  “Oh, sweet and innocent man!” She smiled. “The whole town probably knows by now.”

  “News sure travels fast around here.”

  Her face brightened up. “Yes, well, I heard through a very reliable source that you were seen leaving her apartment early this morning.”

  Ryan couldn’t help blushing at her insinuation. “It seems there’s no use in denying it. Guilty as charged, ma’am.” He smiled.

  He thanked her for everything, and put the sad news of O’Brian’s passing aside for the moment, grinning to himself while strolling back to his car, knowing the next person he was going to see was Sharon.

  Chapter 42

  “Would you mind if I joined you?” Hampton asked Elizabeth.

  She was picking at her smoked chicken salad while sitting at the bar in The Greasy Axle, thinking about Trinity and how frightened she must be.

  “Sure,” she muttered.

  “Thank you.” He took a seat on the stool next to hers. “So how are you doing? I can only imagine how anxious you must be feeling right now...”

  She said nothing.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive,” he said gently.

  “No, it’s not your fault. My stomach’s in knots just thinking about her.”

  “Why don’t we try focus on something else?” He smiled.

  “Such as?”

  Hampton noticed her wine glass almost empty. “How about I order you another drink? What will you be having?”

  “No, I’m fine thanks…”

  “Please, I insist. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Oh, go on then, twist my arm.” Hampton saw the tiniest glimmer of a smile in the corners of her mouth.

  “What’s your poison?”

  “Sauvignon Blanc if you don’t mind.”

  He was just about to get up and order her a glass, but stopped, and said to her, “As much of an excellent choice that is, I just noticed on the wine list here that they stock my favourite unoaked Chardonnay made right here in little old New Zealand. It’s quite similar to Sauvignon Blanc but has a much fuller body to it, and it’s simply charming to the palate. Care to give it a try?”

  “Sure.”

  “Excellent. I like to consider myself an expert food and wine connoisseur,” he said as he patted his waistline.”

  He noticed her lips break into a smile for a split second.

  Ryan walked into The Greasy Axle and headed straight over to the bar where Sharon had just finished pulling a round of beers. He made a beeline for her before she noticed him, and said, “What does a guy have to do to get some service around here?”

  Sharon melted him with her perfect smile. “Why don’t you come round this side of the bar and find out?”

  He followed her lead, taking her in his arms, and giving her a long, passionate kiss before they finally let one another breathe again.

  Out the corner of his eye he noticed Elizabeth and Hampton at the other end of the bar. “Is it me or do they look rather cosy?”

  “Don’t be silly.” She jabbed his shoulder playfully. “He’s been a complete gentleman. And believe me, she could use some company. I haven’t been able to get boo out of her since she got back from Winterhill.”

  “In that case, I’ll leave them be while I go and drop off some dinner for Blaze. Then I’ll be back to talk shop with Hampton.”

  “Cameron...” she said nervously.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m a little anxious about Blaze.”

  “Why?”

  She hesitated. “I was on the jury at his trial. I delivered the guilty verdict to the court.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he reassured her.

  “Thank you,” she said, relieved. She gave his hand a squeeze and whispered, “Hurry back; I’ll close up early tonight.”

  Ryan felt the blood pressure rise in his pants again.

  She hustled over to the kitchen and asked the chef to make two burgers and curly fries, take-away. When they were ready, Ryan bought a six pack of beer, and headed off to the police station, promising both himself and Sharon he would return promptly.

  Blaze was grateful for the burger and fries. He polished them off with great gusto, savouring every mouthful, as did Ryan. Ryan then retrieved the six pack from the fridge and the remote to the TV in Blaze’s cell. “I’ve got to get back to the bar. Enjoy the beers and watch some rubbish on telly if you like. I won’t be back till morning.”

  Curiously, Blaze asked, “Where are you staying?”

  “At the bar,” he replied.

  “You going on an all-night bender or something?”

