Foal Play: A Mystery (4 page)

“Can’t. Too dangerous.”

Colleen rolled her eyes. “Myrtle, you’re perfectly safe. But you won’t be when the fireworks start.”

“Then you’d better get in here quick.”

Colleen sighed. Better humor Myrtle and get her out of the restricted area before the fireworks started exploding overhead. All she needed was to have the falling embers hit the trees and Myrtle go up in flames. Colleen picked her way into the grove of trees. Sparky whimpered, excited to be exploring new territory.

“To your left,” Myrtle said in a whisper.

Pinecones crunched underfoot as Colleen walked in the direction of Myrtle’s voice. Sparky tugged on his leash, impatient at the slow progress. Finally, Colleen reached her former teacher. “What are you doing in here?”

“Not so loud. You want someone to hear us?” Myrtle said, grabbing Colleen’s arm and yanking her deeper into the wood.

“I’m busy and the mosquitoes are biting, so what is it?” Colleen asked and pulled her arm away.

Myrtle checked to be sure they were alone. “The men who brought the fireworks? They’re friends of Antonio Salvatore.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Myrtle. I don’t have time to hear about Pinky right now,” Colleen said in disgust and turned to go.

“Colleen Elizabeth McCabe,” Myrtle said in a tone Colleen hadn’t heard since she was nine years old. “You will listen to me when I’m speaking.”

Colleen reluctantly faced Myrtle. “You’ve got ten seconds. Go.”

Myrtle took a deep breath. “Earlier this evening, when I was patrolling the herds near the lighthouse, I saw three men unloading fireworks. I didn’t think too much about them until one of them pulled out a gun. Then I got worried they’d shoot one of the horses grazing on the grounds.”

“They went after the horses?” Colleen asked, now concerned.

“No. The gunmen didn’t even seem to notice the horses, but if they had I bet they would’ve shot them. What kind of people have guns in Corolla? I’ll tell you what kind—gangsters. Mr. Salvatore is setting up Mafia headquarters here. I just know it.”

Colleen highly doubted Pinky was making Corolla Mob headquarters. She wondered if Myrtle had really seen a gun. After all, Myrtle had witnessed the event at a distance with a sixty-five-year-old’s eyesight. “When was the last time you had your eyes checked?”

“I don’t need glasses!” Myrtle said, raising her voice. “I know what I saw. I watch the news. I read the
Outer Banks Sentinel
. If I say I saw a gun, then I saw a gun.”

Before Colleen could reply Sparky started growling. It was a low growl like the one he used when delivery persons came to the door at home. Colleen scanned the trees and saw the outline of a man advancing toward them … and he had a gun. She jerked Myrtle to the ground and quietly ordered Sparky to be silent. He, too, lay down. Colleen, Myrtle, and Sparky spied as the man drew closer and peered into the thicket in their direction.

“Hey, it’s Sweet Boy.… That you?” the man asked in a gruff whisper.

Sparky snarled; Colleen pulled him closer. The man stared into the brush that enveloped them. Colleen studied as much of his profile as she could in the dim light but all she could make out was a strong nose. The man paused a moment, then tucked the gun in the small of his back and disappeared the way he had come. Colleen, Myrtle, and Sparky waited until they were sure the coast was clear, then let out a collective sigh. Colleen found that she had been squeezing Myrtle’s arm and released her.

“That’s some grip you’ve got there,” Myrtle said and rubbed her forearm.

“Sorry,” Colleen said with sincerity. She had been told more than once that she had a viselike grip. She hoped Myrtle didn’t bruise easily.

“Now do you believe me?” Myrtle asked.

“Did you tell anyone else about what you saw?”

“Of course not. What do you take me for?” Myrtle asked, back to her usual, crabby self.

“You should tell Sheriff Dorman. This is really his department.”

“I can’t. A man saw me. They’ve probably got me under surveillance. You tell him.”

Colleen thought about her disagreement with Bill on the beach and how he had accused her of meddling. “Trust me, the sheriff will prefer talking to you.”

“But if I go to the sheriff they’ll whack me.”

Myrtle had obviously seen one too many episodes of
The Sopranos
. The likelihood of anyone being whacked in the Outer Banks was slim to none. In the last two years there had only been one murder in all of Currituck County, not counting the body found on the beach this morning. Still, there was something disturbing about a man with a gun lurking in the woods.

