Neighing with Fire: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (8 page)

He studied her. “There’s something more going on here than the fire.”

“Why don’t we wait until Bill gets here, then you won’t have to repeat everything.”

“You mean then you won’t have to explain our t
ê
te-
à
-t
ê
te in the dunes,” he said, and raised a brow suggestively.

“This is hardly a t
ê
te-
à
-t
ê
te,” she said with a grin.

“Then what is it?” Bill asked, coming around the building.

“Bill,” she said, her smile disappearing. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Bill eyeballed Pinky. “Of course you have.”

“Chief McCabe has some questions she’d like to ask me but wanted you around for the answers.”

“I have a few questions I’d like to ask you myself,” Bill said, and folded his arms across his chest.

“Such as?” Pinky asked.

“When was the last time you saw Denny Custis?”

“I thought I made it clear at dinner the other night that I want nothing to do with that person,” Pinky said.

Her eyes narrowed. One of the qualities she admired about Pinky was his ability to keep his cool in most circumstances. Even now, with his oceanfront property ruined, he hadn’t lost his composure—not really. But the mere mention of Denny irked him. She wondered how far Denny had pushed him to get this reaction and what Pinky might have done if he had finally had enough.

“The people next door said they heard arguing between two men some time before the house caught fire,” Colleen said.

“There you have it,” Pinky said.

Bill sighed. “Have what?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Isn’t what obvious?” she asked.

“This,” Pinky said, gesturing to his ruined property, “has Denny Custis written all over it.”

“That’s an odd choice of words,” Bill said.

“It’s his style,” Pinky said.

“It’s also your style, if I’m not mistaken.”

All three knew that Bill was referring to Pinky’s old habit of burning debris as a way of luring Colleen to pay a visit to his trailer.

“Look, Sheriff,” Pinky said. “If you want to know who set this fire, then put out an all-points bulletin for Custis. I guarantee he’s behind this in some way. Now, if there’s nothing further, I have to call my insurance company.”

“Not so fast,” Bill said, blocking Pinky with his arm. “How much insurance did you have on this place?”

“Is he serious?” Pinky asked Colleen.

She nodded.

“It’s a common motive for arson,” Bill said. “Were you or were you not at the house arguing with Denny Custis this morning?”

“I don’t understand why you keep coming back to that.”

Colleen noted Pinky’s perplexed expression. Could it be? Had Pinky not heard about Denny’s demise in the fire? “He doesn’t know,” she said to Bill.

“I don’t know what?”

“Don’t go anywhere,” Bill said, and abruptly walked away.

“What’s going on?” Pinky asked.

Bill made his way into the crowd. Moments later he emerged with the woman and boy who had witnessed the man arguing with Denny before the fire. Bill pointed at Pinky and Colleen. The boy and his mother looked in their direction.

“Why do I feel like I’m in a lineup,” Pinky said.

Because you are, she thought, and held her breath. Seconds later the boy and mother shook their heads, and she let out a silent sigh of relief. Pinky was not the man that had been fighting with Denny. Bill patted the boy on his back, shook the woman’s hand, and rejoined Colleen and Pinky.

“They couldn’t make an ID,” Bill said to her.

“He’s going to find out,” she said. “Isn’t it better he hears it now than on the evening news?”

“You know, I’m right here,” Pinky said, waving his hand between them. “Would you two stop being so cryptic and tell me what’s going on?”

Bill paused and then said, “Someone perished in the fire. Colleen thinks it was Custis.”

Pinky’s normally tan face paled.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Pinky took a deep breath, nodded, and color returned to his cheeks. “Any idea what he might have been doing in your house?”

“He’s vandalized my properties before, mostly stealing copper piping and tools, but I never thought he’d…”

The sound of the ocean filled the silence.

Pinky cleared his throat and collected himself. “I’d like to go if that’s okay with you.”

Bill studied Pinky a moment and then said, “Do us a favor. Don’t mention any of this to that reporter. We still haven’t had an ID from the medical examiner’s office.”

“Of course not,” Pinky said. He forced a smile at Colleen and then disappeared around the side of the house.

