Chapter 2
Bess
I carry another tray of sandwiches into the coffee shop which, at the moment, looks more like a field hospital than a business.
Not the type of morning rush we were expecting.
I was in my office when I heard the first sirens right outside Strange Brew.
Emmet, another of my employees, was just walking up to the shop when I stepped out to investigate.
He was able to tell me it appeared Clem’s auto shop was on fire, and when I poked my head out the front door, I could see vehicles and people congregating down the street.
The explosion came just as I turned to tell Emmet we should open a bit early. The blast rattled the large front windows in their frames, and shook me in my boots.
The first walking wounded—mostly minor cuts from flying debris—showed up moments later. While Emmet—with Carson’s help—started working on coffee for everyone, I hauled out my first aid kit and began cleaning wounds and applying bandages.
It’s been almost an hour and I’m still not sure what happened out there, but I know it wasn’t good. Almost the entire street is now blocked off by emergency vehicles, and the acrid smell of smoke is thick in the air.
Dana—who is a nurse practitioner—showed up a while ago and jumped into action taking over medical aid, which left my hands free to slip into the kitchen and get some sandwiches made for folks coming in from the chaos outside.
“Hey, you. What’s happening out there?” I ask Savvy, our sheriff and my good friend, when she walks in the door.
“It’s a mess. Clem’s place is a total loss, and the fire department is busting ass to keep the fire from spreading to neighboring buildings.
We’ve got two firefighters injured in the blast, who were transported to the hospital, so they had to call in assistance from neighboring towns.
Hell, my own second-in-command got caught in the blast, so I’ve had to get extra staff out there myself.
They’re redirecting traffic and making sure the public stays safe, but it’s nuts out there. ”
I barely hear anything after she mentions Hugo and grab her arm.
“He got hurt?”
She shoots me a sympathetic look.
“Hugo’s fine. Or, he will be if he’d stop being so dang stubborn and gets himself checked out. He’s walking and talking,” she clarifies. “And I’ve got KC keeping an eye on him.” Then she adds, “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried, I was curious, that’s all.”
My quickly uttered excuse doesn’t appear to impress Savvy, who flashes a quick smile.
“Sure thing,” she mutters under her breath, before continuing in a normal tone of voice, “I popped in to see if I could grab some coffee for my guys. Most of us got called straight out of bed and didn’t have a chance to pick something up before getting to the scene.”
“Of course. I’ve got some cardboard carafes. I’ll put something together and will get someone to help me carry it over. Where do you want it?”
“My cruiser. I’m parked in front of the real estate office. I’ll leave the gate open, just leave it in there.”
I give her a thumbs-up and watch as she stalks back outside. All business, even with one hand covering her small, burgeoning baby bump protectively as she rushes back to the scene.
I’m happy for her—I am. She deserves it all; her full-circle love story with Nate, the surprise pregnancy. My friend has had enough hardship in her life, and it’s about time things turn around for her. I don’t begrudge her any of it.
Still, every so often, I feel an unwelcome pang of jealousy.
It’s not pretty, I don’t like what it says about me and shove the feeling down the moment it rears its ugly head, but it’s hard to snuff out completely.
It’s usually followed with the bitter realization a happy ending like that is simply not in the cards for me.
Fate already took that out of my hands a long time ago.
Ten minutes later, I get Emmet to help me carry two large cardboard containers with coffee, a box of extra sandwiches, and a basket with cups, sugar, and creamers.
The first person I see, sitting on the curb behind Savvy’s cruiser, is Hugo Alexander, his head in his hands. When I get closer, I notice a dark stain on his collar and down the back of his shirt.
“Jesus, Hugo!” I burst out, setting down the box and basket I’m holding before rushing to his side. “You’re bleeding.”
He lifts his head and turns to me.
“I’m fine,” he says immediately.
“You don’t look fine,” I return, throwing back the line he used on me just a few hours ago as I carefully probe the back of his head. “You have a cut.”
“I know.” He gently removes my hand from his head and pulls me in front of him. “It stopped bleeding a while ago. It looks worse than it is. It’s just a small cut.”
I narrow my eyes as I look down on his face, taking in the deep set of his eyes and the tension around his mouth.
“Then how come you look like you’re in pain?”
He keeps hold of my hand as he gets to his feet. Then he lets go and reaches for the side of his head.
“A headache, that’s all.”
“That’s all? You could have a concussion,” I point out. “You probably do. You need Dana to have a look at you. She’s at Strange Brew.”
Without hesitation, I grab his wrist and start pulling him down the sidewalk.
“Emmet! You’ve got this? I’m heading back.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Halfway back to the coffee shop, Hugo suddenly stops moving. When I turn to look at him, he’s wearing a little smirk on his face.
“How about a deal?”
Confused, I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”
“Tit for tat. Since I didn’t blow you off when you inquired about my health, and am even letting you drag me down the street, I was thinking you owe me an honest answer to the similar question about your well-being I asked this morning.”
Dammit. Of course he’d pick up on the parallel.
Realizing he could easily pull free, head the other way, and there’d be nothing I could do about it, I decide to give him something.
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” I mutter, as I start moving again, pulling on his arm.
“Are you sick?” He wants to know.
“I’m fine.”
I push open the door to the coffee shop, shove Hugo down in the first chair I see, and immediately call for Dana, who rushes over. When I explain to her he was hurt in the blast, she immediately starts examining him.
As I walk away, leaving him in her capable care, he calls after me.
“Hey, Bess…our conversation isn’t done yet.”
