My mouth dropped open when we stepped inside.
The walls were papered in burned-out red velvet, gilded gold frames anchoring them, with various burlesque paintings in each. Several cubby-holes lined the left side of the room, harboring loveseats with sheer gold curtains hanging above that could be drawn for privacy. Tiny tables supported by miniature Eiffel Towers filled the center of the room, each with little lamps in the shape of a woman’s leg complete with fishnet stockings.
“Unbelievable,” I said.
“I’ve died and gone to Cabaret Hell,” said Cin.
“You think this is what the inside of Monique’s head looks like?”
A young woman dressed like a Las Vegas showgirl approached us. “You want to get down and dirty?”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“It’s a shot. Down and Dirty. Like the name of the bar. They’re only a buck.” She snapped her gum and held out a tray.
“I’m already down,” Cin said.
“I’m already dirty,” I told her.
The girl skipped away.
Thor parted the crowd as Beyonce belted from the speakers.
We circled the half moon bar and I scanned the place for a bathroom.
“I see two seats in the back,” Cinnamon said. She patted Thor to steer him in that direction.
“Son of a bitch,” Cin said, when we got closer.
“What?”
“Scully’s here.”
She was over to Scully in two seconds flat. He was sitting in front of a beer tap shaped like a boob.
I squeezed in behind her and held my guard.
“How could you?” Cin demanded, smacking his back.
Scully’s face crumpled like a paper bag.
“You weren’t open. I wanted a beer,” he said.
“He’s got you there, Cin,” I said.
She darted her eyes at me. Then she looked down. “Is that my goddamn stool?”
Scully glanced around as if the stool had suddenly formed beneath his butt. He sipped his beer and said, “It’s my stool.”
“That stool is from the Opal,” Cin said.
It did seem out of place as the only wooden bar stool in a stream of black lacquered ones.
“See for yourself.” Scully thumbed behind him.
Cin and I looked back. Etched in the wood was SCULLY.
Cin slapped his back again. “But why would you come here? You know I hate her.”
Scully shrugged and pointed in front of him.
Above the bottles of wine and scotch was a flashing neon sign that read Every Thursday- Free Viagra for the Elderly.
Hmm. I thought the crowd was a little gray.
Cin leaned in and said, “You better just pay the bar tab you owe me if you want to use any of it.”
Scully’s face lost all color. He knew she meant it.
We settled in a corner table and I was just about to change and wash up when Monique waltzed over to us.
“What the fuck are you two doing here? And why is that beast in my bar?”
“Nice to see you too,” I said.
Thor growled. Or maybe that was Cin.
“Jesus, Stacy. Why do you always look like shit?” Monique asked.
Monique was wearing black spiked heels, fishnets, a strapless one-piece with gold tassels and a top hat over her bleached hair. She was also carrying a whip and had enough makeup on to enter the witness protection program.
“Do you talk to all your patrons like that or is it just when the circus is in town?” I asked.
Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll let that slide because I know you’ve both had a rough day. But hey, your loss is my gain, right Cin?” She smiled and jabbed Cin with her whip.
Cin looked down at her arm. I held my breath.
She must have been tired because instead of jamming the whip down Monique’s throat, she stood up and in a very even tone said, “If you think you’ve seen me mad before, imagine what I could do to you when I’ve just lost everything.” Monique’s face froze. “Now unless you want me to take that thing and make a s’more out of you, I suggest you turn around and leave me the hell alone.”
Monique swallowed and straightened her back. “You can stay. But don’t make a habit of it.” She disappeared into the crowd.
We ordered drinks and appetizers from the waitress and I went to change and wash up.
The food was on the table when I returned, wearing spandex pants and a sequined tube top that screamed ‘I grew up in the 80s.’ I couldn’t believe I even owned these clothes, let alone that Tony had dug them up. I ignored Cin’s subtle chuckle and helped myself to a nacho. I told her what I had overheard the fire chief say.
