by J. J. Cook
“And we’re so grateful that you’re still among us,” Councilman Bob Floyd added.
“We know your motorcycle has been seriously damaged,” the mayor continued, “and we would like to offer this replacement. The fire chief needs a vehicle anyway. We were working on it. This little mishap kind of moved our timetable up a bit.”
Everyone started moving out of the way, allowing Stella to see the new fire-engine-red truck in front of town hall.
“Have her pull the ribbon off the top so I can get a picture, Mayor,” Pat Smith said as she held her camera high. She and her husband, John, ran the Sweet Pepper Gazette together. Most people referred to them as “The Smittys” because they were always together. They looked a little alike with their gray hair and rounded bodies. Plus they always wore matching Gazette T-shirts.
The mayor and all of the councilmen got in on the pictures. The crowd applauded as Stella pulled off the big red ribbon on the hood.
“There wasn’t quite time to get all of the necessary equipment in place,” the mayor said. “Ricky Junior can take care of installing the radio and the siren—and whatever else you need.”
“Thank you.” Stella was overwhelmed by their generosity. She reminded herself that they didn’t purchase the vehicle for her specifically. It was for the fire chief, whoever that would be. But it was still a nice gesture—especially since she’d been thinking she’d have to rent a car until the Harley was repaired.
“Say a few words so we have something to write about,” Pat Smith said. “We need a nice caption for the front page.”
The crowd applauded and then quieted down. Stella looked at the group, spotting all of the volunteers who were supposed to be practicing with the three-inch hose.
She also saw her grandfather in the very back of the crowd and guessed where the money for the SUV had come from. She could only suppose that John hadn’t realized yet, since he was as happy as everyone else.
Oh well. He could be cynical later.
“Thank you all so much,” she said in a loud voice. “I’m really glad to be here and to work with Sweet Pepper’s finest—the volunteer fire brigade.”
Applause broke out again. Ben Carson nodded and smiled at her. There was no sign of Vivian or Marty.
Stella was swamped immediately by her volunteers and other citizens of the town wishing her well. Lucille and Ricky Hutchins Sr. handed out ham biscuits to the crowd while a waitress from Scooter’s gave out ice cream samples. Valery from the Daily Grind passed around coffee in small cups. The event became a party on the street.
The Smittys coerced Stella into getting in the driver’s seat of the SUV so they could take her picture again. As soon as they had finished, her grandfather stopped at the window.
“It’s a good-looking vehicle, don’t you think? It needs detailing—it should say ‘Sweet Pepper Fire Brigade’ and maybe have the current fire chief’s name on the door.”
“That would be the usual procedure,” she agreed. “But a waste until there’s a more permanent chief.”
“You know, there could be a good life for you here, Stella. You seem to fit right in. I know the town council would like you to stay. No point in searching for something you already have.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not staying. I have a life already back home.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Stubborn as a mule, like your mother. If you won’t consider staying on permanently, at least come and stay with me at the estate while you’re here. We would have more time to get to know each other, and you wouldn’t have to put up with that old haunt.”
“Thanks, but he and I are getting along much better now. Excuse me. I have an important phone call to make.”
“I meant the cabin. Stella?”
Her grandfather opened the door and she got out of the truck. “Yes?”
“Tell your mother I love her and I wish she’d come down for a visit sometime. It’s been too long.”
She smiled but didn’t respond. Was anything ever private here?
She hoped her mother had some reasonable explanation for keeping this large secret. Maybe finding out what it was would take away some of her uneasiness about the situation.
Everyone from town seemed to be out and about. They all wanted to shake her hand or have a picture taken with her and the Cherokee. Their enthusiasm made her feel jaded. It was only a vehicle, after all. The people of Sweet Pepper had made it into something so much more.
Or maybe that was her injuries from the wreck talking. Or that she’d had to acknowledge that a ghost lived with her and that she had a new family she’d never met—all in the past twenty-four hours.
She reminded herself what a nice gesture it was and kept on smiling.
The crowd also made it difficult for her to reach the café. When Stella finally sat down at a table, the town’s attorney had her sign some documents that included promises that she’d take care of the SUV. He also took her driver’s license number for insurance purposes.
When he was finally done and the excitement had dwindled to various café patrons waving and smiling at her across the crowded dining area, Stella ordered some apple pie and coffee. Ricky’s mother, who usually didn’t wait tables, brought it to her.
“I put some rum sauce on the pie for you.” Lucille set down the big piece of pie on a warm plate. “It has a tiny hint of pepper in it. The recipe won the festival award two years running,”
“Thanks, Lucille.” Stella realized there was no way she was going to have a heart-to-heart with her mother like this. She needed somewhere quiet—that had cell service—where she could be alone. In the meantime, she might as well enjoy her pie.
People continued to stop by her table to shake her hand and introduce their children. She also felt someone staring at her and looked up to see Deputy Chum at the counter. His plate was still full, ignored while he looked at her with curious apprehension.
At least he wasn’t running away screaming.
