“And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it,’ when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.”
I wish God gave me directions that distinct—like a Spiritual GPS. This would be something to pray about.
I had a quick conference with the Gaggle, got my hugs, and walked out the door with my clean casserole dish I had forgotten to pick up after the funeral, a recipe for a different casserole, an invitation to the singles ministry Valentine party, and a little advice on appropriate attire for church. I guess they didn’t entirely approve of my “little bit of coffee and a whole lot of Jesus” t-shirt. Little Momma shared her specific belief that one should dress in your finest to visit with the King. I made a mental note to find myself a pastel suit and fancy hat for Easter. It’d be fun to dress up, and making her smile is one of my favorite things in the world.
Monday morning was like most Monday mornings. No one wanted to wake up let alone get dressed. Nothing sounded good for breakfast. Tommy couldn’t find his shoes. Carrie had forgotten to charge her phone and was whining about it. I made everyone stop and prayed for our day to be better and things to go smoothly for everyone. Thanks to divine intervention, we each made it out the door on time and fully equipped. Well, except for Carrie’s phone…it was still at twenty percent.
I arrived at the office a half early for the meeting; thinking I’d sit in the van and drink my coffee. Something internal nudged me to go look around, and I immediately questioned it. The second nudge felt a little stronger. It was that same gut feeling I had while looking for the missing woman last year. Maybe this was that still, small voice the preachers like to talk about.
The burned-out building didn’t look nearly as foreboding in the daytime as it did the night I’d been snooping and almost got attacked by a vicious dove. I stepped inside and looked around. The small appliances and computers had been removed and the destroyed shelves cleared away. The remaining space was just…empty…and black.
“Morning, Charlotte,” Mr. Baker called from behind me.
“Morning, Sir. Sure is a mess in here.”
“Yeah. But, once this adjuster does his job, we should be able to move forward with clean up and repairs.”
The gentleman from the insurance company arrived, and the three of us went over the list of items before his examination of the building. He would name the item on the list and then show us a picture of a replacement item from online to see if the descriptions matched.
“Item fourteen was recently tagged as the possible cause of the fire,” said the adjuster. “One Hamilton Beach microwave. Point seven cubic feet. Here is the picture.”
Mr. Baker and I looked at him, confused.
“I’m sorry, but we were told there was faulty wiring that caused the fire. Wiring from recent electrical work we had done,” I said.
“That has been indicated as a possibility, but the microwave also had faulty wiring and was located in the room where the fire began,” the adjuster stated.
Mr. Baker stared at the picture of the replacement microwave.
“Was our microwave white?” Mr. Baker asked.
“That picture is merely for reference,” said the adjuster.
“Let me see.” I took the tablet with the online picture displayed and read the description of the appliance.
“This isn’t our microwave.”
“I assure you it matches the exact model number,” the adjuster said, now also agitated.
“It may be, but this microwave is too small. Ours was big, remember, Mr. Baker? We had a small one before, but I complained that my extra-large coffee mug wouldn’t fit inside. And Cole complained that his Hungry Man frozen lunches wouldn’t fit either. So, you bought the biggest one you could find. This is not our microwave.”
“Janet probably has the manual in her files. She keeps stuff like that. I’ll call her now,” Mr. Baker said excitedly.
“The damaged microwave found on site is this exact model,” the adjuster told me emphatically.
“I’m sure you’re right. But, if that’s the one that was found, it was planted there.”
I sat in my van and wrote out my thoughts on how this all went down. It still wasn’t coming together like I wanted, but there was definitely a new piece to the puzzle. I texted Cole and put in a call to the sergeant. Maybe a planted, sabotaged microwave would help move the investigation along. Still, it was weird. Like so much else, this puzzle piece didn’t seem to fit. An abrupt knocking on the window caused me to jump and drop my pen.
“Sorry I startled you,” Cole said, laughing.
“You don’t seem very sorry to me!”
“I was nearby and thought I’d come over.”
“Get in,” I said, motioning towards the passenger door.
“I hate minivans. Nothing cool about a minivan,” he insulted while adjusting the seat for his tall frame.
“Dude, your car is ten years old and has a ‘I make my own beer’ bumper sticker on it. So, not cool.”
“Still not as a bad as a minivan,” he grunted, squeezing into the seat. “Now, this microwave thing. How does this fit into our arson scenario?”
“I’m still working on that.”
Cole sighed. “Let’s break it down. Dugray allegedly messes with the new wiring so that it causes a fire. Then, he shows up at the scene as a fireman to what? Help extinguish the fire?”
“Not likely. Maybe just to watch? Some criminals like to see the chaos they’ve caused.”
“Possibly. Okay, so then he comes back again at night, but you shoot and scare him off. What’s that about?”
“Trying to hide evidence? Maybe he left something?”
“I guess. But, then there’s this microwave that doesn’t belong and has frayed wires or whatever. I can’t figure it out.”
“Me either. I shared this information with the sergeant, and he didn’t seem impressed. I’m stumped.”
Cole grinned. “You’ll figure it out.”
