CHAPTER ELEVEN
“The Blaster”
Monday evening.
Crystal sprang to her feet and began rearranging her hair as she headed for the front door. Stella remained where she was and finished off her Scotch. She’d been hoping for a little quiet time with her stepmother whom she hadn’t seen in over a year. Not that she craved Crystal’s company. It just seemed like the right thing to do, and if there was one thing Sam taught her, it was to do the right thing.
Stella heard the front door open, exuberant greetings, a hushed exchange, an awkward silence and then Crystal returned with man in tow. He was short, barely taller than Crystal, and thick, with the wide shoulders and rolling gait of a linebacker. He had a square head, small twinkly eyes, and a very short crew cut. He wore jeans, a black silk T-shirt that bulged over his belt like a feed sack and a gray sports jacket. She hoped he was not another used car salesman.
Stella rose.
“This is Tom Blaine, dear, a very dear friend of mine.”
Blaine was careful not to crush her grip. “Crystal has told me so much about you. I’m only sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”
“Pleased to meet you, Tom.”
Crystal went straight to the bar and mixed Tom a gin and tonic with a curl of lemon. Blaine took the Barcalounger at one end of the sofa, seated at a ninety-degree angle. He wore a diamond pinky ring and a gold chain.
“Crystal told me about your current client. I know you can’t discuss it, but what a case, huh? Right up there with O.J.”
Stella shrugged. “I didn’t ask for it. A judge in Virginia requested me. One of Sam’s cronies.”
Crystal handed Blaine his drink, sat next to Stella and took her hand, which Stella found presumptuous. A little show of family solidarity for the boyfriend.
Stella could restrain herself no longer. “What do you do, Tom?”
“I install audio systems,” he said.
“Tom’s an inventor,” Crystal declared proudly. “Do you know anyone who wants to invest in a surefire hit?”
Blaine blushed, took a slug of the gin. “Crystal, let’s not bore Stella with my big ideas.”
“Such as?” Stella said.
Blaine almost rubbed his hands in delight. “I’ve developed a tiny sound system that can literally replicate the feel, volume, and clarity of a stadium show, include making the earth move. It works on any concave or vibratable object. Would you like a demonstration?”
“Please,” Stella said.
Blaine practically leaped to his feet. “I’ve installed a prototype here.”
“Careful, boy,” Crystal said. “Last time you demonstrated we got complaints from across the lake.”
Blaine crossed to the credenza beneath an oil painting of buffalo and picked up a small gray device the size of a stick of gum. “This is the memory and amp--you can plug in your iPod of whatever.” He pointed to two tiny metal blossoms in one corner, ground level and at two meters, the same in another corner. “These are your speakers. They use the ninety degree angle between walls to amplify sound.”
He pushed a button on the unit and “Bohemian Rhapsody” poured forth like an avalanche.
“SCARAMOUCHE SCARAMOUCHE…”
It was so loud Stella clapped her hands to her ears and watched the glass in the windows vibrate.
“TURN IT DOWN!” Crystal shrieked in a fight announcer’s voice.
Grinning, Blaine turned it down to a throbbing pulse that Stella felt in her calves.
“Wow,” she said. “I’m impressed.”
“That’s not all. What about the dog toys, Tom? He invested in that local company that makes dog toys out of recycled water bottles, oh what’s their name?”
“Rubber Biscuit. I sold my shares last year, but yes, that’s one example.”
“Tom discovered that every health club and karate shop has literally hundreds of abandoned plastic water bottles. Tom recycles them into unbreakable dog toys. He’s really quite ingenious.”
Why the hard sell, Stella wondered. She must be planning to marry him.
“Tom was a star college quarterback, dear.”
“I was a linebacker.”
Crystal rose. “Excuse me, I’ve got to check on something in the kitchen. We’ll eat soon.”
“Do you need any help, Crystal?” Stella automatically asked.
“No. You two just sit and chat.”
The sun dipped below the mountains.
“How much money do you need?” Stella said.
“A mil to get started.”
“I was very impressed. I doubt you’ll have any trouble finding the funds.” He probably already found the funds, right in the house.
“Well we’ll see. Crystal tells me you’re a shooter.”
“Sam wanted a boy.”
“I’m sorry I never met him,” Blaine said.
Crystal bustled around the dining room in the background. They heard the clink of silverware and china.
“Come on, dears!” Crystal sang. “Dinner is served.”
Stella and Blaine stepped up to the dining level. The table was covered with a white linen cloth. Three places had been set, each with a side salad and a steaming squab dead center on the big china plates. A bouquet of sunflowers occupied the center of the table between two sterling silver candlesticks with burning tapers.
Blaine held the chair for Crystal. Crystal and Stella sat at opposite ends with Blaine between them. Stella reached for one of several bottles of salad dressing when Blaine folded his hands and bowed his head. Crystal did likewise. Stella sheepishly complied.
“Dear Lord,” Blaine said, “for this food we are about to receive we thank you. Amen.”
“Amen.”
Stella snagged the hot dish--it was the dread canned green bean and mushroom soup casserole. Stella dished a ceremonial amount onto her plate. Blaine refilled Crystal’s glass from a wine bottle on the cabinet behind him. He got up to refresh his gin and tonic.
“Freshen your drink?” he said to Stella.
“No thanks. Alcohol interferes with my sleep. I’ve been on the go since four a.m.”
“You poor dear,” Crystal said. “You must be exhausted.”
“I’m going to have to make a short night of it, folks,” Stella said, secretly relieved. Now she wouldn’t have to listen to Crystal’s litany of complaints. Blaine had filled that position for which Stella was grateful.
The squab was underdone. Stella passed on the Sarah Lee Frozen Cheesecake and excused herself. She pecked Crystal on the cheek and shook Blaine’s hand. Down the hall she went leaving her stepmother and her beau to get on with the serious business of getting sloshed. Stella glanced out the front door. Blaine drove an older 911. She hoped it wouldn’t be repossessed while he was visiting.
At the end of the hall Stella opened the door to Sam’s home office and went down three steps to the burgundy pile rug. Man cave. Leather furniture, mahogany paneling, the inevitable hero wall bearing photos and testimonials. Sam with Bush the Elder. Sam with Clinton. Sam with Bush the Younger. Rustic/modern woodstove jutting from one corner. Expansive view of the lake. A stunning Jerry Bingham Western landscape. And of course the gun cabinet.
Certificates of Achievement from Rotary, The Boy Scouts of America, Benevolent Protective Order of Elk, Lions, Colorado Sheriffs’ Association, Larimer County 4H. With the troops in Afghanistan.
Stella sat in the deep leather chair behind the desk. She loved the smell of leather, just a lingering touch of Sam’s Brut. A wave of exhaustion rolled over her like a Greyhound bus. She had to get some sleep. There was a pamphlet on the desk. She picked it up.
A Guide to Pawnee Grove.
***