A Sweet Pepper Fire Brigade 03 - In Hot Water (11 page)

“A
re you sure they’re up for this, Chief?” Kimmie’s face was flushed and smudged with soot.

“We’re going to find out,” Stella said. “They’ve both been in training to learn how to deal with this type situation. They need practice too.”

Kimmie and David whispered together for a moment. David picked up one of the fire extinguishers and went close to the car. “Ready,” he said.

Stella had to evaluate the dogs too. The state was paying for their training and wanted to know the results. It was also the only way the dogs could be certified to go into emergency situations with the fire brigade.

Sylvia was up first. John and Kent put the dummies back in the car, and Tagger set the fire.

Stella gave the command for Sylvia to rescue one of the dummies. Sylvia whined and looked at Kimmie. She still sat obediently at the side of the car.

“Sylvia,” Stella said again. “Go.”

Sylvia ran into the car and pulled one of the children out. She went in again with no prompting and pulled the other child out before she went back for the adults. Then she went back and sat at Kimmie’s feet, her tail hitting the pavement as she waited to be praised for her work.

Stella wrote down her hesitation and her time rescuing the family, which was still within the parameters set by the state for rescue dogs. She gave Kimmie a nod, and Kimmie praised Sylvia and gave her a treat.

The fire was put out again. The dummies of the family were put back in place.

Stella cued Hero, who’d been waiting at the side of the car.

There was no hesitation on Hero’s part. He barked as he leapt into the backseat and dragged out the children. He went back immediately and got the two adults out as well, in less time than Sylvia had taken for rescuing the children.

Everyone applauded and praised the young dog. There was a curious moment when Hero ran to Eric to get his praise. The dog stood there—appearing to lick and snuffle the air as Eric told him how smart and good he was.

“Hey.” Royce pointed to Hero. “What’s he doing over there?”

Kimmie called Hero to her. He came after jumping up and barking at Eric. Kimmie gave him his treat, and the rest of the fire brigade patted his head.

“He shouldn’t have done that.” David frowned. “I don’t know why Hero ran over there, Chief. He broke his training. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Tagger snickered and Eric shrugged, both of them leaving Stella to explain without telling the truth.

“I’m sure he was just excited.” She put away her stopwatch. “Look at these times! We have two great fire rescue dogs coming up in the ranks.”

Everyone was diverted by that, and the moment was forgotten as they took the equipment back inside, cleaned up, and changed clothes.

Stella put Rufus’s name, along with Frank Schneider’s, Clyde Hampton’s, and Nancy Bradford’s, on lockers with a pieces of masking tape. The police officers had decided to join up after they’d seen what would be required of them. “I’m buying drinks for all the new recruits at Beau’s when we’re done. I’m glad to welcome all of you.”

Most of the fire brigade members went to Beau’s when they left the firehouse. Many had to go back to their jobs. Being a volunteer required hundreds of hours away from jobs and families at inconvenient times of the day and night. It was essential, but Stella knew it was hard on them.

Willy Jenkins, the owner of Beau’s Bar and Grill, was there when the fire brigade members came in for Stella’s free drink. Beau’s was a dark place with two pool tables, a few older video games, and sometimes a band playing on Friday night.

“It’s the Sweet Pepper Fire Brigade,” Willy called out. He looked like a nightclub bouncer with powerful arms and a wide chest. Stella had never seen him without his red suspenders and a Beau’s T-shirt. “First drink is on the house for all volunteers.”

Stella said she’d still spring for the second drink. Willy was a good friend of the fire brigade and a town council member. He’d voted repeatedly for money the fire brigade had needed.

“Thanks, Uncle Willy.” Rufus shook his hand.

“Don’t tell me you finally did something useful and joined up?” Willy was obviously pleased.

John shrugged when Stella glanced at him. “Didn’t I tell you? Rufus and Willy are family. I think it might make it a little easier to get council approval on that boat.”

“You’re a sneak,” she said, but she meant it in a good way.

