Foal Play: A Mystery (3 page)

No, her gut had never steered her wrong and right now it was telling her that the burned body on the beach meant trouble had arrived on their little island. Bill would need all the help he could get. Perhaps a new approach was in order. Colleen gently placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“Come on, Bill,” she said, lowering her voice. “How long have we been friends?”

Bill saw Rodney watching them and quickly pulled away. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for tonight’s fireworks? Checking permits, the engine, duty schedules?”

Colleen’s neck and cheeks flushed red with fury. It was one thing for Bill to stubbornly protest her involvement in the case. It was another thing to tell her how to do her job. She glared at him a moment, waiting for him to take it back. Rodney pretended to study his camera. A gull squawked. An awkward moment passed.

“Fine!” Colleen snapped.

She stomped to her vehicle, where Sparky eagerly awaited release. She yanked open the driver’s-side door, shooed the dog aside, squeezed in, started the engine, and hit the gas. The SUV spun its wheels in the sand, then lurched forward down the beach. Sparky watched sadly out the window as Bill and the stinky pool disappeared behind him.

Colleen returned to the firehouse in a foul mood. She pulled into the lot in the back. She pushed open the door and was nearly knocked to the ground as Sparky leapt out and hurried inside. He knew to stay clear of her when she was angry. There would be no treats, no walks, no fun.

Colleen stormed into the station. Having finished the morning chores, two of the volunteers were taking a break playing Nerf basketball. Jimmy spotted Colleen marching through the entrance and instantly sensed something was wrong. He tried to warn the men playing basketball with a quick whistle but it was too late. Colleen rounded the corner and one of the Nerf players bumped into her as he was about to take a shot.

“Sorry, Chief,” the man said, recovering and preparing to shoot.

“What’s going on here?” Colleen asked, grabbing the ball from the volunteer’s hands.

Jimmy quickly stepped forward. “I thought the guys could use some downtime. Everything’s ready for tonight.”

“Inspection. Now!”

The men scrambled to attention in a line along the wall. Colleen walked the firehouse, checking for any task that still had not been performed—unswept floors, missing oxygen masks, improperly wrapped hoses. As she approached the men to inspect their appearance, they avoided eye contact. Nobody wanted Chief McCabe to interpret eye contact as a sign of disrespect or insubordination. They knew from experience that this was one thing she wouldn’t tolerate.

As she studied the men’s faces, Colleen remembered how lonely she had felt when she first became chief. It had been hard, especially for the older, more experienced firefighters, to adjust to the idea of having a woman for a boss. They had reluctantly accepted her as an important member of the team, even eventually as fire lieutenant, but as chief? They didn’t think so.

The rebellion had come mostly in the form of the cold shoulder, clearing a room when she entered or whispering inside jokes and laughing behind her back. But there had also been the occasional sexist comment loud enough for her to hear, a lewd gesture within her line of sight, and sexually explicit pinups and calendars posted on the outside of the bathroom door. What the firefighters hadn’t counted on was Colleen’s Irish stubbornness and intense work ethic. The more insubordinate they became, the more Colleen dug in her heels and demanded the men be fit, professional, and sober.

The turning point had come a month into the job. She had given the men a chance to adjust and get their act together. It was time to call a meeting and lay down the law. She had told them calmly and quietly: 1) They could bemoan the loss of their old chief and the former fraternity-type atmosphere, but it wouldn’t change the present circumstances. 2) She wasn’t there to be their friend—she had enough friends. 3) Her priority was safety—the community’s and theirs. 4) Hard work would be recognized and rewarded. And 5) Firing someone was preferable to attending his funeral. Then she had marched from the room.

It was in the moment of silence after her departure that the men finally got it. They weren’t going to break her. She wasn’t going anywhere. Colleen was fire chief because she wanted to be fire chief, because she valued and respected the job, because she cared about the safety of the community and her firefighting team. As much as the men had opposed her upon her appointment, that was how loyal they were now.

Colleen felt her temperature and blood pressure return to normal as she examined the engines and men. Despite her best effort to find something wrong, the station was in tip-top shape. Jimmy clearly had the men ready for tonight. He was right; they did deserve some downtime. It wasn’t fair to take out her anger at Bill on the guys.