“Really? That’s strange because I just had my yearly inspection. They didn’t find a thing wrong.”
“Maybe they missed it,” I said.
“I guess,” Cin said, sipping her beer. “The insurance guy is meeting me tomorrow. You want to go for coffee first and then come by the bar? I could use the support. Tony has a long day at the shop tomorrow and we can’t afford not to take the work.”
Tony runs an auto body shop on the other side of town.
“Sure.”
The lights were still on at the B&B when I got home, but I had enough spell casting for one evening. I slipped into the cottage, discarded my clothes, and fell into bed.
I can’t breathe. It’s dark. Cold. I can’t lift my head. He’s too strong.
The alarm clock jolted me from the dream. Thor had a paw slung across my neck and I pushed him off and padded to the shower.
I blew my hair dry, slapped on some makeup and climbed into a pair of jeans. I finished the outfit with a black turtleneck, my amethyst necklace, and leather boots. Moonlight and Thor were in the kitchen waiting for breakfast so I popped open a can of food for each of them, let Thor out quickly, and headed to Muddy Water Coffee House.
Like everything else on Main Street, Muddy Water was in walking distance so I left the Jeep in the drive and hoofed it. My phone blinked three new messages. One was from Leo, telling me to call him back. One was from my boss, Shea Parker, telling me to get my ass to work and one was unknown. No message.
Cinnamon was already sitting at a table when I got there. The coffee house was set in an old 1800s bank, with fluffy couches and earth toned walls. I draped my jacket over a chair across from Cin and placed an order with Iris at the counter.
“You see that man over there?” Iris asked as she handed me a latte. Her reading glasses dangled from her neck.
I started to twist my head, but she whispered, “Don’t look.”
I swayed forward and asked, “Then how can I see him?”
Iris ignored me. “He’s been asking a lot of questions.”
“Like what?”
“About the town. About the tourism. About you.”
“Me? What about me?”
“Just little things. Like how long have you lived here. How old are you. Who your family is. What you do for a living.”
“Iris, you’re creeping me out.”
“I just thought you should know, honey. Never saw him in here before. He must have seen your picture in the paper. Now he’s sweet on you.” Iris made a kissy face.
“Don’t do that,” I said.
“Probably just a tourist.”
I took my coffee and scooted around the rope in front of the counter. The man in question was hunched over a mug near the window, reading the paper. He was wearing a baggy black suit, felt hat, and gloves. A wool coat was slung across his lap. I couldn’t see his face, just sunglasses and a mustache.
I flipped through my mental Rolodex to see if he seemed familiar. There was something about him that rang familiar. Bells were chiming in my ears telling me I knew this person, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out from where.
I made a note to pick up some pepper spray. Or maybe Thor.
Cin was going over her paperwork at the table.
“You think my premiums will go up?” she asked, only half j
oking.
“I don’t know. But hey, you were going to remodel anyway,” I pointed out.
“Yep. And I took out a big fat loan to cover it.” She gave a disgusted look.
“Ouch. Who was going to do the work?”
“I was leaning towards Eddie McAllister for the outdoor patio and stone fireplace.”
“Slow Eddie? He’s still in town?”
Cin nodded. “He’s a great mason and the city always approves him. I was waiting for other bids to filter in and Kirk was helping me sort through them.”
Kirk is Eddie’s brother. He’s also the city inspector and in a town with eighty percent of its buildings on the historic register, every job is subject to approval.
I sipped my coffee and glanced at Mr. baggy pants. I got the feeling he was eyeing me, but he buried his face in the paper quickly. “Why didn’t you just hire Chance?”
“Because although your high school sweetheart is a great carpenter, he’s not an expert in mason work. He was on the list for building out the new bar, though. Plus I was going to remodel and expand the bathrooms and re-finish the floors.”
I flitted my eyes to the man again. Cin caught me and followed my gaze.
“What’s that about?”
