Teacup Novellas 02 - Strike the Match (12 page)

Keri stepped carefully through the debris. The office of the
Waterford Weekly
was a mess, but the damage was mostly contained to the back part of the old house. The press would need a proper burial, but better it than Shep. A chill raced down her back as she visualized Grant’s strange but kind old father looking so fragile in his hospital bed. She’d stopped by to check on him first thing this morning, relieved to find him out of the ER, moved to his own room.

She’d hoped for a chance to talk to Grant, but was surprised instead to find her aunt at Shep’s bedside. Any doubts she may have had about a budding romance between those two had immediately been laid to rest. She couldn’t help the smile that kept tugging at her mouth as she listened to her aunt update her on Shep’s progress. Nita kept patting his hand, stroking his wayward hair as she told Keri about the doctor’s visit earlier in the morning.

“Shep’s gonna be just fine. Another couple days of observation here, then he can go home. I told Dr. Richards we’d all be sure he got plenty of TLC to help him recover.” She looked back at Grant’s father. “Isn’t that right, Shep?”

His chin seemed to disappear under the bushy mustache but it was plain as day he was smiling. He dipped his head in a nod of affirmation, his eyes still glued to Nita.

Keri chuckled, thinking about the warm chemistry between the two of them and how pleased she was they’d found a second chance at romance.

Or who knows. Maybe even something more.

“Keri, over here,” Grant called, waving her over to the back steps.

“Is it okay for me to walk through this?”

“No problem. This time around, the insurance guys were close by. As you know all too well, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid I do. But I’m glad you didn’t have to wait as long as we did. What did they determine?”

 “This was an easy one. A clear case of arson. Same as the cabin. Our arsonist isn’t very imaginative. Kerosene seems to be his weapon of choice.”

She walked up the steps looking at the chaos strewn across the yard. As she made her final step onto the back porch, his arm circled her waist, drawing her near. “Thanks, Keri.”

“For what?”

He rested his chin on her head. “For just being here. For me. For Dad. I can’t believe how close I came to losing him.” He chuckled. “He’s such a private man. It’s hard to feel close to him. Always has been. I mean, I know he loves me. I never doubted that. We really are close in our own strange way. But I never heard him say the words. It’s just his way. Still, last night made me realize how much I desperately love him and always have. I think I needed to
know
that. Just wish it hadn’t been this way.”

She lifted her eyes to look into those baby blues. “I just stopped by the hospital to see him. He looks great. I can’t believe he escaped with so few injuries. Not a burn on his body.”

He turned, taking hold of her elbow as he directed her into the damaged office. “Watch your step,” he warned. “It’s truly a miracle. Not a doubt in my mind God was watching over him. How else can you explain it?”

“Maybe, but that same logic flies in the face of innocent people who get hurt or badly burned or killed every day.”
Where did
that
come from?
The words had raced out of her mouth before she even thought them.

He stopped short, turning to face her. A flicker of sadness passed through his eyes. “True. I suppose. One of these days, I hope we can talk through our differing views of faith.” He pushed his hair off his forehead. “But for now, we’ve got work to do.”

The front office had sustained only minimal damage; he’d obviously finished putting most of the room back in order. He grabbed a chair for Keri then leaned against the edge of his large vintage desk. She noticed a box with some kind of strange foreign postage sitting on his desk. The return address looked Russian but she couldn’t be sure since she was reading upside down. He must have seen her staring at it and turned to following her gaze. He quickly shoved the small box behind him.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. Not a thing. Just something . . .” He moved behind his desk and deposited the box in a lower desk drawer. When he stood back up, his face was flushed.

“Grant, what was—”

“So have you talked to Bill?” he asked, taking his place in front of the desk again, his face still blushing.

What was that all about?

She shook it off, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand. “After I left the hospital last night, I went to see him,” Keri said. “He’s
extremely
concerned about these fires.”

“I’m sure he is. We all are.”

“He thinks we have a serious danger lurking around town. Of course, I wasn’t surprised at his sense of urgency to get to the bottom of this. We tossed around some ideas. Talked about some possible suspects—”

“Any conclusions?”

She exhaled slowly. “Nothing specific. I’m going to see if I can find Zack after I leave here. I’d like to have a little chat with him today. I’d also like to talk to a couple of his so-called alibis.”

“Be careful, Keri. That kid is trouble.”

“I know. I’ll be okay.” She twisted her neck from side to side, feeling it pop. “I’ve also got a call into Jerry’s office, trying to find out if he’s back in town. I thought I saw his truck over on Martin Lane, but I can’t be sure. If he’s in town, I want a face-to-face with him.”

“Maybe I should come along. Something about all this . . . I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

An awkward silence fell between them. She looked down, toying with her mittens.

“Wait,” he started. “Did you say you thought you saw his truck?”

“Yeah. He drives a black Dodge Ram. Why do you ask?”

He was silent. She could see the wheels turning in his mind.

“Because the only thing Dad saw last night was a dark pickup. He noticed it turning the corner right before he saw the glow of the fire in the window back there.” He tipped his head in the direction of the press room.

Their eyes met, the questions obvious.

“I’ll make sure I talk to Jerry today. It’s a small town. I’ll find him.”

“Good idea. Sure you don’t need me to tag along?”

She stood, pulling on her mittens. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ve known Jerry my whole life, Grant. Even if he’s involved in this somehow, he’d never do anything to harm me.”

“Never say never,” he added, squeezing her shoulder.

“I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, you should clean this place. It’s a pig’s sty,” she teased.

“Yes, ma’am. Anything else you’d like me to do?”

She started out the door then turned back. “Yeah. Find out what’s going on with your dad and my aunt. I’m a little curious about all that.”

