In Hot Water

by J. J. Cook

  “This sounds like the kind of stuff my great-grandfather back in Chicago talked about when I was growing up. He was with the fire department back in the 1930s. Were you part of the garden hose brigade?”

  “Yes. When I got back home and found out about it, I joined. I had a big black hose that I kept in the back of my pickup for emergencies. We had CB radios back then to get in touch with one another.”

  “Any good stories you’d like to share?”

  He thought about it and smiled. “The best story might be the time I went to answer a call and there was a six-foot black snake wound around my black garden hose. I had picked up the whole thing and taken it to the closest open spigot I could find. That’s when I noticed that part of my hose was moving and hissing.”

  Stella shuddered. She hated snakes, and really most wildlife. Eric had taught her to appreciate a few of them—owls, bats, and deer. She couldn’t get into snakes or southern scorpions. They were right up there with large, hairy spiders in her book. He, and most of the members of the fire brigade, teased her about being a city girl because of it.

  “I’m going to look at hoses in a whole new way,” she promised. “Anyway, don’t worry. I’ll do a good job talking about you. I wish I could mention that you saved my life too. I know everyone from Sweet Pepper would believe me. But I don’t know if I want to explain it to the local TV station.”

  He looked up again, excitement in his bright blue eyes. “You didn’t say it was going to be on TV. Find out what channel. I’d like to see it.”

  Stella agreed to do that.

  “Someone’s here to see you,” Eric said. “John Trump might have some information on what happened with Bob. Take the kissing, if there is any, outside please.”

  John’s rap at the kitchen door made it open for him. “You know, Chief, you really need to get that fixed. The door shouldn’t open because someone knocks on it.”

  She shrugged. “It’s not the door. You know this place is haunted.”

  He took off his gray police hat. “Know it? I’m the one who first told you. But I don’t think the door has anything to do with the ghost.”

  “Coffee?” she asked.

  “I believe I’ll have one of your Cokes, if you have an extra. You’ve gotten me hooked on the things. There must be ten cases of them at the firehouse.”

  “I don’t like to run out.” She took two cans of Coke from the refrigerator.

  “That stuff is addictive,” Eric commented. “Coffee’s better for you. It’s natural.”

  Stella paused a moment, as she always did when Eric spoke and someone else was present. She always expected other people to hear him too. It had never happened, but she was always surprised by it.

  When John didn’t ask who else was speaking, she went on. “I hope you have some good news for me about the cabin.”

  They both sat on the brown leather sofa that was worn as smooth as butter from years of use. It had belonged to Eric, as had the rest of the furniture in the cabin. Stella hadn’t brought any of her furniture back from Chicago when she’d decided to settle here.

  “I suppose it all depends on what you think is good news,” John said. “I was able to charge Bob Floyd with disorderly conduct. Anyone else I would’ve charged with assault on an officer too. He took a few swings at me, but that’s not gonna stick.”

  Stella digested his words. “So he owns the property?”

  “He signed the papers with the real estate company yesterday. You know the town has been trying to sell the land and the cabin. No one was sure if you were coming back from Chicago.”

  “I know. I didn’t think about it. Everyone’s told me that it’s been for sale or rent for years with no takers.”

  “He’ll have to give you ninety days to get your stuff out. You’ve got that long to buy it from him, I guess. Like I said—good news and bad news.”

  She sipped her Coke, thinking about it. “Can’t the town council change their mind about selling the property since I’m staying on as fire chief?”

  “Your guess would be as good as mine. I suppose it might be possible, but don’t forget that Nay Albert will vote with Bob. Probably the mayor will too. You might be able to win over Willy Jenkins and Danielle Peterson. That still puts you short on votes.”

  Stella thought it was possible that Mayor Wando might be willing to listen to her argument about selling her the log cabin. He liked to do whatever he could to keep the fire brigade happy. The other two council members, Willy and Danielle, might be convinced to vote her way.

