A Sweet Pepper Fire Brigade 03 - In Hot Water (8 page)

“It’s already late in the day, and it gets dark early now.” Gail took a look at her watch. “Let’s get out there first thing tomorrow, shall we? Have you thought about getting some training for arson investigation and becoming certified?”

“I have,” Stella admitted. “Right now the fire brigade is shorthanded. I can’t make the six-week commitment to be in Nashville every day for the training. I hope to accomplish that later.”

“Good enough.” Gail got to her feet and shook Stella’s hand again. “See you in the morning. It was very nice meeting you.”

As Stella was leaving the building after Gail’s departure, Chief Rogers stopped her. “Do you have anything to share with me regarding the fire that killed Barney Falk?”

She noticed that he’d waited until Gail was gone. “No. Not really. We’ll begin the on-site investigation tomorrow. I’ll let you know if we find anything important.”

He wasn’t happy with that assessment, but there wasn’t much he could say. Fire investigations were her purview. It would be like her butting into his investigation of a robbery.

“If nothing else, she put him in his place,” Eric remarked as they walked out of town hall.

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t have to work with him every day.”

“You’re right. It was nice working with Walt when I was fire chief. We understood each other.”

Stella was about to read him the riot act in regard to their agreement about when and where to speak when councilman Nay Albert stopped her. He had a big grin on his pocked face. His greasy black hair was combed over the bald spot on his head.

“Chief Griffin. Have I got a fireboat for you!”

I
t was hard not to look at Eric to see how he felt about taking on a boat from Nay Albert. Stella had never had run-ins with this council member as she had with Bob Floyd. But there was something shifty about him that she didn’t care for.

Lucky for her, John was on his way into town hall. Still waiting for Stella’s response to his offer, Nay dragged him into the discussion.

“You know I’ve had that old wooden boat in my storage building for years,” Nay said to John and Stella. “I had her in dry dock. She was checked out thoroughly before I put her away. She’s older, but she’s got the strength and weight you’re gonna need to hold a water cannon.”

John had a bewildered look on his tired face. He’d gone right from the rescue last night to work, to the memorial, and back to work. He was finally done with a double shift and badly in need of sleep.

“What are we talking about?” he asked.

“Councilman Albert has a boat for the fire brigade,” Stella explained.

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” John said. “Is it free?”

Nay put his hands in his pockets. “Not exactly
free
, but a fair price for the town to pay for a boat. An aluminum boat will never hold up to what you’re planning to do. There aren’t a lot of boats out on the market like the one I’m offering you.”

“I don’t know,” John said. “Chief? How does our budget look?”

“We’re pretty tight until July,” Stella explained.

“Hey!” Nay stopped them. “The town council will pay for the boat out of emergency funding. I’ll help see to that. I’m not saying you all have to come up with the money right away.”

John yawned. “We’ll have to take a look at it.”

“Okay. I’m free for a couple of hours.” Nay smiled at them with expectant eyes.

Stella had absolutely no experience with boats except for having worked as a firefighter on one for a few weeks. She didn’t feel qualified to make a decision.

“Maybe later,” she said. “John, could you be there?”

“Sure. Just not right now. Sorry.”

“That’s fine.” Nay approved the decision. “How about I meet you two out at my farm about six tonight?”

John nodded. “Sounds good. See you then.”

Nay ducked back out of town hall with a wave. Stella was alone with John. “Do you know anything about boats?”

“I know how to drive one, and ski behind one.” He smiled. “Don’t worry. I have a friend who sells boats. I’ll ask him to come out with us. Right now, I’ve gotta get some sleep.”

Stella understood. She was amazed he could keep up with his usual double police shifts and be available so often when they needed him for fire calls.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

She got into the Cherokee with Eric at her side. “I have to get home and take off this uniform.”

“That works for me.” He grinned at her.

They’d had a few issues with Eric respecting her personal space. Mostly he joked about it now, but rarely came into the bedroom when she was dressing. It hadn’t been that way at first. She’d worked it out, as she had when she’d been the first woman firefighter at her station in Chicago.

“Ha-ha. What did you think about the boat offer?”

