by J. J. Cook
“You shouldn’t feel bad about this,” Stella said as she dropped Gail off. “It was scary. No one should have to go through that.”
Gail put her hand on Stella’s and smiled. “Good luck. Let’s not ever talk about this again.”
Chapter 26
Stella watched Gail get in her pickup and leave before she drove back up the mountain. “You heard?” she asked Eric who appeared in the passenger seat.
“I didn’t have much choice. Are you going to give that evidence to Chief Rogers?”
“Maybe. I think I’m going to use it like Gail said. If Chief Rogers actually investigates, I’ll give it to him. If not, I’ll give it to Brad Whitman.”
“I see—playing the local cop off the state cop.”
“Just hedging my bets. What did you think about what she said?”
“I never believed Falk Sr. would have anything to do with drugs. His son—maybe. It’s hard to believe Falk Jr. would kill the old man to hide what’s going on. I’m not sure.”
“Was she telling the truth?”
“I thought so.”
“You must have a ghostly lie detector sense too, right?”
“I wish. It would help with you sometimes.”
“Meaning?”
“You always keep a little something back. I’ve learned to expect it.”
“I guess we understand each other. Thanks for the coffee and rolls.”
“You’re welcome.”
*
Stella put on the long brown dress that Molly had created for her. It was made with coarse brown material with tiny pink flowers in it. She put her hair up so it would fit under the bonnet that matched it.
She looked at herself in the bedroom mirror. The only good thing she could say about the outfit was that the hat was small. The last time she’d dressed up for a pepper festival event, the hat was almost bigger than the inside of the Cherokee.
“What do you think?” she asked Eric.
“How did you know I was here?” He appeared to her.
“You know how you said you know me now?” Her gaze speared his in the mirror. “I know you too. You’re sneaky.”
He smiled. “But discreet—particularly since no one but Tagger and you can hear and see me.”
“You’re forgetting Hero.”
The dog barked in the next room when he heard his name. He finally settled down with a whine, his nose buried under the closed bedroom door.
“You’re right,” Eric agreed. “Sorry, Hero. And I think you look very authentic.”
“Is that your way of saying I look stupid?”
“I don’t think you’d ever look stupid, Stella. But I think you should wear your hair down. The little hat would still fit. I like it better down.”
“Like I asked you.” She took it down from its precarious perch on the back of her head anyway and replaced the bonnet. “Better?”
“Much better.” He was behind her in the mirror. “I read once in National Geographic that males looking for mates like long, loose hair. I think it might help you find a steady beau.”
Stella started laughing. “You’re kidding, right? Do I seem like I’m in the market for a steady boyfriend? You know women today don’t always get married. If they do, it might not be until they’re fifty.”
He looked astonished. “What about children?”
“I can have some of my eggs frozen and have a surrogate carry the baby even if I’m seventy.”
“Is that really possible?”
Stella loved teasing him about things he hadn’t gleaned from watching hours of late-night TV. Knowing what went on in the world was the only edge she felt she had on him.
“It’s possible,” she admitted. “I don’t plan to do it, but I don’t plan to go out looking for a mate either. Do you want to come with me tonight?”
His blue eyes gazed into the distance. “I don’t know. If you wear your hair that way and a man comes along and sweeps you off your feet do I want to watch?”
Stella waited for his response, not confirming or denying his suggestions.
“You know I want to be there.” He finally laughed. “It will be like going to a high school reunion where I still look like I’m thirty-five and everyone else is old.”
“True. Except I’ll be the only one who can see you.”
“Put the badge in your pocketbook, woman. Take me with you.”
“Is that how men from your generation talked to women?”
“Of course. We were much more manly back then.”
“I’ll remember to ask my grandfather about that. He’s about your age.”
“Ouch. That hurt.”
“Sometimes the truth is painful.”
*
After Hero had another jaunt outside in the cold evening air, Stella and Eric said goodnight to him at the cabin, and left for the pepper queen’s coronation event.
There was supposed to be an orchestra and dancing as well as a buffet and cash bar. The event was being held at the high school so there would be plenty of room, not to mention a spotlight and a stage.
Stella pulled her brown shawl closer as she got out of the Cherokee. Temperatures had dropped. She wished she’d worn her coat, but that was too modern for the event. She had worn her boots, even though they didn’t fit the costume. No one could see them under the large skirt anyway.
“You look like everyone else,” Eric said. “I feel like I’m in Little House on the Prairie.”
“We’re out in public. Don’t talk to me.” Stella smiled and nodded at some people who waved as they went inside.
“Sorry.”
Inside the already crowded gym colorful balloons and streamers were everywhere. Stella felt sure there weren’t any balloons during the 1800s. She wasn’t sure about streamers.
“Oh my God,” Eric said suddenly. “Is that Rose Addison? I dated her in high school.”
Stella looked at the gray-haired woman who was dressed in a lovely purple gown. She was still very attractive. She held a silver-headed cane in one hand. A shawl that matched her blue eyes was draped across her shoulders.
