Flashover
A Sean McGhee Mystery
T. Alan Codder
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Table of Contents
Copyright Page
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Acknowledgments
I wish to extend a big thank you to Matthew Gardner for taking his time to educate me on what it’s like being a fire fighter and helping me get the details right. Any errors that remain are mine.
As always, I owe Misty, Cason, Janice and Greg, my editors, a big thank you for finding the typos I missed, pointing out my plot holes, improving my questionable wording, and for generally making the book better than I could on my own. They are as much responsible for making the book what it is as I am.
Finally, thank you to my family for the encouragement and support. Most people aren’t lucky enough to be able to publish even one book. Because of your support, I’ve published two.
T. Alan
October, 2017
Prologue
Sean stood behind and to the left of Mayor Rudolph Klinger, his hands comfortably clasped behind his back. Rudy had called this morning and asked him to attend the announcement, wanting to have a show of support from city officials as he made his grand revelation.
He was standing next to Perry Whipple, the city utilities manager. Perry had introduced himself and shaken his hand as Rudy’s assistant lined them up on the steps in front of city hall. Perry looked as bored as he felt. The short, thin man with the heavily lined face and thinning brown hair laced with grey displayed a vacant half-smile as he stared at nothing.
He scanned the small crowd of about ten that had gathered in front of them. It was the middle of February, and though it was nearly forty, the group was obviously cold. He smiled to himself and resisted the temptation to shake his head in wonderment. The wind that whipped his strawberry blond hair gave the cold a little bite, but everyone was dressed like it was sub-zero. In his native Boston, people would be out jogging in shorts and t-shirts in weather like this.
Of more concern than the cold was the way people were dressed. Their heavy coats made it easy to hide a weapon. He didn’t expect any trouble, but then again, maybe Brunswick, North Carolina, wasn’t as idyllic as its citizens liked to think. It’d been only a couple days since the first murder in ten years had occurred. Everyone was still in shock over the news, and the rumors were already flying.
“Twenty years ago, Brunswick was struggling to survive,” Rudy boomed, his gravelly voice needing no additional amplification, “but we believed in our city, invested in our future, and today we are a thriving, growing, community, known for our quaint downtown and relaxed, small town, friendliness.”
Sean glanced down the line as he stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He knew Rudy, along with Evie Wirick, Josh Tindle and Steve Locoste, three members of the city council. Standing next to Steve was the other member of the city council, the guy who looked like W.C. Fields, but he couldn’t recall the man’s name.
At the far end of the line, bookending Rudy’s entourage with fire and police, was the fire chief. The man hadn’t introduced himself, and Sean didn’t know his name, but he was identifiable by his Brunswick Fire Department jacket. There was another man, a man Sean didn’t recognize, standing just to the right and slightly behind Rudy, and not in line with everyone else. He was clearly the subject of this little meeting.
“Today, we take another step down the path we started,” Rudy continued. “People are starting to recognize what Brunswick has to offer, and today I’m proud to introduce Mr. Wallace Barns, owner of Dynamic Properties, who has some exciting news to share. Mr. Barns.”
Rudy stepped back and to the side, clapping as the tall, well-dressed man of about fifty, stepped forward to stand behind the podium. The assembled members of the city clapped courteously, but only a few in the crowd joined in.
“Thank you, Mayor Klinger,” Barns began, then smiled at the small crowd. “As you said, Brunswick has a lot to offer families. A thriving downtown, friendly folks, a slower pace but with plenty of things to do. Who wouldn’t want to live here, right?”
The crowd murmured in agreement, causing Wallace’s smile to spread.
“To that end, today Dynamic Properties is announcing a major new development… The Mills at Brunswick.”
He turned to the easel that was setup to the side and pulled the black cloth from the large photo or drawing, stuffing the covering into an opening in the podium. Sean couldn’t see what the easel held, but it apparently met with the crowd’s approval. There were a few mutterings of appreciation, but when Rudy began clapping, the crowd and city council joined in. Forcing a smile, Sean began to clap too, though he had no idea what he was applauding for.
Wallace gestured to the easel as he beamed. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” The crowd mumbled in agreement. “Dynamic Properties has purchased the North State Textiles mill complex and we will be investing an additional sixteen million dollars to convert them into luxury apartments. The two mill buildings will house one hundred fifty units, ranging in size from eight hundred square feet to twenty-six hundred square feet, with eight different floor plans. In addition, we will be adding a clubhouse that will include an indoor pool and a private gym, along with a greenspace buffer surrounding the complex.”
Sean was still learning the area, but he assumed Barns was talking about the three large red brick buildings located a couple of miles from the interstate, right at the edge of town. If he was thinking of the same place, the buildings appeared to have been long abandoned, with broken windows and a trash filled, overgrown lot.