She picked up her plate and coffee to join him at the narrow counter. Maybe she could pump some information out of him.
“Deputy Chum.”
“Chief Griffin.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. She could see that she still made him nervous. He pushed his plate of fried catfish and hush puppies farther away from her. His hand shook when he picked up a hush puppy and started eating.
“I know we met earlier on the road coming into town,” she started. “You called me Abigail.”
He swallowed his hush puppy and made a pretense out of washing it down with a large swallow of iced tea. “That’s right. Funny that. My old eyes were playing tricks on me, I guess.”
“You thought I was Abigail Carson, my grandmother, didn’t you?”
“I was mistaken. I mean, you aren’t her.” He got flustered and red-faced talking about it, obviously wishing she’d go away.
“I saw some old pictures. I look like her.” Stella smiled. “I guess that’s why you were surprised to see me.”
He nodded over the top of his glass. “You do favor her. Even more than your mama did.”
“You knew Abigail well?”
“She—I—”
“Were you friends?”
“With Abigail Carson?” he blurted out. “Of course not.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “She died. She was my first death scene when I came on with the sheriff’s office. I was the first deputy on the scene that night. It’s something you never forget. I never saw a single person dead in my whole life before then—except in a coffin, of course.”
“On the scene?” Stella asked. She’d figured Abigail had died from cancer or something. “How did she die?”
“She fell down those long stairs and snapped her neck. Looking at her made a goose run across my grave. She looked like she was still alive. I can see it as clear today as if it was yesterday.”
“Was it an accident?”
He stared at her, forgetting for a minute who he was talking to. “Of course it was an acci
dent. She lost her balance, that’s all. It was tragic.”
Deputy Chum started eating his catfish in earnest, stifling any further conversation between them. Stella was prepared to wait, but Officer Richardson, another Sweet Pepper policeman, asked if she would kindly move the Cherokee as it was blocking people trying to get in and out of town hall.
“It was good talking with you, Deputy,” she said before she left Chum. “I’d like to see someone like you come out and join the fire brigade. We could use all the experienced emergency people we can get.”
“I’m about to retire. Thanks for the invite. My wife would kill me if I did anything besides work on the house and help out in the garden.”
“I understand.” She held out her hand. “Thanks for telling me about Abigail.”
He took her hand and leaned close to her. “Some things are better left unsaid,” he whispered, staring into her eyes with great intent. “You’re leaving here soon. No call for you to get caught up in it.”
Deputy Chum glanced around at the rest of the patrons in the diner, then hitched up his pants and walked out.
Stella left too. Maybe she’d only imagined the intensity of his gaze, as though he were issuing a warning. Was there some question about her grandmother’s death?
She thought about it as she carefully drove the SUV off the sidewalk and parked it on the street. Was that what had driven her mother away?
She grabbed her computer bag from John’s police car and took it down to Charlie Johnson’s shop to have the software installed. She was fairly sure at this point that there really was a ghost, as crazy as that sounded, but it wouldn’t hurt to try one more, logical thing to be certain.
Charlie took the laptop and smiled. “Thought you’d given up and accepted the truth, Chief Griffin. I don’t know if a ghost is gonna appear on a surveillance picture.”
“Things came up,” she said. “I have to investigate every possibility before I can accept the ghost theory.”
“Oh yeah.” He looked at the bandage on her head. “You wrecked your bike. Sorry to hear that.”
“Can we put the security program on my laptop?” Both of the subjects were sore points for her right now.
“Of course! I’ll be happy to defrag and tune it up a bit too, if you like. Can’t be too careful nowadays.”
“Sure,” she agreed. “I’ll pick it up later.”
“Should be ready in about an hour, Chief. Thanks for your business.”
Town hall should have been closed since it was Sunday, but since the mayor and town council had been out and about anyway, they’d decided to have a meeting of some sort. Part of the building was always open since the police department was also located there.
Stella walked in and asked the clerk if there was someplace private where she could use her phone. It was time to have that conversation that she hoped would answer some of her questions.
The woman with the beehive hairdo and pink sweater set said, “Of course, Chief Griffin. You just come right this way. You can use the mayor’s office. Would you like some coffee? I can put on a new pot.”
“Thanks. I had some. I hate to take you from your work—which way is the mayor’s office?”
The clerk wouldn’t hear of Stella finding her own way. She led Stella down the long corridor past several closed doors with names on them. John didn’t have an office, but Don Rogers did.
“Here’s the mayor’s office. Make yourself at home.” The clerk smiled. “I was wondering if we’d meet before you left Sweet Pepper. I’m Sandy Selvy. I grew up here—your mother and I went to school together. I always thought we’d hear something from that side of the family again. I bet Ben Carson is glad to have you back. That man deserves some happiness in his life.”
Stella didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. Maybe it was because of her head injury, or maybe because of the whole weird situation. At least it was nice to hear someone say something pleasant about her grandfather.
Sandy smiled again, blushing a little. “Here I am talking your ear off when you have a phone call to make. I’m going back to take minutes at that meeting.”
