by J. J. Cook
Stella watched her mother’s face. Barbara smiled in a resolved way that Stella knew so well from her childhood. It meant she’d made up her mind about something she didn’t want to do. Sometimes it took her a while, but once she was set, it was hard to budge her.
“Dinner would be fine, Dad. We’ll be there.”
Ben didn’t leave Barbara’s side again while he was at the firehouse. He held her hand and looked at her like she was something more precious than gold.
“He doesn’t seem so bad,” Sean said to Stella as they joined in the practice session. “From the things your mother said, I was expecting some evil dictator millionaire. He seems like a normal millionaire, with a mansion. How bad can that be? I always wished my dad would turn into an evil millionaire with a mansion.”
Stella smiled. Being around her father was like a breath of fresh air.
“He’s been okay with me while I’ve been here. There are some terrible stories that people tell about him. I think he may have been evil in the past. I don’t know. He’s definitely the big cheese around here. What he says goes, in a lot of cases. I think he got me this job to lure mom back down here.”
“Maybe he did.” Sean put his arm around her shoulders. “But you ran with it, my darlin’. You pulled all this together. They’re lucky to have you. At least they were lucky. It’s time for you to come home.”
“I guessed this little impromptu visit was all about bringing me back home.”
“Right you are. I always said you were a smarty-pants. I think you’ve shared enough of your time and talent with these people. We miss you. Sweet Pepper can’t have you forever.”
Stella paired Petey and Ricky on hose practice together. That was a mistake. She was trying to get everyone used to handing off a hose in case the need arose again, as it had with Banyin. She didn’t think it would matter who the pairs were, and different people would learn to work together.
Ricky and Petey both wanted to take charge. They jerked the hose and lost control of it. The pressurized water sprayed across everyone in the parking lot—until Banyin turned off the water from the pumper.
“Okay. What was that all about?” Stella asked.
“He was trying to snatch it away from me,” Petey complained.
“Whatever,” Ricky groaned. “It’s always got to be about her.”
Stella had no sympathy for them. “Never mind all that. This is about working together as a team. Let’s try again. No one has to lead. This isn’t dancing.”
She had Royce and JC hand off the hose again to Petey and Ricky—with the same results.
“Isn’t this a waste of time, Chief, since Ricky and I are on different teams all the time?” Petey demanded after the hose was turned off again.
Stella wiped the water from her face. “Humor me!”
Royce and JC glared at the co-assistant chiefs. They were both soaking wet for the second time.
The two men picked up the hose again. Banyin turned on the water. Royce and JC handed the hose to Petey and Ricky. This time it went more smoothly, but there were still some issues that had to be faced.
“He keeps grabbing it,” Petey complained, glaring at Ricky.
“Well, it feels like she’s gonna drop it,” Ricky countered. “Maybe it would be better if she stuck to bossing people around and let the rest of us handle the real work.”
“I think we need a little trust work here,” Sean said with a grin.
“Trust work?” Petey questioned.
Stella looked on as her father set Ricky and Petey up to learn to trust each other. He had Ricky wear a blindfold while Petey guided his hands to take the hose from Royce and JC.
The water was on. It wasn’t easy. Again and again, Ricky groped around blindly, fighting her, until he finally trusted that Petey was putting his hands in the right place.
“That’s what we’re looking for,” Sean said. “You have to trust the person you’re with.”
It was Petey’s turn next. She wasn’t happy about the idea. “I don’t think I can do this. I’m sorry, Chief. He’s just—you know.”
Stella finally convinced her to put on the blindfold. Petey tried to cheat by looking under it as Ricky tried to guide her hands on the hose.
“None of that.” Sean tapped the side of her head. “Cheaters never win.”
Finally, Petey gave in and accepted the inevitable. She was going to have to trust Ricky. The rest of the group applauded and cheered as the hose was handed off again, and this time there was no hesitation.