You think?”
“Look at how you saved that woman and little girl last year. There was all this craziness going on, but you set your mind to it and found out what was really happening. You’ll do it again.”
“You’re putting a lot of confidence in a short, crazy red-head with a gut feeling.”
“Yeah, well…I’m not the best judge of character. You’ve met my ex-wife,” he said, only partially joking.
I punched his arm before he escaped my uncool minivan.
After Cole left, I ran a few errands and grabbed another coffee. Having to be in Rockledge to get Tommy’s prescription refill authorization, I decided to stop at Scooter’s coffee for a frappe. I guess seeing Cole drinking them a lot had me wanting one. It did not disappoint. The downside to doing all that driving was that I already needed gas again. My poor minivan guzzled the gasoline, and she was thirsty…the low fuel light had come on.
I pulled into the station and actually remembered to pull the little lever that releases the cover on the gas cap before I got out of the van. Miracles never cease. As I started pumping gas, I noticed the man at the pump behind me. He wore a ball cap and sunglasses so I couldn’t get a good look at his face; but he was definitely watching me. Maybe he thought I was cute? Something felt strange about him. Gawking is one thing, but he seemed to be really watching me.
I finished pumping gas and pressed the button for a receipt, which it didn’t give me because it was out of paper. The man’s phone rang and he removed his glasses when he answered it, turning to face away from me. But, even in that quick glance, I recognized him. It was Austin Dugray. I reached in the van, grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder for easy access to my baton I had purchased a few days after the gun incident that night with Cole.
Taking a few steps towards him, I decided to get his attention.
“Mr. Dugray?” I said with some authority.
He turned in reflex to hearing his name, but immediately recognized his error. He yanked ope
n his car door to get away. I opened my baton and waved it at him.
“Mr. Dugray, stop! Citizen’s arrest!” I shouted.
I had no idea what I was doing. Did I even have a justifiable reason to “arrest” him? Shocked, he stood there motionless for a second before getting in his car and starting the engine.
“Mr. Dugray, I know you started the fire!” I yelled still waving the baton at him in an attempt to look threatening.
The people around us stared, confused as to what was happening. Dugray looked at me and then stepped on the gas; propelling his car into the back of my van and forcing me to jump out of the way. I fell to the ground, but managed to take a swing at his car with the baton and break one of his tail lights, as he backed up to drive off. Several minutes later, two police cruisers, lights flashing, pulled into the station and stopped close to me. I was sitting by the gas pump next to my badly damaged van. I knew I’d have some explaining to do, once again.
CHAPTER TEN
“WHO do you think you are, Gomer Pyle?” the sergeant yelled at me as I sat across from him at the police station. Having seen every episode of Andy Griffith, I caught the reference.
“No, Sir. It’s just that I saw Dugray and since he’s the arsonist, I thought—“
“You don’t know for sure that was him! Lucky for you, you just swung a baton and didn’t point a gun at him, or there could be serious consequences.”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied sheepishly, lowering my head.
The sergeant took a deep breath and released a heavy sigh.
“If you want to go after criminals so bad, join the police force. Heck, become a private investigator or a bounty hunter. But, as of now, you’re just a researcher, from what I’m told a really good one. Stick to what you know.”
“I know Austin Dugray is running loose and wild, crazed by alcohol abuse and his own mistakes that have cost him everything. He is an arsonist. And, he wrecked my van!”
“Yes, he did. And, he got away, unfortunately. How’s your arm?” he asked, his voice starting to soften just a bit.
“Scraped up and bruised from the fall, but nothing’s broken.”
“Good. Alright, you’re free to go. Just sign some paperwork for that restraining order. That way, if you’re near Dugray again, we can grab him for more than fleeing the scene of an accident. Hopefully, we’ll make some progress on this alleged arson soon.”
“So, you agree with me?”
“As much as I hate to admit it…yes, I do. I have the same gut feeling you do that he’s the guy. We just need some concrete evidence.”
“We?” I asked with a slight smile.
“The police, Ms. Ritter, the actual police. Have a good and uneventful day. Goodbye.” He told me as he pointed towards his door.
Somehow I managed to get home, make supper and pretend like nothing major had happened all day. I must have fooled the kids well enough. Of course it helped that Carrie and Joseph were busy writing essays, and Tommy was busy with an imaginary adventure involving his Thomas the Tank Engine toys.
Once I had the kitchen clean, I collapsed face-first onto my bed with a hearty groan. It had been some kind of day. I couldn’t even think up an appropriate adjective. My mind kept racing through different ideas and scenarios in an attempt to determine a way to find Dugray and reveal his criminal plan. The police department had put his picture on social media and local news in hopes someone would spot him. That was it. That gave me an idea.
I printed out a picture of Dugray and stuck it in my bag for the next day. I had a plan of my own, and it felt good. But, first, I needed a shower and some good sleep.
“I can’t help it, Maymay,” Tommy whined, standing just outside my bedroom door.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Four fifteen.
“I’m coming. Just a second,” I moaned.