“I don’t know much about boats. I know a lot about Nay Albert. I’m betting he’s charging the town an arm and a leg for a boat you’re going to have to put tons of work into before you can use it.”

She started the Cherokee and pulled out into the slow-moving traffic going down Main Street. “That’s kind of what I was thinking. I guess we’ll take a look at it anyway.”

“Firehouse first?”

“Stopping at the firehouse will give you a chance to see the new place.” She realized he hadn’t been there since the old building he’d built had been destroyed. “After that, I have to find people who don’t normally contribute pepper recipes for the festival contest. I’ll understand if you want to stay at the cabin.”

“Are you kidding me? I don’t care if I ever go back to the cabin again right now. I’m sure I’ll feel different later. I want to see
everything
. Who knows how long this will last? I want to take advantage of this opportunity to see the world in case it’s gone tomorrow.”

It made sense to Stella. “That’s fine. We’ll see as much of the world as we can today.”

“What about Bob buying the cabin?” Eric asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

“I’m thinking that will be the next shoe to drop. Bob tears down the cabin, and I’m in some kind of limbo where I can’t go anywhere or do anything.” He grimaced. “I’m probably just being paranoid.”

She shrugged as she pulled into the firehouse parking lot. “I’m with you. I don’t know anything about ghosts—beyond what my dad’s family always told us. Believe me, they never covered
any
thing like you driving around in the truck with me.”

“More like moaning and clanking chains, right?”

“And the Irish ghosts liked to pull people into moats, and rise up from castle keeps to take vengeance too.”

They both laughed at that as Stella turned off the engine and got out of the Cherokee.

“I like the castle keep idea,” Eric said. “I probably should have built a castle on the mountain instead of the cabin. I didn’t know then that I’d be trapped.”

“I’ll try to remember that before I die,” she said. “Let’s end this conversation before we go inside, okay? I’m thinking that talking to ghosts would be a bad thing for a fire chief who wants to keep her job.”

“And her team’s respect.” He did the old mime trick of zipping his mouth closed and throwing away the key. “Although maybe not so much in Sweet Pepper.”

Kent was there doing some maintenance on the pumper-tanker.

Banyin was there too, hanging out with the fire brigade. Even though she couldn’t go on calls because she was too close to term with her pregnancy, she still manned the communications system when she could. “Hey, Chief! Nice memorial today, huh? The mayor gave me the plaque they had made up for Chief Gamlyn. He said he couldn’t find you when the service was over.”

Kent, Banyin, Eric, and Stella looked at the large award that the town had made to hang in the firehouse. It commemorated Eric’s life and sacrifices to create the first fire brigade.

“It looks good there,” Stella said. “Perfect place for it, Kent. Thanks.”

Stella studied the old black-and-white image of the original fire brigade with Eric in front of the group. He hadn’t changed at all in his incorporeal form. He was even dressed in the same clothes that he was going to wear for as long as he haunted the fire brigade.

“I was a handsome devil.” Eric admired the photo.

Stella glanced at him and rolled her eyes.

“Hey, Chief.” Tagger greeted her, coming out of the communications center. “Everything has been super quiet—
whoa!
” His eyes opened dramatically wide. “Chief Gamlyn! When did
you
get back?”

Kent and Banyin chuckled. Stella uneasily moved away from the picture on the wall, motioning to Tagger so he’d go with her to the small office in the back of the firehouse.

Tagger might be the only one, besides herself, who could see and hear Eric. He’d told Stella this several times. She hadn’t known whether or not to believe him. Everyone in Sweet Pepper claimed to have seen a ghost at one time or another.

Stella closed the door to her office behind them. Eric walked through it.

“Chief!” Tagger greeted his old friend. “I’ve missed you. You stopped coming to the firehouse. I never had a chance to thank you for saving my life.”

Stella watched as Tagger awkwardly tried to put his arms around Eric. She knew Eric could choose to be solid. He didn’t this time. Tagger’s arms flailed in the air.

“Sorry,” Eric said to him. “I couldn’t get here for a while. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Tagger was laughing and crying at the same time. Stella could only imagine what Kent and Banyin thought.