  “I’m meeting my partner, Hampton, and your mother—and Sharon King,” he blurted out. Never a better time than the present to clear the air, he thought.

  Blaze instantly made the connection. “Yep, I’d be tapping that ass, too, if I were in your shoes.”

  “We don’t have a problem then?”

  “Why would we?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Sharon’s worried that you’re angry at her because she delivered the guilty verdict at your trial.”

  “So what? I didn’t take it personally. Any sane person would’ve done the same thing. I knew I was going to prison from the moment I struck the match.”

  “Why do it then?”

  “Do what?”

  “Waste time and money on a trial if you didn’t care about the outcome?”

  “All part of the plan.”

  “To find and kill the Watcher, right?”

  Blaze opened one of the beers and took a long swig, finishing the whole bottle. “Damn right,” he said, wiping his mouth with his forearm. “I wanted to give that fucker every reason to come out of hiding and show himself.”

  “Well it worked. Three people are dead now—” He stopped himself short.

  “Because of me?”

  “Honestly, that’s what I was going to say. But it wasn’t you who butchered those people. That’s all on him.”

  Blaze opened another bottle, and drained it in one long swig again. He burped long and hard, then said, “I appreciate your honesty. You’re not bad for a bloody cop.”

  “Detective,” he corrected him.

  “Same fucking thing to me.”

  “Well, it isn’t to me.”

  “Whatever.”

  Ryan went to leave. Before he did, he said, “So just to be clear: you’re okay with the fact that I’m seeing Sharon? I just thought I should be honest with you—you know, seeing as we’re working together now.”

  “I don’t give a shit, all right? I’m not her fucking father...”

  “But...?”

  “Well, there is one thing I have to say about it.”

  “Go on, spit it out.”

  Blaze opened his third bottle. He said, “She’s one of the good ones around here. And in this goddamn hick town they are few and far between. She helped me out once back in high school when she didn’t have to. So be warned; if you hurt her in any way, I’ll kill you myself.”

  Ryan smiled. “You’ll have to get in line.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your mother said the exact same words to me. Seems like you two have more in common than you realise.”

  “Don’t even go there, detective,” he said firmly, and drained his bottle.

  “You’ll have to sort your shit out sooner or later...”

  Blaze wiped his mouth. “Later works fine for me.” He stared at the floor. I’m not ready to forgive her. Will I ever be?

  Ryan left him alone and returned to the bar. Sharon had closed up early as promised, leaving just herself, Ryan, Hampton, and Elizabeth huddled around a table.

  “Have you heard any news about Trinity?” Elizabeth asked Ryan hopefully.

  “Not yet, but I’m sure we will hear something soon,” he said confidently.

  “In the meantime, we should update our profile of this Watcher character,” said Hampton. “What
have we got so far?”

  “Let’s see,” said Ryan, “older generation, male, resident of Glendale, extremely religious, an obsession with daggers and/or sharp weapons, has a long-standing beef with Bobby or Blaze or whatever you want to call him, and knows about Matthew Jones’ ridiculous secret club.”

  Elizabeth nearly fell off her chair. She turned to Ryan. “What did you just say?”

  Ryan began to rattle off the list again, but she interrupted him, saying, “No, no, no. Tell me the bit about Matthew Jones and his secret club.”

  Ryan eagerly looked in Hampton’s direction. He nodded his approval.

  Ryan said, “Well, he is the president of a secret club that protects the sanctity and religious traditions of Glendale. They call themselves the Protec—”

  “Protectors of the Past?” she cut him off.

  There was a moment’s silence as the two detectives realised they hadn’t mentioned the name of the club to her before. They asked in unison, “How did you know that?”

  Elizabeth put her hand over her mouth in shock as she saw the pieces of the puzzle come together in her mind. She eyeballed the two stunned detectives, before she frantically whispered, “I think I know who the Watcher is!”

  Chapter 43

  “Well don’t keep us in suspense any longer! Who is he?” demanded Ryan.