He laughed. “You and me both, Keri. You and me both.”

Keri turned off Main Street, headed toward The Bayside, a bar on the outskirts of town. Bud had told her Zack could be found there just about any time day or night. Whenever he wasn’t spray-painting shopping carts or sidewalks, or stealing cigarettes, that is. She’d been in the honky-tonk only a couple of times, both times looking for some of her dad’s crew late on Friday afternoons. It was a favorite hangout for local construction workers. Bud had told her Zack spent his time there bragging to the other regulars about his many varied “accomplishments,” in between video games, a round of pool, and an occasional attempt at darts.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. As I live and breathe, it’s Waterford Bay’s little miss ray of sunshine.”

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of The Bayside, but Keri would know that voice anywhere. The creepiness factor notwithstanding, she was relieved to know she wouldn’t have to spend all day trying to find the town’s biggest loser. Just as Bud had predicted, Zack Clayton was holding court in his home away from home.
Or maybe it
is
his home.
Keri found the thought fitting somehow.

“Hey Zack. How’s it going?” she asked, making her way toward him across the sticky floor. The air was thick with smoke, one of the only establishments in town that still allowed smoking under some ridiculous city ordinance. Of course it wasn’t just the stench of stale cigarette smoke that gagged her. Keri had no doubt the flavors of fried catfish, chicken, and French Fries were indistinguishable once they came out of the oil in the Bayside’s deep fryer. She guessed the oil hadn’t been changed in a good six months. Or more.

But it was the reek of body odor that made her want to turn and leave. The closer she got to Zack, the worse it got. Evidently, his busy schedule didn’t allow for personal hygiene. She tried to breathe through her mouth. Either that or hurl on his filthy boots.

“Well, a whole heckuva lot better now that
you
stopped by.” He set down his near-empty mug of beer, and turned on the stool to give her his full attention. “What brings you here, missy? I thought you was off at some fancy college back east? Yet here you are, slumming with the boys back home.”

Most likely he thought his smile was appealing, but something about the stained teeth and dirty hair just ruined the whole magic for Keri. And there was that nasty “aroma” still wafting through the air.

“Zack, Bud tells me he talked to you about that fire out at the Blankenship place.”

He let out a loud whoop of a holler and slammed his palm flat on the bar. “Not you too, little missy? I told that stupid cop I wasn’t anywhere near that place that night!” He grabbed his beer, finishing it with a loud belch. “And that’s all I got to say about that.”

She tried to act nonchalant. “Well, sure, Zack. He told me that. I was just wondering if you’d heard anything. Like maybe somebody told you something or saw something. Being as how you weren’t anywhere near that place that night.”

His smile faded. “Nah, I didn’t hear nothin’. My guys was all with me at my place. We was playing poker.” A lewd expression flamed his face. “Course, if
you’da
been there, we’da played some
strip
poker.”

Keri rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m real sorry I missed that. But—”

“Not half as sorry as I am.”

She pinned him with a stare. “Zack, c’mon. Think. You had to hear something. You know people. Somebody in this town has talked about that fire and chances are you would’ve heard them say it. Work with me, here, would you?”

He tugged at a curl on her shoulder. “Oh I’ll work with you all night long, sweet thing.”

She batted his hand away. “Fine. You don’t know anything about the Blankenship fire. What about the fire at the newspaper office?”

He ordered another brew. “You want one?”

She tilted her head to one side. “No thank you. Ten o’clock is a little early for my taste buds. Now back to my question. Know anything about that fire? Hear anything?”

The bartender took his empty mug, replacing it with a frost-covered full one. He slurped a long swallow, then wiped the foam from his sad excuse for a mustache. “Nope. Don’t know nothin’ about that one either. How come you askin’ all these questions? You a cop now? Where’s your uniform?”

“I’m working for the paper.”

“Oh, that’s a real shame. You come back to town, go to work for the paper, and it goes up in smoke.” Another grin crawled up in face. “Wait, that cabin was your daddy’s, wasn’t it? He built that one, didn’t he? Whoa. That’s a real shame. You’re two for two. I’m thinking Bud oughta be asking
you
all these questions. Kinda coinky-dinky, don’t you think? You got a big ol’ lighter in that fancy bag of yours?”

What a waste of time.

“Maybe some matches and a little kerosene?”

She was sure of it. She quickly guarded her thoughts, masking her expression. “No, I’m afraid not. Only some lipstick and breath mints. Hey, what—”
How could he know about the kerosene? Bill and Bud kept that information private. She and her dad knew about it. And Grant.
But details like that hadn’t been shared in public.

“Here’s an idea. How about tossin’ me one of them breath mints then let me sample some of that lipstick. On your lips, of course.”

“Not happening. What kind of pickup do you drive?”

“It’s a Ford—wait, who says I drive a pickup?”

“Just a hunch.”

He studied her with those bloodshot eyes. She studied him back, disgusted but undeterred.

“Who cares what kind of truck I drive?”

“No reason. Just curious. What color is it?”

“Well, I guess that’s for me to know and you to find out, Keri. Course, if you’d like to come hang out at my place a while, I’d be happy to take you for a little drive in my truck. Let you find out for yourself what
color
it is.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, weary of the game. “You stole my backpack in sixth grade, didn’t you?”

“Well, duh? I stole everybody’s backpack. It was one of my defining middle school characteristics. You wanna come over to my place and see if you can pick it out? I kept ‘em all, y’know.”

“Yeah?”

“Course. They’re called souvenirs in my line of work.” He laughed again, this one full of wheeze and phlegm.

Keri pressed her lips together, not sure she could keep her stomach down. “Fascinating though it is, I’ve got to run. But I may stop by sometime. You still live in that double-wide out on Lynn Lane with your dad?”