Great Balls of Fury

by Annabel Chase

  The back of my neck grew warm at the mention of my Cheese Wheel faux pas. “I’ll go first. I haven’t seen Ted since I’ve been back.”

  “That’s the whole point of bringing you,” the chief said. “Friendly face first.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about being used like this.” I started the long, winding climb to the top.

  “Hey, I’m helping you with your Vitamin D intake. If you handle cyber crimes, you must sit in that dark office all day.”

  “I make an effort to stay active.”

  “I can see that.” I couldn’t be sure, because unlike my mother, I didn’t have eyes in the back of my head, but I had the burning sensation that the chief was watching my backside all the way up the steps.

  “Is that my kung pao chicken?” Ted called when we reached the top.

  “Afraid not,” I said, stepping into the circular space at the top of the lighthouse.

  Ted’s eyebrows knitted together. “Eden?” He wore goggles on top of his head, causing his white hair to stick up around them. He was dressed in a white karate outfit complete with an orange belt. He reminded me of Dr. Emmett Brown from Back to the Future in that weird and wonderful way.

  “Hi, Ted,” I said.

  Ted’s gaze flickered to the chief behind me. “And who’s your friend?” He then seemed to notice Chief Fox’s uniform and badge. “Oh. You’re the new chief?”

  “Nice to meet you, Ted. I’m Chief Sawyer Fox. I’m terribly sorry about your brother. I’ve heard a lot of great things about him since my arrival.” He shook Ted’s hand.

  “Are you old enough to be a chief?” Ted asked. “You look like you’re still in college.”

  “No, sir,” Chief Fox replied. “Not for quite some time.”

  Ted nodded absently before shifting his focus back to me. “Are you home for a visit?”

  “No, I moved back for work.”

  Ted chuckled. “I owe your Aunt Thora twenty bucks. She said you’d be back the day you left, but I thought for sure we’d seen the last of you.”

  “You remember a bet with my aunt?” I asked. “That would’ve been years ago.”

  Ted tapped the side of his head. “My bank account might be empty but my memory bank is full.”

  “Which kind of martial arts do you do?” the chief asked.

  Ted stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  Chief Fox gestured to his attire. “You’re an orange belt. Is it Shotokan or something else?”

  “I don’t partake in any such activity,” Ted replied.

  The chief shot me a helpless look. I didn’t know what to say. I warned him that Ted was a character. I decided to change the subject.

  “This is the best view in town, Ted,” I said. I walked to the window and surveyed the boats in the bay as the sunlight reflected off the water. A perfect day.

  “It really is spectacular, isn’t it?” Ted said. “I never tire of it.” He joined me at the window. “You know your aunt and I spent many a romantic evening up here in our youth.”

  I held my hands over my ears. I didn’t want to hear racy details about my sweet Aunt Thora. Ted didn’t know about my family’s heritage. According to family gossip, my great-aunt had broken up with Ted to save him from heartache. She knew she couldn’t marry him, not without inflicting my family upon him and introducing him to a world he wasn’t equipped to handle. She ended up marrying my Uncle Cyrus, an excessus demon, and they had my Uncle Moyer and Aunt Charisma. Uncle Cyrus died before I left Chipping Cheddar.

  “Is Thora the sweet aunt that I met?” Chief Fox asked.

  “Yes,” I said, removing my hands. Only my great-aunt would find someone like Ted endearing. Of all my family members, she was the one I most identified with. Beneath her witchy exterior beat a soft heart. Even her choice of a demon husband had been relatively tame. As an excessus demon, Uncle Cyrus encouraged excessive behavior, especially in drinking, smoking, and gambling. He was the voice that whispered in their ears to keep going.

  Ted tugged on his ear. “What brings you to the lighthouse? Is this a routine call for the new chief?”

  “Not routine,” the chief replied. “I’m investigating your brother’s murder.”

  His eyes bulged. “Murder?” Ted repeated. “Someone murdered him? I thought he fell in the bay and drowned.”

  “Well, technically, he did,” the chief said. “The question is who put him there?”