“I’ve been a firefighter most of my life,” Sean said to all of them. “I’ve saved some of my partners’ lives, and they’ve saved mine. You have to trust your partner. All of you have to learn to completely trust each other during practice or you can’t work together. You have to know that this man, and that woman, have your back during emergencies. That’s the only way a team can be safe.”
Tagger was sniffling as he wiped tears from his eyes. “That was beautiful. Trust is a beautiful thing.”
All of the fire brigade members were paired up with different people for the next hour and a half until everyone had worked with everyone else, blindfolded, handing off the two-inch hose in what became a seamless ballet.
“Yes!” Sean yelled. “You’ve got it. And it looks like lunchtime to me. I’m buying beers for anyone who wants them at wherever the local pub is.”
He looked at Stella. “Sorry. Just enthusiastic.” He gave her a quick salute. “If the Chief says it’s time to quit.”
Stella laughed. “That works for me. Good practice, people. Let’s get cleaned up and head to Beau’s before my dad changes his mind.”
There was a lot of enthusiasm and excitement as the group cleaned up and stored everything where it belonged—much more than the usual practice. Stella knew it was her father’s attitude. Maybe there was some way she could capture some of that in her own training sessions.
She reminded herself that there weren’t many of those left, if she was going home. It surprised her that she felt a little depressed at the idea that there was no future for her here with these people. She’d thought it was only Eric who was keeping her in Sweet Pepper. Maybe she was wrong.
Petey had finished cleaning up and had closed her locker door. Ricky performed the same task, at the same moment.
“That was good today.” Petey smiled at her competitor. “Kind of weird wearing a blindfold.”
Ricky agreed. “We got through it, though. I know we’ve had our differences—”
“You mean like it was unfair for the chief to make both of us assistant chiefs.”
“Like that. When clearly, I should’ve been named chief.”
“Yeah.” Petey stood close to Ricky, really seeing him for the first time. He was good-looking. She really liked his eyes.
“It’s okay.” Ricky noticed how cute Petey was when she wrinkled up her little nose. “I kind of like it.”
“Yeah.” Petey’s smile kept getting bigger—and suddenly they were in each other’s arms. Her back against the lockers—Ricky’s lips pressed against hers.
Stella cleared her throat as she walked by the pair who only a few hours ago couldn’t work together. Trust was indeed a beautiful thing.
“Sorry, Chief.” They both quickly moved apart and blurted out.
“That’s okay. Just wanted to tell you I’m leaving. Banyin is taking calls. Lock up when you’re done.”
Stella smiled as she got on the Harley to head for Beau’s for that free beer. Ricky and Petey were an unlikely couple. She was fairly sure they both had someone else they were dating. Maybe they didn’t need all that enthusiasm at practice after all.
Her mother and father had already left in the rental car. She texted, reminding Stella that they still hadn’t seen Doug since they’d left the café. Stella had forgotten. She didn’t want to go and
look for Doug. She also didn’t want a ghostly incident.
She took a left from the parking lot, up Firehouse Road, and to the cabin.
Doug didn’t have a car and was in a place he didn’t know. It made sense that he might have walked the mile or so back to the cabin. She hoped it wasn’t a mistake for him. She prayed Eric hadn’t let him inside.
There was no sign of him when she parked her bike in front of the cabin. The door was open—Hero ran out to greet her. She rubbed the puppy’s neck and they walked up the stairs to the porch together.
Kimmie and David had taken both dogs to rescue practice out of town today and been excused from the regular session in Sweet Pepper. Most of the time their practices were scheduled so they could manage to do both. Stella was excited at the progress the dogs were making, though, and was happy to accommodate them.
“Doug?” Stella called when she was in the kitchen.
“He’s on the deck.” Eric appeared unexpectedly.
“You startled me.” She watched as Hero ran, barking, out on the back deck. “I don’t see him out there.”
“He’s in the hot tub,” Eric added.
