That Old Flame of Mine (6 page)

Chapter 6

S
tella threw on her clothes and ran out of the bed-and-breakfast, leaving Flo yelling after her about not eating the most important meal of the day.

She stopped when she reached the street, realizing that her bike was still at the cabin. This is what she’d been afraid of. How was she going to get out to the firehouse?

“Hey, Chief!” Ricky skidded up to her in his old black pickup. “John said you needed a ride. Hop in and let’s go.”

That’s what John had meant about it not being a problem. She got in and slammed the door. “What’s up with the squawking on the radio?”

“Don’t know. I got the call and left the dishes half done at the diner. I couldn’t tell who it was. Who’s on duty?”

“I think Petey was supposed to be up there,” Stella said. “After yesterday—”

“Someone’s there, Chief. Wait and see. Petey was upset, but she wants this to work. She won’t run out on you. None of us will.”

Stella was surprised by his words. She knew she and the guys at the station back home felt like that about Chief Henry. Any of them would give their life for him. She hadn’t expected that kind of loyalty from this job. All the volunteers knew she was leaving. Why would they attach themselves to her that way?

She grabbed at the passenger-side door as Ricky turned a corner on what felt like two wheels. She’d thought it was only the engine that he drove too fast. He was a speed demon compared to her, even though people called her reckless because she rode a bike. She was really a very practical, conservative person.

At least she thought so.

“I almost got a ticket for driving too fast out here,” she hinted. It was his truck. She could tell him to slow down when he was driving the engine, but not when he was in his own vehicle.

“Old Chum, right?” Ricky laughed. “Yeah, he’s gotten me a few times. He didn’t ticket you because you’re the fire chief, right?”

“No. He actually thought I was someone else and took off before he could give me the ticket. He called me Abigail.”

“Weird.” He grinned. “That’s old Chum for you. He’s strange and a real stickler for the rules. Abigail, huh? I don’t know anyone around here by that name.”

“He seemed to. I think he’s afraid of her, whoever she is.” Stella gave a sigh of relief as the pickup made it into the parking lot at the firehouse. Already three other volunteers were there.

Petey came running out. Her light brown hair was a mess. She had a few breakfast stains on her white Sweet Pepper T-shirt, but Ricky was right. She hadn’t let Tory’s death slow her down.

“I’m sorry, Chief,” she said. “Old Tagger locked himself in there with the radio and the computer when I went to the bathroom. I tried to talk him out. He’s just sitting in there laughing. I didn’t know if you’d want me to break down the door or what.”

By that time, Allen and Kent had arrived. Don Rogers came up with his sirens blaring and blue lights flashing. “What the hell is going on out here, Ms. Griffin?” he demanded. “What kind of show are you putting on now?”

“You tell me,” Stella demanded defensively. “You’re the one who pleaded to have Tagger Reamis as some kind of mascot for the fire brigade. He’s taken over the radio.”

Don looked annoyed. “I didn’t
plead
for anything. I asked to have a hero of our town doing what he knows best. As a veteran of the last fire brigade, and after fighting bravely in two wars, he’s earned at least that much. A man like that doesn’t deserve to be thrown out like old dishwater.”

At that point, Tagger got on the loudspeaker. “All of you out there, start your engines. Let’s hear ’em roar.”

“He sounds like he’s drunk as a skunk,” Ricky said.

Allen shrugged. “What do you expect? That’s what our town hero does best.”

“I don’t care how you do it,” Stella said to Don, “but get him out of my firehouse.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he grunted. “I wouldn’t want you to get your hands dirty.”

Stella ignored him. All of the volunteers stood outside with her, waiting to see if the police chief could coax the old man out without calling for help. Tagger began shouting obscenities—and what sounded like a recipe for preserving hot peppers—on the loudspeaker. There was no way to keep a straight face.

A few minutes later, true to his word, Don came out with Tagger in tow. The short, gray-haired hero was apologetic when he saw Stella. “Sorry about that last part,” he said, a little unsteady on his feet. “That was too much vinegar. I need to write that down. That was the winning recipe in the 1979 festival, you know.”

