Playing With Fire

by J. J. Cook

  She stared at him, tapping her finger impatiently on the wood table.

  “No. I did not.” His face was suddenly serious. “Shu did odd jobs for me before I made him manager at the plant. He left without a word of explanation and I hired someone else to take his place. I never saw him again. Chief Gamlyn died after that, I believe. If Carriker was involved, it was not at my behest. I respected Gamlyn. There was no reason for me to have him killed—if I indulged in that sort of conduct—which I have never done.”

  “Yeah. Right.” Eric wasn’t happy with his words. “He respected me right into the grave. I’m sure he did the same thing to other people.”

  Stella ignored him. “And the thirty million dollars that went missing when the county took over the fire service here?”

  “There are records for the money that was spent on the plant.”

  “Gone in a fire,” she told him.

  “Then my accountant has them, as do the state and federal governments,” Ben continued patiently. “Why do you always believe the worst of me? Why aren’t you asking me about the millions in charity I give away every year?”

  “I don’t always think the worst of you. But I don’t believe a man of your power got to his position and held on to it without a fight. Sometimes innocent people get hurt in that fight.”

  His sharp eyes pinned her to the chair. “Are you asking these questions for the TBI? I heard you’re involved in their investigation, although for the life of me, I can’t imagine why.”

  “I’m not wearing a wire and I don’t work for the TBI. I’m asking these questions for me. I’m involved because I see some of myself in the old fire chief. No one should have to go out like that. Our job is dangerous enough.”

  “I see.”

  “So do you have any idea who killed Eric?”

  “No. I’m sorry. It was a long time ago.”

  “What about Mace Chum?”

  “Who?”

  “Deputy Mace Chum. Come on. I know you’ve heard about it, Ben. It happened on the way out to your place. He was shot in the head.”

  “Of course. Sorry. I have a lot on my mind. I don’t know any more about it than I’ve read in the newspaper. You probably know more than I do. And before you ask, I didn’t have him killed either. I can’t imagine who would want to hurt that poor man.”

  “Even though he still kind of thought you killed Abigail?”

  He rubbed his jaw. “You don’t pull your punches, do you? History has a long shadow here in Sweet Pepper. I didn’t know anyone still thought that.”

  Stella sat back in her chair. If he was lying, he was the best liar she’d ever seen. Not that she was an expert, but usually people did something that gave them away. He was uncomfortable with her questions, no doubt, but his answers were smooth and sincere.

  Was it all so long ago that his emotions weren’t involved? Or didn’t he ever get his hands dirty?

  Or maybe—he was telling the truth.

  “Sorry. I had to ask.”

  “I understand.”

  “You didn’t come here to be grilled.” She smiled at him. “You came to warn me?”

  “Yes. About Barney Falk. He said you’re an arrogant young woman and he’s glad you’re leaving town.”

  “Well, I guess I did something right today.”

  His lips twitched but he didn’t laugh. “Barney is not a man to toy with, Stella. I’m not saying you should apologize. From what he told me, you were doing your job. Try not to confront him though. He could make your life miserable.”

  “Thanks, but since I’m leaving soon, I’m not too worried about it. He’ll have to deal with John Trump then.”

  “Is that who they’ve chosen to replace you?” His shaggy gray eyebrows went up. “No one told me. I guess we’ll see. I’m sure Captain Trump would be appropriately respectful. I wish you wouldn’t go, Stella. You’ve been like a breath of fresh air. You remind me so much of Abigail, and your mother. It’s almost like having her back in my life again.”

  “Even when I accuse you of murder?”

  “Ha!” He got to his feet in a sure, quick movement for a man his age. “You’ve got fire in you—and it’s not only that red hair. You don’t play it safe. I admire that. We need more people like you in this world.”

  “Thanks.” Two spots of red tinged her cheeks.

