by J. J. Cook
Going north, the historic old mill that had helped build the town still stood. The town was trying to do repairs on that property and open it for visitors.
The Sweet Pepper bottling factory was on a high hill, looking down at the town it supported. Most of the people who didn’t own businesses worked there in the dozens of metal buildings where the peppers were processed, canned, and sent to market.
Stella pulled the Cherokee into a space in front of town hall. Bob Floyd’s barbershop was a short walk. She felt confident that Bob would either be at the barbershop or town hall. If not, there was always the café, where people liked to hang out.
She saw John getting ready to go out on patrol and flagged him down. He waited for her and she smiled at him, thinking again that he was a handsome man with his dark brown hair, square jaw, and one dimple.
There was more than that to him though. He was steady and able to handle any crisis with calm assurance. Stella liked that about him.
“Good morning.” She used her hand to shield her eyes from the sun streaming across the mountain. “Working days?”
“I wish. I’ve been on duty since last night. Now the chief is sending me out to serve a warrant.” He smiled back at her, wishing there weren’t so many roadblocks to being with her. “I heard you had some excitement out at the cabin last night. I don’t know why people don’t understand that they can’t burn anything when it’s this dry.”
“This wasn’t carelessness, John.” She explained about the tree that had been set on fire. “It was leaning toward the cabin and there was gasoline used.”
His brown eyes narrowed. “Who’d do something like that?”
“I was thinking someone who wants to burn the cabin.”
“Bob? Stella, you gotta know that was only talk. The town owns that property. He wouldn’t set it on fire. If he really wanted to get rid of it, he could talk the rest of the council into putting the whole thing up for sale again. They tried to sell it a few years ago. Why would he go to those lengths?”
“I don’t know, but he’s been talking to everyone about burning the cabin after I leave. I guess I’ll go ask him why he can’t wait until I’m gone.”
John put his hand on her arm. “Don’t mess with him. He can be a dangerous man to have as an enemy. Let me ask around and see what I can find out. Are you going to report the fire as arson?”
“I guess it all depends what Bob has to say.”
“You’re not going to leave it alone, are you?”
“Probably not. My parents are staying there, John. Suppose we’d all been in the cabin, asleep, when Bob decided to torch the woods. I think he and I need to have a little talk.”
Chapter 17
“I’d like to go with you—”
“My father and Doug are going with me. I think we can handle this.”
“All right.” His mouth hardened into a narrow line. “Anything else?”
“I was wondering how Chief Rogers knew to ask Tagger if Chum was at the firehouse before he died. Tagger said Don told him he needed to verify the information.”
“I’m not sure. I think Don said someone called in about it and said he saw Chum at the firehouse before the accident. Why?”
“Is that person on the suspect list for killing Chum?”
“I don’t know, Stella. Maybe you should talk to Don.”
In other words, he wasn’t going to tell her.
“Any sign of the black vehicle that rubbed up against Chum’s truck?”
“So far, there’s nothing. No one saw what happened. The sheriff’s department is talking about offering a reward for information. That might bring someone out.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you later.”
“Be careful, huh? Eric Gamlyn’s ghost might be able to protect that old cabin, but I don’t think he can protect you.”
“You might be surprised.”
Stella could feel John’s gaze on her as she walked back to the bright red Cherokee that bore her name. She wondered if he felt anything but anger when he looked at her.
“Any good information from that source?” Sean asked when she reached him.
“Not really.” She watched John drive away to deliver the warrant. Why were there always thorns between them? She wished she could read his mind.
“You two used to be a couple, right?”
“Sort of.” She smiled at her father. “Not for long.”
“Just as well,” Doug chimed in. “There are a lot of miles between here and Chicago.”
Stella glared at him. He had no right to say anything about her life anymore.
“We’re on our own with this,” she told them. “I guess we’ll go and find Bob Floyd now.”
It wasn’t hard to do. Bob was sitting in his old barber chair, the one he’d inherited from his father, according to the stories Stella had heard about him. Technically, he was retired. He had hired Allen and another man to run the business.
Allen had told her that Bob reluctantly gave him time off to train for the fire brigade. The mayor had convinced him that it would look good when it came time to run for reelection.
“Mr. Floyd,” Stella addressed him as she walked into the quiet barbershop. “Kind of slow this morning, huh?”
He nodded, but didn’t get up. “It’s a good morning for Allen to be off. Do you have any notion of how many hours you expect from your volunteers, Chief Griffin? Even without fire calls, you have them practicing or monitoring calls out there at all times of the day and night. I might have to hire an extra barber so he can work with you all.”
“You’re right. It takes a lot of practice to keep people on their toes when we head out the door for an emergency. Firefighters get hurt a lot. We want to do everything we can to keep ours safe.”
He smiled in an edgy manner. “Why, you sound like you’re one of us, Chief. Is Sweet Pepper growing on you? I haven’t heard anything about you wanting a new contract.”
“I’m not leaving yet,” Stella said. “In fact, that’s what I came to talk to you about. I suppose you’ve heard about the fire out at the cabin last night.”