He smiled and Stella smiled back. He might be a little crazy and drunk to boot, but he reminded her of Jerry O’Toole back home. O’Toole had served her station proudly for many years. He’d lost it one day after a fire that had killed twin girls only three years old. Now he drank too much and hung around giving out advice to anyone who would listen. Maybe every firehouse needed someone like him.

“I’ll be back,” Tagger called out with a wave and a big smile as Don put him in the back of the police car.

“We have to figure out a way to keep this from happening again,” Stella said. “We might have to get a door that locks automatically and everyone has a key.”

“Everyone but Tagger, right, Chief?” Allen laughed.

“I think so.” Stella looked at her little group. They’d worked so hard to get here. They still had a rough road ahead of them. “Since all of you are here, how about a few training exercises?”

No one was very enthusiastic about the idea. It was Saturday, and everyone had somewhere else they would rather be. But they were game for it, and it wasn’t long before they were taking turns carrying the one-hundred-fifty-pound dummy across the firehouse floor, trying not to let his feet touch the concrete.

Petey was the best at this—as with everything else. They all marveled at her tenacity and the strength in her thin arms. Her victim’s feet never touched the floor, despite the dummy outweighing her. Her face was a mask of grit and determination.

“How does she do that?” Ricky demanded. “Can somebody please tell me that?”

There was some good-natured teasing when Allen dropped his dummy, then stepped all over it. Kent picked it up and threw it across his shoulders, running to the stairs and throwing up his hands as though he’d made a touchdown.

“Hey! That’s my job.” Bertie joined them, hobbling into the firehouse on crutches, his ankle in a cast.

Training ceased as everyone gathered around him. “I guess you did a job on that ankle,” Ricky teased him. “I thought you were clumsy. Now I know you break easy too.”

“Tell me you’re not out for the season,” Kent pleaded. “The Cougars don’t have a shot at the title without you.”

“Nah. I’ll be out about three weeks, then I can go back for training.” He nodded to Stella. “I know I can’t assist at any emergencies right now, but I could take some shifts on the computer. I’d like to hang around anyway, if that’s okay with you, Chief.”

She smiled. “I’m sure no one will argue with you taking some of the monitoring time. Just don’t try sprinting across the concrete and you’ve got yourself a deal. It’s good to have you back.”

Ricky made a lunch run to the diner, bringing back barbecue pork sandwiches, pickles, chips, and drinks. Early on in the yard cleanup around the firehouse, they’d located an old picnic table. They spread everything out on it now, with someone’s towel covering the holes.

They ate out in the sunshine while the Dalmatian puppy played in the little patch of green grass. The whole team seemed to be in love with the dog. They fed him scraps and tried to think of a name for him. Stella didn’t know what to say about keeping the pup. She’d have to find out what Victor Lambert thought about it. Technically, she supposed the puppy was his.

As always, conversation was lively. The topic eventually turned to the fire that had killed Tory. The mood grew somber. It was different than it had been the night before. The group was sad but wanted to know what had happened to the woman they had all looked up to.

Stella told them that Tory had died before the fire had started. There were a few gasps of surprise at that as well as a few sighs of relief. It wasn’t their fault. Inexperienced or not, they couldn’t have saved her.

“What happened to her then?” Banyin Watts asked. She was the town librarian and a new recruit who’d just stopped by when she saw all the cars in the parking lot. She was a tall, strong woman, probably in her midthirties, with muscular arms that spoke volumes about her workout routine. “We lost a fine citizen and a great library patron yesterday.”

“John said the coroner will do an autopsy,” Stella replied. “We won’t know anything until we get those results.”

“What about the fire?” Petey asked, her young face creased with concern. “Does anyone know how it started?”

“No. Not yet. It seems Sweet Pepper doesn’t have an arson investigator either.”

