That Old Flame of Mine

by J. J. Cook

  “Why do you think I’m here?” John slapped the morning edition of the Gazette on the table. “The chief is furious. He’s threatening to arrest you for putting out false information to the press, because you’re a public figure.”

  “Is that a real charge you can make against someone?” she asked as she closed the door.

  “I don’t know. People are so angry, they might make a new law for you. What were you thinking? The festival is important to the town. To have this story on the front page while thousands of tourists are here . . . it’s not good.”

  Stella couldn’t believe it. “You sound like my grandfather. Tory would probably still be alive right now if he’d let Walt and Eric figure out what happened to Adam forty years ago. That’s the same excuse he used to stop the investigation then.”

  “What are you talking about? There’s nothing in the file I gave you about that.”

  “That’s what Walt was trying to tell us. That’s why his house was burned down. Walt and Eric had issues with Adam Presley’s death. They had doubts about the body being his. They couldn’t pursue the truth because of the stupid festival. No one wanted to hear it.”

  John was briefly taken aback by the information. He regrouped and continued his attack. “You have no real proof that Presley is still alive. You sure don’t have a court order to have his body exhumed. It was stupid and irresponsible for you, as the fire chief, to say such things.”

  “I have proof that Adam was alive in 1992. That’s almost twenty years after his supposed death. Maybe I don’t have a court order, but Adam doesn’t know that—if he’s still here.”

  “You should’ve brought it to the chief, Stella. You aren’t a member of the police. You could’ve brought it to me if you didn’t want to go to Don.”

  “Don made it clear that he was only interested in Victor. What was the point?”

  John sat down at the kitchen table. “What are you trying to do?”

  She laid out her plan to trap Adam Presley.

  “Are you kidding me? That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. Not to mention the most dangerous.”

  “Exactly what I’ve been saying,” Eric agreed.

  “You’re setting yourself up for Adam to come after you, even though you think he’s killed at least one other person.”

  Stella poured them both a cup of coffee, now that the preliminaries were over. She sat down at the table with him to explain. It would be nice to have him on their side.

  “Walt came to me with his story about the minimal investigation that went on involving Adam’s death. He believes Adam tried to kill him to keep his suspicions quiet. It could be the same reason Tory is dead. That file you gave me about the police investigation was only half the size of the one she gave me only a few hours before she was killed.”

  John shook his head. “I can’t believe Walt would be a party to all this. He was the police chief. It goes against everything.”

  “I feel the same way,” Eric added. “Two heads aren’t always better than one.”

  “It’s done.” Stella started on her fifth cup of coffee. She was out of Coke and hadn’t wanted to go out, for obvious reasons. Really, the coffee was kind of addictive. She’d never had as much of it before.

  “I’m going to get dressed, go to the festival, judge my contest, and see what happens. You can come along if you’re worried.”

  “I’d like to, believe me,” John replied. “The chief would never assign me to help you with that—especially if I told him what you and Walt are trying to do. He’s a stickler about citizens taking the law into their own hands. He’d probably put all of us in jail. Maybe that’s what should happen. At least you’d be safe there.”

  “First of all, as you pointed out before, I’m not just a citizen. I’m the duly appointed fire chief of Sweet Pepper, and this crime involves a homicide by fire.”

  “Stella—”

  “Not to mention that I can’t let everyone down like that, John. Walt is meeting me at the festival. He has a gun. If Adam tries anything, he’ll be there. If Adam tips his hand, then we’ll know what happened to Tory.”

  She didn’t tell him that Eric had already said that he dared Adam, or anyone else, to try to burn down his cabin. He didn’t let snakes or scorpions in. He sure wasn’t going to let a human do anything to it.

  “You are the most single-minded woman I’ve ever met. It’s against my better judgment, but I’ll do what I can to help.”

  “Not you too,” Eric mourned. “Is everyone in Sweet Pepper crazy nowadays?”

  “You’ll be in a crowded area. That should help some, if he makes his move today,” John said. “I can’t be there the whole time, but I’ll look in, and I’ll have a few other officers check in as they walk around the festival. Walt will be there.” He was obviously still trying to convince himself that this could work.

  “That’s right.” She got up from the table, with a decent caffeine buzz. “I have to get dressed and figure out how this hat is going to stay on my head. Then I have to take my laptop to Charlie Johnson—again. I’ll have to look at the recipes again later after the tasting today. All the recipes I saw before my laptop crashed met the qualifications for peppers and chocolate.”

  John could see she was already drifting away from the topic of drawing Adam out. “Stella?” He took her in his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth. “Be careful.”

  She stared at him in surprise and slowly smiled. “I will. Don’t worry. This will work.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” Eric muttered to himself, angry and jealous.

  Stella wandered into the bedroom to change, leaving John to find his own way out.

  “I wish this place really was haunted,” John said with a sigh. “Any haunt worth his salt could keep her from leaving today.”

  Eric watched him leave. He agreed, partially, and he could keep Stella from leaving the cabin. She’d be safe, but she’d also be angry. He was torn about what he should do.