“That’s so sweet,” Eric said. “Can we find out what my radius is so I can go home?”

“Chief Griffin!” Willy bellowed her name. “What’s your poison?”

Stella ordered a Coke. It was too early for her to start drinking.

“What’s this I hear about the fire brigade buying a boat from my no-account nephew?”

“I’ve got the plans and the contract. I haven’t looked at them yet.” Stella smiled. “I’ll have to get council approval too.”

“Bring ’em down here to me. I’ll take care of it. I have to keep my brother and this sweet young thing in work.” He pinched Rufus’s cheek.

“Should I tell him about Nay’s boat?” Stella asked John.

“He probably already knows, but you can if it would make you feel better.”

Stella told Willy about going to look at Nay’s boat.

He acted like it was nothing. “That old piece of junk? He’s been trying to get rid of that for the last twenty years. Whatever Rufus offered you is a better deal, I guarantee it.”

She thanked him and told him she’d bring the papers by.

“No reason to trouble yourself, Chief.” Rufus pulled another set of documents from his jacket pocket. “I’m always prepared.”

He winked at her as he gave his uncle the papers. Stella wasn’t happy with the bypass. She was the head of the fire brigade. It would be wrong for her not to present the project to the council after she’d had a chance to look at it herself.

“I appreciate your help, both of you,” she said to Willy and Rufus. “I don’t want to do it this way. I’ll let you know after I look at everything. Then we can present the project to the council.”

Rufus and Willy shrugged.

“Whatever you like, Chief. Just trying to expedite the project,” Rufus said.

“Thanks.” She studied the two men. They were only similar in height. Willy’s hair had thinned and turned gray. He was probably well over three hundred pounds. She wondered if Rufus would look like his uncle in twenty years.

“No hard feelings, Chief.” Willy shook her hand. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about a fund-raiser barbecue I’d like to put on for the fire brigade. I know you need more members. You could have a sign-up here too. The money we raise could be for the boat or whatever you all need. What do you think?”

Stella was glad he wasn’t annoyed with her preferring to present her choice of boat to the council. “Thank you. What do you need me to do?”

He laughed. “Come on by and eat some barbecue, darlin’. Wear that sexy dress uniform you were wearing at the memorial.”

Stella agreed, though she wouldn’t wear the dress uniform. It would be a great opportunity to raise money and awareness for the group.

“I think the uncle and nephew might have to fight it out over you.” Eric seemed amused. “I’m surprised John isn’t knocking them both out of the way.”

“You of all people know there’s nothing solid between me and John.” Stella walked away from the bar with her Coke. Country music was blaring from the jukebox, and Kent was beating David at pool.

“Good call.” John joined her, beer in his hand. “I’m curious though. Why work with the establishment dropping charges against Bob Floyd but not let Willy take care of the whole fireboat ordeal?”

“One is different than the other,” she explained. “With Bob, it’s personal. It’s my decision. With the fireboat, that’s the town’s business. I’m the fire chief. I’m expected to work within the guidelines.”

John laughed and put an arm lightly around her shoulders. “You are
so
green. Wait until you’re here another couple of years. You’ll be glad someone like Willy is willing to take over.”

Stella stepped away from the casual arm across her shoulders. She didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about her and John. She sipped her Coke and didn’t reply. She understood the boundaries she had created for herself. John didn’t have to understand.

“So how is old Bob Floyd?” JC asked with a laugh as he chalked up a pool cue. “I hear the old man roughed him up a little.”

“What did you expect?” Royce replied. “He held a shotgun on the chief. I wanted to rough him up when he was at the cabin with the bulldozer. The man needs to learn some respect.”

Stella pretended not to hear their conversation. It was exactly as she’d thought it would be. There didn’t have to be any proof to blame her grandfather for what had happened to Bob. It looked like revenge—so that’s what it was.

“I warned you.” John took another sip of beer as he squinted at her. “Everyone knows.”

“If everyone knew, I’m sure Chief Rogers would arrest Ben. But there’s no proof. Just another story about the old man protecting his own.”

