“After you.” Charlotte pointed at the couch.
Choosing to sit at one of the ends, I sank into the cushions, keeping hold of the armrest in case I needed out. With my feet dangling off the floor, I felt like a little kid sitting on a piece of furniture meant only for adults.
Charlotte chose to sit on the opposite side. I figured she wanted an armrest too.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Barlow returned, looking crestfallen.
“What’s wrong?” I wrestled myself out of the couch.
“Looks like it’s just us.” Mrs. Barlow dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “Even Lake Breckenridge can’t make it tonight, and she’s the consultant.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Lake’s at the police station to answer some questions. The detective didn’t care she had a prior commitment.” Mrs. Barlow looked even sadder.
I was getting the feeling it wasn’t the fact no one showed up that bothered her, but that some awesome drama was happening right under her nose and no one told her about it. If Lake had told her earlier about having to go to the police station, Mrs. Barlow would’ve bailed on her party too.
I had a way to cheer the woman up. “Since no one is coming, you can help Charlotte and me solve a mystery.”
Mrs. Barlow’s pale blue eyes lit up. “A mystery?”
I glanced around secretively. Mrs. Barlow loved a good drama. “Did you know the fire station was broken into and all their records stolen?”
Disappointment flooded her face. Of course she knew; she listened to all the calls.
“I have a hunch the bonfires might have been staged to burn down businesses.”
Squealing, Mrs. Barlow fluttered her hands by her face. I had her now. “Oh my goodness. That’s why Lake is at the police station and didn’t tell me. The police think she was up to something unscrupulous.”
Or if she wasn’t, Clive Murphy had been. His shop had also sustained damage in the same fire. “Charlotte and I would like to take a look at your records. I know you keep detailed notes of the calls you’ve heard.”
Mrs. Barlow crossed her arms and studied both of us. “I should’ve guessed you were here to pump me for information. Charlotte has her own nail place.”
Heat flashed across my face. I felt a little guilty about using the elderly woman. “Well, um…” My brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a solid alternative reason.
“Yes,” Charlotte blurted out the truth.
Mrs. Barlow grinned and grabbed our arms. “This is the best day ever. Come on, I’ll take you to my office.”
She hurried us down the hallway with Snickerdoodle hot on our heels. She opened a door with a grand flourish. “Ta-da! Here is my sewing room and command center.”
Charlotte and I gaped at the set-up. It was quite the display, and I wasn’t just referring to the lovely embroidery and high-tech sewing machines Mrs. Barlow owned. Her police scanner was a sight to behold. Heck, I didn’t think Eden’s police department had one as nice and elaborate as hers. On the wall was a map of Eden, showing the town divided into polling districts.
“What fires would you like to know about?” Mrs. Barlow sat in a leather office chair and turned on her computer. “I keep records of all the calls and the order in which the trucks go out.”
“Does that matter?” I hovered behind Mrs. Barlow, taking notes on an app.
“I’m not sure it does to the general public, but I like knowing who’s going out on a call,” Mrs. Barlow said. “The fire station will have a more detailed record, as they keep the names of the members who showed up for the call; they don’t always need everyone. I know who’s assigned to each truck.”
That’s how she knew if she should cancel her emergency. She’d hear which truck was coming, and knew whether it was one with a hot fireman or one of the older guys who didn’t appeal to her. And that explained her phone calls to Bobbi-Annie, trying to find out what officer was on duty. She was working on her chart for the police station.
“Chief Ridley gave you his roster?” I asked.
Mrs. Barlow blushed. “Let’s just say that Norm forgot his anniversary one year and to get even with him, Hildie gave me a roster of the squad, including which emergency vehicle they were assigned to.”
“The volunteers don’t get into whatever one is there?”
“No. The ladder truck can’t be driven by everyone, and neither can the ambulance. There also needs to be a paramedic onboard before the ambulance leaves.”
“Can we get a copy of the roster and a list of all the fire calls on the Thursday nights before home football games?” I asked.
“I don’t usually share.” Mrs. Barlow tapped her chin and gazed off thoughtfully into the distance.
“In novels, the sidekick of the sleuth always shares with her,” I said.
Mrs. Barlow beamed. “I’m your sidekick.”
I had a feeling I’d regret this later, but for now, I needed the information. “Absolutely. You helped me on the Belinda Anderson case by telling Detective Roget about the car driving by my house.”
“I did. Well, since we’re working together…” Mrs. Barlow typed in the find field and brought up a couple of pages of data, then hit print. “There you go. Keep those safe and make sure you don’t show them to anyone else.”
“We won’t. Trust us,” Charlotte and I said in unison.
Charlotte and I pored over our copy of the report. I wanted to take a look at it right then and there in case I had any questions. Andrew was a dangerous man. I didn’t want Mrs. Barlow actually getting involved in the investigation. The less I went to her for help, the better. The report revealed that Officer Mitchell had been the first to arrive at Made With love, and reported the volunteer firefighters who arrived at the scene rather than heading to the station. Andrew showed up five minutes after Mitchell, even though he was suspended from the squad. The majority of the crew arrived fifteen minutes later, with Daniel showing up last.