“Nothing,” I said. “What time are we supposed to meet the insurance agent?”
Cin looked at her watch. “Half an hour.”
“I’m just going to run and get Thor. I’ll be there ASAP,” I said, picking up my coat and coffee.
“You spoil that damn dog,” she said.
“So did you,” I said as I pushed through the door.
As I led Thor down the steps that trailed to Main Street, I could see my cousin waving her hands and yelling at a short, bald man with wire-rimmed glasses. I checked the clock on my phone. I was on time. They must have arrived early.
Also in front of the Opal stood Tommy Delaney, Leo, and a man I didn’t recognize dressed in some kind of uniformed coat. The McAllister brothers were there too.
The short bald man was doing his best to ignore Cinnamon, taking notes, and talking to Eddie and Kirk.
“So you were hired to do the work?” Baldy asked Eddie.
Eddie was wearing scuffed up work boots and a five o’clock shadow.
“You betcha. That was me,” he said.
I inched up to the curb and motioned for Thor to sit.
Baldy tilted his head to peer over his glasses at Kirk. “And you approved it?”
“Yes, I did.” Kirk was taller, older, and sharper than Eddie.
“How long have you been doing masonry work?”
“Twenty years,” Eddie said, beaming.
Baldy took a few more notes and said, “Thank you, gentlemen. I think I have everything I need from you.”
Kirk nodded and guided Eddie away.
“What’s going on?” I asked my cousin.
“You won’t believe this,” she said. I could feel heat seeping from her, her temper in over-drive.
“Miss...?” said Baldy.
“Stacy Justice,” I said and stuck my hand out.
“My apologies. I don’t do that,” he said.
I lowered my hand and raised an eyebrow to Cin who made a strangling gesture with her fingers.
“I am Benjamin Smalls and what is happening here is standard company policy whenever a business is involved in a fire. This is the fire investigator for the claims office, Enrique Ortega.”
I nodded at Enrique and he smiled back.
“We already have a fire chief, Mr. Smalls,” I said.
Smalls looked at Tommy like he missed the winning kick in the Superbowl. “Yes, well sometimes in a town the size of Amethyst, not everyone is, how shall I put it? Up to snuff?”
“I’d like to snuff you,” Cin mumbled next to me.
“Pardon?” asked Smalls.
Cinnamon bit her lip.
“Say, you were there when the fire began, is that correct, Miss Justice?” Smalls continued.
“I was setting up behind the bar, yes.”
“Would you mind relaying your version of events?”
I told him exactly how everything had unfolded.
“Interesting.” He scribbled more notes. “So your dog was there and you insisted on retrieving him, while your cousin didn’t want you to bother,” said Smalls.
I stepped back, a bit stunned. “That isn’t what I said. She was afraid I would get hurt so—”
Cinnamon pinched me and I clamped my jaw shut.
“And you were never in the basement?” Smalls asked.
“No,” I said.
“And you were the only two people in the building?”
This guy was getting on my nerves so I decided to return the favor.
“Probably not.”
Cin gave me a “say what?” look.
“Come again?” Smalls removed his glasses and stared me down.
“These are old buildings, Mr. Smalls,” I said sweeping my arm over Main Street. “People have been coming and going in and out of these walls for nearly two centuries.” I lowered my voice and conjured up Birdie’s witchy tone. “We are never alone when the dead walk among us.”
Smalls dropped his spectacles and I caught them before they hit the ground. I leaned in and slipped them in his breast pocket.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice squeaky. He shook off a chill and cleared his throat.
“So then, no living, people. Besides the two of you?” Smalls asked, his voice trimmed with sarcasm.
Cin and I shook our heads.
“All right then. That’s all the questions I have. Thank you for your cooperation,” he said and he and Enrique jumped into a van parked on the street.
Cinnamon stood, anchored to the sidewalk, appearing helpless. I jogged over to the van.
“Wait a minute.” I knocked on the window and Enrique rolled it down. “What about the claim? What is she supposed to do now?”
