That Old Flame of Mine

Deadly Intruder . . .

There was a dark pickup parked on the other side of the firehouse. A strong sense of something not being right made her quietly slip in and see what was going on.

A flashlight beam was moving around the fire engine and the pumper. There was something else happening. She grabbed an ax from its place near the door and advanced on the drifting light.

Her heartbeat accelerated as she moved through the darkness between the equipment. She held the ax close to her, hoping she wouldn’t round a corner and face someone with a gun.

It probably would have been smart to call the police and let them handle it. Someone dropped something—a heavy tool perhaps—on the floor. The sound ricocheted around the vehicle bay. She dropped down and waited to see what happened next. The flashlight beam hadn’t found her. It would be just as hard for her attacker to see her as it was for her to see him.

Stella heard footsteps coming closer and clutched the ax, not giving away her position by making any sound. Her plan was to catch whoever it was off guard, maybe trip the intruder with the ax. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to actually use the ax on a person.

“Sweet peppers and fires and ghosts . . . oh my! J. J. Cook’s Sweet Pepper Fire Brigade Mystery, featuring Fire Chief Stella Griffin, has it all: a pinch of paranormal, a dash of romance, and recipes that will leave you burning for more. Not to mention a well-crafted mystery that will keep you guessing until the smoke clears in the end.”

—Kari Lee Townsend, Agatha nominee and national bestselling author of the Fortune Teller Mysteries

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THAT OLD FLAME OF MINE

A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

Copyright © 2013 by Jim and Joyce Lavene.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.

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®
PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

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ISBN: 978-1-101-61975-9

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / April 2013

Cover illustration by Mary Ann Lasher.

Cover design by George Long.

.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

For my grandfather, Henry Koch, who fought the Our Lady of the Angels’ fire in Chicago, and my great-grandfather, Michael Sebastian, who drove the fire wagon in the early 1900s. I’m proud to be related to you both!

Prologue

“W
here’s the fire?” The deputy’s accent was as thick as syrup when he reached her. “You must not be from around here. We don’t get much motorcycle traffic out this way.”

Stella knew he’d seen her Illinois plate. “I’m headed for Sweet Pepper. I’m the new fire chief.”

“Sweet Pepper, huh?” He licked his finger to draw back the top sheet in his citation book. “License and registration, ma’am. And take off that helmet, if you don’t mind. Nice and easy now. I like to see the faces of the people I do business with.”

Deputy Chum
. His name tag was very white against his brown uniform.

Stella removed the plain, black helmet that matched her 1979 Harley touring bike. Her shoulder-length, straight red hair spilled out around her shoulders. A puff of warm, flower-scented wind caught the ends of it, dancing it around her lightly freckled oval face and stubborn chin. Her brown eyes were filled with impatience at the interruption.

Deputy Chum started to reach for her license, looked up—and stepped back from her.

“
Abigail?
Is that
you
?” He dropped his citation pad and pen. His eyes unfocused and his face lost all its color. He shook all over.

Stella thought she might need her CPR training. Deputy Chum looked like he was having a seizure or a heart attack. She reached a hand toward him.

He yelled and ran back to his sheriff’s car, revved the engine, and left rubber on the road as he raced away.

What the—?

She waited a few seconds to see if he was coming back. When there was no sign of him, Stella put on her helmet, started her motorcycle, and went the other way down the empty road toward Sweet Pepper.

Chapter 1

I
t was a fine, cool September day in Sweet Pepper when the fire alarm rang. There was already smoke in the air from countless woodstoves and fireplaces—not to mention piles of burning leaves.

“Let’s go! Move out!” Fire Chief Stella Griffin shouted above the clamor of the fire alarm as her volunteers got ready for their first fire.

It was the first time in forty years that the fire alarm had rung here and the Sweet Pepper Volunteer Fire Brigade would respond to an emergency. She took out her stopwatch. Everyone, including Stella, was being tested and evaluated. This was where the training paid off—or not.

They’d been practicing for weeks. Stella watched as her seven volunteers grabbed their bunker coats, pants, boots, and breathing apparatus, then jumped on the engine and pumper truck. Four of them carried axes and pipe poles too. They were ready for anything.

She hoped.

There were a few slipups as they got ready. Petey dropped her ax on Banyin’s foot. Bert Wando, the mayor’s son, slid on the newly resurfaced concrete at the firehouse and appeared to have sprained his ankle. He kept going.

Stella gave him credit for that, but she made him stay behind anyway. He complained about missing their first run, but it was only practice. No point in making the injury worse when they didn’t need him to be there. She took her seat in the front of the engine and gave the okay to Ricky Hutchins Jr. to head out to the fire.

The rebuilt engine sprang to life after a lot of TLC and elbow grease from Ricky, who had a gift for engine repair. Sweet Pepper couldn’t afford a new vehicle, or they weren’t confident enough to spend that kind of money on a new volunteer fire department. Stella wasn’t sure which.