“Yes. Oh yes.” His head bobbed up and down like a bird. “That was a close call. I’m glad you and your parents were safe. I assume this is your father.”
The two men shook hands and exchanged names. Doug shook Bob’s hand too, mentioning that he was Stella’s friend from Chicago.
“So I hear.” Bob sized him up, knowing exactly who he was. “Well, I’m glad none of you were hurt. Fire can be bad when it gets dry.”
“It’s especially bad when someone uses gasoline to start a fire less than a hundred feet from the cabin.” Stella stepped closer to him. “I know you want to get rid of the cabin. You’ve been crazy enough to tell everyone your plans. Don’t go near it again or you’ll be sorry.”
“You need to watch what you’re saying, Chief,” Bob growled in a low tone. “You’re coming mighty close to slander.”
Sean moved up behind Stella, not liking the look on the other man’s face. Doug took his cue from him and did the same, scowling at the man in the barber chair.
“I could call fifty other people in here right now who’d swear they heard you say you want to burn the cabin. Scooter’s was full the other night,” she said.
“You have no proof that I did anything. Fires start sometimes when the woods are dry. There are accidents and careless people.”
Stella smiled at him. “Actually, I have remains from the fire that any lab would find gasoline residue on. And I have something even better. I know that wasn’t you out there. It was someone you sent out to do the job. Know how I know?”
“I know you’re full of hot air.”
“Eric saw your arsonist last night. Why do you think the fire didn’t work?”
All the color left Bob’s face. He started trembling.
“No. That isn’t true.”
“He told me it wasn’t you,” Stella continued. “He said you were too much of a coward to be in the fire brigade when he was chief. He doesn’t believe you’ve developed any more of a spine since then.”
Bob put his shaking hands up to his face. “How could you know that?”
“How do you think? Everyone says the cabin is haunted. Who do you think is haunting it?”
“That’s just talk. He’s not really there.”
“Yes, he is. And he has a message for you.”
“What-what is it?”
“He says leave the cabin alone or he’ll have to find somewhere else to live. That might be with you, Bob. I’d think about it, if I were you.”
Stella knew she had terrified him. She hoped it was enough to keep the cabin safe, not only now but after she was gone. The town remembered Eric as being larger than life. Most people believed he haunted the cabin. Why not use the two together to help him keep his home?
She left the barbershop without looking back. Sean and Doug kept up with her.
“The cabin really is haunted,” Doug said. “I knew it. I’m not crazy.”
“Don’t be silly. She was only using the man’s fear to get him to back off.” Sean smiled at his daughter. “I still think you should take the residue to the lab and report the arson.”
“I intend to,” she agreed. “I don’t think much will come of it. There are no fingerprints, or any other evidence besides the residue. The forest service deals with a dozen cases of carelessness in the woods every day.”
“I think you handled it well,” Sean said. “You put the fear of the Lord in the man anyway. Do people really believe the old fire chief is haunting that cabin?”
“Absolutely. Like they believe the sun is going to rise and set today. There are plenty of local ghosts in the area. Eric’s reputation has gotten stronger since he’d died. I hope it helps save the cabin.”
“I hope so too,” Sean said. “How about some coffee at the café? I’m sure your mother won’t be done with her gab session for hours yet.”
They sat down in a booth at the Sweet Pepper Café. Lucille brought out coffee for Doug and Sean, and Coke for Stella.
Ricky Senior brought out two-inch-high slices of blueberry pie. “This was made fresh this morning.” He grinned, his iron-gray flattop, muscular arms, and deep chest making him look more like an older Marine than a café owner. “On the house.”
He and Lucille stood together, smiling at them. They were a perfect representation of Lucy and Ricky on late night TV. They even dressed the part on Halloween.
Lucille had the same bright red hair that she wore up on the back of her head. It was emphasized by her constant green apron, which Stella had never seen her without. Ricky Senior even did a mean Cuban impression of Ricky Ricardo.
“We’re paying if we eat this pie,” Stella said. “I thought we settled that.”
For the first few months Stella was in Sweet Pepper, no one would let her pay for anything. She thought it was a nice way to welcome her, but she’d insisted on paying as time went by. The town was paying her to be the fire chief.
“Your money isn’t good here,” Lucille said. “It’s a pleasure having you come in, Chief Griffin. Thank you for bringing your family with you.”
Sean, who’d had experience with this, smiled at her. “I hope my money is good then. Back home, the only people who ask us not to pay are people who want special favors.”
Ricky frowned. “No. That’s not it. We want to do this for her. We don’t want anything in return.”
Lucille put her hand on her husband’s arm. “If it makes you feel better, you can pay for the pie—but not the coffee. Okay?”
Stella shrugged. It was a good compromise. There were many times when she’d argued with Ricky Senior and Lucille but had finally given up.
Ricky Senior shook hands with Sean and Doug. He put in his earbuds and adjusted his iPod as he started back toward the kitchen.
