Playing With Fire

by J. J. Cook

  “And sure you could’ve mentioned that you were a princess in disguise during some of those times when we barely had beans on the plate for dinner, my darlin’. Your daddy could have thrown a million or two our way.”

  “I’m glad we made it on our own,” Barbara said. “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I’m glad Stella wasn’t raised in the rarified environment that I was raised in where nothing was ever good enough for me. It may sound silly, but it’s hard being the only rich girl in a small town.”

  Stella glanced at her father and they both broke out laughing.

  “It sounds tough to me.” Sean hugged his wife.

  “Never mind. I knew you wouldn’t understand.” Barbara sighed. “I’m glad both of you will be there tonight anyway. I couldn’t have done this alone.”

  Stella uncurled herself from the sofa and hugged both her parents. “It’s okay, Mom. I don’t think you’re the world’s worst mother. How could I? You’re an heiress. I’d like to make my birthday request now. I’m thinking about a new Harley. I know someone who could really customize it for me too. Not more than fifty thousand dollars. You can handle that, right?”

  Eric was laughing as Stella winked at him and then went in to take a cold shower and get dressed.

  She’d never seen her mother this way. She was normally the calmest and most composed person she’d ever known. On the other hand, she could understand her nervousness after meeting the Carsons. She wondered how Barbara would feel about Vivian—Ben’s current wife—and her son, Marty.

  Stella had been in the mansion, in her mother’s old bedroom. It was still like she’d left it, complete with her clothes and toys. There was bound to be more Carson drama there tonight.

  She dressed carefully in a soft-as-butter black knit skirt and a matching sweater, both handmade in Sweet Pepper. It was one of her many purchases that was going to add up to a lot of extra baggage going home.

  Eric appeared next to her on the bed as she put on her knee-length black boots.

  “You know you’re not supposed to be in here when I’m dressing.” She reminded him of their pact as she zipped up one of her boots.

  “You were already dressed.”

  “That implies that you knew I wasn’t dressed. We aren’t married, you know—just housemates.”

  “You could watch me change clothes anytime—if that ever happened.” He grinned. “What’s that new term I’ve heard on TV? ‘Friends with benefits’?”

  “Eric—”

  “Sorry. I remembered something. I wanted to tell you before I lost it again.”

  “Okay.” She finished putting on her boots and started brushing her hair. “What’s up?”

  “I heard something.”

  “At the silo that night?”

  “Yes. When I saw the shadow move, I heard something.”

  Stella had been in a burning building plenty of times. There were all kinds of strange sounds as wood popped and splintered in the heat and glass shattered.

  “What did it sound like?”

  “Music.”

  Stella stopped brushing her hair and looked at him standing behind her in the bathroom mirror. Only a ghost could have fit in the tiny bathroom with her.

  “Chum said he heard music when he saw the men taking the body out of the silo that night. He said that’s what caught his attention in all the chaos.”

  He frowned. “What could that mean?”

  “Was it like someone was singing or whistling?”

  “No. I don’t think so. More like the radio, maybe.”

  She put on some lipstick, trying to work that piece into the puzzle. The man who killed Eric was listening to the radio in the middle of an inferno? It seemed unlikely, but she couldn’t afford to overlook one of the last things he remembered that went along with what Chum had told her.

  “I have to go,” she said. “We’ll talk about this later. I’m sure it means something.”

  “All right.” Eric moved into the bedroom. “Have a good time. Be careful. You know Ben doesn’t want you, or your mother, to leave Sweet Pepper again. We don’t know how far he’d be willing to go to accomplish that.”

  “We’ll be fine.” She grabbed her handbag. “I’ll eat very carefully, in case the food is drugged.”

  It was always there—the undercurrent of fear and anger about the “old man,” as many people referred to Ben Carson. People blamed him for everything bad that had ever happened in their lives.

  If he was as evil as John and Eric considered him, she felt fairly sure he wouldn’t have been able to go the last year without doing something to cement his reputation. She’d even provoked him, giving the pepper processing plant a safety citation and making him clean up his act. A few people thought he would have killed anyone else for defying him.

  Stella thought it was a lot of nonsense—and possibly some darker deeds on his part in the past. Her mother wasn’t the only one who’d thought Ben had killed Abigail. Chum had hinted that he’d thought so too.

  Ben had an alibi, though. He’d been working at the pepper plant. Chum had told her that there was a brief investigation before it was concluded that Abigail had missed a stair and tumbled down to her death.

  John had peppered that information by telling her that nothing bad had ever stuck to the Carson name.

  They drove to the estate, which was a few miles away, in the rental car. The rain and persistent fog made the trip longer.

  Stella felt more comfortable in the car with Doug this time. He seemed to be okay with the fact that their relationship wasn’t going further than friendship. They talked the whole way about Eric’s death and the murder investigation.

  “I wish you’d put that behind you, sweetheart,” her mother said. “It’s not your place to look into this. Let the police do their job.”

  “Listen to your mother,” Sean added. “Put your brain on moving plans. Have your stuff sent home so you can fly back with us. You’ve been on vacation long enough. It’s time to get back to work.”