She walked away from him toward the door to leave. John started to follow her, but his foot seemed to encounter a slick spot on the floor. No one could find it later. His foot flew out from under him and he ended up on his rear, covered in beer.

“
Oops
.
”
Eric smiled. “I guess he’d better watch where he’s going.”

“Really?” Stella asked around clenched teeth as she walked out the door. “It’s not bad enough everyone thinks Ben had Bob beaten up. Now my dead housemate, the Paul Bunyan of Sweet Pepper, wants to play frat boy tricks because he’s
jealous
.”

Stella continued walking, ignoring the laughter behind her as everyone made fun of John. She climbed into the Cherokee and drove toward town.

“Frat boy?” Eric asked from beside her in an indignant tone. “I never went to college.”

“That’s funny. You seem to have the humor of a kid in college.”

“And I wasn’t jealous. John was being an idiot. Anyone could see that. They saw it better when he was on the floor.”

“Never mind. Let’s figure out how far apart we can be when I have your shield.”

“All right. How do we do that?”

Stella sharply pulled the Cherokee into the gravel driveway beside the “Madam Emery, Psychic Reader” sign. “Maybe she knows.”

“I don’t like this plan.”

“We can find out what she’s been telling Bob about ghosts and how to get rid of them.” Her brown eyes narrowed.

“I don’t like that look on your face, Stella.”

“Too bad.” She got out of the Cherokee and went toward the older house.

The house and yard had seen better days. At one time, it seemed as though it had been a quaint and cozy cottage. There were old climbing roses, withered and brown now with the cold, growing everywhere with no sign of pruning. The house needed painting and a new roof. The sidewalk leading to the purple front door was cracked and overgrown with weeds.

The sign, suspended from a two-by-four with metal rings, flapped in the mountain breeze. Beside the house was an older Buick that looked as sad as the rest of the property.

“I guess there’s no money in being a psychic reader,” Stella remarked.

“The amazing thing is that this place looks exactly like when I was a kid, seventy-plus years ago.” Eric stared at the broken window frame the same way as he had going by as a child.

Stella knocked at the door. There was no response. “This must be a different Madam Emery. She couldn’t still be practicing that long.”

There were dozens of cats. They peered down at them from the roof and slunk by on the ground, rubbing against Stella’s leg. One sat on the broken window ledge and put out a delicate white paw. Stella scratched its head, and the cat started purring.

“I don’t think anyone’s here.” Stella glanced around. She wasn’t sure if anyone even lived there anymore.

“I’ll check.” Eric tried to walk through the wall. He bounced off it as though he were solid. “I guess I’m not going to check. I’ve never had that happen before.”

Stella knocked again. “Performance issues, huh? I guess it even happens to ghosts.”

“Performance issues?” Eric was puzzled by the phrase.

“Never mind. I guess she’s not home. We’ll try again next time.”

She turned away to go back to the Cherokee. The faintest scraping sound caught her attention as the purple door slid open.

The old woman didn’t look as ancient as Stella had expected. She had to be in her eighties, at least, but her long, thick black hair made her face appear more youthful. Or she wasn’t the same Madam Emery that Eric recollected from his childhood.

She smiled at Stella and then glanced to her right where Eric stood. “Well, well. I’ve been expecting
you
.”

S
tella walked into the tiny house. Inside was a hodgepodge of trinkets, books, and cats. The furniture was worn to the point of exhaustion. Plants were at every available window. There was an odd aroma of tobacco and herbs that teased her nose.

She’d expected the old woman to follow her. Instead, she stood at the doorway. “Shoo!” The woman waved her arms at Eric. “Go away. You’ll have to wait outside.”

Eric tried again to walk inside, this time through the open doorway. He bounced off it the same way. “Stella?”

Madam Emery slammed the door in his face. “Now that’s better. If there’s one thing I don’t need, it’s some pesky poltergeist hanging around my house.” She smiled at Stella, her thin brown face becoming a mass of wrinkles. “Would you like some tea?”