“Put your feet up,” Colleen said. The men glanced at one another, unsure. “Relax. At ease.”

One by one the men fell out of line, the storm now over. Colleen tossed the Nerf basketball to the firefighter who had bumped into her and smiled.

“If you can beat Kenny, I’ll make Sunday’s spaghetti,” she said.

“We’ll hold you to that, Chief,” the man said and moved to take a shot.

The guys began cheering the Nerf players and things were back to normal. Jimmy approached Colleen as the men played. “Everything okay?”

“Some kids found a body at the northern end. Bill’s out there now,” Colleen said, not wanting to get into what had happened between her and Bill. “So how’d it go with Pinky?”

Jimmy smiled broadly. Colleen grinned. “Champagne,” they said in unison.

“So what did he say about the burning?” she asked.

“Once he saw it was me, not much. I cited him like always but fines don’t mean anything to that guy. He’s gonna keep it up until you go out with him, Chief.”

“Ha-ha,” Colleen said, playfully punching Jimmy in the arm.

“He had a new guy. Maybe an assistant. Kept lurking over my shoulder. You know the kind of person that stands too close?”

“Pinky’s connected to the company doing the fireworks this year. Maybe the new guy is part of the fireworks crew.” Colleen glanced at her watch. “Speaking of which, it’s time to get things in gear.”

“Gotcha,” Jimmy said, suddenly businesslike, and whistled to get the men’s attention.

As Jimmy rounded up the men, Colleen’s mind drifted to this latest news about Pinky. It was bad enough she had to fend off Pinky’s advances, now she was going to have to deal with a space-invading assistant. This was news best kept from Bill … not that she and Bill were speaking.

“Chief?” Jimmy said.

Colleen turned and saw Jimmy and the men waiting for her orders. She’d worry about Pinky’s new assistant and work things out with Bill later. Duty called.

After a hearty dinner
of fried chicken, potato salad, and apple pie, Colleen called everyone to order, reviewed assignments and procedures for a final time, and turned the floor over to Jimmy to lead them in firefighter A.W. “Smokey” Linn’s 1958 “The Fireman’s Prayer.”

The men bowed their heads in reverence.

“‘When I am called to duty, God,’” Jimmy began.

Colleen studied her firefighters as they silently prayed, eyes closed, lips mouthing the familiar words. She knew through private conversations that a few of the men were not particularly religious. However, they chose to participate as a show of solidarity and took the moment as an opportunity to reflect on the importance of the job and their families. Every firefighter appreciated that the next call could be his or her last.

Most stations around the country now reserved “The Fireman’s Prayer” for special occasions and posted it at the station rather than have it said at meals. Sensitive to her team’s diversity of beliefs and faiths, she had put the issue to a vote shortly after she had become chief. After much thoughtful discussion, the Station 6 family had decided unanimously to have the prayer said as part of tradition and agreed that those who did not want to participate or be present were free to abstain without retribution.

Jimmy concluded and the men joined him in a final “Amen.”

The men assigned to the Fourth of July fireworks packed for the short trip to the Whalehead Club grounds. The club was a favorite destination for vacationers wanting to tour the fully restored 1920s-era building with its Art Nouveau architecture. It was also adjacent to the ever-popular 162-foot-high, historic Currituck Beach Lighthouse. The grounds offered visitors a place to enjoy fireworks, summer concert series, boating, and wine and art festivals while the lighthouse afforded anyone willing to climb the 214 cast-iron steps stunning sunsets and spectacular views.

Colleen checked her own equipment, left Jimmy in charge at the station to handle calls, and proceeded to the fireworks staging area with Sparky to do a final inspection with the pyrotechnics company supervisor.

As the sky blazed pink and salmon with the setting sun, the crowd of vacationers making their way north to the Whalehead Club increased in numbers. This year, in addition to the fireworks, Beach Resort Realty was sponsoring a fair with booths, food, giveaways, and activities for children. Colleen was not happy about this. More people meant more traffic problems and more chances for something to go wrong.

