him.
*********
Even I’m not made of stone , Blake thought as he looked at Kate. It was his job to lecture her now on how she’d not only endangered her own life, but could have seriously hurt old Joe Bob, but that lesson was already written in her face by her reddened eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.
And maybe the oppressive feeling of the house helped keep him quiet, too. He hadn’t been up here since he’d helped the coroner cart away old Aunt Gladys, and the place had fallen into deep disrepair since then. It must have been more than Kate had anticipated.
“So, I suppose you think you were right about me all along, eh?” Kate said, her voice scratchy from crying.
“I don’t follow you,” Blake said. He was standing over Joe Bob, holding his flashlight to the man’s eyes. He was moving about and murmuring, so it was a good guess that Kate hadn’t killed him like she thought.
“You think I think I had to do this myself just to prove something to you. That’s just what you’re thinking.”
“Not even close,” Blake lied with a rough sigh. It was definitely close, or at least in the ballpark. She was afraid to have some man come in and save her day, especially since she was so sure she could do it better. Looked at in context, the whole thing was typical Kate Becker.
“Well, good, ‘cause that’s not why I did it. I did it to help you.”
“Because you could do my job better than I can,” Blake said. He knew it.
“No, because you were so sure I was just being a hysterical woman that you were going to come in here unprepared. You knocked on the door, for Pete’s sake.”
Blake didn’t answer, because she got him there. He didn’t take it seriously. Of course, since it was Joe Bob he could be considered vindicated, but he knew that wasn’t the point. If it had been some sort of monster, Blake would have been in danger and he would have put Kate in danger.
“We both could have been in real danger,” Kate said, echoing Blake’s thoughts.
She was working up a head of steam, getting ready to not only absolve herself totally of guilt, Blake figured, but to place it all squarely on his shoulders.
“Yeah, Ole’ Joe Bob here might have made his sheep nuzzle us to death, or he might have made us try some of his squirrel stew,” Blake said, pointing back towards the line of dead animals. Kate looked at them too, obvious disgust registering on her face.
“Gives me the creeps. I just feel awful, Blake. Maybe he got confused, or maybe he thought he was coming to take care of Old Gladys. Who knows what goes on in his mind,” Kate said.
“Yeah,” Blake replied. “You know, he isn’t a baby.” He frowned, vaguely bothered by something and not sure what. “Just look at him - truth is, he could be dangerous. If he wanted to cause trouble he could be like a... well...”
“Bull in a china shop?”
“I was hoping to find a more original saying, but yeah.”
“No way. Not Mr. Mortimer. He’s way too gentle. The worst he’d act out would be like... a manatee at a sushi place.”
Blake let out a laugh. Of course she’d be better at words than he was. She was a bloody lawyer, after all. Made plenty of money at it too, he wagered. He’d seen her car all packed up as he came into the house. She must be here for a long vacation.
“Anyway, he’d nuzzle us to death with Mr. Sticha’s sheep.”
“Not anymore. Mr. Sticha’s been dead for four years. Left his place and his sheep to Joe Bob here. That’s why he likes to be called Mr. Mortimer.”
“Oh, wow. I guess more has changed than I thought. You folks should print a bulletin. Once every five years oughta cover it.”
Blake was ready to be annoyed by her tone, but once again a strange feeling made him do a double-take. She sounded caustic, but looking into her pretty face, he saw the truth.
Learning to Kill: Stories