  Willy Jenkins owned Beau’s Bar and Grill. They were sort of friendly. Danielle Peterson was a retired schoolteacher from Nashville who would definitely side with Stella. Her biggest problem with small-town life was a lack of services. She loved the fire brigade.

  “It’s worth a try.”

  John scanned the small cabin. “I can’t figure why you care if you stay here. I know it’s close to the firehouse, but there are newer, nicer houses just as close. Wouldn’t you rather live somewhere more modern? I’m sure the town would help you with that.”

  A cool breeze swept through the cabin, making the antler chandelier sway and papers fall to the floor from the table. There were no windows or doors open.

  “Tell him to mind his own business,” Eric said.

  “I like it here.” She ignored her roommate’s outburst of “ghostly power.” “It’s quaint, and sturdy.”

  John shrugged. “It could use something to keep the draft out. I think I’ve heard you complain about the shower always running low on hot water too.”

  “Well, a few repairs here and there.” Stella wanted to change the subject before Eric showed off again.

  “Anyway, that’s what you’re up against. You could always ask your grandfather to intervene. I’m sure he’d be able to persuade Bob to sell you the place. I don’t like to think what you’d have to promise him for the favor. Or maybe the old man asked Bob to take care of the problem for him. He’s wanted you to move into the mansion with him since you got here.”

  Stella knew she had to consider the source. John hated her grandfather. He blamed his alcoholic father’s suicide on Ben Carson. If John were able to see and talk to Eric, they would have a field day talking crap about him.

  “Thanks for the information. I’m going to consult a lawyer,” she said.

  “A lawyer who doesn’t live in Sweet Pepper?” Eric snorted.

  She ignored him. She’d gotten good at ignoring him around other people.

  “Not to change the subject,” John said, “but I hear you found a dead man out at the fire today. Sounds like it was Barney Falk.”

  “Did you hear that from Chief Rogers, or Judd Streeter?”

  “Neither one. It’s a logical guess.”

  “Then let me repeat what I told everyone else at the firehouse today,” she said. “We don’t comment on this type of thing until the coroner has released his findings.”

  John smiled in the slow and sexy way that Stella liked, his dimple appearing to enchant her. “There’s only one problem with that right now. When I’m in this uniform, I don’t work for you. You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “Well, Officer Trump, I won’t forget your insolence.” She grinned. “You could try to persuade me to feel otherwise. I’m open to your best shot.”

  It felt like their on-again, off-again romantic relationship might be on-again. Stella was never quite sure with him. He could kiss her until the room spun around them one minute, and leave her the next with a scathing reminder that she was part of the Carson family.

  Sometimes it was an exciting game to play. Other times, it was annoying. He wasn’t the only man in Sweet Pepper that she’d dated, but he was the only one she was really interested in so far.

  “Oh brother.” Eric groaned. It sounded like the wind blowing through the eaves during a storm. “Didn’t I ask you to take that stuff somewhere else?”

  John leaned closer to her. “I can be pretty persuasive when I ne
ed to be.”

  As their lips met, there was a loud knocking at the front door.

  Stella couldn’t see Eric, so she glared at everything around her. He usually chose to be invisible when he was being obnoxious.

  “It’s not me,” Eric said. “You have another visitor. Maybe you’d like to flirt with Walt for a while.”

  Before she could get up and let the former police chief in, Eric opened the door for him. John sprang up from the sofa. He swallowed half of his Coke at one time and choked a little, coughing and sputtering as Walt came in.

  “Glad to see you’re here, John.” Walt hobbled to the cabinet and got everything he needed to start a pot of coffee. “Have I got some news for both of you.”

  Chapter 5

  While the coffee was brewing, the three of them sat at the kitchen table. Eric was sitting on the stairs to the second floor behind them.