  “I should be going now. It wouldn’t be right to leave your mother alone at the pepper queen ceremony after I invited her. Why not come with me? They’re doing a special presentation for the former queens tonight. You mother was one of them, you know.”

  “I’m too tired, Ben. Being arrogant and fiery for a whole day takes a lot out of you. I’m going to bed early.”

  “All right.” He hugged her again. “Don’t dare leave Sweet Pepper for good without telling me, young lady.”

  “I won’t.”

  She saw him to the door. No sooner was he outside in his car than the whole cabin started shaking.

  “What the—?”

  “He says nice things about you and you get all wishy-washy,” Eric complained. “He probably had me killed. Why can’t you see him for what he is? Why are you so blind?”

  It was a familiar theme. Stella could decide not to date John so she wouldn’t have to hear it—evicting Eric was much harder.

  “I’m not blind,” she argued. “I’m trying to be rational and look at the facts. We can’t convict people because of hearsay. We have no real proof that he’s responsible for what happened to you.”

  “How much more proof do you need?”

  “I don’t know, Eric,” she raged back at him, despite the continued shaking of the cabin. “How much proof does it take? Maybe you should go and ask Shu’s ghost about it.”

  Eric’s image blinked and then was gone.

  Stella took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Without another thought, she went in her room, put on a swimsuit, and climbed into the hot tub on the deck. She closed her eyes and let the hot water bubble around her.

  The sound of an owl (Eric had told her that was what it was) soothed her frayed temper. The mountain got quiet as most creatures went to sleep for the coming night.

  “I’m sorry,” Eric said after a while.

  She didn’t open her eyes or reply.

  “I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

  “No. You shouldn’t have.”

  “You shouldn’t have told me to go find Shu Carriker’s ghost either.”

  She pushed her wet hair back from her face and looked at him. “You’re right. I’m sorry too.”

  “You really don’t think Ben had it in for me?”

  “I really don’t know. The only way we can find out is to continue following the evidence.”

  “I was certain of his involvement in getting rid of the fire brigade. That’s why I agreed to work with the TBI. Finding out that I was murdered made me feel he had to be part of that too.”

  “Maybe I see it differently because I’m an outsider.” She shrugged. “He looks as much like a bad guy as a lot of other people.”

  “If you’re talking about Ricky Senior, you’re wrong.”

  “Eric, I’m sure that was Ricky’s radio in the trunk of that car. It was covered with your blood. That seems to be a lot more proof than rumors about Ben hiring Shu to kill you.”

  “There’s a good reason for that radio being there.” Eric defended his friend. “And I distinctly remember seeing Ricky walk away from me and head out of the silo. He didn’t shoot me.”

  “Maybe not. I’m betting he knows who did. I think he might have been one of the two men Chum saw carrying you out. We’ll find out tomorrow when I talk to him.”

  Eric rocked silently in the chair for a few minutes. “Do you think there’s really a light or a door or something that I was supposed to go through af
ter I died?’

  “I don’t know. People seem to think so. I’ve often heard that sometimes souls can’t leave until they take care of something important to them. Maybe someone had to find your bones and figure out who killed you before you could go. Maybe you don’t remember exactly what happened, but you’ve always known it wasn’t the death you’d expected.”

  “So when we figure out who killed me, I might disappear for good?”

  She smiled at him as she got out of the hot tub. “There’s as much chance of that as anything else. I’ve seen movies where that happened. My grandmother on my father’s side says that ghosts sometimes get revenge on the people who wronged them.”

  “Both excellent sources of information,” he said. “I think I’ll look on the Internet. It’s amazing how much is out there.”

  She yawned. “Knock yourself out. I’m going to sleep. We’re practicing on ladders tomorrow—after I confront Ricky Senior with this new evidence.”

  “You didn’t tell the TBI agent the radio belonged to Ricky, did you?”

  “No. I didn’t know for sure. I still don’t. He’s been a good friend to me, and to the fire brigade. I want to be the one to tell him.”