“Sure.” Stella glanced at the closed door again. “How did you do that? And how did you know he was there?”

“When you’ve been around ghosts as long as I have you can always see them.” Madam Emery led the way into her tiny kitchen. “Mind you, some are pathetic, not like that big, strapping one that came with you. Most are slighter wraiths of their former selves.”

Stella, awestruck, sat down at the small table. Madam Emery shooed away the three cats that were sitting on it. There were even more plants, books, and trinkets in there, including a large black bear head on a cake plate.

“What makes Eric different?”

Madam Emery put on a copper kettle and lit the gas pilot under it. “Usually it’s the ones who think so much of themselves in life. In his case, I’d say
you
make him different.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“He was probably fading away until you came into his life. You could see him and hear him. That’s enough to make a ghost real again. Jasmine or honeysuckle?”

“Jasmine.” This was going to be a much more interesting conversation than she’d imagined. “Is that good or bad? Shouldn’t he move on or something?”

Madam Emery cackled. “That’s the veriest nonsense. You hear that kind of stuff on the TV. Don’t make it true. Most people die and wander. It’s our nature.”

“So he’ll always be in the cabin?”

“No. Not if Mr. Bob Floyd has his way. If he destroys the cabin, Eric will fade. He’s not the wandering kind. He’s seen what he wanted to see. He wants to stay home . . . with
you
.”

Stella fingered Eric’s badge in her pocket.

“That token won’t help,” Madam Emery said before Stella could ask. “It gives him some purpose, and he can walk with you. But if his home, his
center
, is laid to waste, he’ll fade. No doubt about it.”

“Which is what you told Bob,” Stella said.

Madam Emery swung her waist-length, black hair off her shoulders, displaying the one white streak in it. She wore a long gown and a heavy shawl. Both were deep purple, the color of the door, and most of the inside of the house.

“He asked me. I told him. You shouldn’t have used your ghost to threaten him. It violates all good codes of conduct.”

Stella took her chipped cup full of fragrant jasmine tea from the old woman. It was too hot to sip, so she put it down on the table.

“I understand that now. I was trying to keep Bob in line.”

“Guess you didn’t need a ghost for that, did you?” The wrinkled face grinned at her. “You’ve got the devil backing you up.”

“You mean Ben Carson.” Was there anyone, besides people who wanted something from her grandfather, who didn’t think he was evil?

The psychic/tarot reader sat beside Stella with her cup of tea. “He’s not evil, or if he is, he’s a
necessary
evil. He loves you. He also covets you. He could live again through you, if you let him. That makes you precious to him.”

Stella didn’t want to talk about Ben. Madam Emery made her skin crawl when she spoke about him. She started to change the subject.

“More important, you have your own wraith following you. She’s perched on your shoulder like a guardian angel.” Madam Emery’s unnaturally bright blue eyes stared at Stella’s right shoulder. “She needs your help. You’re kin to this woman. She came to you when you were with
him
.”

Stella had no idea what she was talking about. As far as she knew, Eric was the only ghost in her life. She didn’t want another one, even if it was only this woman’s drama pretending that there was one.

“Abigail,” Madam Emery whispered.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Stella scoffed. “You obviously know who I am. We both know my grandmother, Abigail Carson, died in my grandfather’s house and my mother left home because of it. I know how these scams work. My ex-boyfriend was a cop.”

“Find your own way then.” Madam Emery dismissed her with a wave of her small hand. “She might get stronger and be able to tell you why she’s attached herself to you. You don’t need my help. Maybe your big protector out there can talk to her for you.”

“I didn’t come to talk about Abigail or my family.” Stella wanted to end that conversation. It wasn’t only because she felt like she was being taken in. There was a weird, tingling feeling, and almost a sigh from somewhere near her right shoulder. She knew nothing was there. It was just her imagination.

She was as susceptible as the next person. It gave her chills down her spine. She wanted to get out of there and into the fresh air again.