“I knew it would be like this,” Stella muttered. “Do you want me to find out who she married and how many kids they had?”
“No. That would be crazy.”
“Okay.”
“Well—if you’re going in her direction anyway.”
Stella laughed and started toward Rose. Before she could reach her Elvita Quick and Myra Strickland cornered her.
“Good evening, Chief Griffin.” Elvita smiled, but Stella knew there was something going on. “Just wondering how many new contributors to the recipe contest you’ve managed to bring in. I haven’t received anything from you.”
“I have a few. I still have a while to go.” Stella couldn’t believe she was making excuses for not having more than three recipes. Why did I agree to do this?
“That’s wonderful!” Elvita gushed. “I knew you were the right person for the job!”
“I can’t begin to tell you how important it is to get new recipe contest entrants,” Myra said. “It is the heart and soul of the festival. People die, you know. Or they’re incapacitated in some way that they can’t submit new recipes.”
Elvita agreed. “And that’s why we depend on someone finding new recipes and possible contest winners each year.”
“For this year, that’s you, dear.” Myra smiled and patted Stella’s hand. “I know you’ll do us proud.”
“Thanks.” Stella smiled at both of them. “Excuse me. I see Eric’s old high school flame over there. I promised I’d ask how she’s doing.”
Stella walked away from them. She’d left them with their mouths open, watching to see where she was going.
“That was mean,” Eric said. “If they think you talk to me they’ll never come to the cabin for a meeting.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Stella waited for Rose to finish her conversation with another elderly man that Eric identified as an old foot
ball buddy, Orin Johnson.
“Excuse me,” Stella said. “Aren’t you Rose Addison?”
Rose smiled and nodded. “I used to be. Now I’m Rose Harcourt. My husband, Wendell, passed last year. I’m afraid I’m not modern enough to take my last name back. And you’re Stella Griffin, our fire chief.”
“I am.” Stella tried to think how she could explain knowing who Rose was.
“Yearbook,” Eric prompted as though reading her mind. “You saw her in my old yearbook.”
“I saw you in Eric Gamlyn’s yearbook. A lot of his stuff is still at the cabin.”
Rose’s cheeks turned pink. “Eric Gamlyn! I haven’t thought of him in so long. We dated through high school. He was such a good man. A little wild, but that was how his daddy raised him. I thought someday he might pop the question, you know? It never happened. I don’t think he ever married.”
Rose said it in such a sad tone, Stella was sorry she’d asked. It was easy to see that Rose still carried a torch for Eric. She changed the subject and asked her for a recipe. Rose said she’d given so many through the years that she didn’t have anything new.
“I guess I’d better move off the floor.” Rose pulled her shawl closer. “Looks like they’re going to dance. I hope you brought your beau.”
“Ask her if she was happy with Wendell. Ask her if they had children.” Eric’s face looked anguished too.
Stella walked off the makeshift gymnasium dance floor with Rose. “I hope you and Wendell were happy together. Did you have children?”
“We had one son, Eric.” Rose blushed again. “It was my idea to name him that. Wendell agreed because he was a very understanding man. We were happy together. He wasn’t the love of my life, but he was good to me.”
When Rose was seated along the sidelines of the dance floor, Stella tried to find Eric. He was gone. He was only invisible, she knew. Probably needed some time to himself.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder. It was Marty Lawrence, Ben’s stepson.
“Somehow you even manage to look good in that getup.” He’d opted to dress like a gunslinger—appropriate for the time, but not the occasion.
“Thanks, I think.”
“We should dance. You’re here alone, right?”
“I don’t dance.” It wasn’t true, but she had no intention of dancing with him. He’d been nothing but a thorn in her side since she’d come to Sweet Pepper.
Stella was fairly certain that he’d meant to have a relationship with her, maybe even something serious—something that would win him the Carson money. She’d learned right away that Marty wouldn’t inherit anything from Ben since they weren’t related and Ben had no time for him.
“I think this dance is mine.” John smiled as he reached for Stella’s hand. “Beat it, Lawrence.”
Marty glared at John, who looked splendid in his historic outfit. He was dressed like an old-time gambler with lace shirtfront and string tie.
“I’m sorry, Marty,” Stella lied. “I forgot that John had already asked me.”
“That’s okay. Even though I probably saved your life that night when you wrecked your Harley.”
“Or caused the accident.” John’s face was grim.
Marty leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Somebody isn’t always going to be there to catch you when you fall.”
Stella stared into his steely blue eyes. “I’ll worry about that when the time comes.”
She and John walked away and slowly swayed to the fiddle music being played.
“What’s up with him?” John watched Marty. “I think he’s been hitting the punch bowl too hard.”
“Sounds like the same old Marty to me.” Stella changed the subject. “I like your outfit. Did Molly make it?”
John laughed. “Molly doesn’t make men’s clothes. This outfit belonged to my dad. He used to drag it out for events like this one.”
Stella hoped they wouldn’t get into another discussion about his father’s death and her grandfather’s part in it. “It looks very realistic. I’m surprised you didn’t come as a sheriff.”
