Playing With Fire Page 18

  “I ended up at the firehouse. I tried to leave the firehouse and ended up back here. I think I went back and forth for a long time. Then I finally got the idea. Only now, I can’t go to the firehouse anymore.”

  “And now the town put your cabin up for sale again.” Walt snorted when Stella had related Eric’s words to him. “It’s a shame when a man can’t even live in his own place. What do you think will happen if they tear it down?”

  Eric didn’t want to discuss what would happen. It was more because his pride didn’t want him to try to make Stella stay because she felt sorry for him than anything else.

  “What do you mean they put the cabin up for sale again?” Stella asked Walt.

  “A while back, maybe twenty years ago, the town council tried to sell this place. No takers. They finally gave up. I think Eric did a good job scaring off any potential buyers.”

  “I think Bob was behind this,” she said. “He’s afraid to try to burn the cabin now, so this is his new scheme for getting rid of it.”

  “What do you mean he’s afraid?” Eric asked her. “Why would he be more afraid now than yesterday?”

  Stella gave him a condensed version of what she’d told Bob at the barbershop. Walt laughed, but Eric took it more seriously. “It’s never a good idea to push an animal into a corner. Even a rabbit will come out snarling.”

  Stella, bewildered by that bit of folklore, repeated it to Walt who agreed with his friend.

  “True enough.” Walt changed the subject. “Are you going to talk to the old man, Stella? Can I eat the rest of your fries if you don’t want them?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” Eric said. “Let it go, Stella. Get out of it while you still can.”

  “Don’t give up yet,” she entreated. “We’re close now, and we’re going to find an answer.”

  “Is that a yes or no about the old man, or the French fries?” Walt asked, not hearing Eric’s side of the conversation.

  Stella slid the rest of her fries toward him. “Knock yourself out. I don’t know yet about Ben. Let’s go have a look at that Impala.”

  “Do me a favor,” Eric said.

  She looked into his amazing blue eyes, realizing that they were every bit as blue when he’d been alive. “Anything.”

  “Make sure you don’t do this alone, and take some pictures of whatever you find. I’d like to see it.”

  “Sure.” She turned to Walt who was finishing the last of the fries. “Eric wants pictures. Let’s go.”

  • • •

  Shu Carriker’s old place was outside of town. There was a ramshackle group of buildings clustered around a house that had once been painted white, but was now a dirty gray after being ignored for many years.

  The land around it was beautiful—a lush green valley stretching for acres along the river. Cows, chickens, and goats were wandering around with no fencing or barricades.

  Most of the buildings were barely standing, some with roofs half gone, and others with only the bare frames of what had once been a barn or chicken coop.

  Stella was a little nervous about driving across the bridge that spanned the river. She wasn’t convinced it would hold the weight of a bicycle much less the Cherokee.

  Walt assured her that it was safe. “They have a truck. They must get in and out to go shopping and whatnot. Go on. Don’t be such a girl—or I’ll tell Eric.”

  “If we go through the bridge and I die, I’m haunting your house.” She gave the Cherokee some gas and it made it across the bridge. “I hope they never have a fire out here. The engine isn’t coming across that thing.”

  Shu’s widow, Thelma, and one adult son, both lived at the old homestead. They answered Walt’s knock at the door together. Thelma peered over her son’s burly shoulder.

  “Yeah?” the man asked.

  “It’s Jack, isn’t it?” Walt extended his hand to him. “You’re the spitting image of your daddy. You’re the youngest of the four, right?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “You probably don’t remember me but I’m sure your mama does. I’m Walt Fenway. I’ve been here more than a few times as police chief. I tried to find your daddy when he went missing.”

  “Hi, Jack,” Stella said with a smile. “How are you? The wall you repaired looks great.”

  “Chief Griffin.” Jack nodded. “Why are you here?”

  “We’d like to have a word with you and your mother.”

  “You can talk to me.” Jack told his mother to stay in the house.

  He walked out on the porch with Walt and Stella, closing the door behind him. They all walked carefully around a hole in the porch floor.

  “What do you want? Nobody here called you. I paid my taxes this year.”

  Walt kept his tone friendly. “We’re not here about taxes, son. We’d like to buy your daddy’s old Impala. Do you still have it?”

  “His Impala?” Jack looked confused. “What for? It’s a piece of junk. It hasn’t been driven since daddy left.”

  “We’re collectors.” Stella tried to help out, knowing Walt was making this up as he went along. “We collect old Impalas. There’s good money in it, if it’s the right one.”

  Jack’s expression of anger and distrust melted away. “Sounds good to me. It’s not drivable, but if you all want it, it’s yours—for the right price.”

  He walked with them to one of the side buildings and pulled a threadbare tarp off of a black vehicle. The tires were flat. Weeds had grown into the car. The glass on the front and back had been shattered.

  “I told you,” Jack said. “Not much to work with. But you can have it for two hundred dollars. We probably have the title somewhere, if you’re thinking about fixing it up.”

  Walt went right for the trunk. “You got keys to open this?”

  “Probably.” Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you want to see the engine?”

  “Nope.” Walt looked around the narrow enclosure. He picked up a rusted tire iron and applied it to the lock on the trunk. “This will do just fine.”

