A Hope City Duet

by Kris Michaels

  She walked straight to her kitchen, plopping her purse onto the counter along with the bag from the pharmacist. “Meow,” came the greeting that sounded like a complaint, and a large, solid grey cat walked from the bedroom and swirled about her ankles.

  “Looks like Smokey is hungry.” Daniel bent over to pet her cat. Her neighbor was another reason she hated the idea of moving. She had no idea how old he was but knew he was retired and currently worked part-time as a handyman for their apartment building. They had met two years ago when she moved right across the hall from where he lived. He often fixed little things in her apartment, even helped to put furniture together, and he had developed a relationship with Smokey, feeding her cat during the few times that she was out of town.

  She loved her parents, but they eschewed traveling to the big city, so she only saw them when she visited North Carolina. Over time, Daniel had become a surrogate parent as well as a friend.

  Setting her kettle onto the stove, she called over her shoulder, “Do you mind opening the pill bottle for me?”

  “Not at all.” He stepped over to the counter, easily popping open the childproof lid as he read the directions. “It says you should take this with food. Do you feel like eating anything?”

  She scrunched her nose in distaste, shaking her head. “Not really.”

  He opened her refrigerator door and pulled out the milk jug. He poured a small glass and handed it to her. “Here, drink.” He then leaned past her and grabbed a loaf of bread from a basket on the counter, pulling out a slice. “Eat this, too. This will give you something in your stomach so the pill won’t make you nauseous. Then you can enjoy your cup of tea.”

  Grateful, she drank the milk and munched on the bread before taking one of the pills. While she poured the tea, he continued to read the instructions.

  “It says you shouldn’t operate machinery or drive.”

  She smiled at his concern. “That’s why I waited until I got home before I took it. And I don’t plan on going anywhere tonight.”

  “I had already called in a pizza order,” he said. “I can’t possibly eat a whole pizza, so how about if I share some with you this evening?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse politely, but then the idea of melted cheese on top of the pizza finally stirred her appetite. Grinning, she agreed. “I wouldn’t turn down a piece of pizza if it came flying at me.”

  “All right, when it gets delivered I’ll bring some over, and you can tell me all about your injury.”

  Saying goodbye, she flipped the lock after he went back to his apartment. She had just made it over to her sofa where she settled deep into the cushions, propped her feet on top of the ottoman, and welcomed Smokey onto her lap for a snuggle when her phone rang. Looking at the screen, she grinned. “I see that Sandy has already called you.”

  “Of course, she did,” Bill replied, his voice warm. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything.”

  “No, I’m good. I’m in for the evening, have taken a pain pill, and I’m piled up on the couch with my cat.”

  “Sandy said you were at the warehouse fire today.”

  “Yeah, that’s where I fell.”

  “I wasn’t on duty today, but it’s all over the news with Samuel Treyson’s murder. Was the fire bad?”

  She could hear the interest in his voice and wondered if firefighters ever got tired of thinking about the destruction a fire causes. “The inside was charred, but the outer walls were still standing. The preliminary assessment would be that it was arson.”

  “Damn. Seems like that just keeps happening.”

  “An arson detective was there, but I have no idea if it’s tied to the arsonist that’s in all the news,” she added. “Anyway, my job there is done, so I’m gonna put it out of my mind tonight, eat some pizza when Daniel brings it over, and crash.”

  “Well, Sandy has informed me that I’m her wingman for the night. Gotta tell you, that’s not my favorite job. I’d much rather you be here with us.”

  “Stop complaining,” she teased, leaning over to pick up the TV remote. “You know there will be women in the pub tonight looking to score a hot firefighter.” A chuckle met her ears.

  “I don’t mind giving up the throngs of women to come to check on you.” His voice sobered, and he added, “I know it sounded like I was joking, but it’s really true, you know.”

  “I know, but I promise, I’m fine. Go have fun tonight, Bill. Watch out for Sandy.”