There was a round of groans when they heard that, though no one was surprised.

“Can you teach us to investigate suspicious fires?” Petey asked with an obvious eye on becoming the arson investigator for the fire brigade.

“Not really,” Stella said. “I’m not a professional arson investigator. There should be one. Maybe there’s a grant for that schooling the town could apply for. Everything I know I learned on the job. I don’t know if my testimony would stand up in court, if it were needed.”

Everyone knew what her words implied—any chance at professional training would disappear after she was gone.

Stella broke that momentary feeling of loss by continuing on with the conversation. “I’ll be glad to show all of you what I know, if you’re interested. You can come with me when we investigate.”

“When, Chief?” Ricky asked.

Stella called John and asked if he had any idea when they could go and look at the house. He suggested that afternoon.

Petey swore in a tone deeper than her normal speaking voice. “I have to work. Can’t you do it some other time?”

“We have to get some answers right away,” Stella said.

“I have a video recorder,” Banyin offered. “I can record it so you can watch it later.”

“Would you?” Petey squealed and got to her feet to hug the other woman. “Thank you so much. I don’t want to miss a thing. I want to know what happened out there.”

Everyone laughed at her unique enthusiasm.

“It’s settled then,” Stella said. “We’ll meet at the Lambert house at three p.m. Wear your work boots and gloves. There will be debris that could be dangerous.”

The group broke up after that. Petey headed to work at Scooter’s Barbecue and Ice Cream beside the post office. Allen went back to the barber shop in town. Everyone else rushed off in various directions. Ricky drove Stella back to the cabin.

“That was good news about Tory,” he said, then frowned. “Well, you know what I mean. She’s still dead, but it wasn’t our fault. That’s worse, right?”

“I don’t feel a lot better after hearing you say it,” Stella admitted with a smile. “It’s one of those things. I guess it’s good for us as a group but bad in every other way.”

“That’s what I meant.” He slapped the steering wheel as he careened around the sharp curves in the steep drive. “Why were you spending the night at Flo’s anyway?”

“There was some problem with the electricity in the cabin. Maybe snakes,” she explained. “John thought it might be dangerous. He wanted me to leave until it was checked out.”

Ricky laughed. “Did they get the ghost busters up here to take a look at it? I was wondering if the old chief would start acting up while you were here. It’s taken him a little longer than usual. There’s money on it at Beau’s. I win, if you’re being haunted.”

“I’m not saying there’s a ghost in the cabin. I don’t believe in ghosts.”

Of course, the alternative was snakes in the wiring. She shivered when she thought about them slithering across her while she slept. Ricky was repeating exactly what Flo had said. That’s how myths and legends—including ghost stories—got started. She didn’t want to get caught up in that either.

Elvis Vaughn was still at the cabin when they pulled up. The sign on his old blue van read “Electrician and Varmint Removal.” He had the look of a grizzled prospector from an old Western movie.

“Howdy, ma’am.” He hobbled over to Stella as she was getting out of the pickup. “I’m just finishing up here.”

Stella looked at Ricky and smiled. “Was it snakes in the wiring?”

“No, ma’am. Never is. I expect old Eric just got a mite riled with someone living in his house again and all. I been over here plenty of times. Nothing ever wrong with the wiring. He probably keeps the snakes away.” He chuckled to himself as he wiped his hands on a dirty rag. “No one lives here for long.”

“I told you.” Ricky laughed and shook the other man’s hand. “How have you been, Mr. Vaughn?”

“I been fine, young’un. Haven’t seen you or your folks in a while. You should come over for some cooter stew.”

“I’ll tell Mom and Dad,” Ricky promised.

“What do I owe you?” Stella asked, a little put out that there was nothing wrong that could be repaired. She couldn’t keep spending the night at the bed-and-breakfast.

“Nothin’.” He looked up at the cabin. “The town owns the property. They’ll pay. They should’ve known better than to put you up here. If I was you, I’d demand some place where no one else was living already, if you get my meaning.”