Colleen waved from her window as she drove past Nellie Byrd manning the Lighthouse Wild Horse Preservation Society booth. She spotted Bill instructing people on available parking but avoided eye contact and kept driving. He could apologize to her later.

She passed throngs of people walking along the road to the fair. There were families with children, love-struck couples with blankets, young executives with cell phones, and packs of teens with mischief on their minds. She parked in an area designated for emergency vehicles and leashed Sparky, who tugged hard when she opened the door.

The smell of funnel cake, barbecued chicken, cotton candy, hot dogs, and freshly baked pies swirled together, creating an overwhelming olfactory experience. Sparky whined with pleasure. Colleen pulled the Border collie away from the booths through the crowd to the roped-off area where the fireworks would be ignited. Her assessment and approval was necessary before the show could begin.

Colleen eyed the dozen or so pyrotechnic workers in orange safety vests and searched for their supervisor. She noticed a handsome, tanned man in his early twenties with dark curly hair admiring the sunset. The man’s hands were shoved into the back pockets of his jeans, giving him a stance reminiscent of a young Marlon Brando. He shifted his gaze and their eyes met. Her cheeks flushed pink at having been caught watching him and deepened to red when he smiled at her.

“Can I help you?” came a voice from behind her.

Colleen jumped and discovered the pyrotechnics supervisor studying her. “Mr. Marchetti,” she said, regaining her composure.

“In the flesh,” the man said. “We’ve been waiting for you, Chief McCabe.”

“Right,” Colleen said. “Let’s do this, then.”

As Colleen and the supervisor moved away toward the explosives, she stole a look over her shoulder and searched for the handsome, tanned worker but there was no sign of him. She refocused her attention on the supervisor and the task of scrutinizing the site.

Colleen devoted the next thirty minutes to carefully completing the inspection. After conferring with the supervisor and ordering the removal of several defective shells, she was satisfied that the setup was in order and signed off on its safety. She scanned the crew as they positioned themselves for the start of the fireworks show, searching their faces for the worker she’d seen earlier.

“Is something wrong?” the supervisor asked.

“Is this all of your crew?”

The supervisor gave his men a once-over. “Sure is,” he said after a moment. “You looking for someone?”

How could she ask the supervisor if he had a man with a tan and dark hair working for him? The description fit more than half of his crew. And what legitimate reason could she give for asking about him? She had none. “No, I’m good,” Colleen said and left the supervisor and his team to do their jobs.

Colleen made her way toward her vehicle, puzzled. If the man she had seen earlier wasn’t part of the fireworks team, then who was he and why was he wearing an orange vest like those of the pyrotechnic workers? Perhaps more important, why did she care? Was she actually attracted to this younger man? Ridiculous, she thought. He’s not even my type.

A flash of movement near the Currituck Beach Lighthouse caught her eye and instantly caused her to forget the handsome stranger. Was there someone lurking near the historic structure? That section of the grounds had been cleared and cordoned off because of its proximity to the fireworks. If somebody was there, she needed to get them out for their own safety.

Colleen cautiously approached a cluster of pines and bushes. She peered back over her shoulder as she crept onto the lighthouse property. She was no longer visible to the fireworks crowd. Suddenly, Sparky stopped, cocked his head, and pointed his nose at the woods. She squeezed the leash tight in her hand, listened, and heard what had attracted the dog’s attention—a low, deep whistle. Someone was hiding in the shadows.

Colleen and Sparky stood motionless. She eyed the thicket of trees for any sign of movement but the foliage was dense and the sunlight fading. She wished she had her sturdy metal Maglite with her for illumination and protection. Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she waited for additional noise. Nothing. Whatever she thought she had seen or heard was gone. The sound of the pines swishing in the breeze and the delighted screams of children at the fair slowly filtered their way back into her consciousness. She pulled Sparky away from the wood toward the emergency vehicle parking area.

“Colleen,” came a whispered voice. Colleen whirled around and peered with concern at the grove. “Get over here this instant!” came a cranky command.

Colleen’s concern swiftly became annoyance. “Myrtle? Is that you?”

“Geez, yes, just get in here.”

“I’m working. Why don’t you come out here,” Colleen said, straining to see her former school teacher in the darkness.