  “Why do you think someone put him there?” Ted asked. “My brother couldn’t swim. He could easily have fallen in and not been able to get out.”

  “According to others we’ve spoken to, your brother avoided the waterfront for that very reason,” Chief Fox said. “Does it make sense to you that he was close enough to the bay to fall in?”

  Ted shook his head and muttered, “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

  “What can you tell me about the property near Cheddar Gorge?” Chief Fox asked.

  Ted squinted in confusion. “Uncle Gordon’s land? What does that have to do with anything?”

  “You tell me,” the chief said. “It’s come to my attention that you and your brother had a longstanding dispute over the parcel of land. Why don’t you tell me more about it?”

  Ted blew a raspberry. “No one can possibly think I’d kill my own brother over a patch of dirt and trees.” He whipped off the goggles and placed them on a nearby mannequin.

  I became fixated on the mannequin for a brief moment. How I missed it when I came in I had no idea.

  “Um, Ted? What’s with the mannequin?” There was a face drawn on the blank canvas and it wore a pink floral dress.

  “That’s Mildred,” Ted replied.

  Chief Fox maintained a neutral expression, but I knew he had to be wondering exactly how insane Ted was on a scale of one to Lizzie Borden.

  “It gets lonely up here sometimes,” Ted admitted. “Mildred is good company.”

  My chest tightened, realizing the extent of Ted’s loneliness. “I talk to myself,” I blurted. The people pleaser in me wanted to make Ted feel less awkward about his admission.

  “You do?” Chief Fox turned toward me.

  “Your Aunt Thora does that, too,” Ted said. He smiled to himself, as though recalling a particular memory. “Mildred and I like to dance.”

  “Sounds nice,” I said.

  Chief Fox cleared his throat. “Can we get back to the property dispute?”

  “I didn’t see why Mick wanted it,” Ted said. “He had his own piece of land with a nice house.”

  “Did he lose it in the divorce, though?” I asked.

  Ted chewed his lip. “He did, but he rebounded quickly enough. Got another place. Still didn’t build on the property.”

  “Probably because the two of you hadn’t worked out an agreement,” I pointed out.

  “That land was meant for me,” Ted said.

  “You want to build a house on it?” Chief Fox asked.

  “No, I don’t want anyone to build on it,” Ted said. “I want to keep it in its natural state. That’s why I want to protect it from falling into the wrong hands.”

  “You think your brother’s hands would have been the wrong ones?” I asked.

  “No, but he was married to Margaret at the time,” Ted said. “I worried what she would do with it.”

  “And what about after the divorce?” Chief Fox asked. “By all accounts, you were still fighting over it.”

  “Not really,” Ted said. “We just hadn’t talked about it in recent years. It had been such a sore subject.” He shuddered. “I don’t like family drama.”

  That made two of us.

  “Well, you can breathe a sigh of relief because the property is legally yours now,” Chief Fox said. “If you’re concerned about its future, though, make sure you address it in your will.”

  “I’ve got it covered, Chief,” Ted said. “Thanks, though.”

  We’d already lost one O’Neill this week. It wasn’t worth contemplating Ted’s demise as well. />
  “Is there anyone you can think of that would have wished your brother harm?” the chief asked.

  “I suppose you haven’t talked to Lawrence Whitaker.”

  “Who’s that?” I asked. The name didn’t ring a bell.

  Chief Fox snapped his fingers. “He was a recent arrest. I saw his file on the chief’s desk.” He stroked his dimpled chin. “I didn’t notice anything unusual about the case.”

  “That’s because my brother didn’t mention it to anyone except me,” Ted said. “Mick knew Lawrence from golf. They were part of some group that met for games.”

  “And the chief had to arrest him?” I asked.

  “The charges didn’t stick, whatever they were,” Ted said. “Can’t remember, but Mick said that Lawrence threatened him.”

  Well, this was new information. “What was he arrest for, Chief?”

  “I’ll need to consult the file,” Chief Fox said. “But thanks for the lead, Mr. O’Neill. It’s very helpful.”

  Ted lowered his head. “I want to know what happened to my brother as much as you do. He was the only family I had left.” He glanced at the mannequin. “It’s just you and me now, Mildred.”