  Disconnecting, she looked down as Smokey’s paws worked on her stomach. She stared at her splinted wrist, her gaze moving to the myriad of criss-crossing scars covering her hand. She rarely thought of the fire that destroyed the restaurant she had worked in as a teenager—or the pain of the burning grease on her hand when the grill caught on fire—but staring at her hand, the memories threatened to come back. Resting her injured wrist on a pillow, she leaned against the cushions of the sofa, turned the television on to a mindless show, allowed the pain pill to ease her discomfort… and thought of the handsome detective.

  Boots that were clean but scuffed from work. Muscular thighs that filled out his slacks. A white dress shirt that pulled over his chest making her wonder what he would look like out of the shirt… and out of the pants for that matter. Blue eyes that pulled her in. A rare smile that fired straight through her. Something she would like to see more often. Oh, yeah… a lot more often.

  6

  Holy moly! Harper stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, horrified at her rat’s nest hair and puffy eyes. Determined not to miss work, she downed several ibuprofen with her orange juice and sat at the counter with a bowl of corn flakes, rubbing Smokey's fur as he waited not so patiently for a little milk out of the bottom of her bowl.

  She dressed with some difficulty, applied her makeup one-handed, then stared at her hair in distress. Finally, after running a brush through the thick tresses, she managed to twist it at the back of her head, securing it with a large clip. Totally messy but effective.

  Making sure Smokey had food and water in his dishes, she then stroked him before sliding her arms into her coat, grabbing her purse and keys, and walking out the door. Daniel was just coming out of his apartment, a plumber’s wrench in his hand.

  A knowing giggle erupted as her eyebrows lifted. “Let me guess… Mrs. Scarsdale?”

  Huffing, Daniel shook his head as he closed the door behind him. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told her to use a drain trap when she’s washing those long-haired dogs of hers. I’ve even bought them for her. But no, no... she never remembers. Then calls me like clockwork to complain about her drain being clogged.”

  Stepping closer, she patted his arm. “You’re a good man, Daniel. You take care of everybody.”

  He shook his head slowly, rubbing the whiskers on his chin. “You’re sweet to say so, Harper, but I’m afraid cleaning drains doesn’t make a hero. It’s true that I feel sorry for Mrs. Scarsdale. I know when her husband was living he took care of everything for her, so if I can help, I do.” His gaze dropped from her face down to her arm. “How about you? How’re you feeling today?”

  “It hurts a bit,” she admitted. “But I’ve taken some ibuprofen and really want to save up my sick days in case something major happens. So, I’ll work today.”

  “Well, I hope it’s not a busy day for you.” His gaze was full of concern.

  “It shouldn’t be busy. I have no investigations that I know of. It can just be a day in the office where I check with the lab and write up a couple of reports.”

  “Good, good.” They fell into step together walking toward the elevator. He got off on the second floor, and she remained until being let off on the first.

  Once outside, a blast of cold wind hit her, and she knew that winter was definitely here. She looked upward as light snow began to fall and sighed, thinking about her job. Cold weather always makes things worse. Many people, especially those in subpar housing, rely heavily on portable heaters, whet
her powered by electricity or fuel. The incidences of house fires increase significantly as heaters tip over or are not properly ventilated. Too often they are placed near flammable objects such as furniture, bedding, curtains. Or children pull on their cords. A shudder passed over her. Trying to shake those morose thoughts from her mind, she drove to work in the early morning traffic.

  Once there, she prayed that her words to Daniel were correct and that she would have an easy day. At her desk, she fired up her computer and began working on several reports, but her mind drifted to Sean. Something about him is familiar. Glancing around to make sure none of her coworkers who had also come to work early could see what she was doing, she Googled his name.

  His social media presence was minimal, but she found an online article from the Hope City Journal where he volunteered his time to teach fire safety to children in schools. Fascinated, she kept reading and discovered another article where he had taught a class in fire evidence collection several years ago. That’s it! He had been at the IAAI class when I was working on my certification. She remembered a few fantasy daydreams centering on him before pushing him out of her mind. Now that she had met him again and was not in pain or foggy-minded with drugs, the fantasy sex daydream came slamming back in full force.