“Fine,” Colleen said. “I’ll tell Sheriff Dorman what you saw and you can go home and be safe.”

“I can’t go home. Nellie’s expecting me at the booth.”

Maybe it was her fight with Bill this morning. Maybe it was being stuck in the mosquito-infested trees with her former teacher and a gunman. Maybe it was the heat. But Colleen had had enough. “Damn it, Myrtle, either you think someone’s trying to kill you or you don’t. My advice? Go home. But you do what you want!” she said with irritation.

“Well … I never … and after all I taught you,” Myrtle said after a moment of shock and marched away in a snit.

Colleen groaned in frustration as Myrtle stomped through the foliage and disappeared. Sparky squirmed on his leash wanting to follow. In case Myrtle really was being watched, Colleen held back a few moments before picking her way out of the trees. Until she knew for certain what was going on, there was no point in taking any chances. The presence of the man with the gun brought back her earlier concern about trouble arriving in Corolla. Was it coincidence or were the body on the beach and the man with the gun somehow connected? And if so, how? Colleen didn’t have answers to her questions but she had every intention of getting some.

“Never eat more
than your mask can hold.” It was one of the first lessons Colleen learned as a junior firefighter and it came to mind now as she passed fairgoers stuffing their mouths with greasy treats from vendors.

Colleen pushed her way through the crowd searching for Bill. Her heart beat in her throat and perspiration ran down her temples. She fought through the lines of people and squinted from the intensity of the lights hung around the grounds. A teen boy jostled Colleen and stepped on Sparky’s paw. Sparky barked at the boy as he disappeared behind the “Dunk the Clown” cage. Colleen spotted Bill three booths away. She waved and called out to him but her voice was drowned out by the sound of the announcer on the loudspeaker broadcasting the beginning of the fireworks.

The lights around the booths dimmed. All eyes focused upward. Neon necklaces, bracelets, and anklets floated about the grounds on the bodies of children. A woman with a stroller bumped into Colleen and apologized profusely. She forced a smile, then surveyed the area for Bill. She scanned the booths, grounds, and road but he was nowhere to be seen.

The first fireworks exploded overhead. Colleen did a final search for Bill and turned back toward the engines. Her job demanded her complete attention now. She’d tell Bill about the man with the gun as soon as the fireworks were over. She concentrated on the falling debris from the explosives and began her patrol of the area with Sparky. The dog had an uncanny ability to detect fire the moment a spark ignited. It was how he had earned his nickname.

It took Colleen more than half an hour to circle the fairgrounds, during which she stopped occasionally to appreciate the fireworks. As a child her favorites had been the green and red ones that burst into enormous parachutes and the small white ones that broke apart, fragments whistling as they flew in different directions. However, after fifteen years of firefighting, she now preferred the ones that burst into stars and then quickly fizzled out.

Colleen reached the emergency vehicle parking area. The grand finale would be starting soon. She wanted to get Sparky into her SUV before the final series of fireworks were rapidly launched into the air. The loud noises had always bothered the canine. If it weren’t for his expert nose, she would have left him safely locked up at the station.

Sparky pulled hard on his leash. “Hey, easy there,” Colleen said in a firm voice.

The dog barked loudly. He cocked his head to the side with one ear up. Colleen followed Sparky’s gaze south, away from the fireworks. Her eyebrows furrowed. Then she realized what had put him on alert. A fire.

Colleen leapt into action, her athlete’s reflexes kicking in. The fireworks’ grand finale began as she raced to her SUV at top speed, Sparky right beside her. She yanked open the door and Sparky jumped inside ahead of her. She whipped the door closed, started the engine, and flicked her emergency lights on. Just as she was reaching for her cell phone, it rang. She checked the number on the display. It was Jimmy. She hit the green button.

“I’m headed down Ocean Trail now,” she said before Jimmy could speak.

“The call just came in. How’d you know, Chief?”

Colleen peeked at Sparky and rubbed his ears. “Sparky.”

“That dog deserves a medal,” Jimmy said.

“I think he’d prefer a pig’s ear. See you there,” Colleen said and hung up.