“That’s okay, Chief.” Tagger glanced at Stella. “Is it okay if I still call him Chief?”

“That’s fine,” Stella said. It was even weirder to stand in a room with another person who could see and hear Eric too. “You know a little something about ghosts, Tagger. Do you have any idea why Chief Gamlyn can suddenly leave the cabin?”

Tagger thought about it, his red-rimmed eyes unfocused, as he stroked his grizzled chin. “You know, I heard tell once of a man who made moonshine hereabouts. Devil Patterson. You remember him, Chief Gamlyn? He was a mean son of a gun. Beat his kids, his dogs, and his wife too.”

Stella had heard so many of these folksy stories she almost wasn’t paying attention. It seemed that the storytelling gene had been passed liberally throughout the population of Sweet Pepper.

“I remember.” Eric grinned as though pleased with himself.

“Well, sir, when Devil Patterson died—an unfortunate set of circumstances that involved him being so drunk that he fell headfirst into a pot of his own ’shine—he didn’t stay dead. He followed his wife around everywhere. Of course, he couldn’t hurt her anymore, but the widow was smitten with a local blacksmith.”

“Black Jack Marshall,” Eric added.

“That’s right, Chief. The lovers had to think of something to get rid of Devil.”

When neither of the two men said anything for a moment, Stella urged them to continue. That was one of the big problems with these stories—it took all day to tell them.

“Oh yeah.” Tagger grinned and scratched his thinning gray curls. “The widow and the blacksmith talked to a witch who lived over in Frog Pond. The witch told them that the widow was carrying something that belonged to Devil, and that’s why he could show himself to her whenever he wanted.”

Eric’s blue eyes lit up with the answer. “And the widow threw away the old metal flask full of moonshine that had belonged to Devil. They were never troubled by his ghastly apparition again.”

“That’s right, Chief.” Tagger congratulated him. “Someone must have something that belongs to you.”

They both turned and stared at Stella.

“I don’t have anything that belongs to him,” she protested.

“What about the chief’s old badge?” Tagger snapped his fingers. “There was a moment when you held it up at the cemetery. We all remarked on it. It was like a flash of light from heaven came down and blessed it.”

Stella took the badge out of her coat pocket. “Let’s see if he’s right.”

“How are we gonna do that, Chief?” Tagger asked.

“I’ll leave the badge in here and walk outside. We’ll see what happens.”

Eric sat on her desk. “Let’s do it.”

Tagger waited in the office with Eric while Stella went outside.

“Everything okay, Chief?” Banyin asked her as she walked through the firehouse.

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

Stella walked around in the parking lot. There was no sign of Eric. Had Tagger been right—even though it took that story to make his point?

She went back inside. Kent stopped her with a worried expression on his face. “Is there anything I can do to help, Chief?”

“No. Everything’s fine. Just trying an experiment.”

Stella went back into the office. Eric and Tagger were both still there.

“So that’s it?” she asked. “As long as I have Eric’s badge, he can go where I go?”

“I don’t know,” Tagger admitted. “Let me try taking it outside, Chief. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Tagger put the badge into his pocket. He walked outside.

Eric disappeared from the middle of Stella’s desk.

Tagger came back into the office and shut the door on Banyin’s and Kent’s puzzled faces.

“I guess that’s it,” Eric said. “It doesn’t matter who has the badge.”

“I guess so,” Stella agreed.

Before they could continue the experiment, the fire alarm sounded. The radio went off at the same time as Stella’s cell phone.

“That’s all for now.” She jerked open her office door. “What’s going on, Banyin?”

“There’s a kid stuck on a roof in town, 725 Hill Road.”

“Tagger, you stay here with Banyin. Kent, you drive the engine. I’ll bring the Cherokee. Banyin, let everyone else know they don’t have to come in for this. Monitor our transmissions in case we need paramedics.” Stella yanked open her locker door. “I’m not going to a call dressed like this.”

Everyone moved quickly to follow her orders. Stella looked at Eric’s badge, not sure if that was what had allowed him to be out of the cabin or not. She stuck it in the pocket of her bunker coat and headed to the Cherokee.

