by Liliana Hart
Hank shook his head, amused at her enthusiasm. “Maybe one day I'll come to understand spending seventy million dollars on a high school football stadium. My old school back in Philly had a set of aluminum bleachers and a cinder block concession stand. Band parents used to work the concessions so their kids could play the tuba. This is all new to me.”
“Welcome to Texas, my friend.”
Hank check the GPS and turned on his blinker, making a right and then a left off of Main Street. And then they were in front of the last place Gage McCoy had been employed. The Rio Chino Police Department.
“Do you really think we'll make any progress here?” Agatha asked. “I’m not one to be dramatic, but I have a really bad feeling about this.”
Hanks’s eyes scanned the outside of the justice complex. It was a two-story brick building. No frills or fuss. There was visitor parking in the front, and a ten-foot chain-link fence with an electronic gate where the cops parked their units and entered into the building from the backside.
“Is this a cop or fire town?” Hank asked.
“Is there such a thing?”
“Absolutely. It’s politics. Two alpha groups are vying for the public’s support and approval. Think about it. Boston is a fire town, where New York is all about its cops. So, what kind of town this?”
He watched Agatha give the police department a good look before craning her head around to see the fire department on the opposite corner.
“Yeah, wow, I get your point. Definitely a fire town.”
A brand new building sat cattycorner from the police station. The smooth sandstone and modern design made it stick out like a sore thumb from the rest of the old architecture in the city. It was an ostentatious display of glass, stainless steel, and stone. And in front of the structure was an enormous bronze statue of a man decked out in his fire gear.
“I’m guessing that’s the departed fire chief,” Agatha said, pointing to the statue.
“Let’s start at PD. You know they’ll have nothing good to say about their neighbors.”
“Isn’t it funny how the two cultures clash?” Agatha asked more as a rhetorical question.
“Always have. Always will. But, I know it was hard for the police department to investigate their very own. No matter the crime, it always is.”
“The PD didn’t investigate McCoy,” Agatha said. “The Fire Investigator did.”
They got out of the car and headed up the stairs to the police lobby, but Hank stopped just outside the glass double doors, his brows raised.
“You mean to tell me that the police department didn’t conduct this investigation?” Hank let go of the door and went back down the stairs. “Change of plans. Let’s pay homage to old Kip.”
“Think it’s a better start?” Agatha asked, following him across the street.
“I'm not sure, but being they were the ones that made the arrest based on the fire investigator’s findings, I don't know how we can start anywhere else.”
“From everything I can tell, the fire department justified taking the lead because they said they were the victims. They were pretty ticked their streak of putting out fires was put to an end when Gage prevented them from extinguishing the fire and it burned to the ground. They even went to the district attorney to make sure they had investigative authority.”
“Where in this civilized world would a victim actually get to do their own investigation?” Hank asked. “Did this case go to a jury trial or was a plea deal offered to avoid the death penalty?”
“I remember the trial and all the news reports. Everything splashed across the news was about the death of the fire chief, and how Gage’s actions were what caused Kip’s heart attack. There was barely any mention of Julie McCoy. Nothing about how she’d been handcuffed to the bed. If you wanted to find out the details you had to look at the transcripts. Gage ended up taking a plea deal for life in prison to avoid the death penalty. His attorney advised him not to make any statements to the media, but Gage has insisted all along that he’s innocent.”
“I think I'm starting to see where this is heading,” Hank said.
“You know who did it?” she asked
“No, but I’m starting to think maybe Nick is right about opening this thing back up. Something smells rotten. Let’s find out what it is.”
Chapter Six
Sunday
The Rio Chino Station House One was freaking incredible. Hank had been in plenty of public safety facilities across America, but this was by far the most advanced. And it seemed totally out of place in a town the size of Rio Chino. He could only imagine what the bond looked like that had to pass to build it.
The front of the station was an open area, and then to the right were three bays that held fire trucks and an ambulance. Educational literature was neatly displayed at the help desk, and giant portraits of their most esteemed fire chiefs hung on the wall behind it. There were framed black and white pictures denoting the fire department’s history all around the room. It was an impressive sight.
“Hey there,” a middle-aged woman with short blonde hair said. “I’m Carla. How can I help y’all today?” She was decked out in the red and yellow of the football team. There was a team calendar on the wall and red and yellow pom-poms hanging from the corners of the help desk.
“Wow,” Agatha said. “Go Tigers.”
Carla smiled and said, “I spotted y’all as out-of-towners right away. Most everyone is still in church services, but even their Sunday best is red and yellow. This is an important week. Most of the businesses in town will be closed up Thursday and Friday in preparation for the big game.”
“I hear Beacon City is tough this year,” Hank said.
Carla’s smile vanished, and she stared at him like he had three heads and none of them were attractive.
“He’s from Philadelphia,” Agatha said, jumping in quickly. “He doesn’t understand.”
Carla’s look of scorn turned to one of pity as she stared him up and down. “You’ll get used to it. So, what can I do for y’all?”