  Snorting indelicately, she quickly looked up to see a few coworkers glancing over at her.

  “Are you okay?” Casey asked. “Does your arm hurt?”

  “I’m fine, just moved my arm wrong.” Lying was not her habit but was better than admitting she was drooling over a hot arson detective even as the heat of blush hit her face.

  Peter said, “If you need to go home, I can certainly take over any cases for you.”

  Forcing a wide smile onto her face, she shook her head. “No, as I said, I’m fine.” Peter was a newer hire in the office and was working on his fire evidence certification. It rankled him that she was further along in her career than he was, and she was not about to let him take over her cases.

  With a few taps of her keyboard, she left the article on Sean, pulling out her case reports instead. Last year in Hope City and the surrounding counties there were over seven hundred structural fires, part of the over two thousand total fires reported. Thank God there were only twelve fatalities due to fire, but that was still twelve too many. Eastern Mutual Insurance Company was only one insurance company, but just with their clients alone, she stayed busy.

  Evidence at the site was collected, and in the case of suspected arson, obtaining the police and firefighter’s report was integral. Sometimes when she visited a homesite where there had been a fire, the family was present. That was always difficult because she needed objectivity to do her job. She needed to stare at the structure and the damage and assess the evidence.

  But for the family, the fire was personal. It had stolen something from them, their security as well as their belongings. So, she would take extra time and listen to what they had to say. Listen to their experience. Listen to their fears. Even listen to their stories of what happened. She understood. And then I go inside and let the building talk to me.

  “What cases do you have open?” Casey asked.

  She smiled at the claims adjuster. “I’ve got a fire in an old shed that held gasoline cans, paint cans, and other flammable liquids where the owner dropped a cigarette. Also, a garage fire sparked when the owner was working on his car and was careless in his surroundings while he was welding. Two house fires, both started by improperly ventilated space heaters.”

  A shadow appeared near her shoulder, and she looked up to see Peter standing by her desk. Cocking her head to the side in silent question, she waited to see what he wanted.

  “I saw on the news where Samuel Treyson’s body was found at the warehouse you’re investigating. What did you find?”

  “I’m still waiting on the report from the lab before turning it over to the detective,” she answered, keeping her reply evasive.

  “There’s gonna be a lot of press with that. I mean, that’s a huge deal, to have a man of his caliber murdered and then an arson committed to cover it up.” Peter placed his hands on her desk as he leaned forward.

  “The press has nothing to do with us. The fire is being dealt with by the police as is his death. It’s a police matter, and they’ll handle any of the news coming out about their investigation.”

  “But surely you got an idea about the arson. Like what kind of accelerant was used. Where it was set. Inside or outside—”

  Her patience snapped, and she held his gaze. “Peter, I will not be talking to the press. My report will have the facts determined by the lab and the police report. We’re in the insurance business, not the police business, and certainly not in the tell-all-to-the-press business! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

  He scowled as he stomped back to his desk. Casey rolled her eyes behind Peter’s back before winking at Harper. Once Casey headed to her office, Harper sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Her phone rang and she looked down in surprise to see Sean’s name in the ID. He’s calling from his own cell phone? She had entered his number from the card he had given her but assumed a call from him would be on the police number.

  She glanced at Peter, not wanting him to hear her conversation about the fire with Sean. Grabbing her phone, she hurried out of the office and down the hall. “Hello?”

  “Harper? It’s Sean McBride.”

  “Detective McBride, what can I do for you? I... uh... don’t have the results back from my lab yet.”

  There was a slight pause before she heard a sigh coming over the line. “Please, call me Sean. And… I’m not calling about that. I wanted to see how you were doing. I… uh… feel really bad about what happened yesterday and can’t believe I was the cause of your broken arm. I don’t usually... well, typically I don’t... um... that’s never happened before.”