“D
o we know who lives at that address?” Stella called back to the firehouse as she drove toward Sweet Pepper.

“I looked it up,” Banyin said on the radio. “Jerry and Brenda Sue Farmer live there.”

“Two-story house?” Stella asked.

“Yes, Chief.”

“I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed going on calls,” Eric said. “I never got tired of it when I was alive. It’s a thrill, as well as an honor, to serve the people of this town.”

“You were meant to be a firefighter,” Stella said. “Just because your career was cut short in life doesn’t mean you can’t still do it now.”

She reached over to touch his hand as she would have any other person’s who seemed to be in distress. He was as solid as the truck they rode in. He definitely made conscious decisions when that was going to happen.

Stella followed Kent in the engine. The lights were flashing and sirens blazing through the streets of town. People who’d been about to cross the street stepped back quickly to the curb. Children pointed and waved. It was the same in Sweet Pepper as it had been in Chicago.

When they reached the Farmer household, two adults and a small child stood in the front yard. They were talking to a teenager on the roof.

“Please,” Brenda Sue begged, “you have to get him down.”

“I think he went up there for some air,” Jerry Farmer said. “He needs some time alone.”

“That’s rubbish!” Brenda Sue’s voice was harsh. “It’s that Foster Waxman. She pretended to be interested in Billy. She doesn’t give a rat’s whisker about him. She was trying to make someone else jealous. She’s too old for him anyway. She isn’t interested in someone like him.”

Kent had already assessed the situation. “Chief, I think I can get up there without the ladder and get him down.”

Stella turned away from the worried parents and checked out the problem too.

“He’s probably right,” Eric agreed with Kent. “The chances are the boy is upset but not suicidal. If he can get him down without the ladder, you won’t have to drive the engine up there and tear up the yard.”

Stella walked over to stand with Mr. and Mrs. Farmer. “How upset is Billy?”

“He’s just being stupid,” his father said.

“You know how it is to be a teenager, Chief Griffin,” Brenda Sue said. “Everything is a matter of life and death. But I’d rather you not mess up my new grass, if you can help it. It cost us a pretty penny last summer to get it in.”

Kent shrugged when Stella looked at him again. It was her decision.

“Let’s try it,” she decided. “Use some of that winning personality.”

He tipped his hat to her, and muttered, “If this doesn’t work, just stand by the roof and hold out your arms.”

“He’s joking, right?” Eric was alarmed at the idea.

“Joking,” Stella said under her breath.

They watched as Kent climbed easily up the side of the house using a sturdy trellis anchored to the structure. He swung up onto the roof and ambled over to where the boy was sitting.

“Nice day to be on the roof.” He sat next to Billy.

“Go away. I don’t want to see anyone.” Billy had tears streaming down his young face. “Why can’t everyone leave me alone?”

“That’s the way life is, kid, when you have people who care about you.” Kent removed his helmet. “When I was growing up, my parents could’ve cared less if I was on the roof or under the house. You don’t want that.”

“The one thing I
did
want,” Billy yelled at him, “I can’t have. Why should I care about anything else?”

Stella listened to everything Kent said to the boy. He was persuasive and understanding. He’d missed his true calling; instead of a big rig driver, he should’ve been a psychologist.

“So, let’s get down from here, huh?” Kent stood and offered his hand to Billy.

“Okay. My mom and dad are gonna kill me.”

“I don’t think so,” Kent whispered. “Play on the sympathy card, kid. They’re gonna be so happy that you’re all right, the other part won’t matter.”

“He’s good,” Eric said. “I knew a lot of rescue workers who would’ve picked that kid up and climbed down with him.”

“People are different now.” Stella stared at the roof.

“What do you mean?” Brenda Sue asked her.

Stella realized she’d spoken aloud to Eric in front of other people. “I meant that people are more understanding now.”

Brenda Sue wiped her tears on a tissue. “I suppose they are.”

Kent and Billy were climbing down as Stella shot a dirty look at Eric. When Billy’s parents were running toward their son, she said, “Don’t talk to me when other people are around.”