“Now?” Smalls laughed and nudged Enrique who didn’t move. “Tell her to hire an attorney.”
“An attorney? Why?”
“Because, Miss Justice. Arson is a very serious offense.”
“Tommy, what the hell is going on? I thought I heard you say the cause of the fire was electrical?” I asked the fire chief. We were in Leo’s office at the police station.
Leo shot me a look and I realized my mistake instantly. I had heard that when I was in the basement, packed in a case of wine. The basement I wasn’t supposed to be in at the time.
“I never told you that, Stacy,” Tommy said.
Tommy was leaning up against the white brick wall, florescent bulbs bouncing light off his prominent forehead. Thor snored under Leo’s desk.
“Oh, right...what I meant was I thought I overheard someone else say that you said that.”
Geez, I was a terrible liar.
Tommy glanced from me, to Cin, to Leo. He sighed and pulled up a metal folding chair and removed his Chicago Bears hat.
“That’s what it looked like at first,” he said. “But then the deeper we got into it, it seemed that wasn’t the case. Just didn’t add up. And Enrique sure kept digging.”
Of course. What insurance company actually wants to dish out money for a claim?
“What didn’t add up?” I asked.
“The broken window in the basement, for one.”
“I thought the fire caused that?”
“No, someone broke that window. From the inside. Before the fire. I could tell from the glass pattern.”
I looked at Cin who was growing pale. “Cinnamon, did you notice the broken window?”
“No. It’s always freezing in that damn basement. I went to grab some napkins and straws and when I turned around I saw flames by the far wall,” she said.
“Near the window,” Leo added.
“Near the light,” I said.
“Right,” said Tommy. “That’s why wiring was my first assumption.”
“Okay, so the window was busted, what does that p
rove?” I asked.
“Have you ever heard of the fire triangle?” Tommy said.
I’d heard of the Bermuda triangle and I had a feeling I was about to get sucked into it.
“No,” I said.
Tommy took a pencil, a pen, and a sheet of paper off Leo’s desk to construct a visual for me.
“A fire needs three things to sustain it,” he explained. He grabbed the pencil and angled it. “Oxygen,” he formed a V with the pen, “a fuel source,” he punctured the paper across them, “and heat. Breaking a window in the basement would fan the fire and concentrate it in that area.”
“But it didn’t burn in just that area. It moved up. Does that mean windows were broken upstairs?”
“We didn’t find any. But when you walked in a minute later, Stacy, the gush of wind from opening the door sure helped it along.”
That unnerved me. I rarely helped Cin open up the bar. She was usually there alone, and I would swing by if she needed a hand, but we both intended to make the Imbolc celebration last night, before I forgot all about it. Had I not been there, what would have been the outcome?
“So what was the fuel source?” I asked.
Tommy glanced at Cin.
Cin leaned back in the swivel chair and said, “Tell her. Then you’ll know why it could not have been me.” She twirled.
Tommy put his foot on her chair and stopped her. “Cinnamon, I have known you all my life. For God’s sake I used to buy you beer when you were seventeen. I didn’t say you did it, but it will look that way so you need all the facts,” Tommy said.
“Cin, no one in this room thinks for a second you would set your own bar on fire,” I said.
“That’s right,” Leo put a hand on her shoulder.
“Mr. Small Dick thinks I did,” she said.
“Well, that’s the trouble with being short, bald, and having an unfortunate name like Smalls. Gives a guy Napoleon complex,” I told my cousin.
“I like to call it short man syndrome,” Cin said and grinned.
I turned my attention back to Tommy. “Let’s have it. What was the fuel source?”
“We can’t be certain at this point until the tests are complete, but we found broken bottles of grain alcohol so that’s where we’re leaning.”
“You mean like Everclear? The stuff people use to do a flaming shot? Cinnamon would never keep that in her bar,” I said.
Opal Fire Page 4