Colleen zipped down the two-lane highway, lights flashing and siren blaring, and heard the alarm at the firehouse sound. She would be just in front of them. She peered at the night sky and could barely make out a path of black smoke obstructing the stars. Familiar with the neighborhood, she traced the smoke path to its source. Mostly locals and vacationers interested in fishing on the sound resided there. The booms of the fireworks were fading behind her when, suddenly, there was a loud explosion up ahead. Sparky howled.

“Damn,” Colleen said and stomped on the pedal. The explosion meant gas had leaked at the fire. She hoped nobody had been home at the residence.

The hot summer wind whipped through Colleen’s hair. She reached into the glove compartment for an elastic to tie her tresses back. With a practiced hand she wrapped her hair in a short regulation ponytail at the nape of her neck and put on her hat. She saw the engine approaching in her rearview mirror. Good. Jimmy and the guys were right behind her.

As Colleen pulled off the main road four wild horses darted across her path in a panic. They had clearly been near the explosion and were disoriented and confused. Colleen took a second to watch them run to safety among the dunes, then steered onto a side road. As she made her way to the scene, she could feel the heat of the fire. It was only then that she realized the residence rapidly burning to the ground was that of Myrtle and Bobby Crepe. Myrtle’s earlier words about the man with the gun echoed in her mind. “A man saw me.… If I go to the sheriff they’ll whack me.” The hair on the back of Colleen’s neck stood on end. Was someone trying to kill Myrtle because she had seen too much? Had she been wrong to advise Myrtle to go home? Colleen swallowed hard, hoping Myrtle was still at the fair with Nellie.

Colleen screeched to a halt in the sand a safe distance from the house, ordered Sparky to stay, and slammed her door closed. Bill was already there ordering his men to secure a perimeter to keep onlookers away. The engine arrived and the firefighters jumped into action putting on masks, grabbing Halligan tools and axes, and pulling hoses.

Her first priority was to ascertain whether Myrtle and Bobby had been home and if so, to get them out. She glanced over the one-story rambler. Most of the activity was in the front left of the house. The blast had shattered windows in that section and smoke, heat, and gases billowed out and heavenward. That would save her team the task of ventilating the building. They needed to enter the structure and locate possible victims soon before it collapsed. She met Jimmy at the front of the engine.

“The search-and-rescue guys ready?” she asked.

Jimmy peeked around the side of the engine at the men donning their facepieces and breathing apparatuses. The last man secured his equipment and gave Jimmy the thumbs-up.

“Ready,” Jimmy said.

Colleen nodded and Jimmy signaled the men to enter the building.

As the men made their way to the front door, curtains in another room of the house ignited in flames.

“We need to get this thing under control. Get the guys on layering the fire to protect our men. Salvage as much of the Crepe home as possible,” Colleen said.

“Got it,” Jimmy said and moved away to attend to the fire control and conservation duties.

Colleen listened on her walkie-talkie as her team made its way into the smoky structure. She bit the inside of her lip, a nervous habit that wouldn’t subside until all were safely out of the building.

The men cranked open the hydrant and began dousing the flames, working in layers, from ground to roof, right to left, and back again. As Colleen monitored their progress, Bill joined her.

“You think anyone was home?” he asked.

“I hope not,” she said with genuine concern. “See anything before I got here?”

“A broken window in front maybe. Could have been the explosion.” Colleen nodded and an awkward pause followed. “Well, let me know if you need anything,” Bill finally said, tipped his hat, and jogged off.

Colleen exhaled deeply. She hated when they fought.

It took a while before the men got the fire under control. Colleen surveyed the exterior of the residence. Her squad had managed to save half of the structure but the roof over the kitchen was gone and there was extensive smoke and water damage. The men had done well, all things considered. Colleen relaxed a little. Then the bad news came. The rescue team had found a body.

Her heart sank. It was an experience no firefighter wanted to have.

“Chief? You there?” said the rescue team leader over the walkie-talkie.

“I’ll be right in,” Colleen responded. She took a breath, donned protective gear, and proceeded toward the house.

Colleen stepped over the threshold and made her way through the remains of the foyer. The rescue team parted to let her pass. She entered the kitchen and saw the body. It was scorched beyond recognition but Colleen could tell by its size that it was the body of a woman, a stout woman. She stood in the middle of what was left of the room and shook her head in disbelief. Myrtle Crepe was dead.