“Did you do anything to him?”
“No. He’s fine. I didn’t hurt him.”
Stella ran across the living area to the back deck. Hero was barking frantically at Doug, who was in the hot tub, fully clothed.
“I can’t get out.” Doug’s voice was high-pitched and scared. “I’m not sure how I got here in the first place, and now I can’t get out.”
He demonstrated by trying to push himself out of the warm, bubbly water. He couldn’t move. “I don’t know what it is. I think you should call an ambulance. I may be having a stroke or something.”
Eric lounged back in one of the rocking chairs, a smile playing across his lips. Hero stopped barking as Stella shushed him. The dog went to lay close to Eric’s feet with an unsatisfied whine.
“Let him up.” Stella turned her back to Doug.
“I think you should call an ambulance,” Eric agreed with Doug.
“Just let him up,” she hissed. “He’s not sick.”
Eric shrugged and suddenly, Doug was able to move. Stella got him a towel as he climbed out of the hot tub on shaky legs.
“How long have you been in there?” She looked at his wrinkled hands.
“I don’t know.” He moved away from the hot tub. “I think I fainted or something. I don’t know how it happened. I was walking into the cabin and then I was out here.”
Stella gave Doug her long pink robe—he had no dry clothes with him—and put a blanket around him. She sat him by the fireplace with a glass of brandy. The fire crackled merrily as he took a few sips.
“You’ll be fine,” she said. “Sit here and take it easy for a while.”
Doug looked up at her, his eyes pleading with hers. “What happened to us, Stella? I know you think it started when you caught me—found me—but it was before then. She was just the-uh-manifestation of the problem.”
Stella hadn’t realized he’d thought there was a problem between them. “I don’t know, Doug. When did you stop loving me?”
“Never!” He denied it vehemently and took a big sip of brandy for courage. “I never stopped loving you! I thought you didn’t love me anymore. You were always gone, always working. I know both of our jobs are demanding, but it was more than that.”
She shook her head. “It’s kind of late now. I’m sorry you thought I didn’t love you. I didn’t know anything was wrong with us, until the ‘manifestation’ of seeing you naked with my friend.”
He grabbed her hand. “She meant nothing to me. I was just trying to show both of us that there was a problem, I think. I guess I went too far.”
“I haven’t hurt him—yet—can I do it now?” Eric was standing behind her.
“You know this would be easier without an audience,” she said to him.
Doug jumped up. “Is someone else here?”
“No,” Stella reassured him. “It’s only us.”
“Like hell it is,” Eric said. “What did you ever see in him?”
“Leave him alone,” Stella whispered. “This is none of your business.”
“Are you going home to marry him?” Eric demanded.
“No! I’m not marrying him.”
“Stella, give me—give us, a second chance,” Doug pleaded. “Let me make it up to you.”
“I could hang him under the deck,” Eric offered. “I don’t think anyone would miss him.”
“Go away!” she yelled.
Doug’s expression was tragic. “If that’s how you feel.”
“Not you,” she amended. “I was talking to that annoying fly that keeps buzzing around.”
“I didn’t notice a fly.” Doug glanced around the room.
“Unfortunately, I can’t go far enough away not to hear this,” Eric said. “Maybe you two should leave. I don’t like soap operas.”
There was a knock at the door. Before Stella could answer it, Eric identified the caller as Walt Fenway and opened the door for him.
“Thanks, buddy.” Walt smiled and looked around the cabin. His arms were full of files. “Stella, I’ve been down at the department of motor vehicles. I got records for all the Impalas I could find listed to owners in Sweet Pepper for the last forty years. It’s a mess of them. Have you had lunch yet?”
Chapter 12
Walt saw Doug. “Oh, you have company. Sorry. Let me drop these off. We’ll start looking through them later.”
“All the Impalas for forty years, huh?” Stella grinned when she saw the mountain of paperwork. “That’s a lot of Impalas.”