“Sorry
.
”

Kent had been right—Jerry and Brenda Sue were happy to have their son back. After being reunited, Jerry came back to shake hands with Stella and Kent. “Thanks for your help, Chief Griffin. If there’s anything we can ever do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Stella raised one delicate red brow. “Have you ever entered the Sweet Pepper Festival recipe contest?”

*   *   *

“That was smooth,” Eric said when they were alone in the Cherokee. “What’s the recipe for?”

Stella looked at the piece of notebook paper, hastily ripped from a binder. “It’s for grilled peppers. I hope I don’t have to try making all these recipes.”

“I hope not too,” Eric teased her. “There wouldn’t be any entries in the contest if that happened.”

“Never mind that. You made me talk to you again in front of people.”

“I didn’t
make
you do anything. You chose to answer me. All you have to do is ignore me like you do at the cabin when other people are around.”

For some reason, this was different, but she couldn’t explain it to him. It was new for one thing. She didn’t get that many visitors at the cabin. She spent most of her time there with Eric and Hero. “You could help me out by not talking unless something comes up so that you have to speak.”

“How would I know when that was?”

Stella gritted her teeth as she was turning in to the parking lot at the firehouse when she noticed a familiar vehicle.

“Petey!” She parked and jumped out of the Cherokee.

Patricia “Petey” Stanze waved and ran to hug Stella. “Chief! It’s
so
good to see you. I hope I haven’t missed all the good stuff. I heard about the fire at the lake and the rescue on Dead Bear Trail. Outstanding!”

Petey was a waitress at Scooter’s Barbecue. She was short, barely weighed ninety pounds, but was a human dynamo. She was always out in front, tough and determined to get the job done. Stella hadn’t believed she’d make it with the fire brigade when she’d joined. Petey had proved that she could do everything the bigger men could do.

“I’m sure there’ll be other things,” Stella said. “What about you? When did you get out of the hospital?”

Petey had been injured in a fire call. “I’ve been out for a week. The doctor has me doing some physical therapy, but I’m good. I want to come back to work.”

Stella wanted her assistant chief back, but she also wanted to make sure Petey was okay. “You’re welcome to do everything but go out on calls, at least until the doctor releases you.”

Mousy brown hair flying around her thin face in the breeze, Petey grimaced. “I could come back now full force, Chief. I’d keep doing my physical therapy. I’m going back to work at Scooter’s tonight. I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I need a sign-off from the doctor that agrees with your assessment. I’m sorry. Our insurance requires it for injured firefighters.”

“That sucks.” Petey put her hands in her jean pockets. “I know you need me, with Ricky gone and everything.”

“She don’t need you.” Kent came out of the garage bay where he’d parked the fire engine. “She’s got me. I’m thinking about applying to be assistant chief.”

“That’s crazy,” Petey protested, but her bottom lip trem-bled.

“Just joking.” Kent hugged her. “Glad to see you back. You know no one can take your place. We don’t have anyone else to make us feel bad like you do.”

Petey laughed at him. “You mean because I’m stronger than all of you put together? Or because I’m younger and prettier?”

“Whoa!”
Kent put up his hands. “Don’t forget your humble modesty too.”

“So that’s Petey, huh?” Eric asked.

Stella ignored him. “Petey, we’re having an important training exercise tomorrow afternoon, two p.m. You could show up for that and start coming back for practice again until the doctor clears you for active duty.”

“Okay. I guess that’s better than nothing. What are we doing tomorrow that’s so important?”

“You’ll have to see,” Stella said. “Oh yeah, you can also start taking some communication shifts again.”

“All the boring stuff and none of the glory,” Petey complained.

“That’s the way it is. I’m gonna get the Cherokee cleaned up. Kent, you’ve got the engine to work on.”

JC chose that moment to pull sharply into the parking lot. He quickly got out of his pickup and stalked over to Stella, Petey, and Kent.

“Hey, what’s with Kent driving
my
engine?” JC demanded.

“Hi, JC,” Petey said with a smile. “I’m coming back to work.”

JC turned his scowling, dark face toward her for an instant. “Great.” He glared back at Kent. “Someone told me you were driving my fire engine through town.”

