Foal Play: A Mystery (6 page)

“Quiet now,” she said. “You’re upsetting Bobby. You don’t really want to do that, do you?”

“Yes,” Charlie said, grinning and bobbing his head up and down.

“Now, Charlie, you better stop or Sheriff Dorman will have to take you down to the station. You know how much you like the station.”

Charlie folded his arms over his broad chest and jutted out his lower lip in a defiant pout.

“I want him arrested,” Bobby said, still trying to break free of Bill but with much less energy than before.

“No!” Charlie said and turned his back.

Colleen widened her eyes in disbelief. This was becoming a circus.

“We don’t have any reason to take Charlie in,” Bill said to Bobby.

“You heard him. He burned my house down! He killed my mother!”

Bill used his strength to gently but firmly move Bobby away. Colleen could hear Bill trying to calm Bobby. “Come on,” he said in a low voice, “you know how Charlie can be. He says things that don’t mean anything.”

“What’s he doing here then?” Bobby asked.

It was a good question. Charlie didn’t live on this part of Corolla and it wouldn’t be the first time he had set something on fire. Several years ago Charlie had accidentally set dune grass on fire with matches he had found in a public garbage bin. Fortunately, a quick-thinking vacationer had doused the fire with a hose before it reached his beach house.

“Bobby has a point,” Colleen said to Bill. “This isn’t Charlie’s neighborhood.”

“See, Chief McCabe agrees with me,” Bobby said.

Bill frowned at her. Uh-oh. The last thing she needed was Bill thinking she had ganged up on him.

“I didn’t say that,” she said. “I just don’t think it’s in Charlie’s nature. I mean, look at him.”

Charlie was now happily wearing Jimmy’s helmet, which teetered several sizes too small on the top of his large round head.

“I’m still going to have to question him,” Bill said.

Colleen knew Bill was right. She also knew how upset Charlie would be.

“And you, too, Bobby.”

“Me?” Bobby said with a gasp.

“You can’t be serious,” Colleen said.

Bill glared at her. Oops. Why couldn’t she keep her big mouth shut?

“If there’s nothing further, I’ll go check on my guys,” she said and tried not to appear in a hurry as she scurried away. She was glad she had her protective gear on. Bill could have burned a hole in her back with that look.

Colleen approached Jimmy. “Everything okay, Chief?” he asked.

“Bill needs to question Charlie at the station,” she said in a whisper. “You up for helping me to get him to go?”

Jimmy gave her a thumbs-up.

“Hey, Charlie,” Colleen said. “You mind helping Jimmy and me figure out what happened with the fire?”

“You mean like a junior firefighter?” he asked.

“Sure, like a junior firefighter,” she said.

“What do I have to do?”

“Nothing much. Just tell Sheriff Dorman what you saw.”

Charlie’s shoulders dropped and his eyebrows furrowed. “Do I have to go to the station?”

“Only for a little while. Then you can go home.”

Charlie shook his head.

“I bet the sheriff will let you turn on the lights in his car when you’re done,” Jimmy said.

“Really?” he asked.

“I’ll make sure he does,” Jimmy said. “How about it, big man?”

Charlie eyed Colleen and Jimmy. She could feel her firefighters holding their breath, waiting. “Come on, Charlie. What do you say?” she said.

Charlie paused then said simply, “Okay.”

“Thataboy,” Jimmy said. “Let’s you and I go tell the sheriff.”

Jimmy patted Charlie on the back and took him to Bill, who helped Charlie into his vehicle. Colleen searched the area for Bobby and spotted him sitting in his car, watching. She was relieved that Bill had decided to question Bobby later. Losing a family member and your home was traumatic. He didn’t need to be put through an interrogation, at least not tonight.

For the second time that evening, Colleen was blinded by approaching headlights. This time she recognized the vehicle. It was the coroner’s. The SUV slowed and stopped in front of the house. Bill met the coroner as he exited his vehicle. After a brief exchange, they continued toward the house. Bobby hopped from his car and hurried after them.

“Bobby,” Colleen called and sprinted to intercept him.

“I want to see her,” Bobby said.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I didn’t know she was … why was she…” Bobby choked out before breaking down in tears.