I threw on a robe and opened my door. Tommy stood there with the saddest expression on his face.
“I can’t help it, Maymay. I tried to go to sleep, but I couldn’t do it. Annie and Clarabell wouldn’t be quiet and they kept me up.”
This was one of those difficult autism things. Not simply the sleep disruption, but the intense imagination. Was he really aware of the difference between pretend and reality? Sometimes I wondered.
“Annie and Clarabell are pretend. They’re Thomas’ friends on the television show. Your toys don’t talk, Tommy.”
“I know they don’t talk. But, they wouldn’t let me sleep!”
My interpretation of this was that his mind was so busy imagining stories about trains that he couldn’t sleep. Not much different from my experience when I was thinking about the whole office fire ordeal.
I took Tommy’s hand and we walked to his room. He laid down and I sat beside him, leaning back against the headboard. Tommy cuddled up to me, and I rubbed his back.
“Think about calm and happy places like when we get under blankets on the couch to watch a movie. Your eyes get heavy and you yawn because it’s dark.”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
We both remained silent for a while, and I continued to rub his back gently.
“You’re the best, Maymay,” he whispered.
I closed my eyes, and we fell asleep.
Thankfully, Carrie was an early riser. She noticed me next to Tommy, and woke me up around six thirty.
“Mom, what time did he get you?”
“A little after four,” I answered, yawning.
“I’ll go make you some coffee.”
“You’re such a good kid,” I said with as much of a smile as I could muster.
It took a while to get myself out the door, but I managed to do it thanks to caffeine. A third cup of coffee was securely placed into a travel mug and in my hand as I left to track down the phony fireman who turned out to be a criminal.
Having arrived at the first fire station on my original list, I grabbed the printed photo of Dugray and went to door. A nice, and might I say handsome, young man asked if he could be of assistance.
“Yes, I’m with the Baker Law Firm, and we are looking for a client. This is him. Have you seen him?”
“Yeah, that’s the guy on the news! Police are looking for him, too.”
“Yes, they are. But, have you seen him anywhere prior to seeing him on the news?”
“I don’t think so. We can ask the other guys. Follow me.”
He led me inside where a group of five or six firemen were checking the trucks and equipment.
“Have any of you seen this man?” I asked, holding up the picture.
“Is that the guy from the news?” one of them asked.
“It is, but I’m wondering if you’ve seen him in the past few weeks. Specifically, at a fire you were called to.”
One of the older firemen took the photo from me, and studied it.
“Actually…he does look familiar.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. There was this guy from a station—not in this area. He responded to one of ours for some reason. Probably a newbie looking for some action. I tried sending him away, but he kept hanging around trying to get close to the scene.”
“Hey, I remember that,” another firefighter said. “Once we had the fire out, he came over and asked us a bunch of questions about the fire. Like, did we know how the fire started and stuff like that. Said his name was Don or…Dan maybe?”
“That would make sense. My boss’ name is Dan, and my boss is this guy’s lawyer. And, that fire you’re talking about? That was our office.”
“Oh. We need to make some calls,” said the older gentleman.
“Yeah, me, too,” I muttered to myself.
It was around ten when I finally got all three of the kids off to bed. I hoped Tommy wouldn’t have any issues so I could get a full night’s sleep. I was worn out and really needed it. I fell asleep within minutes of lying my head on the pillow. Something woke me around 3:30 in the morning and I couldn’t get back to sleep. After twisting and turning for about
twenty minutes my mouth was dry so I decided to get a drink of water.
I pulled out the pitcher from the fridge and poured myself a cup. As I leaned against the counter sipping my water a strange feeling kept gnawing at me. I couldn’t seem to shake that something was just…off. I checked on all of the kids and looked in all the closets. When I went to look in the garage the smell of smoke was strong. There was no sign of fire. I opened the garage door and smoke wafted in. I ran to the driveway and in the vacant lot I owned next to my house there was a raging blaze.
I grabbed the phone as fast as I could and called 911. Within a few minutes I heard sirens and saw a fire truck and EMT vehicle barreling down my street. This woke the children and one by one they came out to see what was going on. A few of the neighbors also stood in their driveways and watched as the firemen and one fire woman got the hose connected to the hydrant and began doing what they were trained to do. I could tell that Tommy was very nervous so I told him he could have a diet soda. I knew it wasn’t an ideal thing to have at almost 4 in the morning but it was extenuating circumstances.
Carrie helped keep Tommy occupied inside while Joseph stayed with me. He had his arm wrapped around me and was squeezing tightly. I could tell he was trying to comfort me and be the “man” of the family. He was doing a good job.
“You okay, mom?” He asked with concern.
“I’m fine, honey. I have you here with me don’t I.”
Joseph smiled and wrapped his other arm around me.
“Forever and always.” He said as he kissed my temple.
After about thirty minutes the female firefighter walked up to Joseph and me.
“Hey, folks, just wanted to let you know we’ve got the fire out. No more cause for concern.”
Frappes, Flamingos, and a Fireman (A Charlotte Ritter Mystery Book 2) Page 8