“We’re actually here to cover the game,” Hank said, coming up with the lie easily. “It’s the ten-year anniversary since Gage McCoy made national news after killing his wife and being culpable for the death of the fire chief at the time. Since he’s a Beacon City hero and he was a police officer her in Rio Chino, it’s a good time to remind the public about what happened when we report on the game.”
Carla’s friendly smile disappeared. “We don’t talk about that here. The past is the past.”
“We think it’s a great time to bring recognition to Kip Grogan,” Agatha said. “I see y’all have him memorialized in front of the station. Don’t you think the people would like to see that?”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Carla said, brow raised in defiance.
“There sure is,” Hank said, smiling. It was the smile he gave criminals right before he was about to interrogate them. Carla’s smirk turned into a look of concern and she took a step back. “You can get us your supervisor or someone who is qualified to answer our questions since this is going on public record. I’d hate for it to seem like the fire department has something to hide.”
Carla stared at him a few seconds as if she wanted to argue, but she nodded curtly and turned on her heel to go into the back.
“You think she’s coming back?” Agatha asked.
“No, but someone will. Whoever’s been watching us on camera. Don’t look up,” he said, anticipating her next move.
“Wowza,” Agatha said as a man came out the same door Carla had entered.
Hank found himself annoyed at Agatha’s reaction. But even he had to admit the guy was impressive. The man had an inch or two on Hank in height and his body was all muscle. The sleeves of his shirt barely fit around his biceps and his dark blue tactical pants fit around a trim waist. His hair was cut close to the scalp in a buzz, but it was light in color. His eyes were a piercing blue.
“Welcome t
o Rio Chino,” he said, stretching out a hand. “I’m Chief Fletcher, but you can call me Tony.”
It didn’t go past Hank’s notice that the man was only making eye contact with Agatha, as if he weren’t even there.
Agatha held out her hand to shake his and smiled. “Hi, Chief Tony.”
Their hands lingered a little too long in Hank’s opinion and he cleared his throat.
“Is there something I can help you with? Carla says you’re here for the big game.”
“That’s right,” Agatha said. “I can’t wait to cheer on the…”
“Tigers,” Tony said when Agatha couldn’t come up with the name.
“Right, the tigers.”
Enough was enough in Hank’s mind. Clearly Agatha’s brain was a mush pile of hormones because all she’d done was smile since the man walked into the room. Sure, the guy looked like Hercules, but her reaction was a little over the top in his opinion. Tony was spending a little too much time looking at Agatha too. He recognized that look in the other man’s eyes and his protective instincts came into play.
“We do plan on covering the big game for our story,” Hank said. “But it’s also the ten-year anniversary of your old fire chief’s death and the arrest of Gage McCoy. Our boss wants us to include the history of the Iron Pumpkin game—the good, the bad, and the ugly.”
Hank waited to see how Tony would respond. It would tell him a lot about what he was up against. But Tony just smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He was good at playing the part of politician.
“Sir, I’d love to help you,” he said. “But I’m super busy getting our equipment back in operational shape. We had a doozy three-alarmer last night, and the trucks have to be rehabilitated.” Tony wiped a bit of smudge off of his nose. “We’re all on twenty-four hour shifts, so we have a limited amount of time before the next shift comes on.”
“Looks like you got a full crew in there to me, Chief. Don’t you think you could spare a few minutes to give us a quote?” Agatha asked. She gave him a flirtatious smile .“We’ll give you and the department full credit.”
Tony moved in a little closer to Agatha and Hank narrowed his eyes.
“Where y’all from?” Tony asked.
“Philadelphia,” Hank said.
“Wow, that’s a long way. I knew the Iron Pumpkin was popular, but I didn’t realize it was getting national attention. You think it’ll get some ESPN coverage?”
“I think you can count on it,” Hank said.
“I can carve out a few minutes for you,” Tony said, leading them to a sitting area.
Agatha took a seat on the couch and Tony sat close to her, in the middle, so Hank had no choice but to take the chair facing them. He didn’t like how Tony had moved in so easily, putting his arm on the back of the couch casually as if he and Agatha were sitting there “together.”
Hank pulled out a notebook from his pocket and a pen and opened it up. “Like I said, we want the good, the bad and the ugly about the rivalry between Rio Chino and Beacon City. There’s been plenty of dirty antics and tricks between the teams and communities over the years, but nothing brought attention to these two towns like what happened ten years ago. How long have you lived here?”
“My whole life,” Tony said. “Born and raised here. Played high school ball. Opted out of college to go to the fire academy. I’ve been doing that ever since. Became chief when Kip died.”
“Tell me about Gage McCoy.”
Tony’s eyes opened wide.
“Gage and I are of an age. Played against each other in high school.” Tony shrugged, but there was something in the way he said it that made Hank think there was something more there. “Then he married Julie Dewey. We went to school together, so after they got married they decided to live here in Rio Chino. It wasn’t easy for Gage, I’ll give him that. People have long memories here, and Gage was the starting quarterback for the Beacon City team that won them the Iron Pumpkin four years in a row. He joined Rio Chino PD, and he and Julie made it work for a few years. They had a kid, and word is he’ll be starting quarterback against us this Friday night.”