  Elizabeth collected herself, then said, “My ex-fiancé, Arnold Spencer.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You said the Watcher was possibly somebody close to me. So, yes, I’m sure.”

  “I hope so. Because as Hampton said, I can’t arrest an innocent man for the second time in three days.”

  “I’m sure it’s him. All the pieces fit together perfectly!” she said emphatically.

  Hampton gently put his hand on her arm. “Why don’t you start from the beginning? Then we can decide where to go from there.”

  They all waited with bated breath for Elizabeth to shed some light on her theory.

  She led off by saying, “While I was in the process of divorcing my husband, Raymond, I became friendly with a gentleman, namely, Arnold Spencer. He was a good Catholic man with strong religious views and morals, and we fell in love. Once the divorce papers came through we decided to get married, but we struck a few problems that made me wary of him, and I eventually called the wedding off.”

  “What problems?” Ryan probed. “You must be very specific,” he added as he flipped open his notebook to write everything down.

  Hampton followed suit.

  “Well, there were two major things that ended our relationship. The first was that Arnold and Bobby butted heads constantly. Bobby refused to acknowledge the fact he was going to have a stepfather, and his complete lack of respect towards Arnold rubbed thin almost the day I introduced the two of them.”

  “I can imagine,” said Ryan.

  “One Sunday after church we went to Arnold’s house for lunch. I’d say Bobby was eight years old, and was starting to grow into his body. Trinity and James persuaded Bobby to go outside and play cricket with them and Arnold in the back yard. Only a few minutes later I heard screaming and shouting. Trinity came running inside, yelling for me to come quickly. I ran out the back door to find Arnold with blood dripping from his nose while he held Bobby in a headlock. Apparently, Bobby had said something crude, and Arnold had told him to watch his mouth. Bobby snapped and told him to watch his face before he rearranged it. Arnold told him to show some respect, to which Bobby replied by punching him in the nose. Arnold was deceptively strong for a man of average height and build, and restrained Bobby in a headlock and wouldn’t let go until he apologised.” She let out a long sigh. “Needless to say, Bobby refused, so I screamed at Arnold to let him go, but he wouldn’t. After I threatened to call the police they finally broke apart and eventually calmed down.”

  “You poor thing,” said Sharon sympathetically.

  Elizabeth patted her hand in appreciation. “After weeks of him grovelling, I finally gave in and gave Arnold a second chance. Everything returned to normal, apart from the odd verbal skirmish between Arnold and Bobby, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle,” she said.

  “Interesting,” said Ryan. “And the second thing?”

  She sighed. “Well, home life was bearable until suddenly, Arnold was always ‘busy’ on certain nights of the week that he couldn’t and wouldn’t explain. I assumed he was having an affair. So, one night after talking to him on the telephone and hearing that he couldn’t come over, yet again, I got in my car and drove to his house, and parked down the street out of sight. As soon as it got dark I saw him come outside and get into his car.” She paused to have a sip from her wine glass. “I followed him until he stopped outside a red brick house in one of the nicer areas of town and went inside for almost two hours. When he finally came back outside, I saw five other men whom I recognised. I got out of the car and confronted Arnold in front of them, demanding what he was doing there, and he just lost it with me. He gave me a verbal spray, second to none in my lifetime, which reminded me of my abusive ex-husband.” She took another sip of wine. “The men took me inside and—”

  “Wait,” interjected Ryan. “Who were the other men?”

  “From memory, there was Eric Thompson, Jimmy Hicks, Fred Flemming, Gordon Bateman, Henry Amon, and when I went inside Judge Matthew Jones was in there staring at me as if I was a criminal. He demanded that I told them all what I was doing there, and when I explained I was trying to figure out Arnold’s whereabouts, they told me about their club. Arnold was unanimously voted out as punishment for my infringing upon their meeting, and I was sworn to secrecy by the men. They were very intimidating, and I almost agreed with what they were trying to achieve in Glendale, so I never uttered a word of it until now.”