  Stella didn’t have time to restate her position on finding Eric’s killer. They had pulled into the grounds of the Carson mansion with its wide drive, gated entrance, and tiny guardhouse.

  Sean rolled down his window to address the older man who waited there.

  “Good to see you, Miss Stella.” Bernard removed his cap for a moment in respect when he saw her in the car. “You must be her father. Mr. Carson is expecting you. Welcome home, Miss Barbara.”

  Barbara smiled at him. He had been a very young man when she’d left Sweet Pepper. She was surprised to find herself tearing up when she realized who he was. “Thank you, Bernard. It’s good to see you.”

  The big iron gates swung open and Sean whistled as he steered the car up the steep hill to the house. There were lights everywhere, outlining the stone wall along the drive and illuminating the trees.

  “This is nice,” he said. “This is very nice. Maybe Stella has room for me on the fire brigade and we could move down here and claim your birthright.”

  “Don’t even joke about that,” Barbara and Stella said at almost the same time.

  “Why not?” Sean asked. “This is the good life. Why wouldn’t you want to be part of it?”

  “Because you’re only joking,” Barbara said. “You wouldn’t leave your family or your job to come down here. My father would take those words very seriously. Don’t even hint that we could stay.”

  Sean laughed as he rounded the circle drive in front of the large house, equally well lighted. “You make him sound like an ogre. Are we walking into a trap—or a lavish dinner for a runaway heiress? I hope the latter. I left my sword at home.”

  Barbara didn’t find his attitude funny. “Don’t be your normal self tonight, please. The Carsons aren’t like the Griffins. There won’t be any friendly banter or ghost stories. My father
is different than what you’re used to.”

  “I’m sorry, darlin’.” Sean stroked her arm. “I wasn’t taking it seriously. I’ll be good. I promise. No jokes.”

  Doug seemed too awestruck by his surroundings to even speak—and he wasn’t in the house yet. Stella smiled at him when they got out of the car and were met by the housekeeper, Felicity.

  “Welcome to Carson Manor,” she said as they started up the walkway. “If you need anything while you’re here, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Are you okay?” Stella asked Doug, taking his hand.

  “I wasn’t expecting anything like this.” He stared at the mansion as though he might never get over it.

  “It’s just a big house,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve seen other mansions.”

  “Sure. Driving by. I never ate dinner in one. And I never knew people who lived there.”

  Stella decided there was nothing more she could say to him about it. He’d have to get through it on his own.

  Several young housemaids met them at the door that opened into the beautiful foyer and the breathtaking staircase that dominated it. The huge chandelier dropped dramatically from the ceiling, crystal teardrops reflected across the rooms.

  Stella saw her mother grab her father’s hand and squeeze hard. It was the only outward sign of the emotional part of her homecoming. Ben and Vivian came in immediately, and the moment passed.

  Ben did the introductions. Vivian was dressed to kill in what looked like a green designer gown with fabulous diamonds around her neck and in her ears. The light from the chandelier gleamed in her blond hair as she smiled at her husband’s only child.

  When they married, it was too late for her to conceive an heir to take the place of Ben’s reluctant daughter. For a long time, Vivian had pushed her son, Marty, into trying to be Ben’s son, at least in affection. That had never worked out.

  There was no doubt in Vivian’s mind that this plain Jane, who looked so much like the long-dead Abigail, would be Ben’s heir. Barbara would get it all—unless she didn’t want it—and in that case, it would go to Stella.

  Vivian and Marty had no claim on the Carson money—at least not yet.

  Chapter 14

  They all went into the library for drinks before dinner. The huge painting of Abigail in her youth dominated the elegant room filled with antiques and first editions.

  Seeing her mother there with the portrait made Stella realize how similar the three of them looked. What was Abigail like? she wondered, staring up at her portrait.

  She saw Vivian looking at the portrait too. She was probably wondering if there was any way she could get Barbara to go back home and forget that this was all hers when something happened to Ben.

  Vivian had made her position very clear to Stella. She hadn’t given up so much of her life to Ben not to get anything in return—despite the prenup she’d signed when they were married.

  “This is a beautiful place.” Sean admired the antique globe on a stand near a large wood desk. He was drinking a local red wine in a crystal glass. “I like this wine.”

  “This is made from the muscadine grape right here in Sweet Pepper,” Ben said. “I’ve been cultivating grapes for the last twenty years. We’ve got a few producing vineyards now that are beginning to show a profit. You never know when the pepper business might dry up.”

  Vivian’s laugh tinkled delicately around the room. “You shouldn’t joke about things like that. People might decide they don’t like peppers anymore.”

  Ben finished his wine and poured himself another. “We’ve been growing the hottest, sweetest peppers in the world right here for the last hundred years or so. If anything, business has never been better. Sean, you and Doug will have to let me take you on a tour of the factory and the farms. Stella is learning about the business. She’s going to be a tour guide at the festival this year.”

  “That’s still in October, isn’t it?” Barbara frowned at her daughter.