“As part of the purchase, Dynamic Properties has an agreement with Brunswick and the state to upgrade Daylin Street from its current two lanes to five.” Barns paused as he changed what was displayed on the easel, sliding the front drawing behind the second. “As you can see, street lights and sidewalks will be installed, along with a traffic signal at Canter Street and one at the entrance to The Mills at Brunswick. The surrounding area will be rezoned from industrial to commercial, something we think will drive additional growth in this area once The Mills open. These upgrades will insure the infrastructure is in place to support the growth.”
Barns swapped the drawings again, putting the first drawing back in front.
“Are there any questions?”
“When will construction start?” a voice in the crowd asked.
“We’ll begin demolition of the utilities building sometime in the next four months to make way for the club house. Construction will begin about a month after that. The street widening will be concurrent with renovation.” Barnes paused and grinned at the crowd, obviously enjoying his moment in the spotlight. “The state isn’t as efficient in getting permits issued as Brunswick is.” He pointed to another raised hand.
Sean listened to a few more questions, then his attention began to drift. He was still puzzling over how the body of Boyd Thacker, if it was Boyd Thacker, had ended up in the city wastewater treatment plant. He had Fish working the case, but thus far they hadn’t come up with a scrap of evidence for who killed Thacker, or why.
He hauled his attention back to the moment. His officer could handle it, and if he couldn’t, he’d ask for help.
“If there are no more questions?” Barns asked, scanning the crowed. “Thank you everyone.”
Barns stepped aside and Rudy moved to the podium.
“If there are no more
questions, this concludes our announcement. Everyone, give a big round of applause to Mr. Wallace Barns and Dynamic Properties!” Rudy said, and then began to applaud vigorously.
Sean joined in, but his mind was already sliding back to the Thacker case.
One
Sean McGhee gritted his teeth as William Donner grinned at him. Thomas Fisher, Fish to everyone who knew him, was on his left elbow, and Eric Caswell was on his right. They were there to catch him when he fell, and he would fall.
Everyone was gathered in the police station breakroom. Other than the conference room, the breakroom was the only room large enough to accommodate the group. They’d shoved the tables to the side and placed a thin mat in the center of the floor for him to lie on.
“This is going to suck, isn’t it?” Sean asked, his lips twisting into a nervous smile.
“Yes sir, it is,” Will replied, flashing his teeth in exaggerated enjoyment, causing the assembled officers to chuckle and snicker.
Will was one of his older officers. Retired from the Maine State Police, Will and his wife had moved to North Carolina so he could play golf year-round and to escape the cold winters. He was in his early sixties, but could pass for fifty with his trim build and dark hair, the grey at his temples giving him a distinguished look. He stood a tick under six feet, obviously took care of himself, and could out shoot every man on the force by a wide margin. That made him the natural choice for their weapons officer.
Maggie Neese, while not an officer, was also attending for moral support, and he saw her look down and away as she attempted to hide her smile. It was easy for her to grin. She wasn’t the one about to take 50,000 volts.
Sean was completing his qualifications to carry a Taser. Because he was the chief of police, Will was only going to make him complete the class room, written, and hands on practical portions of the qualification exam, but he’d insisted on completing the course the same as all the other officers who carried the weapon. Part of the qualification was getting tased themselves. He wasn’t looking forward to getting tased, but he wanted to demonstrate that he held himself to the same standards as his officers.
With his stylish glasses, easy going attitude, and hair worn longer than most of his force, he knew most people wouldn’t automatically mark him as a police officer. Standing a bit over six foot, he worked out regularly, ate right, and was willing to mix it up if he had too. He didn’t see himself as a snowflake, despite the butterflies in his stomach at the moment, and he’d never doubted his own toughness. Until now.
With Will standing there, a Taser in his hand, not to mention his evil grin, he was beginning to have second thoughts about this, but to call it off now would only demonstrate he wasn’t as tough as he thought he was.
“You ready?” Will asked.
“No. But let’s get this over with.”
Being tased was like a rite of passage, and many of the officers, on duty and off, were there to watch their boss get lit up like a Christmas tree.
Will had given Sean a Brunswick PD t-shirt to wear in place of his normal uniform shirt so the barbs wouldn’t tear one of his nice shirts. He’d been smiling broadly as he had, and his smile had done nothing to diminish Sean’s nerves.
When he’d been on the Boston police force, Sean had rarely carried a weapon of any kind in his later years. He had to maintain his qualification with a pistol, but that was a formality. As part, and then later the leader of, the cybercrimes task force, he spent most of his time sitting in front of a computer.
He’d qualified with a pistol when he’d taken over as chief of the Brunswick Police Department, but he was just now getting around to qualifying with a Taser.
He’d pulled his service weapon on the street for the first time in his career a few months ago as they dragged Steve Locoste out of his truck. Charles Langley, Chips to his brothers on the force, was the only officer on site during the incident who was Taser qualified. Sean and Fish had been forced to draw their Glock 9mms. Fortunately, Locoste had given up peacefully and nobody had been hurt, but it had cemented Sean’s decision to become qualified to carry the non-lethal weapon.