“Have you figured out the culprit?” Mrs. Barlow plopped down so close to me she was almost in my lap.
Jim Ryland had a Vulcan Catering card. It was Thursday. There was a home game tomorrow—bonfire night. I checked the time on my phone. Piece A Pie should still be open. “No. But there is someone we have to go talk to.” And a fire to stop.
“Who?” Charlotte asked.
“Jim Ryland.”
Mrs. Barlow opened a desk drawer and pulled out a binder. She flipped through it and put bright yellow Post-it notes shaped like arrows on the corner of the page. “If I don’t hear from you girls in an hour, I’m putting together a cavalry to come get you.”
TWENTY-TWO
Before we left Mrs. Barlow’s house, Charlotte and I decided to take separate cars. She’d park on the grassy field to the left of the restaurant, and I’d park in the parking lot. Since Jim knew I saw the business card, I’d question him while Charlotte stayed in the shadows and recorded the exchange on her cell phone.
The Piece A Pie lot was empty. Did Jim park in the back, or had his wife dropped him off? Charlotte and I should’ve planned better. We never took into account that he might have closed early. The restaurant was supposed to be open. I made my way to the front door, scanning the parking lot for any lurkers. A handmade sign on the door said, “Closed. Family Emergency.”
I texted Charlotte the information, tugging on the door in case the sign was a diversion. Nope. It was locked. Now what?
A noise came from the back of the store. Hunkering down, I crab-walked my way to the corner of the building and peered around. Jim tested the doorknob a few times, a lone box at his feet. He picked something up and tossed it at the safety light. It plinked off the fixture.
Standing, I gripped the side of the wall and angled myself farther out.
“Come on.” J
im threw another rock. “Hit it.” It missed.
In the soft light, I strained my eyes, making out a gas can and the edge of a photo frame sticking out from the box. A pit formed in my stomach. Jim planned on burning down the pizza joint tonight, with or without the arsonist’s help.
The smell of smoke drifted to me. Crop it all. There might not be a suitable place for a bonfire behind the restaurant, but from the smell of it, there was a perfect clearing in the woods. At least tonight, they set the fire far enough away so an “improperly put-out bonfire” couldn’t be blamed for Piece A Pie going up in flames. But the teens were in danger if Jim, or the arsonist, spotted them. The murderer had already killed two people. What were a couple more?
A sharp breath drew my attention back toward Jim. He stared at me for a long moment. The box clattered to the ground, and Jim sprinted toward the trees. I snapped some pictures, hoping they’d come out.
“Get the kids out. I’m after Jim.” I prayed Charlotte heard me, or the kids. I didn’t really care what made them leave the premises.
Fortunately, I was younger and in better shape than Jim. He slowed, his huffing and wheezing reaching my ears. He found some reserves of energy and put on a burst of speed, crossing toward the parking lot.
“I know it’s you, Jim,” I called out.
He stopped and bent over, presumably to catch his breath.
Cautiously, I walked over to him. I didn’t think I had anything to fear from Jim, but no one liked getting caught almost committing a crime. I remained a few feet away. “Why were you going to torch your place?”
“The bills are killing me. My blood pressure is high. I can’t sleep. My head always feels like it’s going to explode. It’s taking all my time. Take your pick. They’re all true.”
“There are other ways.”
Jim sank to his knees, covering his face with his hands. “My wife has cancer. I don’t want to spend her last months at this damn place. I want to be with her.”
“I’m so sorry.” The anguish in his voice tore at my heart. I blinked away tears.
“I tried selling the place. This was the only way to get out from under the business.”
“You hired Vulcan Catering to set the fire. That’s the real business model…not cooking barbeque.”
“Yes.” Jim rubbed his eyes. “I know it’s horrible. I was so lost.”
“Who gave you the card?”
“I don’t know.”
“You really expect me to buy that?”
Jim lumbered to his feet. “I don’t care what you believe. I found the card on my windshield after I attended a meeting at the nursing home. I thought whoever was opening the catering business was interest in buying Piece A Pie and left their card on the windshield. I had told everyone I was selling it.”
“Why wouldn’t they just talk to you?”
“I figured they wanted to talk to the presenters who were available that night.”
“Your wife is a resident?” Was that how Chad received a card? Did someone else overhear him confiding to Lucy?
“No, I was talking to Norm one day, and he said I should go to the family information seminars. Thought it would be helpful. And since my wife might have to move in, I figured it was a good way to see what’s offered. I asked a few questions, especially about resources available, as my income had taken a hit.”
“Do you remember who was there?”
“Allan Sullivan. Lake Breckenridge. Daniel Burke.”
“Lake?”
“She was given a flower-arranging class.”
A car tore out of the woods. Burnt rubber filled the air.
Charlotte and the teens. I hadn’t heard anything from them since I ran after Jim. Did the arsonist finally show up? I raced off, heading toward the smell of the smoke.
Waves of red and orange flames danced a few yards ahead. I tried calling out, but either panic or being out of breath was working against me. The knot in my stomach tightened. At the very least, I had expected to hear Charlotte dressing down the kids.