Walt agreed. “You said Chum saw Eric’s body being shoved into the trunk of a Chevy Impala. I figured it must have belonged to someone in Sweet Pepper. I started thinking about it. Maybe we’ll get lucky and whoever the owner is kept the car. It would be a classic now.”
As soon as Walt had put the papers on the table, he crossed the room and offered his hand to Doug. “Walt Fenway. You must be a friend of Stella’s.”
Doug shook his hand, careful to keep the brown blanket pulled up over Stella’s robe. “Doug Connelly, sir. I was once, almost, her fiancé. Back in Chicago.”
Walt glanced at Stella. “Oh. Stella’s mentioned you a time or two. You’re a police officer, right?”
“That’s right.” Doug smiled at Stella. “I’ve been on the job for ten years.”
“I’m Sweet Pepper’s retired police chief. Looks like we’ve got something in common.”
Lunch was inevitable. Stella scrounged together what she could. It was mostly bread, cheese, and eggs. There was bottled spring water to wash it down. The three of them split the last of Eric’s baking frenzy, the custard.
When Doug told Walt about his experience in the hot tub, Walt looked around the room—silently acknowledging what he thought must be Eric’s hand in that event. He didn’t speak to Eric again, as he usually did. He understood what the problem was between the two men. Stella.
“So what are you looking for with these Impalas?” Doug asked. “Was there an Impala fire or something? How did the retired Sweet Pepper police chief and the temporary fire chief meet?”
Stella didn’t want to talk about Eric. She hoped Walt would feel the same. Doug wouldn’t understand, and worse, they’d have to discuss how anything like that was possible. Despite Doug’s hot tub time, it was unlikely that he would suddenly become a believer in the supernatural.
Walt briefly explained how he and Stella had met. Then he told Doug he was helping her look for the former fire chief’s killer.
Doug smiled. “Stella, you didn’t tell me you became a police detective while you were here. Do your parents know you’re searching for someone’s killer?”
“I’ve mentioned it to them.” She felt forced to tell Doug
about finding Eric’s bones at the firehouse. “We’ve got a few leads, and they finally dug up the fire chief’s coffin. We’re hoping there might be more answers there.”
“Let me help you take a look at it while I’m here,” Doug volunteered. “Maybe some fresh eyes might help. Eight months is a long time with no real leads. Forty years is a cold case that’s gone arctic.”
Within a few minutes they were talking over possible angles and ideas. Stella told Walt about the large black scratch on the side of Chum’s truck.
“I think he was definitely shot at close range,” she said. “Probably while the car was right up next to him. The momentum from the truck suggests Chum never had a chance to slow down when he hit the side of the road. Chief Rogers talked to me about Chum’s death, supposedly because I was the last one to see him alive.”
“He was shaking a few trees to see what came down,” Walt told her. “Poor old Chum.”
“So this is still an active investigation?” Doug realized with excitement. “If you think Deputy Chum was killed because he gave you information about the old fire chief’s death, the killer must still be alive and living in Sweet Pepper. Now we’re talking!”
“That’s what I was thinking too,” Stella agreed with less enthusiasm.
A sudden gust of wind from within the cabin blew all of the loose papers off the table, scattering them across the room. Walt and Doug scrambled to pick them up.
Doug glanced around to see what had caused it. Walt nodded with a smile.
Stella knew what had happened. She saw Eric wave his arm across the table as he said, “It’s bad enough you two are doing this. I won’t have this meathead helping out.”
“Someone’s having a bad day,” Stella told Walt.
“Can’t blame him,” Walt said. “It’s gotta be hard on a man when other people are talking about him being dead.”
“Who’s talking about being dead?” Doug asked. “It would’ve been better if this was all on a computer.”
“If it would’ve been, I don’t think the DMV would’ve let me take the computer home,” Walt chuckled. “Besides that kind of thing doesn’t go back that far here.”