“It’s not
your
engine,” Kent said. “And you weren’t here. The chief said take it out.”

“There was no point in calling everyone in when Kent and I could take care of it,” Stella said. “You and Kent are the only two members of the fire brigade who are licensed to drive the pumper and the fire engine. That means either one of you—or both of you—can drive when we need you.”

JC’s frown showed his displeasure. “Chief, you said when Ricky left that I was the engine driver. This makes me look bad.”

Stella had heard many such arguments when she’d worked at the station back in Chicago. Sometimes ego got in the way of getting the job done.

“It doesn’t make you look bad,” she assured him. “We can’t get caught up in who does what. There aren’t a lot of us. We have to share responsibilities.”

“I still don’t like it.” JC shook his head. “I gotta go. Late for work. Good to see you, Petey.”

“Can I help wash the engine?” Petey asked Kent.

“Sure. You can do the whole thing if you want.”

They walked together toward the firehouse.

“You did a good job handling that, Chief.” Eric saluted Stella.

“Thanks. It happens from time to time.”

Stella spent about thirty minutes cleaning the Cherokee and then headed up to the cabin. Eric let Hero stay outside for a while.

The phone inside the cabin was ringing. It was her grandfather’s lawyer, Steven Morrow.

“I wanted to advise you that I’ve been able to put a stay on the sale of the old Gamlyn cabin,” he said after introducing himself. “This buys us some time to take a look at the deed, and Eric Gamlyn’s will, to make sure everything is in order. I’ll keep you posted, Chief Griffin, and let you know if anything changes.”

“That didn’t sound much like progress,” Eric said after she’d hung up.

“It sounded like lawyer-speak to me.” She shrugged. “I’m changing clothes.”

Stella put away her dress uniform, wondering if she needed to have it dry cleaned already. She shouldn’t have worn it to the lake.

But who could’ve imagined that she’d suddenly find Eric walking around outside the cabin with her? There was no way to plan for that.

Did the experiment with Tagger mean that Eric could leave the cabin with anyone as long as the person had his badge? This was a whole new set of weird rules. She’d only just gotten used to the first rules of living with a ghost.

She heard the kitchen door open. Eric greeted Hero as the dog ran into the cabin.

Stella didn’t mind being tethered to Eric, in theory. She wanted to make his afterlife better. He’d already suffered enough in her estimation. She wasn’t sure yet how it was going to work in
practice
, though. There would be times she’d want to leave the badge in the cabin. She had to have some privacy.

Eric had started a fire in the hearth, and Hero ran to say hello to her as she walked out of the bedroom.

“I guess I should run in to Pigeon Forge and get some food.” She stroked the Dalmatian’s fur and scratched his ears. “I wish I didn’t have to go so far for it. We need a grocery store in Sweet Pepper.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Eric asked.

“It’s up to you. If you’d like to do a quick trip to Pigeon Forge, that’s fine. If not, it’s not like you can help carry groceries until I get back here.”

“Then I’d like to stay,” he said. “Hero needs some playtime, and I was never overly fond of the city.”

“Okay. I’ll be back.”

“Don’t forget you’re going to look at that boat at six,” he reminded her. “I’d like to do that, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine. Anything you need from the store other than the usual?”

“Not this time. I’ve got some ideas for pepper recipes, but they’re not ready for the testing stage.”

Stella said goodbye, put on her jacket, and grabbed her bag. She purposely left Eric’s badge on the table in the kitchen area. Maybe she didn’t have to be so worried about finding private time away from him. Maybe he wanted some time away from her too.

It was cold outside, particularly since the wind continued to blow briskly down from the mountains. She’d noticed that most of the Little Pigeon River was frozen solid, with only a small stream moving through the middle of it. The pines and oaks were glistening with ice as she went out to the Cherokee.

There was an odd sound behind her. She thought at first it was just twigs snapping under the weight of the ice. It was quiet on the mountain, especially in the winter.

Then something hard poked her in the back and Bob Floyd’s voice said, “You didn’t think I was giving up so
easy
, did you?”