Colleen was sorry she had questioned Bobby’s earlier reaction. He was clearly grieving. They all were. She patted his back and found herself in a sudden bear hug. Bobby’s sobs increased in volume. She braced herself against his weight as he crumpled in her arms.

“I know,” she said, awkwardly tapping his back. Colleen felt her eyes welling with tears. It wasn’t fair. Myrtle may have been a nuisance, but it was part of what gave her her spunk. She still had a lot of life in her. How dare someone do this to her.

Colleen caught sight of the coroner’s team making their way from the house with Myrtle’s body. Bobby saw the body bag and broke down sobbing again. Bill’s eyes widened in surprise. Colleen signaled him that she had things under control and watched over Bobby’s shoulder as his mother’s body was quietly, somberly lifted into the coroner’s SUV and taken away.

“Do you have someone you can stay with?” she asked Bobby after the vehicle had been gone a moment.

“Yeah,” he said through sniffles, released her, and backed away. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

He shrugged, shuffled back to his car, squeezed in, and drove off.

Bill pulled out next with Charlie in the back seat. She gave them a short wave, then ordered her squad back to the station. The men removed the wheel stops, slipped out of their coats, and took their seats inside the engine. Colleen allowed the engine to leave ahead of her, gave the Crepe residence a final once-over, and drove out of the neighborhood.

As Colleen made her way back to the firehouse, exhaustion set in. She loosened her ponytail and rolled down the window. Maybe the fresh air would revive her. She stole a glance at Sparky asleep on the front seat. The dog half opened his eyes and closed them again. Colleen wished she could head straight home to her soft, cool bed, but she needed to speak to the men about what had happened before they showered and hit the bunks.

Despite the loss of life, she was pleased by how her team had performed. They had worked safely and efficiently. There was nothing more they could have done to save Myrtle. Most important, nobody got hurt. Since she had become chief, not a single man in her company had suffered a serious injury. It was a record she was proud of and wanted to keep. Every firefighter knew that putting his or her life in danger meant putting the entire team in danger. Colleen pulled into the driveway behind the engine. Sparky moaned to be let out. She opened the door, slid out, and called for him so he could take care of business before they went home later.

When Colleen entered the community room, she found the men already in mid-undress. They were used to her seeing them in their boxer briefs and T-shirts, even if she wasn’t. The worst time had been when one of the guys had had a new tattoo of the Whalehead Fire and Rescue shield inked under his belly button. Everyone had reacted except her. When the men had asked her what she thought, she had acted nonchalant and gave it her seal of approval. To display discomfort would have highlighted that she was a woman in a man’s world. She had worked too hard to break down barriers and create a close, family atmosphere. She wasn’t going to let a silly thing like her uneasiness at seeing her men half-naked ruin that.

Colleen was acutely aware of how she, as a woman, had disrupted the station when she came on board. The common showers, changing area, bathroom, and sleeping quarters weren’t going to work anymore, especially if they were going to bring on women firefighters. In preparation for hiring women, she had had plans drawn up to have the station renovated with separate shower, dressing, and bathroom facilities. She and the men had decided as a group that there was no need for separate sleeping quarters. Those would continue to be reserved according to status, not gender. The renovations were scheduled to begin in the fall when their call load lightened and the weather cooled.

“Everyone’s here, Chief,” Jimmy said while yanking a clean T-shirt over his head.

Colleen began her debriefing. She kept it short, knowing the men were tired and that they’d have a longer meeting the next day. They started with thoughts and prayers for Myrtle. Some even joked about how they would miss her cranky remarks. Colleen praised the team for their dedication and selflessness, reminded them to check their gear and to let Jimmy know if they discovered any problems, and then ordered them to get some sleep.

As the firefighters headed to the showers, Colleen dragged herself up the stairs to her office to change out of her gear. She couldn’t wait until the station renovations were under way. The screen she had put up in her office corner to change behind just wasn’t cutting it. It reminded her too much of the changing area at her gynecologist’s office.

After slipping into jeans and a T-shirt, Colleen spent time completing paperwork while the details of the call were fresh in her mind. By the time she finished, the station had fallen quiet. She wearily turned off her desk light and plodded downstairs. She waved at a couple of the men who were watching television in the recreation room as she passed. They sleepily acknowledged her, then returned to the television. She called for Sparky, who instantly appeared from a dark corner of the garage. Finally, it was time to go home.