“I know. I know. It’s all about your problems with Eric.” Madam Emery nodded her head at Stella’s pocket where the badge was hidden. “You want to know how to get rid of him now that he’s attached to you.”

“No. I want to know how far this goes. How far apart can we be with him out of the cabin?”

“We aren’t talking about physical realities. You won’t
ever
be without him as long as you hold the token. Should you want to keep him in the cabin permanently, destroy the token. That will take care of it.”

Stella took a hasty sip of her tea, trying not to be rude. “Thanks for that information. How much do I owe you?”

“At some time, I’ll need a favor from you. You won’t refuse me, even though you’ll want to. Not everything can be bought with the King’s currency.”

That was about all the weird Stella could handle. She had no idea what the King’s currency was. She thanked her hostess, praised the tea that had tasted like dirt, and started walking toward the front door.

“One more thing.” Madam Emery was somehow immediately in front of Stella blocking the door. “Be careful not to get caught up in the spirit world. You have no training. You’ve already crossed the line in many places. You could find yourself unable to turn back.”

“Thanks. I’ll watch out for that.”

Stella looked again, and the woman was gone. It only took two quick steps to get to the door and out of the house. She took a deep breath of frosty air when she was outside.

“What happened? What did she say?” Eric demanded.

“Let’s get out of here,” Stella growled. “I’ll tell you as we go.”

She brought him up to speed after backing down the driveway. She didn’t want to take any chance that Madam Emery might rush out to say anything else.

“Does any of that make sense to you?” she asked him.

“If you’re asking me if I see a guardian angel who looks like Abigail Carson on your shoulder, the answer is no. Maybe a little dandruff. Why’d you let her get to you like that?”

“Why didn’t she get to
you
? She was able to keep a ghost out of her house. That seems kind of amazing to me. I should’ve asked her if I could borrow that charm to keep you out of the bedroom and bathroom.”

Eric ignored her remarks. “So it’s true. I’ll disappear if the cabin is destroyed.”

“If she knows what she’s talking about. These people are scammers, Eric. She was all dramatic and everything, but what did she say that we can quantify?”

“What about the part with the badge? She might be right about that. Maybe it doesn’t really matter if you have it or not.”

Stella took a deep breath and steadied her shaking hands on the steering wheel. “I don’t know. And I don’t know why she got to me. It was so
odd
being in that little house. You weren’t in there so you don’t know.”

“Rub it in,” he said.

“Let’s try something.” Stella drove into Sweet Pepper and parked the Cherokee on the street in front of the hardware store. “I’m going into Flo’s to ask her if she knows anyone else I can get pepper recipes from. You stay here.”

“Hang around on the sidewalk?”

“Yes. We’ll see what happens.”

Stella started walking after locking the Cherokee. Tommy Potter, who owned the hardware store, stopped and spoke with her about what had happened to Bob. Valery, from the Daily Grind, called out a greeting as she crossed the street.

When she got to the curb at the colorful bed-and-breakfast that Flo owned, Eric was right there at her side. “I thought you were staying by the Cherokee.”

He shrugged and spread his large hands before him. “I didn’t move. When you put your foot on the sidewalk, I was suddenly pulled here. It’s like being attached to a rubber band. So we’re joined no matter what as long as you have my badge.”

“It looks like it.” Stella was conscious that she was standing on the street corner talking to herself—at least that was what it would look like. She quickly went up the stairs and knocked on Flo’s front door.

Flo popped her head out, her teased-high blond hair not moving in the strong breeze that swept down Main Street. Her curious, blueberry-colored eyes opened wide. “My goodness! Stella. I’m
so
glad to see you!”

“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by. I thought maybe I could get some pointers from you about finding recipe donors. I don’t have many recipes so far. I think almost everyone in town has already donated.”

“Come in.” Flo held the door wide. “I took some cupcakes out of the oven a minute ago. Matilda is here too. I’ll put on a pot of coffee. I have some fresh-squeezed lemonade too.”