  “I heard on the way over that the coroner made it official.” Walt’s eyes were bright with excitement. He loved to gossip. “Judd said the body the fire brigade recovered out at the lake is Barney Falk. I’ve been hearing rumors about it all day. I guess they were true.”

  Stella shook her head. “They better not have come from my volunteers.”

  “They could’ve come from anyone from the police to the medics.” Walt shrugged as he started to get up for his coffee when it was done perking. “What I can’t figure is why you didn’t call me, Stella. I thought we were friends.”

  “Stay there. I’ll get the coffee.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “You’re still having a hard time getting around.”

  “I’m doing just fine. Don’t try to change the subject. You’re the fire chief. You knew who you’d pulled out of that house.”

  Stella poured coffee into a mug that was shaped like a deer head. It had been Eric’s mug when he’d been alive. Walt had told her that he and Eric had sat around this same table many times drinking coffee and discussing the problems in Sweet Pepper.

  “I can’t give out that kind of information.” She brought the coffee back to him. “That’s because I’m the fire chief. We’re not supposed to spread gossip and rumors. We wait for the facts.”

  Walt laughed. “Nobody ever told me that when I was the police chief. I got no complaints. People wanted to know what was going on. I told them.”

  John agreed with Stella. “The chief has to be careful in her position. There are lawsuits and such now. Things weren’t that way when you were police chief. That’s why Don keeps such a tight lid on what’s going on in town.”

  “Sounds like hogwash to me.” Walt held up his cup as though he were toasting someone before he slurped some of the hot brew from it. “Here’s to you, buddy.”

  John looked around. “Are you talking to me?” He picked up his can of Coke.

  “Don’t be stupid. I’m talking to Eric. It’s rude to ignore him.”

  “Are you telling me you can see Eric Gamlyn?” John’s disbelief mingled with astonishment in his tone.

  “I can’t see him or talk to him,” Walt said. “But I know he’s here.”

  Stella took a big gulp of Coke, hoping Walt would drop the subject before it went any further. Then he dropped the bomb she’d wanted to keep from exploding.

  “It doesn’t matter, ’cause Stella can see him and hear him too.” Walt nodded at her with a big grin on his thin face.

  She suddenly had the feeling that this was payback for not calling him after the fire. He knew she didn’t want to discuss Eric with John.

  John’s head swiveled to face her. “Is that true? Can you see the ghost right now?”

  “No.” That was true. She had her back to the stairs. He’d been sitting there when she’d come back with Walt’s coffee. She didn’t have eyes in the back of her head. He might not be there now.

  Maybe it was a technicality, but she didn’t want to be known as the fire chief who saw ghosts.

  John looked relieved.

  Walt wouldn’t let her get away that easy. “We have long discussions here, the three of us. Eric talks to Stella. She tells me what he says and then I answer. He’s listening right now. I’ve learned a bit about the afterlife since Stella got here. Did you know you need your own place to haunt? I was grateful when my cabin was rebuilt after the fire since Eric said you need your space.”

  Stella fumed. Walt winked at her and slurped his coffee.

  John got up and walked around the room. “Seriously? We’ve all told stories about Eric Gamlyn’s ghost. Can you really tell if he’s here, Chief?”

  She wished someone else would arrive unexpectedly. She didn’t want to lie to John. He might find out on his own someday. And like he said, everyone in Sweet Pepper knew the cabin was haunted.

  It had taken her a while to deal with it. She wasn’t comfortable discussing her ghost with many people. John didn’t seem like someone she wanted to have the conversation with.

  “Walt is pulling your leg.” She kicked Walt’s good leg under the table. “Aren’t you, Walt?”

  The old police chief guffawed. “Gotcha!”

  John appeared to be relieved. “You did.”

  Walt asked Stella to pour him another cup of coffee. “This thing about Barney is bothersome. I heard someone with the fire department thought it wasn’t an accident.”

  “What do you have to do around here to keep gossip from spreading?” Stella asked as she got the coffee and sat back down.