Music! Stella remembered Chum and Eric hearing music during the silo fire.
“Hold on a minute!” She got up to talk to Ricky. “I’ll be right back, Dad.”
Ricky Senior took Stella into his tiny office in the back of the kitchen. There were invoices, pictures taken at the café, and recipes for new dishes posted all over the walls and flooding the desk.
They sat down opposite each other. Ricky asked several times if Stella needed something to eat or drink.
“I’m fine,” she assured him with a smile. “I talked to you before about Eric Gamlyn’s death. Now that the state has confirmed that those were his bones in the firehouse, I thought I’d come back again and see if you’ve remembered anything else.”
As before when they’d talked, Ricky’s dark eyes welled with tears. “I’ve thought about it a lot since you asked me. I’ve gone over and over it in my mind. It was a terrible night. Maybe I’ve forgotten most of it because I want to.”
“I understand.” Fires were traumatic enough without feeling responsible for someone’s death. “I had a conversation with Deputy Chum before he died.”
Ricky crossed himself and closed his eyes. “God rest his soul. He was a good man.”
“He told me he saw two men carry Eric’s body out of the silo before the roof collapsed.”
“No way.” Ricky’s expression was comical in his disbelief. “Are you saying he wasn’t dead at the silo?”
“We don’t know that. Obviously, he didn’t die like everyone thought. He may have been shot first and then carried out and put in the firehouse wall. Or he may have been overcome by smoke and then taken out and shot.”
“That’s even worse. Eric had a big heart. He did a lot of good for this community. I can’t stand that someone killed him. It was bad enough when I thought he died for me.”
“Chum also mentioned hearing music. He said that was what made him look in the direction where the men were taking out the body.”
Ricky looked down at his iPod, which he’d put on the desk when he sat down. “What are you saying?”
“Ricky Junior told me that you’re never without it. He said it was better now because you have earbuds.”
Stella really liked this man and hated to ask these questions that could sound like he was part of what had happened to Eric. She had no choice. “Could that have been your music Chum heard that night at the silo?”
Chapter 18
“I guess it’s possible. I was in the silo. I don’t know how Chum could’ve heard it outside. There was a terrible roar from the fire and all those other noises—popping and breaking. I don’t know if I had my transistor radio with me. I probably did—in my pocket. I don’t know how he could’ve heard it.”
Ricky Senior painfully searched his memories of that night.
Stella wished she could tell him that Eric had heard it too. Using a ghost to threaten Bob was enough of that for one day. She needed this information to be real, not part of someone’s imagination.
“Did you see anything—anyone—before you ran out of the silo? Were you and Eric the only two men inside when he found you?”
Ricky closed his eyes again. He muttered words under his breath that made Stella think he was trying to relive the moment. As she listened, she realized that he was praying.
“Forty years ago, I was afraid. I knew people were waiting for what I had to say. I didn’t want them to judge me harshly. I was afraid for my family too. But not anymore.” He opened his eyes. “There was someone else in the silo that night. I remember it as clearly as if it happened yesterday.”
Ricky went on to explain how it had all gone down. “The fire was called in late. The silo was already fully involved when we got there. Someone said there were still workers inside who’d been sent in to get as much of the grain out as they could. Baskets and barrels, everything they could use
, to bring out the grain.”
“Eric sent me in with Tagger while the other men started hosing down the building. We were trying to hold off the inevitable until we could get those workers out.”
“Did you rescue anyone?”
“No. That was one of the odd things. It looked like they’d been bringing grain out, but Tagger and I didn’t see anyone in there working and no one ran out. Our two-way radios weren’t working right. We couldn’t let Eric know what was going on. Tagger went outside to give him the all clear while I did a last sweep of the place.”
“I guess Eric got worried about you,” Stella said.
Ricky grinned. “He was like an old mother hen where his team was concerned. I was surprised that night that he didn’t go in with us at the beginning. That’s what he usually did. He was a big, strong man. I once saw him carry two people out of a house fire at the same time! It seemed like there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do.”
“You were having trouble breathing inside during the last sweep, weren’t you?”
“That’s the way it worked sometimes. It was like one minute you were fine, and the next you couldn’t breathe. It was so hot, and the smoke was so thick. I think I panicked a little. I looked up and there was Eric.”
“Then what happened?”
“He was afraid my mask wasn’t working right so he put his mask on me and told me to get out of there. I said, ‘You’re coming out too, Chief, right?’ He nodded. It was the last thing I ever said to him.”
Ricky was tearing up again, wiping the drops that slid down his cheeks with an impatient hand.
“You said you saw someone else in there. Was it a worker?”
“No. It was someone who shouldn’t have been there at all—Shu Carriker.”
“The old plant manager?” She remembered hearing the name used in conjunction with her grandmother’s death. He’d been her grandfather’s alibi for Abigail’s death. That was before the silo fire.
Shu Carriker had been the manager of the pepper plant at one time. He’d sworn that Ben Carson was with him when Abigail had died. Then he’d disappeared.