The old pumper truck followed the engine, with Kent at the wheel. They’d found the 1970s vehicle in the shed behind the firehouse and had spent hours getting it ready after years of it sitting and waiting for the next call.

Ricky, Stella’s engine driver, grinned at her when the pumper had finally started after a few tries that morning. “I told you. She’s got some life in her yet.”

“Let’s get to the fire and we’ll see,” she replied, pushing back her helmet.

Her customized Sweet Pepper gear was a little big, but it worked. It was only for three months, after all. By that time, the little band of firefighters she’d worked hard to train would be on their own. She’d head back to Chicago, her family, and her fire station.

They were headed to a controlled burn, supposedly to let everyone have an idea of how the fire brigade was doing. Town Councilman Nay Albert had a big farm at the outskirts of town. He’d wanted to get rid of an old henhouse that was falling down.

It seemed like a good way to introduce everyone to a real-life situation. It was one thing to excel at tests and training exercises. It was another to handle an actual fire, even if it was created for them.

The engine and the pumper flew down the two-lane blacktop from the firehouse with sirens blaring and lights flashing. Cars moved quickly out of the way. So did a few wandering goats that had escaped to chew on some grass near the edge of the road.

Stella smiled when she thought of her first fire, more than ten years ago. Even though she was a third-generation firefighter, she’d still been scared. Training had been hard. She’d been the first woman at the station. The men back home, who were now her friends, had placed bets on her not making the grade.

She hadn’t wanted to let down her father, uncles, and grandfather, who’d put so much time into helping her prepare for that moment. When it came, she’d been ready.

She wondered if her recruits would be ready. Would they continue on after actually fighting a fire?

She’d lost a few volunteers in the first days of training. Some people had the mistaken idea that a volunteer fire department was a social club instead of a community service organization. She’d let them go, even though she’d cringed inside at how small the remaining group was. Firefighters who wouldn’t train were firefighters likely to be injured, or worse. She didn’t want that happening on her watch.

The engine made a wide, fast turn onto the narrow gravel road that led to the henhouse. Stella arched one dark red brow at her driver.

Ricky shrugged and apologized. “Never lost control, Chief. This baby handles like she’s brand new. Don’t worry so much. You’re going to get old before your time.”

Stella liked Ricky. He was one of the best mechanics she’d ever known and an enthusiastic volunteer. He was a good driver too—if a little fast at times. He bragged that it came from his granddad that drove bootleg whiskey through the Smoky Mountains. Ricky said he’d gone with him on some of those adventures. She’d smiled at some of his tall tales.

“Just follow the smoke and stay on the road,” she advised him. “And if you ever take a corner like that again, I’ll have you back at the house cleaning toilets while we’re out fighting fires. We have people holding on in back.”

“I’m sorry, Chief. Really. It won’t happen again.” Ricky gave her his girl-chasing, boyish smile. His blond hair curled on his forehead, making him look younger than his twenty-eight years and his deep blue eyes were sincere.

Stella nodded and got ready to confront what might be either a great success or a dismal failure. When she’d first read the help wanted ad for a temporary fire chief in the station newsletter back home, she’d never guessed that she’d take someone up on it.

Then she’d injured her shoulder in a difficult fire, and the doctor said she’d be off the job for at least three more months.

What had really pushed her over the edge—the part no one knew about except those closest to her—was finding her longtime boyfriend, Doug, in bed with one of her oldest friends from high school.

Doug was a tough, good-looking cop. He’d seemed as surprised as she was when Stella had landed a lucky punch to his jaw. Before either of them realized, he was on the floor, naked, looking up at her.

It was a mess anyway. She’d broken his nose and he’d threatened to press charges against her. Her union rep had talked with his union rep and they’d come to an agreement. Lawyers got involved. Stella was still angry, but she’d cooled down a lot when she thought she might lose her job. She was still smarting from Doug’s cheating, but he wasn’t worth ruining her career.

Her station chief, Fred Henry, a man she knew well and trusted, suggested she get out of town for a while. That’s when she thought about the opportunity she’d seen in Sweet Pepper. Three days later, she hopped on her old Harley and hit the road for Tennessee.

Ricky did an excellent job pulling the engine up to the fire but not too close. The old pumper pulled in behind. Her volunteers scrambled off the vehicles and began getting the equipment they would need to stop the burn.

They completely ignored the visitors from town who’d come to watch. Members of the town council and about fifty other interested spectators sat in lawn chairs on the other side of the field, trying to avoid the thick gray smoke as they waited for the volunteers to do their job.

Stella couldn’t help but smile at the townsfolk out there with picnic baskets, dressed up in linen suits and colorful, lightweight dresses, as if they were on an outing. Everyone was smiling, already proud of their fire brigade without even having seen what they could do. That’s the way they’d been from the beginning.

These people had welcomed her with open arms, totally convinced she would do a wonderful job for them. It was nice, and a little scary. She felt like she had something to prove. They seemed to feel that she had already proven herself just by being there.