Pinky was many things, but he wasn’t a murderer. Right now, however, he was the only person with a strong motive.

“You think Pinky’s right? That Denny’s responsible for the fire?” she asked.

“I don’t know. But I do wonder what he was doing on Salvatore’s property.”

She poked at the sand with her foot, lost in thought, and kicked a piece of litter into the air. She noted the garbage and was annoyed to see that it was three attached matches. Now who would smoke and throw that on the ground with dune grass nearby? Didn’t they realize it could start a fire? Her eyes widened. She squatted and examined the spent matches. “I think Agent Morgan will want to see this.”

Bill surveyed the ground, spotted the matches, and disappeared around the front of the house. Minutes later, he returned with the investigator.

“I understand you’ve found something,” Morgan said.

She pointed to the ground. Agent Morgan examined the matches, took a photo, and then carefully placed them into a metal container.

“They were under the sand. You think it’s the igniter?”

“If it is,” the agent said, “it’s a different shark.” He flashed Colleen the briefest of closed-lip smiles and marched away.

“What’s he talking about sharks for?” Bill asked.

She spotted Rodney jogging toward them. “I’ll fill you in later.”

“Hey, Bill,” Rodney called from the corner of the house. “The press wants a statement.”

Colleen groaned.

“Tell them we’re coming,” Bill said. The deputy nodded and jogged away. “We should get Agent Morgan.”

“Something tells me he’s not the press conference type,” she said.

“Do you want to do it?” Bill asked.

“How long have you known me?”

“I’ll get started then,” Bill said, knowing of her distrust of the press, and strode toward the crowd while she went to retrieve Morgan.

The press conference was brief. Colleen confirmed that they had found a victim in the fire, Bill handled questions about the possibility of the death being a homicide, and Agent Morgan refused to speculate if the mainland arsonist had struck again. She had been relieved that he didn’t bring up the shark theory. Afterwards, she consulted with Morgan, left two guys at the site with the engine on the first shift of the twenty-four-hour rekindle watch, said good-bye to Bill, and headed back to the station. She was anxious to find out how her men were doing—particularly Chip and Kenny, who had been inside the burning structure. Responding to a call that involved a death was never easy.

Chapter 6

“You’re not Superman,”
Fawn said to Chip with tears in her eyes. “You don’t have a cape.”

“I got something better,” Chip said, stealing a look at his fellow firefighters, who were checking equipment in the engine bay and pretending not to hear his conversation with his fianc
é
e. “I got turnout gear.”

Colleen and Jimmy exchanged a knowing look. This was one of the hardest aspects of the job—helping significant others understand why firefighting was not only an occupation, but a calling.

“Aren’t you proud of me?” Chip asked.

Fawn caressed his cheek. “Of course I am, Chipmunk. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“I got a great team here,” Chip said, gesturing to the room.

Colleen and Jimmy pretended to study paperwork as Fawn scanned the group. They peeked back in time to see Chip take Fawn’s chin in his hands and lift her face to his.

“Can’t I put out any fire?” he asked.

The room fell silent. Everyone felt the pain of the situation and the importance of the moment. Fawn stared into Chip’s eyes.

“Except the one you started in my heart,” she said, and kissed him deeply.

Someone called “Get a room!” and Fawn and Chip smiled sheepishly. Colleen heard Jimmy sniffle and caught him wiping his eyes.

“Are you crying?” she teased.

Jimmy wiped away a tear. “Better watch out. I’ll start calling you Cold-Hearted McCabe,” he said with a wag of the finger.

She gaped at him.

“Consider yourself warned,” he said with a grin, and exited.

Sparky gazed up at her. “I have feelings, don’t I?” she asked, and the dog wagged his tail.

“Hey, Crepe,” one of the guys called to Bobby. “When’s your momma coming by?”

“Why would she come by?” Bobby asked.

“Doesn’t she after every call?” someone else piped in.

“Yeah, since when does she need a reason?” Kenny asked, and the room broke into laughter.

Bobby shook his head. Kenny poked him in the gut, provoking a smirk. Chip kissed Fawn good-bye and then joined the men in packing equipment. A few swatted at Chip and whispered comments, undoubtedly ribbing him about Fawn.