  He knew he was going to lose her in a few weeks. He wanted to protect her. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if she left angry at him.

  He went out on the deck to sit and look at the mountains. He tried not to think what his existence would be like when she was gone.

  * * *

  By the time Stella had dropped off her laptop with Charlie, she was beginning to understand how difficult life was for women in the 1800s. The periwinkle gown was pretty but made it difficult to walk and even more difficult to drive the Cherokee. She had to hike the skirt up and secure it under the seat belt. The hat was a whole other matter.

  “What are you doing up there that keeps frying your laptop?” Charlie asked. “Not that I’m complaining. You’re my best customer. Maybe you need a surge protector.”

  “I think it’s something to do with the mountain. Too much strange energy.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “I saw the story in the Gazette today. Are you really going to dig up some man who’s been dead since before you were born? Is that even legal? What could you hope to find?”

  Stella had decided to answer all the questions she was asked about the situation. If she wanted to drag Adam Presley out of hiding, he’d better think it was bad enough to take a chance on getting caught.

  “They couldn’t do DNA testing when he was killed. They can now. As soon as they bring the body up, they’ll know right away if it’s really Adam Presley. His father is still alive, so we have a good sample to compare. It won’t take more than a few days, and then we’ll know the truth.”

  Charlie looked doubtful. “Sounds expensive. Why bother now?”

  “Because I think the real Adam is living here again. He killed Tory to keep his secret. I won’t let him get away with that.”

  It might have been too much, from the horrified expression on Charlie’s face. Certainly the process would take a lot longer, even if she really had the authorization to do it.

  She felt certain when she left the computer store that the story wo
uld filter around town quickly, following on the heels of the Gazette article. It couldn’t be too soon for her.

  Theodora and Elvita were anxiously waiting for her at the booth where she would judge the pepper and chocolate contest. Stella had removed her large hat because the breeze from the mountains kept threatening to blow it away. As much as she might like that, she didn’t want everyone to be disappointed with her performance.

  Too late.

  “Where’s your hat?” Elvita asked. “The costume is very important. Hundreds, if not thousands, of visitors will come through here today. Decorum is as important as the actual judging process.”

  Stella firmly planted her hat back on her head. Elvita quickly swooped in to securely attach it with a large, dangerous-looking hat pin.

  “Now these are your entries.” Theodora pointed out the food samples. They were carefully labeled in separate plastic packages. “Each recipe you were sent has been made precisely according to the ingredients. You have some samples of other recipes, older ones, you can give out as people stop by.”

  There was a large plastic container. Stella couldn’t tell what was inside it.

  “You have read all the recipes and verified that they meet the correct specifications, haven’t you?” Theodora continued with a stern expression on her face.

  Stella wondered what the other woman would say if she told her about Eric not wanting her to continue reading. “Yes, I have. I’m ready.”

  Both women started laughing. “You can never be ready for the festival. You’ll find out. Good luck. If you need help, send someone for us. Never leave your booth.”

  Stella, in turn, gave them her pepper contest entry. They smiled and commented on the bright color, then took it to the correct judge.

  Walt laughed from behind Stella as the two women left the judging booth. “You’re a raw recruit to them. They’ll probably enjoy talking about this for months. It will keep them warm this winter thinking about it. Didn’t anyone warn you?”

  “I’m definitely out of my element here,” she admitted. “On the other hand, I don’t think either of them could run up and down stairs with a sixty-pound hose either. We all have our places in the world.”

  “I’d like to see ’em try. Great idea for next year’s festival. Some kind of fireman-policeman contest. I’ll bet people would get a kick out of it.”

  “I hope I don’t have to run to catch Adam today. It’s all I can do to walk in this dress.”

  “You look real pretty though. Are you all set to taste some good Sweet Pepper cooking? Best in the world. I hope there are extras. It’s the only reason I agreed to do this.”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She whispered, “You brought your gun, right?”

  He nodded and pulled a large pistol out of his jacket. “This will take care of anyone who’s looking for trouble—even men who are supposed to be dead.”

  “Thanks. John was at my place first thing this morning. I didn’t have to wait that long to hear what Eric had to say about the plan.”

  “I got a call at the hotel bright and early from Don. He said he thought we should both go to jail for putting that in the paper. I told him to go fly a kite. If he’s not careful, I might come out of retirement and run against him in the next election.”

  He and Stella talked for half an hour. She was beginning to wonder if the newspaper story had kept everyone at home.

  Then it was like someone opened the floodgates on a dam. People were everywhere. They wanted to see the food and taste it. They wanted to know how Stella got ready for the tasting. How did she decide which recipe was best?

  Walt was right. She wasn’t prepared. She answered the questions the best she could. When she didn’t know the answer, she gave the questioner food.

  The recipes had to be tasted and judged as the committee members walked around the booths where the judges waited. Someone had to be there to make sure she tasted everything, then wrote down her scores and comments. She was supposed to take a sip of water between each food to cleanse her palate.