Stella waited until Sandy was gone, then sat down at the desk in the quiet room. She punched in her mother’s number on her cell phone and touched the picture of her laughing face on the screen as she waited for her to pick up.
She felt oddly disconnected and wished she could go home now. Rather than making her want to stay in Sweet Pepper, the Carson legacy made her want to run away.
“Oh, Stella,” her mother answered. “I’ve been so worried. I heard you wrecked your motorcycle from Dad. Are you okay now? I’ve tried calling you a hundred times.”
“Never mind how she is,” Stella’s father quipped in the background. “How’s the Harley? If I would’ve known you were going to wreck it, I might not have given it to you. That bike is a family heirloom.”
“Quiet, Sean,” Barbara Griffin said to her husband. “Never mind. I’m going upstairs to talk to Stella.”
Stella took this to mean that her father didn’t know the whole Sweet Pepper story either. She heard some rustling and the closing of a door on her mother’s end. “Mom?”
“It’s okay now. I wanted some privacy.”
“Sorry about the missed calls. You forgot to tell me that your hometown has hit-or-miss cell phone service too. Kind of like you forgot to tell me anything else about it.”
“I’m really sorry about that, honey. I left there so long ago. I didn’t want anyone to know. I made up a whole new background for myself.”
“I understand that,” Stella said. “But you knew I was coming here. I know you didn’t want to prejudice me against your family, but come on—a whole, rich family who everyone fears and/or despises? I think you should’ve mentioned that to me.”
Her mother was silent for a moment. Her voice was shaking when she said, “It’s hard to explain. I was so afraid he’d find me. I never wanted to see him or Sweet Pepper again.”
Chapter 15
“What changed your mind?” Stella asked.
“Right after you broke up with Doug, I got a call from Dad. It was the first time I’d talked to him since I left home. I didn’t even know what to say. Looking back on it, leaving seems kind of stupid and dramatic. Like something a kid would do, only I’d held on to it all these years.”
“You left because your mother died, right?”
“Of course you’ve heard about it,” her mother said. “There’s plenty of gossip in Sweet Pepper. Most of it you can’t believe.”
“So you were devastated by her death and left. Did you blame your father?”
Barbara laughed. “That’s my girl. I’m not sure you shouldn’t have been a shrink instead of a firefighter. Yes, I blamed him. I thought for a long time that he had killed her.”
Stella recalled her talk with Deputy Chum. “What changed your mind? I’m assuming you wouldn’t have let me come down here if you still believed that.”
“Ha ha. Very funny. No, I would’ve told you before you left. I realized after I talked to Dad that I was still holding on to all those crazy teenage ideas. I dug out my old scrapbook that I’d brought with me—almost the only thing I brought. The police did a thorough investigation into my mom’s death.”
“They didn’t find anything suspicious,” Stella guessed. “Was that because there wasn’t anything suspicious to find or because they didn’t want to charge Ben Carson with a crime? Because I have to tell you that it doesn’t seem likely to me that the police would look too hard at him as a suspect.”
“I know what you mean. I thought the same thing. The police said my mother had been taking sleeping pills and probably lost her balance on those stairs—I take it he still lives there and you know what I’m talking about.”
“What made you think your father killed her?”
“They argued a lot. I thought maybe they were arguing and he pushed her. I loved her very much, Stella. We were very close. I knew she and my dad h
ad problems. She thought he was fooling around and that’s why he was gone all the time. I guess I hated him for her.”
“Did the police take that into consideration?”
“Yes. They questioned Dad. He wasn’t even home at the time. There was some emergency at the pepper plant and he was there. Ironically, spending all his time there was one of their biggest problems. In this case, it was also his alibi.”
“That wasn’t good enough for you?”
“I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t stand to be at the house. I had to get out of there.” She paused. “That was a long time ago. I wasn’t practical and smart like you, honey. It wasn’t until I looked at everything again that I realized how silly and selfish I’d been.”
“Why selfish, Mom? You had to find yourself and your own answers.”
“I was selfish because I left my dad alone with all of that heartache and grief. I could’ve been there to help him get over it. We could’ve helped each other. I hope if something happens to me, your father will have you to lean on. There are only the three of us—like my family was.”
Stella felt like she was beginning to understand though some details were still unclear. “Did you tell your father about me breaking up with Doug?”
“You mean your grandfather? No. At least not the first time I talked to him.”
“So he got all of his personal information about me from you?”
“I guess so. Why? Did you think he’d had you investigated?” Barbara laughed. “Maybe we aren’t so different after all.”
“Maybe,” Stella agreed. “There’s still the thing about how Sweet Pepper knew to put that ad in my station’s newsletter. And, if your dad called you, he’s probably known all this time where you were.”
“You don’t like him.”
“I don’t know him. I thought you didn’t like him.”
Her mother sighed. “It’s not that simple.”
“But you want me to like him?” Stella asked.
“I want you to make your own decision. Now you know all about it. You can choose to let the Carsons be part of your family too. Or not.”