“Chief McCabe!” Fawn called, and bounded to her. “I wanted to tell you what an honor it is that you’ve agreed to be one of my spiritual guides at our union ceremony. Your presence is a great blessing.”

“I’ve been called many things, but never a blessing,” Colleen said, amused.

Fawn grabbed Colleen’s hand. Colleen peeked at the men, unsure what the spirited young woman was up to and afraid that her men might witness Fawn doing another reading of her aura. Once in front of Chip last summer had been bad enough.

Instead, the young woman squeezed her hand and said, “If there is anything I can ever do to repay your kindness, you just need ask.”

She noticed Chip watching them and gently pulled her hand free. “Actually,” she said. “There is something you can do.”

“Really?” Fawn asked, delighted.

“Why don’t we speak out back?” Colleen said, and walked outside with Fawn and Sparky trailing close behind.

“Everything okay?” Chip asked as they passed him.

“Just girl talk,” Fawn said. She blew him a kiss.

Colleen resisted the urge to roll her eyes. One thing she had never been into was “girl talk.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Fawn said as they rounded the corner to the back where the guys practiced their drills.

“Sure.”

“You’ve got a boyfriend. What does he think of you being a firefighter?”

Colleen stopped in her tracks. There was no way she was going to discuss her relationship with Bill with Fawn. “I know you’re concerned about Chip,” she said. “But being a firefighter requires that he—and you—make sacrifices.”

Fawn hung her head. “I worry about him.”

“I know you do. And so does Chip. But there is one thing you can do to make it easier for him at the station.”

“What’s that?” Fawn asked, brightening.

“Try not to do your worrying here, in front of the guys. It makes it harder for Chip to do his job and gives his friends ammunition for teasing.”

“No more running to the station after calls. Got it.”

Colleen grinned. She could see why Chip was in love with the girl. She had a certain wonderful energy about her.

“So,” Fawn said. “What is it that you wanted to ask me?”

“You and Chip live up in Carova. What’s it been like up there lately?”

“How do you mean?”

“I understand there’s been some tension with the tour companies,” she said, wishing to remain diplomatic since she didn’t know how Fawn might feel about the various factions that were in disagreement over the use of the land.

“I know the tour companies have to make a living, but there has to be a way they can do it without interfering with our animal friends.”

“You mean interfering with the horses and the piping plover?”

Fawn nodded. “It’s the scary Snellings and their Tour-zilla trucks that’s the problem. You can’t tell me those big trucks aren’t doing damage.”

“Why do you say the Snellings are scary?”

“Apparently, the father wanted to run his tours through someone’s front yard so they could turn the tour around easier instead of using the longer route of the road. He dug into records and found out the man who owned the house had fallen on hard times and was at risk of losing his house, so he pressured the man to take money in exchange for allowing the tour to go through the property. Then the son tore up the land so badly with the truck that the man had to move out anyway. What kinda person treats people like that?”

Colleen wasn’t sure if that made the Snellings scary, but they certainly sounded greedy. “What about the horse preservation society and plover foundation folks? I heard they’ve sometimes been at odds,” she said, recalling her conversation with Myrtle.

“It’s the bird people versus the horse people,” Fawn said with disappointment. “My aunt Autumn is more in the piping plover camp. Personally, I think there’s room for all of heaven’s creatures.”

Colleen wasn’t surprised by this answer. Fawn’s driveway was lined with adorable figurines of rabbits and chipmunks.

“You hear anything about tensions regarding construction or development?” she asked, purposely leaving out Denny’s and Pinky’s names, given the ongoing investigation into Denny’s death.

“Nope. But if you want to know the skinny, you should talk to my aunt when she calls about having the transcendent exchange ritual.”

“The what?”

“It’s a ritual done at the ceremony,” Fawn said. “She’ll explain it all to you when you meet.”

“It’s not like a wedding shower, is it?” Colleen asked. She had never felt comfortable at showers—baby, wedding, or otherwise. She liked the idea of the female bonding, but had always felt like the biggest klutz in the room when she had attended past showers. She was fully aware that these events did not play to her strengths and only served to highlight how different she was from some of her sex.