“Thanks.” Stella went inside and looked around. Flo had created a wonderful, welcoming atmosphere for her guests. There were always fresh-baked snacks on the sideboard and wonderful aromas coming from the kitchen. Her rooms were cozy and as close to home as anyone could get.

“Chief Griffin,” Matilda Storch greeted her. She already had two empty cupcake wrappers on the table before her. In all fairness though, they were
very
small cupcakes.

“Matilda,” Flo chastised her. “Call her Stella. Everyone does. Except for Don Rogers—we don’t want to talk about him right now.”

Matilda and Flo both giggled.

Matilda was the town’s hatmaker. Because of the Sweet Pepper Festival, which required hats to be worn by certain participants and sponsors, she was busy all year. She was a large woman with white hair, her sturdy German stock evident in her strong frame, pink and white complexion, and bright blue eyes.

“You’ve been the talk of the town, Stella.” Matilda used her name easily. “Between that fire up by the lake and Bob Floyd taking a beating, I swear everyone has something to say about you.”

Stella took a cupcake from Flo as she sat at the table. Eric hovered beside her, eyeing the confection. “I hope everyone is saying good things about the fire brigade.”

Flo laughed. “Well, you
weren’t
able to save Barney Falk, but most people understand that. Any ideas yet on who murdered him?”

“Really, we have no
proof
that he was murdered.” Stella unwrapped her red velvet cupcake. “It was a terrible fire. He was in the thick of it.”

Matilda and Flo exchanged looks.

“Barney was a good man,” Matilda continued, “but he had his enemies.”

“Like your grandfather,” Flo said. “Barney and Ben were never exactly friends. And Barney had that run-in with you earlier. Maybe Ben didn’t like it.”

Matilda nodded knowingly as she unwrapped another vanilla cupcake. “Like what happened to Bob. I heard he’s coming home from the hospital tomorrow. Someone said he may never walk again. His knees were smashed or some such.”

“Not that it was
your
fault,” Flo assured Stella. “You were protecting Chief Gamlyn’s property. We all understand that.”

“Of course!” Matilda echoed her sentiments.

Stella knew she had to change the subject. “I was wondering about getting recipes. Any ideas on that? I have a few from people who haven’t donated yet. Do you think there’s anyone in town that hasn’t entered a recipe in the contest?”

“If there is, they must be someone living under a rock.” Flo laughed. “Most of us give something every year. Are you signed up as a judge this year, Stella? What do you think of my red velvet pepper cupcakes?”

There was no outright cheating or bribing of contest judges, but there was plenty of room for suggestions and taste-testing of new recipes. Since it all benefited the town, Stella didn’t feel like it mattered much. The rules on such things were stringent, but not enforced.

“The cupcake is great,” Stella praised as Flo put another one on her sunflower plate. “I’m not judging this year.”

“Well, not
yet
anyway.” Matilda laughed heartily at her joke.

“As far as recipes from people who haven’t been involved . . .” Flo tapped her chin. “I’d start with people who aren’t from here. You have that young couple with the Dalmatians volunteering at the fire brigade. You should ask them.”

“And what about old Tagger?” Matilda asked. “If he’s ever donated a recipe, I don’t know it.”

“You’re friends with Walt Fenway too,” Flo reminded her. “What about asking him?”

All of those were good suggestions. Stella thanked them for their help and got to her feet before Flo could press another cupcake on her.

“Too bad you can’t talk to Eric,” Flo said. “He always had
wonderful
recipes.”

Stella could hardly tell her that she had relied on Eric’s recipes since they’d asked her to donate one during the first pepper festival she’d attended.

Eric laughed. “They’d be surprised if they knew the truth, huh?”

“Well, I have to run. Thanks for the cupcakes and the suggestions.”

“Don’t forget to get your hat fitting well before the festival,” Matilda said. “As a member of the planning committee, you’ll need it. And don’t forget the dance and the picnic, not to mention the crowning of the Sweet Pepper queen and her court. You know the theme this year is ‘Our Golden Years.’”