“I’ve seen him play,” Hank said, just to rub him the wrong way. “He’s incredible. You guys are in for a challenge.”
Tony chuckled. “It’ll be an even match. We have the number one defense in the nation.”
“What happened with McCoy?”
Tony shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe the job started to get to him. It does all of us to some degree. But he and Julie started having problems and then everything went downhill from there. He went nuts. And the rest is public record.”
“The fire department investigate Julie’s murder?” Agatha asked.
“The fire marshal did,” Tony said. “McCoy was arrested for interfering in the official duties of firefighters, aggravated arson, and first degree murder. He was also charged for contributing to the death of Kip Grogan, but those charges were eventually dropped. He took a plea deal and ended up with life.”
“You know, you can tell a lot about people by the way they answer questions,” Hank said.
“How’s that?” Tony asked.
“Did you notice how you prioritized the offenses? You listed the offense against your agency before the taking of a life. And how in the world can a person be charged for someone else having a heart attack? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Then it sounds like to me you should be talking to the fire marshal,” Tony said, standing up. “Gage McCoy got what he had coming to him. He never belonged here, and all it got him was trouble.”
“Where can we find the fire marshal?”
“Peter Chaffe? He’s probably over at the high school. They’ve got a big assembly this afternoon to kick off Iron Pumpkin week. The whole town will practically be there. They put the overflow in the stadium and they watch it all on the big screen. Lots of people bring picnics and stuff. It’s a real family event.”
“Thanks for your time,” Hank said.
“I never asked your name,” Tony said, looking at Agatha.
“It’s Agatha,” she said. “We appreciate you talking to us.”
“Maybe if you’re around this week we could grab a bite to eat. I’m off the next two days.”
“Oh,” Agatha said.
“She’ll have to get back to you,” Hank said. “We’ve got a story to write.” He looked at Agatha expectantly and she seemed to come to her senses.
“Right,” she said. And then she looked back at Tony. “Dinner sounds good. Let me check my schedule.”
Chapter Seven
Sunday
The fire department’s building was way beyond the town’s financial means or tax base’s capacity to borrow money against bonds. Even the police department, which was nowhere near on the same scale, looked to have cost more than the agricultural and cattle town could afford.
They’d seen enough of the town on their way in to get a feel for the area and community. It wasn’t a wealthy area. Far from it. They got back in the car, and Hank turned over the ignition.
“Why would they build monuments when most folks live in shacks?” Hank asked. “And how did the bonds pass to build some of these structures when it looks like people are barely scraping by?”
“Wait until you see the high school,” Agatha said. “I googled some pictures. Talk about keeping up with the Joneses. They’re trying to keep up with Beacon City, and they’re obsessed with being bigger and better. Only they don’t have a fraction of the growth Beacon City is having. But they’re spending like they are.”
Hank adjusted his mirrors so he could see the fire station behind him.
“What are we doing?”
“Why? Are you afraid you’re going to miss out on your date? What was that anyway?”
“Relax,” Agatha said, buckling her seatbelt. “I was playing my part. Do you think he would’ve given us as much information as he had if it had been just you there? Two alphas squaring off against each other us
ually ends up with bloodshed and wounded egos. I just used what God gave me to speed things along without adding carnage to the mix.”
“You sure were convincing,” he said, sparing her a glance. He didn’t know why he was so irritated. She was a grown woman, and she could do what she wanted. But still…it rankled a bit.
“Of course I was,” she said. “It’s not like he was hard on the eyes. But I’m not stupid. He was working the fire the night McCoy burned his house down. And he was right there when Kip Grogan dropped dead of a heart attack. So tell me, what are we doing?”
Hank sighed. Maybe he was overreacting. “We’re flushing out the real killer. Because this whole thing screams of a cover up.”
“He was pretty cool under fire though. But I caught what you were doing and how he was answering the questions. It’s personal between him and McCoy,” she said, pulling papers from her file. “He was the opposing quarterback those four years Gage cleaned their clocks in the Iron Pumpkin game.”
“The plot thickens,” Hank said.
“Speaking of plots.” She turned to face him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the rearview mirror. He knew Tony was going to make a move, and he didn’t want to miss it.
“I like working cases together, but if I can be honest, I’m also doing this to pay the bills. That includes your bill as well. It’s great to catch a killer, but unless I know more about the process of the hunt that leads to the catch, then all we’re doing is getting justice. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she said, before he could interrupt. “But I’ve been doing this a long time, and it’s the insights I get from the cops I’ve worked with that make my characters so real. Does that make any sense?”
“Yes,” Hank said. He didn’t do well with conversation when he was irritated, and apparently he was still irritated about the way she and Tony interacted with each other. It was best to just let him cool off in silence for a while.