“I would’ve, but my boss has that privilege.” He nodded at Chief Rogers, who’d just come in. “Too many sheriffs make for a bad party.”
“I can see that.” At least John had been diverted from going into his usual tirade about her grandfather—and her Carson blood.
“You look nice.” John looked at her outfit. “That thing is big enough to wear over your turnout gear. You don’t have it on under there, do you?”
His eyes twinkled when he was in that mellow mood. Stella was afraid to trust it. John turned on her too quickly.
“What kind of question is that to ask a lady?” Rufus demanded. “I’ll take over from here, buddy. It sounds to me like you need to work on your conversation skills.”
John didn’t seem like he was willing to relinquish Stella’s hand for a moment. “You should find your own girl, Rufus.”
“I think I have. I could find out faster if you’d get out of my way.”
They each had one of Stella’s hands. She was about to sit down and leave them both standing when John backed off. “Thanks for the dance, Chief.”
Stella watched him get a cup of punch. She diverted her attention to her new dance partner, telling herself it was for the best. She and John could never spend too much time together without an argument. “It’s good to see you, Rufus. How are the plans for my fireboat shaping up?”
“They’ll be ready for the council meeting. I can’t wait to get started on it. It’s one of the most exciting things I’ve done—meeting you being on the top of that list, Stella.”
“Why, sir.” Stella played the game, fluttering her eyelashes and smiling coyly. “I do believe you’re flirting with me.”
“You better believe it.” He pressed her closer to him as the next song began. “If I were John, I would’ve made sure a long time ago that you weren’t at parties dancing with strange men like me.”
Rufus’s grin was difficult to resist. He whirled Stella around the dance floor until she was dizzy and laughing at his conversation. When the music stopped, Rufus found her a chair and went to get her some punch.
The gymnasium was crowded and hot by then. Someone had opened both doors to bring in the chilly night breezes. A group of cloggers set up to dance after the gym floor was protected. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and the big money barrel at the front of the room was already filled with funds to support the festival.
“Chief Griffin.” Don Rogers sat down beside her with a friendly nod. “You seem to be the belle of the ball.”
“I think that’s because I’m the only one here that’s not married except for the Sweet Pepper queen candidates and the court.”
He didn’t look at her. His gaze followed the cloggers’ peppy movements. “Just wanted to let you know you were right about the cocaine. I don’t know yet why Barney Falk had it in his house. I knew the man my whole life. I never met anyone more against drugs.”
“I don’t have that answer.” She didn’t tell him about her conversation with Gail. It seemed Eric, Walt, and John had been right about Chief Rogers. Still, she didn’t want to endanger Gail’s life in case she was wrong.
“We’re investigating. I’ve got my money on Barney’s grandson. The boy has been headed in the wrong direction for some time. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to imagine the kid could’ve visited his grandfather while he was up here and left the drugs behind for safekeeping. Maybe even meant to kill the old man. Maybe Barney found out what Chip was doing and threatened to turn him in.”
Stella thought about the young man she’d spoken with at the coffee shop. She knew a young, handsome face didn’t make him innocent. She couldn’t see into his heart.
“How do you plan to establish that Barney’s death wasn’t an accident?” Chief Rogers asked her.
“I have the detonator, and I know what type of explosive was used.”
“You have proof?”
&n
bsp; Stella started to respond, but her radio and cell phone went off. She called the firehouse.
“There’s an accident on Pepper Lane,” Tagger told her. “A car hit a power pole. People are injured and trapped inside. Chief—it’s Banyin.”
Chapter 27
Stella drove with her siren on and her gas pedal to the floor. By the time the rest of the fire brigade had reached the scene, she’d changed clothes and had a chance to survey the situation.
“Tagger, have you called an ambulance and paramedic unit?” The radio crackled around her voice, masking the fear and emotion that charged through her.
“Yes, ma’am. How does it look?”
“Not good. Banyin and her husband are both unconscious. The power pole landed on top of the car. Live wires are snapping across it like a net.”
“God bless her, Chief.”
“Call the power company. If they can’t have someone out here in the next few minutes, call Elvis Vaughn. I want these wires cut right away.”
Stella stood a safe distance from the old brown Chevy that she’d seen Banyin drive to the firehouse dozens of times. She hoped Banyin and Jake were okay. She didn’t like standing there, doing nothing, waiting to find out.
When the people at the coronation saw the members of the fire brigade head out the door at the high school, everyone followed. Cars and trucks began parking everywhere along Pepper Lane. Their passengers spilled into the night to see what was going on.
“Power company on the way?” John asked as he reached Stella’s side. He already had the Jaws of Life in his hands.
“I don’t know yet. If they don’t have a truck nearby, Tagger is calling Elvis Vaughn. There’s nothing we can do until they get here.”
People pushed closer, gaping like it was the Fourth of July as the power lines sparked. Questions flew as everyone speculated on what would happen to the couple in the car.
“Chief?” Tagger called back. “The power company is thirty minutes away. I can’t find Elvis right now. I’ll bet he’s at the bar.”