  “I wish I could come with you. Sometimes it’s better being around people. Sometimes it reminds me of how much I’ve lost.”

  “I know it must be hard for you. Don’t stay up too late on the laptop. I don’t want Doug to get all freaked out seeing a ghostly face staring at the screen.”

  He laughed. “That sounds like an interesting trick to try.”

  “Don’t you dare!” She yawned again. “Goodnight, Eric.”

  • • •

  Stella didn’t hear her parents and Doug come in from the barbecue that night. She was up early and left them a note about ladder practice. She got dressed and put her hair up under a Sweet Pepper ball cap.

  Eric was nowhere to be found. She wondered where he went at times like that.

  Hero was asleep on the rug by the fireplace. She’d either come back for him later or Eric would send him down to the firehouse. The big puppy whimpered a little in his sleep. She rubbed his back but he didn’t wake up.

  She climbed on her Harley to head down the mountain, ignoring the “For Sale” sign. It was foggy again that morning. Stella took the curves down Firehouse Road quickly. Her thoughts were on what had happened to Eric at the silo.

  It seemed to her that someone, maybe Shu, had shot Eric while he was still inside. Reason unknown—possibly to keep him from stopping the county from taking over the fire brigade. Possibly because he was working for the TBI.

  Shu and Ricky Senior carried him out and put his body in the trunk of the car. That explained the music from the radio inside, and outside, the silo.

  She didn’t understand why Ricky would participate in this undertaking. She believed Ricky was dedicated to Eric. This seemed to go against his nature. Yet the facts appeared consistent.

  For whatever reason, they put him behind the wall in the old firehouse. It was a grisly fate, especially if Ricky was part of it. Why would he betray Eric that way?

  Maybe his own life was being threatened.

  The Harley kicked into gear as she reached the main road into town.

  And what about Chum?

  Shu Carriker either had a long reach from the grave or someone alive today had killed Chum. Was there something else that he’d seen that night at the silo forty years ago? He’d been holding back more that he could have told her that day at the firehouse.

  What was someone afraid that he’d tell?

  The only one who’d seemed threatened by Chum’s last words to her was Chief Rogers. Maybe it was only that his pride was hurt because Chum hadn’t come to him. Maybe it was something darker.

  She remembered what he’d said to John that day at town hall about there being more competition for her grandfather’s money. No doubt Don Rogers was hiding some secrets too.

  Except for a few trucks bound for the pepper plant, the road was mostly clear. Stella made good time getting into town, but it wasn’t soon enough.

  John and Officer Schneider were leading Ricky Senior out of the café in handcuffs while people stopped on the sidewalk to stare. Chief Rogers watched his officers walk their suspect down to the police station.

  Stella parked her bike and went to see what was going on

  “I guess you’re not the only person in Sweet Pepper who can figure out what’s happening,” Rogers mocked her. “We’ve arrested Ricky Hutchins Sr. for the deaths of Eric Gamlyn, Shu Carriker, and Deputy Mace Chum.”

  Chapter 24

  Ricky Junior came running out of the café. “What’s going on, Chief Rogers? Why are you arresting my dad?”

  “I’m sorry you had to see this, son.” Chief Rogers put his hand sympathetically on Ricky Junior’s shoulder. “Better get him a good lawyer.”

  Stella stopped Ricky as he lunged at Chief Rogers. “Not this way. You can’t help your father if you’re in jail too.”

  Ricky checked himself and nodded. “You know my dad didn’t kill anyone. We’ll get him a lawyer and sue for false arrest.”

  When he’d gone back into the café to find his mother and tell her what had happened, Stella pushed through the large crowd of people that had gathered. By nightfall, there wouldn’t be anyone in town who didn’t know the elder Ricky had been arrested.

  Stella went to the police station to find John. She knew she had no chance of Chief Rogers letting her talk to Ricky. John might be able to help.