“You sure? Last chance to change your mind,” Will asked, his tone playful.
Will was enjoying this far too much.
“If you’re going to shoot, shoot, don’t talk,” Sean said, quoting Tuco from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, a movie he’d watched with Maggie a few nights before.
Will snickered and circled so he was at Sean’s back as Fish and Eric took Sean firmly by the elbow. Will brought his weapon up.
“Show me your hands!” Will ordered.
“No!” Sean replied.
“Show me your hands!”
“No!”
“Taser, Taser, Taser!” Will called then squeezed the trigger.
The two small darts exploded from the end of the weapon and struck Sean in the back. The Taser chattered for five seconds, sending high voltage pulses down the wires.
He went ridged and stood on his tip toes as he grimaced, every muscle in his body straining as the conducted energy weapon immobilized him by disrupting his nervous system with the electrical pulses. He tried, but he couldn’t contain his bellow as he began to fall. Fish and Eric caught him and eased him to the pad on the floor.
As he was lowered to the floor, he was fully aware of what was happening, but there was nothing he could do. He thought he was screaming ‘enough!’ but the only sound he was making was the inarticulate roar of pain.
“Fuck!” Sean gasped as the electrical pulses stopped and he relaxed.
He didn’t mean to curse, but the word had popped out without thought or his ability to stop it. Will warned him he might swear, that it was a normal reaction to being tased, and many people did. He’d called it ‘Taser Tourette’s.’
The pain ceased the moment the electrical discharges stopped, but as he lay face down on the mat, he felt slightly disoriented and out of sorts. As his head began to clear, he could hear laughing and clapping.
“You okay?” Will asked as he knelt beside him.
Sean began to roll over, but Will put his hand on his shoulder, indicating he should stay still.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“Lay there a minute. I’m going to remove the barbs.”
Sean felt a couple of small stings then Will tapped him on the shoulder. He rolled over and sat up. Will extended a blue gloved hand and helped Sean to his feet.
“How was it?” Will asked with a big smile, a sincere one this time.
“I won’t lie, it wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I think the anticipation was worse than actually getting tased.”
Maggie sauntered up. She was still dressed in her jeans and the bright blue shirt that identified her as an employee of the city wastewater treatment plant. Everyone knew they were dating, and they were both off-duty, so he looped his arm around her waist and gave her a quick kiss.
She grinned up at him. Maggie would turn forty next week, but she was still beautiful, and was becoming more so every day. She wore her brown hair long, often pulled back into a pony tail, a style which made her look at least five years younger than she was. Time had softened her, and given her a fuller figure, but her large brown eyes were just as lively as if she were twenty, and her quick smile and giggle made him feel ten years younger than his own forty-one years.
“My hero,” she gushed, her eyes bright in merriment.
“You want to have a go?”
She giggled and stepped back, waving her hands in front of her. “No, I don’t think so. Being electrocuted isn’t my idea of having a good time.”
He snickered. “Mine either,” he said with a smile of his own.
Maggie took another step back as the rest of the officers began to crowd in, shaking Sean’s hand and teasing him. It was all in good fun. Those who had been through the course, about half the force, knew exactly what he’d gone through, and teasingly encouraged the other half to complete the training.
Will handed Sean his eyeglasses. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” Sean replied as he slipped his glasses on, blinking as everything suddenly snapped into focus. “I hope getting tased isn’t part of the recertification process.”
Will chuckled. “No, sir, but for you, we can make an exception.”
“No, that’s alright. Once is plenty, thanks.”
“Stop by before you leave. I have some paperwork for you to sign and then I’ll issue you your weapon.”
“Thanks, Will. I’ll be there in a minute.” Sean turned his attention to Maggie. “I have a few things to wrap up here, but we’re still on for dinner?”
“My place, right?”
“Yep. I have to stop and feed Marmalade, but then I’ll be—”
He paused as the shoulder radios of his on-duty officers squawked. “Available units,” Kim’s voice said over the radio. “Fire responding to the old North State Textiles buildings, 1101 Daylin street. Fire department is requesting assistance with traffic and crowd control.”
Sean didn’t agree with everything Bill Horton, the previous chief of police, did, but there was no denying the BPD was a well-run department. When he’d taken over, he hadn’t felt the need to make a lot of changes, but one of the changes he’d instituted was the elimination of the radio codes. They still used a few, like 10-4 for acknowledgment, but in the past couple of months they’d begun to gradually transition over to plain English in their communications.
Fish, Chips and Caswell looked at each other. “I got her,” Chips said as he turned toward the dispatch office while Fish and Eric headed for their cars.
“Do you need to take that?” Maggie asked.
He hesitated a moment as he thought about it. “No, but I’ll cruise by on my way home to see what’s up. I won’t be late.”
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