She didn’t join the town observers, though they’d made it clear there was an empty chair and food for her. Instead, she stood off to one side, watching and making notes as her volunteers pulled the heavy hose down from the pumper. They approached the burning henhouse with caution, not quite steady yet with the equipment.

The henhouse had been two stories high at one time. The fire had already claimed the top floor. The roof had crashed in as they’d arrived. Heavy sparks flew everywhere like remnants of fireworks. Heavy rains had made the burn possible. Stella didn’t want the entire field to go up in flames. As it was, the mostly harvested, wet corn barely noticed the heat. It smoldered silently.

The old timber was partially rotten. The structure had been abandoned for years. The flames roared up through it, finding plenty of oxygen to feed on. The older pumper began spurting out water, not as much as a newer vehicle would have, but enough to put out the fire.

Stella wasn’t worried about the water supply—this time anyway. They might have to consider other options later. In town, they could hook into the fire hydrants, which were fed from the big lake on the far west side. There would be times outside of Sweet Pepper, like this, when they would have to make do with a pumper.

Everything was going fine. Petey—Patricia Stanze—was in the lead, as she had been throughout training. Stella hadn’t been sure if the scrawny, twenty-five-year-old waitress would make it through the rigorous tasks she’d set her. Petey was stronger and more determined than she’d imagined. She put some of the larger, stronger men to shame.

The spray from the heavy, powerful hose soaked the flames and left what remained of the henhouse smoldering. Stella was beginning to feel good about the whole operation when fifty-something barber, Allen Wise, tripped over the hose. He went down hard on his face—not really hurt—except for his pride.

What followed was much worse than his clumsiness. His weight jerked the hose from Petey. Sweet Pepper police officer John Trump lost his hold on it too. Kent Norris, a long-distance truck driver who drove the pumper, tried to step in and save the situation, but it was no use.

The hose, propelled by the high-pressure pump, was out of control. Stella’s volunteers tried to fall on it and catch hold of it again. It became almost laughable as they tumbled around in the wet red clay that was rapidly becoming mud.

Not wanting to see any more of it, Stella walked over and switched off the pump. At least the fire was out. She supposed it wasn’t a total disaster. But it came really close.

“You got the fire out! Good job!” Mayor Erskine Wando jumped to his feet and congratulated them in his hearty manner as he approached He was a large, tall man with a shaved head who liked to wear top hats. “Where’s Bertie?”

Stella looked at the proud father of Sweet Pepper High School’s star quarterback. “He was injured getting in his gear. He’ll be fine. I didn’t want him to make it worse by coming out here.”

“Getting in his gear?” sneered sleazy town councilman Nay Albert, his greasy black hair combed over his bald spot. “I hope he can still play football. It seems like his career as a firefighter might be over.”

Councilman Bob Floyd, a short man with curly gray hair, was usually pleasant but always seemed to have ulterior motives. “Not a good sign. And not sure about what we’ve seen here today. Eight weeks gone, and they still can’t keep hold of the hose.”

Stella knew what he was talking about. They had paid her handsomely to get the group ready. There were only four weeks left. The volunteers still needed a lot of work. She had faith in them. They’d be ready.

“They aren’t perfect yet,” she said. “They’re still learning. It takes practice and constant training.”

“You could’ve told us they wouldn’t be ready to fight
real
fires before you left Sweet Pepper, Chief Griffin.” Bob glared up at her.

“Gentlemen.” Victoria—Tory—Lambert’s tone brooked no argument. “I think our volunteers have done very well today. They put out the fire and managed to keep from getting hurt, except for Bertie. I don’t know what more we could ask at this juncture. Good work, Chief. I know the group will be ready to stand on their own in the next few weeks.”

Stella acknowledged Tory’s words with a smile and a nod. She was glad the other woman approved. Tory wasn’t on the town council, but her opinion carried weight in Sweet Pepper.

Besides, Stella liked the older woman. She had a gift for wry humor and a sharp tongue when necessary. She’d been Stella’s friend and fairy godmother since she’d arrived. When Stella needed anything, Tory had a way of finding it. Tory had been an unexpected ally and cheerleader in the struggle to make the old firehouse useable again and to train the recruits.

“I agree with Tory,” said Ricky Hutchins Sr. He owned the Sweet Pepper Café with his wife, Lucille. The pair was always together. Ricky had gray hair now, but Stella had seen pictures of him and redheaded Lucille from years ago. They were ringers for Lucy and Ricky in the old TV shows. They were also ardent supporters of the volunteer group.

Of course, his son drove the engine.

“Well, there you have it.” Tory smiled at the small group assembled there in the harvested cornfield, the acrid smell of smoke filling the air around them. “I suggest we all go home, take a shower, and find some party clothes that don’t smell like smoke. I’ll see you all at the celebration.”

The councilmen complained a little—they would never challenge Tory directly. Stella didn’t know what gave the other woman so much power, but she was glad of it, especially since she was on Stella’s side.