  She didn’t believe Ricky had killed Eric, but she thought he was involved in some way. If he’d been one of the men who’d helped get Eric out of the silo, she wanted to know why.

  Chief Rogers must have had some new evidence to arrest Ricky for Chum’s murder. She could see how he could make the link between the radio in the trunk and Ricky—though she couldn’t imagine how he’d found out about it. She could even see how he could think Ricky could be involved in Shu Carriker’s death.

  This was a bold move, probably calculated to cut the TBI out of the investigation.

  John was at his desk with a fresh cup of coffee when she found him. He didn’t have his own office, despite being the only Sweet Pepper police officer with rank. He sat outside Chief Rogers’s spacious office.

  Whether this was so he was handy for Rogers to call when he needed someone, or due to a lack of space, Stella wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure how much he was willing to put up with to take over as police chief in twenty years or so. John had his own secrets that he hadn’t shared with her.

  He looked up at her and then covered an open file on his desk.

  Probably something to do with Ricky’s arrest.

  “You guys have been busy already this morning. I think you know why I’m here.”

  He nodded. “Ricky Senior. I hate it too, but the facts don’t lie.”

  “What have you got that’s different from yesterday?”

  “I can’t talk about this with you, Stella. The chief is hot about getting this before Agent Whitman. You’re part of the enemy camp. If I help you, I’m done here.”

  “I won’t tell anyone, John.”

  “I can’t take that chance. I’m sorry.”

  “All right. Can you at least get me in to see Ricky? I want to talk to him.”

  He thought about it as he shuffled papers on his desk. “I don’t know. What do you want to talk to him about?”

  “I don’t think he killed anyone—least of all Chum. That’s what this all hinges on, right? The other deaths are too old. You have new info about Chum.”

  “I can’t tell you that.” He glanced around the nearly empty office. “It will be a while before Ricky is processed. I suggest you come later with Agent Whitman. The chief can’t keep him from visiting the prisoner.”

  “Thanks.” She smile
d at him. “I probably shouldn’t have asked you. I know you have to stay on your side of the fence.”

  He frowned. “I wish I still had a side of the fence. I got the official word this morning. Chief Rogers and Mayor Wando said that they expect me to take your place when you leave. No offense, but I don’t want to be fire chief.”

  “Did you tell them that?” Stella wasn’t surprised since that rumor had been spreading for weeks. He’d wanted to ignore it.

  “They made it clear that they don’t care what I think. They need a fire chief. As a police officer, I’m replaceable.”

  “I’m sorry, John. I’d pick someone else to replace me, but there’s no one else willing to take the job full-time.”

  “Thanks anyway, Stella. I’ll be sorry to see you go.”

  “Even though I’m part of the evil Carson Empire?” She grinned to lessen the sarcasm.

  “You’re one part of that empire I’m going to miss.”

  “Trying to chat up the help?” Chief Rogers’s booming voice hit them from across the room. “You stay away from Officer Trump, Ms. Griffin. Your feminine wiles won’t work on him anymore. He knows where his bread is buttered!”

  Feminine wiles? Stella didn’t comment, but it was hard not to smile. She left Rogers gloating over his unexpected victory while John mourned the loss of his career aspirations.

  As she was going out the door, Myra Strickland, whose family had started the Sweet Pepper Festival, stopped her. “How are those tour guide lessons going, Chief Griffin?”

  “I know a lot more about the pepper business now.”

  Should I tell her that I’m probably leaving town soon? No doubt the other woman had heard the rumors.

  Myra consulted her appointment book. “All of our tour guides will get together for dinner tomorrow night. We’ll find out what everyone has learned. Have you been fitted for your tour guide vest?”

  “No. I’ve been a little busy.”

  “We’re all busy, Chief Griffin, but we must stay on schedule. I’ll call Molly Whitehouse and tell her to expect you. Have you chosen your category for the recipe contest yet? You know we count on every person on the festival committees to submit a recipe for the contest.”