  “It was great to see you again, Ted.”

  The lighthouse keeper adjusted his orange belt. “You, too. Give my regards to Thora.” He smiled at the mannequin. “We wouldn’t mind a visit from Thora, would we, Mildred? She’d be a welcome addition to our dance card.”

  “I’ll be in touch, Mr. O’Neill,” the chief said, ushering me toward the exit.

  I hurried down the winding staircase before there was any mention of a threesome.

  According to the report, Lawrence Whitaker had been arrested for drunk driving. Chief O’Neill had made the arrest himself on a Sunday afternoon at four o’clock, not far from the country club. Lawrence hired none other than Jayson Swift to defend him, which explained why the charges didn’t stick. One more reason to dislike the slimy lawyer.

  “Does Deputy Guthrie know anything about this?” I asked. We were in the chief’s office reviewing the file for helpful details.

  “Let’s find out,” Chief Fox replied. He hit the buzzer on the landline. “Deputy, are you here?”

  Sean appeared in the doorway two minutes later. He scowled when he noticed me in the chair. I was tempted to stick out my tongue but thought better of it.

  “Do you know anything about the arrest of Lawrence Whitaker?” Chief Fox asked.

  Sean pursed his lips. “I remember that the chief wasn’t happy about arresting him, but he was even less happy when he got off.”

  “I understand the two men were friends,” Chief Fox said. “Is that true?”

  “I know they played golf together sometimes,” Sean said. “But as part of a bigger group.”

  “Whitaker’s address is on Abertam Road,” Chief Fox said, reading from the report. “Where’s that?”

  “I don’t know it,” I said.

  “Newer construction,” Sean said. “McMansion types.”

  Oh. Why didn’t that surprise me?

  Chief Fox looked at me. “How about it, Agent Fury? Sick of me yet?”

  “I’m not, Chief,” Sean said quickly.

  “I need you on patrol,” Chief Fox said. “To be honest, I was surprised to find you here now.”

  “This isn’t Des Moines,” Sean said. “Chipping Cheddar is a small town.”

  “A small town with murders and drunk drivers, apparently,” Chief Fox replied. “Best get out there, Deputy.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, and glowered at me for good measure before disappearing.

  “I guess both of us are flying blind here,” Chief Fox said.

  “Abertam Road didn’t exist when I lived here before,” I said. “The development is probably on the land that was the old Coverdale farm.” The Wentworths and the Coverdales had once owned two of the largest dairy farms in town. My family now owned the Wentworths’ land, but the Coverdale land had been tied up in litigation for years when I was a kid. Not anymore, I guess.

  We drove to the outskirts of town and I was amazed to see the size of the houses on what was once acres of farmland.

  Lawrence Whitaker’s house was the grandest of them all. It was situated at the end of the road, set back so far that we had to drive down a tree-lined lane to reach the semi-circular driveway. I knew there were wealthy people in Chipping Cheddar, but I didn’t often rub elbows with them. My family had always been suspicious of people with ‘too much’ money. I wasn’t sure what qualified as ‘too much’ in their view, but I suspected that Lawrence Whitaker fit the bill.

  “Nice little shack,” Chief Fox remarked. He parked the car right in middle of the semi-circular driveway.

  “Do you think he has a butler?”

  “We’ll find out when we ring the bell.”

  Lawrence did not have a butler. He did, however, have a wife and two teenaged children. Their portraits were framed all over the walls of the entryway. His wife answered the door and let us in with a puzzled look.

  “Is Kenny in trouble?” Mrs. Whitaker asked. She was a statuesque woman with auburn hair and a few fine lines around her mouth. Her forehead, on the other hand, suggested monthly Botox injections. “I warned him to slow down on school roads.” She gave an apologetic smile. “New drivers, you know how they are.”

  “I’m not here about your son, Mrs. Whitaker,” the chief said. “We’d like to speak with your husband.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “Lawrence is in his office. Right this way, please.”