  They all sat in disbelief at Elizabeth’s revelation, and patiently waited for her to continue as she downed the remainder of her wine. “I told Arnold to never call me again, but he tried every day until I threatened to take out a restraining order against him. That seemed to get the message across, but I’m sure he’s held a grudge against me ever since. To this day, he still refuses to look at me, even at church!”

  Ryan sat quietly, mulling over her story.

  “Well, we have a strong motive,” said Hampton.

  “Go on,” said Ryan.

  “Well, Bobby drove a wedge between Elizabeth and Arnold; he then lost his position in the Protectors of the Past, right before Elizabeth calls off their wedding.”

  “It’s all circumstantial. I still need more.”

  Sharon had been sitting quietly, intently listening. She said, “Arnold eats dinner here at least twice a week. I do remember one evening, about a year ago, I heard him having a heated discussion with another man about what the Bible says about homosexuality. Arnold was dead serious about the fact that the Bible clearly states it is wrong. I ended up having to ask them to either shut up or leave, as not everyone wants to hear about sensitive religious views while they are out having dinner or a relaxing drink after work.”

  “Is that so?” said Ryan, intrigued. “Well that certainly fits the Watcher’s profile.” He turned to Elizabeth, and asked, “Did Arnold ever show any display of intolerance towards homosexuals or mention anything about it while you were dating?”

  She racked her memory, then said, “Well, there was this one time...”

  “Yes?”

  “On one of our first dates we went to the movies in Milton City. Arnold saw two men holding hands while we took our seats. He was very vocal about his opinion of them to the point that I was embarrassed by what he’d said, as people were looking and pointing at us.”

  Ryan wrote everything down. He went over his notes again. “I still need more,” he said. “We need as much ammunition as possible before I can get an arrest warrant.”

  “Surely we have enough to nail him right now?” suggested Hampton.

  “No, we don’t,” said Ryan curtly. “And I’m not leaving this to chance. If
we spring an arrest on Arnold tonight and he is the Watcher, it may bring serious harm or even worse to Trinity. There is absolutely no way I am going to risk that when we have met his demands for her safe release tomorrow.”

  “Do you honestly believe he will just let her go?” asked Elizabeth doubtfully.

  Ryan considered her question carefully. “Yes, I believe he will,” he replied confidently. “If the Watcher is as clever and as observant as he claims he is, he already knows we have Blaze in custody and that’s what he’s wanted all along. As soon as we have Trinity back safe and sound, I can at least have a search warrant organised by then, and we can go raid his house with zero risk to her life. He has no idea that we’re on to him, so we have the element of surprise on our side. Let’s not waste it, yeah?”

  “Agreed,” said Hampton.

  Ryan looked at Elizabeth. “Have you got anything else on Arnold that might tip the balance in our favour? Anything at all that might be useful?” he asked hopefully.

  She went to say something, then stopped herself.

  “What? What is it?” asked Ryan.

  “It’s probably nothing...”

  “I’ll take anything right now.”

  She hesitated, then said, “Arnold is a keen collector.”

  “In what field?”

  “World War Two memorabilia. He has a treasure trove of genuine items down in his basement.”

  “Anything of significance that stands out?”

  “Well, he has all the usual things a typical collector has: uniforms, newspaper clippings, medals, helmets, rifles, bayonets...”

  “And?”

  “Several daggers.”

  “Daggers or knives? People often mistake one for the other.”

  “No, definitely daggers. He was very proud to show them off to me. I made the mistake of calling one a knife when he gave me the tour of his collection, to which he corrected me emphatically.”

  “Thank you, Elizabeth!” said Ryan.

  “For what?”

  He had already got up from the table and pulled out his phone from his trouser pocket. He said to the person on the other end of the call, “I need a warrant for the arrest of Arnold Spencer—and make it snappy.”