I peered through a few branches. Hannah and Brandon were the only ones at the bonfire. A little ways behind them was a fallen tree covered with fleece blankets, a few filled grocery bags resting against it. Charlotte wasn’t there. Nausea rose in me.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Hannah said. “All we’ve done is cause more trouble.”
“I’m not leaving,” Brandon said. “You can’t make me.”
I stepped out of the shelter of the branches. “Where’s your mom?”
Letting out a startled squeak, Hannah spun and nearly toppled into Brandon’s lap. She recovered quickly.
“My mom?”
“She came with me. I went to talk to Jim, and she was coming to check out the bonfire.” I was proud of myself for keeping my panic under control.
Hannah shrugged.
“We didn’t see her,” Brandon said. “Haven’t seen anyone else.”
Why wasn’t Hannah concerned? Was she lying to me about her mom’s whereabouts? Had I mistaken where the sound had come from and Charlotte was the one who’d driven off?
“I want answers, not more lies. There are enough stories floating around and innocent people are getting hurt.” I planted my hands on my hips and glared at the only teens—Hannah and Brandon—at the bonfire. Either they came out for some alone time or they were up to something dangerous and stupid.
Hannah lowered her gaze to the ground and shoved some dirt around with her foot. The well-maintained blaze cast an orange glow onto her face. The bonfire was contained between large rocks.
“I want one of you to start talking.” I fixed my fiercest gaze on them.
“We don’t have to talk to you,” Brandon said. “You’re not the police. Not that I’d have to talk to them either. We’re not doing anything wrong.”
“Then why are you hiding out back here?” I asked.
“We’re not hiding. We’re at the pre-game bonfire,” Brandon said.
Hannah remained uncharacteristically silent.
I heaved out an I-wasn’t-born-yesterday sigh. “Where’s everyone else?”
Brandon and Hannah exchanged a look. He maneuvered his wheelchair closer to her.
I stepped onto the only clear patch of ground, blocking him from Hannah. I felt a little bad doing so, but I wanted the truth, not a plotted excuse.
“I’m not saying anything.” Brandon glared up at me.
“You better start explaining to me.” Karen stepped out of the shadows and into the firelight. “Because if not, I’ll call your dad and you can enlighten him. He told you last night when he got home from talking to the police to let us handle it. We will get your mom out of jail.”
Brandon groaned. “I should’ve known you’d be here. Why can’t you just back off, Aunt Karen?”
“Because nosing around in this murder investigation can get you hurt.” Karen stomped over to Brandon. “Don’t you get that? Your mom would be devastated if something happened to you. She’d never forgive herself.”
“I’m devastated. Today. Yesterday. Tomorrow.” Tears glittered in his eyes. “Don’t any of you understand that? Mom won’t even see me. I don’t want her doing this for me.”
“She isn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me!” Brandon screamed. He yanked the rims down, jerking his chair forward. “It is about me. She thinks the only way I can have a life is if she gives up hers. I don’t want one that way. I’d rather live here the rest of my life, work at a fast food counter, and never have enough money than have my mom in prison.”
“Honey, I’ve tried. She won’t listen.” Karen’s breaking heart was in her voice. “She doesn’t want anyone’s help.”
Felicity’s stubbornness was destroying her son and making me like her less and
less. Her decision made no sense to me, unless she knew the next most likely suspect was her husband. But why would Allan allow his wife to go to jail in his place?
“My mom is crazy.” Brandon pressed the lever on his chair. The wheelchair gave a jerky start, stopping when the wheels caught on a root half buried under the ground. “Tell her I won’t quit until she’s out of jail.”
“We won’t let her go to prison for this,” I said. “Even if that is what she wants.”
“How? We need proof.” Brandon settled back onto solid ground.
“My mom’s going to get it,” Hannah said.
“Now?” I asked. “Where?”
Hannah refused to meet my gaze.
“She could be in danger,” I said. “A vehicle zipped out of here.”
“I’m not, but someone else likely is.” Charlotte stepped out from the woods and sent a scathing look at her daughter. It was the first time I ever saw Charlotte show any displeasure with her daughter. “Did you get a good look at the car?”
“No, I was too far away,” I said.
“There was no one back down by the creek,” Charlotte said.
“I swear I saw a flashlight coming from there.” Hannah’s voice trembled. “Someone was out there.”
Brandon held Hannah’s hand. “I saw it too, Ms. Hanson. There was a light coming toward us, and Hannah called out saying she was glad they could make it. Whoever it was left.”
Charlotte crossed her arms and began a staredown with her daughter. “When are you going to stop trying to make things better by sneaking out and agreeing to elaborate plans that are only going to get you into trouble, or worse, hurt?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“You think this,” Charlotte waved her arms around, showcasing the bonfire and the bags of food and drinks placed near the downed tree covered with blankets, “was a smart idea?”
“I wanted everyone to come,” Brandon said. “The team has never skipped a bonfire before, especially when the food and drinks are free.”
Framed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Book 4) Page 21