  “That’s right.” Ben didn’t realize he was adding to the debate between Stella and her mother. “It’s a pleasure knowing there’s another Carson generation helping out. Remember when your mother took part in the festival? She always made that pepper and cheese pie. People couldn’t believe how good it was. Won ribbons every year—never had another like it.”

  Barbara didn’t say anything else about the festival, but Stella recognized that look on her face. She was going to have plenty to say about it later. Maybe she’d been wrong to agree to another festival.

  Stella listened as Ben described the whole pepper festival in great detail.

  She wasn’t happy thinking she might never attend another festival. She liked the Sweet Pepper Festival, despite all the primping and ostentation. She wanted to be part of it again.

  The festival people had been so happy when she’d agreed to be a tour guide. She’d enjoyed learning about the peppers and how they grew. What harm could it do to stay a little longer, if she could talk Chief Henry into holding her job until then.

  She knew her parents were hoping she’d leave right away. But what did she want? Was her investigation into Eric’s death the only thing keeping her here? If so, maybe she could leave with an easy conscience since the police seemed to finally be interested.

  The timetable for her leaving Sweet Pepper didn’t seem to matter as much to her as to everyone else. She was letting other people rush her into making a decision she wasn’t ready to make yet.

  She knew she was also being influenced by her earlier conversation with Eric. Now that he had acknowledged that he needed her help, that changed everything again.

  “Wouldn’t you say so, Stella?” her father asked.

  Everyone was looking at her. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she had no idea what they were talking about.

  Fortunately for her, Marty blew into the room. His sun-bleached blond hair looked as though he’d been riding in his convertible with the top down. His white linen jacket was wrinkled and had grass stains on it.

  “Sorry I’m late, Vivian.” He casually kissed his mother’s cheek. “Time got away from me.”

  He introduced himself to Sean and Barbara as he grabbed a glass of wine. He smirked when he shook hands with Doug. Everyone in town knew about Stella’s cheating ex-boyfriend.

  With his entrance, everyone forgot what the conversation had been about. Marty didn’t have much of anything else going on for him, but he had smooth social skills. He took over the conversation, making everyone laugh with his jokes about where he’d been that day.

  Stella and Marty were about the same age, but there the resemblance ended. He was flashy and had trouble committing to anything. Stella couldn’t say his mother had spoiled him, she didn’t know either of them that well.

  Ben’s dislike for his stepson was clearly written on his face. He didn’t say anything—just stood to one side, frowning at Marty.

  “Dinner is served,” Felicity told them with a gracious smile.

  “Let’s head down then. Don’t want the food to get cold,” Ben joked.

  They all walked down the large, sweeping staircase, Ben and Vivian in the lead.

  Stella saw her mother falter as she came to the bottom step.

  There was nothing visible there, certainly nothing left from Abigail’s death forty years before. Everything was polished to perfection. Not even a hint of dust.

  Barbara still stopped abruptly, unable to proceed. Her pretty face was a mask of fear and terror.

  Sean and Stella hurried to her side and each grabbed one of her hands. They helped her down the rest of the stairs and into the dining room.

  “Is there a problem?” Ben looked back and asked.

  “No.” Sean smiled. “I was admiring the scenery. This is a beautiful house you have here, sir.”

  Ben smiled and his face got a little pink with p
ride and pleasure. “I built it for Abigail and Barbara. It’s been lonely here, not having family to share it.”

  Stella looked at Vivian. The elegant woman’s eyes opened wider for a moment, as though the careless remark from her husband took her by surprise. Then her icy blue gaze narrowed as she turned and walked the rest of the way to the dining room by herself.

  Sean walked with Barbara. Doug was still caught up admiring everything from the chandelier to the expensive furnishings.

  “I see why you dumped him.” Marty slid up next to Stella and took her arm. “He’s kind of a lump, isn’t he?”

  “You haven’t answered calls or been to practice recently.” Stella wasn’t discussing her feelings about Doug with Marty. “I’m going to have to kick you off the fire brigade if you don’t participate.”

  “I’m family. Doesn’t that deserve some consideration?”

  “No. I’d kick anyone off who doesn’t pull their weight. And we aren’t family, as you’ve reminded me many times.”

  He smiled in a seductive way that Stella felt sure worked with many women, from what she’d heard of his reputation.

  “We could be.” His finger trailed lazily up her arm. “You’ve never really given me a chance to get close to you.”

  Stella moved his hand from her arm. “It’s not going to happen now either. Show up for the next call and practice, or you’re out.”

  Marty shivered. “There’s a distinct chill to the air tonight. I wonder if it could be Abigail Carson’s ghost wandering around. She does sometimes, you know. The servants have complained about it from time to time. Is that why your mother had a hard time going down the stairs?”

  The sheer audacity of him making jokes about her dead grandmother—especially since he knew her mother had left Sweet Pepper because of her death—almost took Stella’s breath away.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised. Nothing was too low or sleazy for Marty. She’d learned that during the limited time they’d spent together. Stella glanced into his eyes and realized that he knew this was a hot button for her. She forced herself to relax and let it go.