  Stella moved back there with him when the trunk popped open. Sunlight filtered through the rotting wood showing a large amount of what looked like dried blood in the trunk. There was also a piece of moldy red fabric, a glove, and a single boot.

  Tucked in one corner, near the taillight, was a small transistor radio.

  Stella’s lips tightened when she realized that Ricky had to be part of this now. She was willing to bet the radio had belonged to him.

  “This is it,” Walt muttered, his voice filled with anger and sorrow. “This is where those jackals put Eric when they took him out of the silo. Who knows if he was alive or dead when they stuffed him in here? I hope they both burn in hell.”

  Stella put her hand on Walt’s shoulder to steady him and then she took out her cell phone. “This is going to make a big difference. That’s all we can do for him now.”

  As soon as she’d called Agent Whitman, she started taking pictures of the trunk and the rest of the car.

  “You aren’t really going to show Eric all of this, are you?” Walt asked. “I don’t know if he really wants to see it. There’s only so much a man can stand.”

  “Hey! What are you doing back there?” Jack came around the side of the car. “Is it worth the two hundred or not? If not, get the hell off my property.”

  Walt charged at the young man, knocking him to the ground. “Your daddy was a no-account killer who took the life of my best friend. This car is going to prove that. So unless you want to get in my way on this, I suggest you go back and get behind your mama’s skirts.”

  Stella thought his technique was a little over-the-top, but she’d witnessed much worse in situations with Chicago police officers. It was hard to look at the trunk, knowing what had happened. She finally took the last picture and turned away.

 
Walt might be right about showing the photos to Eric. She’d have to make that decision later. In the meantime, the sound of approaching sirens, coming over the bridge, made her realize the scene would shortly be swarming with police and crime scene people.

  Chief Rogers was the first one there. He slammed his car door and frowned at Jack Carriker as he ran by him to get to the house.

  “I hope to God you didn’t find anything important out here,” he snarled at Walt and Stella. “You have no warrant. Anything here is totally useless. Good work, you two.”

  Chapter 21

  While Chief Rogers yelled and cursed, Agent Whitman arrived on the scene and took a look at the trunk of the Impala. His laid-back manner made Chief Rogers look like a blustering fool.

  “Excellent work.” He smiled and shook Stella’s hand. “I’m glad we talked about checking out the car. We’ll have to wait for forensics to tell us if the blood and these items belong to Chief Gamlyn, but the story fits.”

  Chief Rogers was even more furious. “What are you talking about? There’s no search warrant. This stuff can’t be used as evidence.”

  Agent Whitman pulled a document from inside his coat pocket. “I think the DA will find everything in order.”

  “How’d you get this?” Rogers demanded. “Don’t tell me she told you she was coming here. You would’ve been here too.”

  “As a matter of fact, Chief Griffin and I discussed the importance of finding the Impala this morning after the meeting. I obtained the search warrant after she left my office. Clearly, she didn’t need it before she found the evidence as the family member allowed her to inspect the car. We’re covered as far as legality is concerned.”

  Rogers swore. “If that don’t beat all. She lies, and you swear to it.”

  “What might be more interesting, Chief Rogers, is how you knew to come out here.” Agent Whitman’s tone was light and affable. “Chief Griffin called my cell phone to report her news. I have a feeling she didn’t call you.”

  “I heard you all were out here. I thought you might need some backup.” Chief Rogers was clearly on the defensive. “I can see you don’t. I’ll expect to see some kind of report about this, Whitman. You are a guest in my jurisdiction. Don’t abuse my hospitality.”

  Chief Rogers scowled at each of them in a threatening manner and then went back to his car, spinning his tires in the dirt before leaving them behind.

  “I don’t think Chief Rogers was happy with this scenario,” Agent Whitman said. “And I’d appreciate more of a heads-up next time. But I think you’ve found the jackpot here. I’ll have the car towed somewhere safe and a state crime scene team will check it out.”

  “Sorry,” Stella apologized. “I probably should have called you sooner. I’m not a police officer, but I am familiar with how things work.”

  Walt apologized too. “I know how things work and that’s why I didn’t call first. I didn’t want to get out here and find the Impala missing.”

  Agent Whitman didn’t seem upset. “All’s well that ends well, Mr. Fenway. I’m curious about how you came to find the car. I looked through the same DMV records that you got. I didn’t see this car listed on those records.”

  “I thought about it after I heard that Shu Carriker was buried in Eric’s coffin. I remembered him having this old Impala. Good guess, huh?”

  “Very good guess.” Agent Whitman shook his hand. “It pays to know the area. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to call for help.”

  • • •

  Zane called Stella to tell her that he’d clocked Chief Rogers going close to one hundred miles an hour after he left the Carriker farm. “What did you do to him this time, Stella?”

  “Not much,” she replied. “I think he wanted to put me in a trunk and close me up though.”

  “I’m meeting with him myself later. I hope he’s over it by then.”

  Stella was curious. “What’s up?”

  Zane explained that he’d talked to John Trump about seeing an older black pickup riding close to a blue truck hauling a trailer on the day Deputy Chum was killed.