  The water was a lifesaver because some of the food was really spicy. There were two types of pepper brownies. Each was good, but the one with a chewy center was better. Then there were chocolate-covered peppers, which Stella was reluctant to try. She finally closed her eyes and took a bite. They were surprisingly good, with a snappy aftertaste.

  Some of the chocolate pepper foods were very imaginative. There was a chocolate pudding cake with pepper garnish and bits of pepper inside. Another recipe was hot chocolate with pepper garnish. She didn’t really care for that. Valery’s mocha coffee from the Daily Grind, with pepper-whipped cream, was better.

  Flo’s chocolate cookies she recognized right away. They were basically the same as the ones she’d tasted at the bed-and-breakfast, but these had walnuts as their secret new ingredient.

  Each time Stella tasted one of the foods, the worried cook was there watching. She tried not to give away how she felt, but there were a few times—chocolate-covered pepper pizza—that she couldn’t hide her reaction.

  The result was tears from the woman who worked at the post office. Stella couldn’t remember her name, but she knew she’d remember the terrible disappointment on her face. No wonder the festival committee had a hard time finding judges.

  When her part of the contest was over, Stella slumped down in her chair and covered her eyes with her hands. “I never want to do this again.”

  Walt had brought a thermos of hard cider. He saluted her with it. “You did fine. Now you only have to write everything up and pick your winner. Bear in mind that whoever loses will hate you forever.”

  “Thanks. You’re a big help.”

  Her emergency pager went off. There was only a weird scrambled message on it. “Great. What a time for an emergency. I hope we don’t have to try and get the engine down Main Street. Myra is lucky I’m not staying on as fire chief or we’d have to have a few words about how dangerous this is.”

  She called the firehouse to see what was going on. Tagger was on duty. “Where is the call?”

  “It’s a mess, Chief. I can’t tell what’s going on. I tried to call everyone. You’re the only one who got the page, I guess. You might have to come down and sort this out.”

  “Okay. I’m on my way. Keep trying to call everyone in case we need them.”

  Chapter 34

  Stella explained the emergency to Walt. “It’s probably nothing. Tagger gets a little confused sometimes.”

  “And he has a problem with the bottle other times. Say no more.”

  “Do you think you can handle the booth if I sneak off to the firehouse for a few minutes? If it takes more than that, there really is an emergency and it will have to take priority over chocolate-pepper judging.”

  “Those are fighting words, my girl. But I’ve got your back. Go on. Get Tagger off the radio. If someone from the committee comes by, I’ll tell them you had female problems.”

  “Thanks . . . I think. Is that a good enough excuse to leave my appointed booth?”

  He shrugged. “Beats me. You better get moving before we find out.”

  Stella hoped she’d run into one of the other volunteers who could go to the firehouse and handle the problem. No such luck. She knew it was probably just another case of Tagger screwing around with the computer. She couldn’t take that chance. If a real emergency came up, there would be no way to notify everyone.

  She hiked up her skirt and made the best time she could getting to the makeshift festival parking lot. The hat was another story. Elvita had done a great job making it stay on. She wasn’t sure it was ever coming off. She finally gave up and got in the Cherokee with it still on her head. She felt like her neck was going to break when it smashed against the ceiling. She gritted her teeth and started the truck. There was nothing else to do.

  There was no traffic going out of town. It was bumper- to-bumper coming in. She wished those latecomers good luck finding someplace to park. She hoped her space wa
s still there when she got back.

  It was quiet out at the firehouse. Traffic had died out a few miles back. It looked like everyone was at the festival. Even Beau’s bar was empty and closed.

  She tried calling Tagger again as she turned into the parking lot. There was no answer. At least the loudspeaker wasn’t playing old Beatles music.

  Stella walked into the firehouse and went through the kitchen into the communications room. There was no sign of Tagger, until she opened the door. He was sitting very still, staring at her, his face white and pasty.

  “Tagger?” She rushed into the little room and put her fingers on his pulse. He was cool to the touch, but his heart was still beating. He must have had a heart attack or stroke. She reached for the landline, and the door closed behind her.

  There was a small window in the old metal door. She looked out of it—and saw Charlie Johnson’s face looking back at her.

  “I’m glad to see you,” she shouted. She knew it was hard to hear through the heavy door. “Can you let us out? Something is wrong with Tagger.”

  “Insulin. I had some left over. You couldn’t leave it alone, could you? You had to keep putting that information on your laptop. I’d erase it and you’d do it again. I’d hoped you’d forget about it. Tory had a stake in it. You didn’t. Why didn’t you drop it?”

  Stella tried the door as he spoke. It was jammed from outside. She still had the phone in the office. She could call for help. What was he thinking?

  It was suddenly obvious that Charlie Johnson was Adam Presley. The good news was her plan was working. The bad news was that she wasn’t prepared for it to work so well. He wasn’t supposed to be at the firehouse. She wasn’t supposed to be alone.

  She locked the door from the inside and stepped back to the desk. No help there. All the communication lines were cut. She reached for her cell phone, which would normally have been in her pocket. She didn’t have a pocket—or her cell phone—in the periwinkle gown. She’d left it in the SUV.