  “That’s not gonna happen,” Eric said. “It’s as true now as it was when I was a kid.”

  John and Walt were discussing who would want to kill Barney, not hearing Eric’s remark.

  “You know Barney made a pile of enemies,” Walt said. “People in politics don’t make many friends.”

  John agreed. “Don said a special arson investigator is being appointed from the state. Barney was well-known. The state doesn’t like it when one of their former representatives gets blown up.”

  That made Stella angry. “I didn’t say he was blown up. There was a small explosion when we first got to his house. It could’ve been anything—aerosol cans, butane lighters, or hundreds of other things that people keep in their homes.”

  “I thought you’d be glad to hear someone else had to investigate that pile of rubble,” John said. “This way the burden of proof won’t fall on you.”

  “That’s true,” she agreed. “What I don’t like is that something as important as this is already fruit for the grapevine.”

  “Relax,” Walt said. “I doubt if it was any of your people. They follow you like zombies. I can’t imagine one of them going against you.”

  Stella raised one red brow. “Zombies? Really?”

  “They love you. That’s all I’m saying.” Walt sipped his coffee. “Back me up here, John.”

  “I love her.” John grinned and then grew flustered when he realized what he’d said. “I mean, we all love Stella—the chief—you know what I mean.”

  “Thanks.” Stella smiled, wondering what he actually meant.

  “Anyway,” John began again, “the special investigator will be here with a Tennessee Bureau of Investigation team tomorrow. We’re to keep the site off-limits until they get here. I can’t tell you how excited Don is about having a state investigator here.”

  Walt laughed loudly. “I can imagine. I was always glad to see the back of those people. Half of the time, they don’t know their heads from a hole in the ground.”

  “I’m looking forward to working with a real arson investigator,” Stella said. “Maybe I can pick up a few things for the next arson we have that’s not important enough to warrant that kind of attention.”

  John got to his feet and put on his hat. “I have to go. My shift is over in an hour—unless Richardson doesn’t make it in. I’ll see you all later.”

  When John had pulled his patrol car out of the driveway, Walt raised his cup again. “That was pretty funny, huh, Eric?”

  Eric agreed. “The look on Stella’s face was priceless.”


  Walt rubbed his leg. “She darn near crippled me.”

  “I couldn’t believe you said that to John.” Stella put their empty Coke cans in the trash. “You know how he feels about me.”

  “Yeah. He loves you.” Eric came down the stairs and sat in the chair John had vacated.

  “Did he say something?” Walt peered around the room.

  “We’re ignoring him until he has something useful to say,” Stella said.

  “I know what he said,” Walt guessed. “It was all about John loving you, right?”

  “Can we move on to another subject?” Stella asked them both.

  “How about what happened here today?” Walt asked. “What are you going to do to keep Bob Floyd from knocking down the cabin?”

  Stella told him her thoughts and shared what Eric had added to them. “I don’t know what we can do if the town council won’t reconsider and agree to sell me the land and cabin. John said I should move someplace more modern.”

  “Don’t worry, buddy,” Walt said to Eric. “I’m old. I’ve lived a good life. I’ll go to Bob’s house with some C-4 strapped under my shirt. There’ll be another arson investigation, but at least that snake won’t take your home away.”

  “I think we can come up with a less violent plan,” Stella said. “I’ll talk to a lawyer and to the town council at their meeting tonight. We’ll figure a way around this.”

  Walt wasn’t entirely convinced. He said he’d be at the meeting too. He departed a short time later, leaving an invitation for Stella to visit him. “Wish you could be there too, buddy. It’s not fair that you have to be trapped here all the time.”

  Eric agreed. He and Stella watched Walt leave in his old pickup.

  “I have to leave early for the town council meeting,” she told him. “I’ve been selected to help with the Sweet Pepper Festival planning committee for next year. We’re getting together at the café before the meeting. I can’t believe this year’s festival is barely over and they’re planning for next year.”