  “I didn’t think anything of it and road rage happens. I didn’t actually see the blue truck go off the road. I was keeping an eye out for fires, not that kind of thing.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Zane. Just tell him what you saw. I’ll stay away from him until after he talks to you.”

  He laughed. “And I won’t tell him we’re dating. That way he won’t take whatever you’ve done out on me.”

  • • •

  Stella dropped Walt off at his cabin in Big Bear Springs after she left the Carriker farm. There had been a fire that had all but destroyed the cabin last year, but she couldn’t tell it now. Everyone from town had come out to help rebuild the cabin on one long weekend. If anything, the structure looked better than it had before.

  “Come on in back and we’ll have some hard cider,” he invited. “I know I need some. You must too.”

  “Sounds good, thanks.” Stella opened the door to the Cherokee to get out and her emergency pager went off. “On second thought, I’ll have to take a rain check on that cider, Walt. Duty calls.”

  “Okay.” He closed the passenger side door. “Think hard on it before you show Eric those pictures, huh? I don’t know if I’d really want to see them if I was in his shoes. See you later. Be safe.”

  Stella turned the Cherokee around and switched on the siren when she reached the end of Walt’s narrow drive.

  She knew Walt was right, in some ways, about not showing Eric the pictures she’d taken. It seemed unnatural for him to see the place he might have died. He was probably better off not remembering any of it. Those memories could only bring him pain.

  On the other hand, he deserved to know the truth, and that was what he was asking for. It might be difficult to handle, but she thought she’d want to know what really happened if she was in his place.

  She didn’t think he’d be happy with less either. And she’d learned an unhappy ghost could be a pain in the butt.

  Walt’s cabin was only about ten minutes from the firehouse. For once, Stella got there before anyone else.

  Kent was on communications that day. “The call is from the Sunset Beach community over on Sweet Pepper Lake. The caller said it’s a house fire and no one appears to be home. Most of those houses are vacation rentals, so it wouldn’t be surprising. Can I drive the pumper?”

  Stella saw Tagger hop out of his friend’s pickup. “Suit up. We’ll have Tagger on communications while we’re gone. I haven’t been up to the lake community since I took my first tour of Sweet Pepper. This should be interesting.”

  The first thing that Stella had noticed about Sunset Beach, and its hundred or so luxury cabins and houses stretched around it, was that there was only one road going in and out. The road circled around the lake and was barely graveled. There were large ruts in it and very little shoulder area. It was fine for everything but large trucks—like the ones they were bringing in.

  She’d talked to the town council about it, but it was a private road, not maintained by the town. Still, it was part of the fire brigade’s jurisdiction. That meant the town could wash its hands of it, but she still had to deal with whatever problems came up because of it.

  Stella was surprised at finding the road so badly maintained. It was her understanding that most of the cabins around the three-mile lake were pricey, some worth millions. They were rarely used by the people who owned them. The cabins were rented out by the owners with routine chores performed by a local service.

  “Where are we going, Chief?” Ricky asked as he ran into the firehouse.

  “Where the rich folks live,” Tagger said after speaking to Kent. “Well, they could live there if they wanted to.”

  JC whistled sharply as he tugged on his boots. “Better wear your best gear, brother. Don’t want to di
sappoint them.”

  Ricky laughed with him—until he saw Petey. They hadn’t spoken since they’d kissed.

  “Hi, Petey.”

  “Hi, Ricky.” She didn’t even look at him before she opened her locker and started taking out her gear.

  “Going to Sunset Beach,” he told her.

  “That’s nice.”

  Ricky smiled at her hopefully but she didn’t look up from what she was doing.

  Stella was dressed and had her stopwatch out, observing her group.

  Kimmie and David Spratt arrived with Sylvia. Hero ran in from the back of the firehouse—Stella knew where he’d been—and the two dogs barked and jumped at each other, obviously happy to be together again.

  Royce Pope had caught a ride with John. Banyin called in that she was at the doctor. Bert Wando came in with Allen Wise. There was no sign of Marty, no call or text to explain why he wasn’t there.

  Stella didn’t dwell on it as everyone got ready and climbed on board the two trucks. This was it for Marty, as far as she was concerned. She had a list of a few other people she could call to take his place. It was a small list, but she felt sure she could find one other person to make up her minimum quota.

  She climbed in the front of the engine/ladder truck with Hero and Ricky, and the fire brigade set out for Sunset Beach.

  “I suppose it’s wishful thinking that they took care of this road after I sent the homeowners association a letter,” Stella said to Ricky. “If they haven’t made any changes, I don’t know if we can even get up there.”

  “She wouldn’t even talk to me, Chief,” Ricky said mournfully. “I called her and texted her a few times. I never heard anything back.”

  Stella didn’t pretend not to know who he was talking about. “She’s dating someone, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, but come on—we had a special moment. At least I thought it was special.”

  “Aren’t you with someone else too?”

  “No. Marcy broke up with me. I thought Petey and I were perfect.”

  Stella smiled, feeling old and wise. “Sometimes firefighters get close because of what they do. It might seem like love, but it’s only the experience. It usually doesn’t last from what I’ve seen.”