  She leaned her back against the wall, her eyes darting back and forth to make sure she was still alone, a smile spreading across her face. “It’s fine, Sean.” His name slipped easily over her lips. “It was an accident. Accidents happen. I should know. I’m in the insurance business.”

  He chuckled, the deep sound moving through her. “Well, it’s not fine, but I’m glad you’re doing okay. Were you able to sleep last night?”

  “I propped my arm on a pillow next to me after taking a pain pill. Then, I slept like the dead.” He chuckled again, and she closed her eyes. God, I’d love to hear that sound all the time. “It was a little achy this morning, but with some ibuprofen, I’m good to go.”

  “Don’t you think you should take the prescription medicine?”

  “I can’t drive if I take it.”

  “You don’t need to drive. You should just rest.”

  “Sean, I’m at work right now.”

  “Work?”

  His voice held incredulity and it was her turn to smile. “Yes, work. It was a hairline fracture, nothing more. I confess the pain was awful yesterday, but today it’s splinted, and I took ibuprofen. I’m fine.” The airwaves were silent for a moment. “Um… thank you for your concern. It’s really nice of you to check on me, but I don’t want you to feel indebted.”

  “I don’t feel indebted,” he refuted, his voice sounding grouchy again. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you sure you shouldn’t take the day off?”

  “If I don’t feel well later in the day my boss will have no problem if I go home early.”

  “Well, okay,” he finally conceded. “I’ll let you get back to work. Um... goodbye.”

  Before she had a chance to respond, he had disconnected. Her hand holding the phone dropped down to her side, and her head banged back against the wall. Wow, what the hell was that? Hello, I’m concerned. Oh, you’re at work, goodbye.

  Giving her head a little shake, she walked back into the office area, marching directly to her cubicle. Determined to focus on her job and not the irritating detective, she opened her laptop and continued her report on t
he latest case.

  7

  “Fuckin’ hell,” Sean cursed, leaning back in his seat. Frustrated with the arsonist cases, he could not help but think about his short phone call with Harper. She had not left his thoughts all evening. He replayed their meeting over and over in his mind, hating that his shout had caused her to fall.

  She was beautiful, but there was a spark in her, something he had not found in the recent women he had dated. He assumed she would be at home resting, and it threw him to find out she was at work. Then, when he could not think of anything else to say, he simply told her goodbye and hung up. Smooth, McBride. Real smooth.

  Jonas looked over at him, lifting an eyebrow. “Giving up?”

  He shot him a glare, both men knowing full well that Sean did not give up. “Shit, I must be out of practice. Maybe I should get pointers from Rory.”

  “Hell, you don’t need him. Just ask me.”

  “Yeah, like the king of ‘just tonight, ma’am’ can give me pointers.”

  Jonas barked out a laugh, but Sean did not want to discuss Harper, so he forced his mind back to the case. “It’s bad enough that the typical firebug can get his hands on accelerants just by looking underneath his kitchen sink or in his garage. But this asshole? He’s purposely taunting us.”

  Nodding, Jonas agreed. Leaning forward in his seat, he placed his forearms on his desk. “What have you been able to dig up on the carbon disulfide besides the rotten-egg smell after it’s burned?” Jonas’ nose wrinkled slightly.

  “It’s in liquid form and has to be contained in clear glass. It’s used for solvents, usually on an industrial level. It can also be used as a fumigant or raw material in manufacturing. It’s got a shelf life of two years, so our arsonist can get his hands on it and hang onto it for a while.”

  “We don’t see it much, but it’s fuckin’ volatile, isn’t it?” Jonas tapped on the keyboard of his laptop.

  “Yeah, and highly toxic. I can’t believe how easy it is to get.” Picking up some papers from his file, he waved them in his hand. “There are chemical companies that sell it, and while it’s not common, there are enough companies that make it nearly impossible to contact to see if there’s a local individual buying it.”