Colleen yawned
as she pulled into her driveway. As the SUV slowed to a stop, Sparky lifted himself and blinked sleepily. Colleen cut the engine and lights and allowed the blanket of night to envelop her. She listened to the water lapping at her bayside pier, a toad croaking an intermittent melody, and a bat fluttering overhead catching insects. She loved how peaceful and quiet the world became late at night. She felt her eyelids grow heavy and realized she was in danger of falling asleep in her car. Colleen opened the driver’s-side door and slid from the seat. Sparky clumsily jumped out behind her. She rubbed her neck and stretched her arms, relieved to finally be home.

Colleen dragged herself up the front porch steps and put the key into the lock. She was surprised that Sparky didn’t rush by her in his usual eagerness to be first in. She walked to the edge of the porch and spotted his white muzzle in the shadows. He was staring at a group of azalea bushes that bordered the path that led to the back of the house. His head was cocked slightly to the side with one ear up.

“Not now, fella. It’s late.” That’s all she needed—Sparky chasing after a raccoon in the middle of the night. “Heel,” she said with more force.

She was relieved when Sparky obediently bounced toward her. He wasn’t always so easy to get in. The dog paused to steal a look back, then lumbered into the dark house. A loud hiss came from within. Colleen flipped on the foyer light in time to see Smokey, her cranky twelve-year-old Siamese, take a swipe at Sparky’s backside as he trotted toward his dog bed in the living room.

“Leave him alone, sourpuss,” she said to the cat as she closed the front door.

Smokey let out an angry howl. Colleen slipped out of her shoes and padded into the kitchen. There would be no sleep until Smokey was fed; the cat would see to that. Smokey rubbed against her legs as she cracked open a can of Fancy Feast Ocean Whitefish and Tuna. It was the only brand and flavor Smokey would eat. Colleen scraped the food onto a saucer, gave it to Smokey, and joined the cat on the floor. The clicking of Sparky’s nails warned Colleen that he was coming to steal Smokey’s food. As the Border collie rounded the corner, she put her leg up against the wall to block him. The dog heaved a sigh and flopped down beside her. He’d wait until the finicky feline was done.

Colleen surveyed her combined kitchen and dining room. It was cheerful, comfortable, and for the most part neat. The décor was part Southern charm, part Petsmart clearance. Her mother had helped her with the Southern charm: cheerful white cotton curtains with a blue starfish print; cherrywood furniture with clean simple lines; and oil paintings and watercolors of the island by local artists. Sparky had helped with the PetSmart clearance: squeaky rubber toys of bones and cats; several partially chewed pigs’ ears; and a padded window seat for Smokey that the cat had yet to use.

Colleen remembered when she had found this place. It had been advertised as a fisherman’s delight, primarily because it was located on a remote part of the northern sound side of the island. When the sales agent had opened the door, the overpowering smell of fish had made Colleen wonder if anyone, even a fisherman, could find the house delightful. The residence had clearly been used as a flophouse for sportsmen and came “as is.” Still, beneath the dirt and disrepair, Colleen had seen potential. The realtor had told her that it may be too much of a challenge for Colleen to fix it up with Colleen being a single woman and all. That had gotten her Irish dander up and she had made an offer on the spot. With some help from friends who worked as contractors, she had transformed the rundown dwelling into a place she called home.

As Smokey was finishing the last of her meal, Sparky growled, causing the cat to quickly scurry off. “Hey,” Colleen said, scolding the dog. But it wasn’t the food that had his attention. Sparky ran to the foyer and barked at the front door. Someone was outside her house. In an instant, adrenaline surged through Colleen’s body. What if it was the man with the gun? What if he was there to hurt her or set fire to her house?

Colleen quickly crawled to the hall closet and grabbed a hammer from the toolbox on the floor. She clicked the lights off, leapt to the front door, and listened. The floorboards on the porch steps creaked under the weight of the intruder. Colleen carefully wrapped her fingers around the doorknob. If the man tried to come in he was going to get a hammer to the head. She hefted the hammer in her right hand to make sure she had it balanced for maximum force. The footsteps drew closer, shuffled to the front door, and stopped. She raised the hammer. Sparky growled. Colleen gave him a quick shush. Sparky sat back on his haunches and all went silent.