  I tried not to gape at the furnishings as we passed through the house. Every piece of furniture appeared to be worth a small fortune. Georgian highboys and Queen Anne accent chairs. No Pottery Barn for the Whitakers.

  “Lawrence, Chief…” Mrs. Whitaker squinted at his badge. “Chief Fox is here to see you with his lovely assistant.”

  “I’m not his assistant,” I said.

  “This is Agent Fury,” Chief Fox said. “FBI.”

  Lawrence and his wife both appeared stunned.

  “Can I offer you anything to drink?” she asked, quickly recovering.

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  “Mr. Whitaker, if you don’t mind, we’d like to ask you a few questions,” the chief said.

  Lawrence Whitaker was a slightly balding man in a crisp blue collared shirt. He sat behind a substantial mahogany desk.

  “What is this regarding?” Lawrence asked.

  “Chief O’Neill,” I said.

  Lawrence flinched. “Sad news about the chief. We played golf together.”

  “We understand he also arrested you last month,” Chief Fox said.

  Lawrence reached for the cell phone on his desk. “I think I’ll call my lawyer.”

  “No need for a lawyer,” the chief said. “We’re just talking.”

  Lawrence’s nostrils flared. “I don’t have anything to say.”

  “Because you pushed Chief O’Neill into the bay?” Chief Fox asked. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to admit that.”

  Lawrence released his grip on the phone. “I wasn’t even in town the day Mick died.”

  Well, there went that theory.

  “Where were you?” I asked.

  “I was in Miami on a business trip. I came home the following evening. You can check my records.” He tapped the screen of his phone. “In fact, I still have my ticket in my Apple wallet.” He showed us the screen.

  “We’ll still need to confirm that you actually boarded the flight,” the chief said.

  “Do whatever you need to do,” Lawrence said snidely. “But if you need anything else from me, you’ll have to call Jayson Swift.”

  “Thank you for your time.” Chief Fox pushed back the chair and stood. “You should know that if I ever catch you drinking and driving in this town, there isn’t a fancy lawyer on earth that will be able to extricate you from those charges.”

  Lawrence tipped an imaginary cap. “I consider myself wa
rned.”

  Now he was the kind of guy I wouldn’t necessarily mind handing over to my family for their special brand of justice.

  We left the office and found Mrs. Whitaker hovering by the front door. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “He’s generally better behaved.”

  “He’s a grown man, not a toddler,” I replied. “And his type of bad behavior can have serious consequences.”

  She wrung her hands. “He’s promised me he’ll get help.” She kept her voice low so as not to be overheard.

  Chief Fox gave her a stern look. “For your sake, I hope he does. If he doesn’t, he’ll be trading the bar for a whole set of them.”

  Chapter Nine

  I awoke the next morning to find the house buzzing with the arrival of more relatives—apparently, Uncle Moyer and his husband, Tomas, had been invited to breakfast to celebrate my return home, not that anyone bothered to tell me.

  I climbed down the steps, still dressed in my favorite heart pajamas.

  “Eden, you spectacular creature. Come here.” Tomas opened his arms wide and I wrapped mine around his taut waist.

  “Still working out, huh?” I asked. Solid abs didn’t lie.

  “Gotta look good to do good,” Tomas replied.

  “You really don’t,” I said, releasing him. “But that’s okay.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a little vanity,” my mother said. She gave Tomas a kiss on the cheek. “In fact, some of us could use a little more of it. Might help with her dating life, or lack thereof.” She fluttered her eyelids in my direction.

  “What about your uncle? My abs aren’t solid enough for you?” Uncle Moyer gave me his version of an embrace, which involved a one-armed hug and two firm pats on the back as though he were burping me.

  “It’s great to see you both,” I said. “Tomas, your hair is lighter again.” They’d stopped in to visit me in San Francisco two years ago during their tour of wine country.

  Tomas ran a hand through his golden hair. “The sun works wonders, my dear.”

  “Not for Eden’s hair,” Grandma interjected. “It absorbs all the light. It’s like a black hole.”

  Tomas’s gaze flicked from me to my mother. “Seeing you two together again—Beatrice, you could be Eden’s older sister.”