Oh yes, it is.
Hugo
Two hours later I walk out of our small hospital, where Dana insisted I have that new doctor check me out.
Rohan Sharma. I still haven’t decided whether I like the guy or not.
He did take good care of Carson after he was attacked last year, but I’m not a fan of him hanging around Strange Brew and chatting up Bess.
No concussion, which I’m glad for, but I did rupture my right eardrum, which is why, according to Sharma, the entire right side of my head is hurting.
He gave me some antibiotics and suggested warm compresses or over the counter pain relief.
I was instructed to keep the ear dry until I see him again next week.
Not sure how the fuck I’m supposed to wash my hair if I can’t stick my head under the shower, but I’ll figure it out.
I was also told I should take it easy, probably sleep on my back for the time being, and to call him if anything changes.
I’m just glad he’s letting me get out of here, but since Dana dropped me off this morning, I’ll have to walk back to the station.
The sound of a car horn has me scan the parking lot where I spot a sheriff’s unit just pulling around.
Randal Donahue—a retired deputy who still volunteers occasionally—pokes his head out the window.
“I was told to swing by and pick you up. Y’all right?”
I get in the passenger seat.
“I’m fine. But I got released like five minutes ago and haven’t talked to anyone. How’d you know?”
The old man shrugs as he chuckles. “This is Silence; news travels.”
I’d hardly think my visit to the ER constitutes news, but he makes a point. I guess someone let either Savvy or Brenda, back at the office, know, and they must’ve kept tabs on me.
But when I walk into the station, Brenda looks surprised to see me.
“What the hell are you doing here? I just talked to Savvy, she’s still out there up to her eyeballs, and she said you were in the hospital.”
“Just to check me out, but I’m fine.” I turn to Randal, a little confused. “Then who the hell sent you?”
“Didn’t I tell ya? That gal at the coffee shop.
Bess. Popped in there to grab a quick cuppa and she pulled me aside.
Seemed like everyone was congregating there.
Busy as all hell. Saw your boy too, slinging coffees like a pro.
Anyway, she asked if I had time to fetch ya, and seeing as I was on break…
” He shrugs before continuing, “Guess I should be heading back out there now though. Break’s over. ”
With that, he turns and heads toward the exit, slightly stooped with the arthritis I know is plaguing him.
“Appreciate it, Randall,” I call after him.
He lifts a hand over his shoulder in response as he pushes through the door.
So…Bess, huh? Interesting.
“Don’t look so damn happy,” Brenda snaps.
“The shit’s hit the fan today. The latests are a fender bender on Lincoln at Elm, a report of vandals spray-painting the bleachers at the ball park, and to top that off; Jack Fender’s bull escaped and is running wild in Mountainview Park.
I’ve got no units left to send out, so, unless you are incapacitated—in which case, what the hell are you doing here—I’m gonna need you to put on a clean shirt and get your ass out there. We’re drowning in calls today.”
Anyone but Brenda taking that tone with me would get their ass handed to them. However, for her to break out in a rant like that, things must really be bad. I give her a thumbs-up and go in search of a clean shirt.
Three hours later we have the bull cornered and caught by the public washrooms at the park entrance, the vandals intercepted and cited, their paraphernalia seized, and the fender bender had already been resolved without my help.
In the meantime, I’ve also taken a report from the gas station attendant at the Texaco, who had a fill-and-flee incident, and was waved down by Mrs. Dixon, our old librarian, who wasn’t able to get her garbage bin down to the curb for tomorrow’s pickup.
All in all, it was a busy afternoon, but none of it related to this morning’s fire and I feel out of the loop, despite the constant radio chatter on the subject. So, when I return to the station and notice Savvy’s cruiser parked out in front, I immediately go in search of her to get an update.
She’s in her office, her head down on her crossed arms on the desk when I walk in.
“You all right?”
She looks up and winces. “I should be asking you that. Brenda tells me you got the all clear. I’m sorry I didn’t follow up with you, but this day just—”
“Got out of hand, I know.” I wave her off. “Fill me in on the fire at Clem’s place. I noticed we still have a part of Main Street blocked off.”
“Yeah.” She gestures for me to take a seat.
“Wasn’t easy to get that fire down with all the flammable materials in the shop, and the fire department had a hard time making sure the neighboring buildings weren’t a total loss as well.
As it is, they sustained a lot of damage.
Nichols is still at the scene, waiting for the regional fire marshal to get there. He called them in, suspecting arson.”
“Seriously?” I’m surprised, and add, “I can’t imagine anyone having a beef with Clem, he runs a fair business and is generally well-liked.”
Arson would imply he or his shop were targeted and I’m finding that hard to believe.
“I know. I talked to Clem, who is understandably broken up about the whole thing; his great grandfather bought that building and started the business after WWII. He says he can’t think of anyone who might want to hurt it or him.
Claims his bills were paid up, and he had no unhappy customers he could think of. ”
“Simply a firebug then?” I wonder out loud.
Savvy shrugs. “I guess it’s always possible, although those usually start with smaller fires—dumpsters, sheds, maybe abandoned houses—building their way up, but we haven’t had any of those in years.”
“What about Chance Tanek?” I suggest. “I mean, Clem may not have any enemies, but his brother has made plenty over the years. You just said this was a family business. You and I know Chance no longer has any stake in Main Street Mechanics, but that’s not necessarily common knowledge.”
Four or five years ago, Chance Tanek was arrested after he lost control of the truck he was driving, hitting three parked vehicles in front of the Methodist church on a Sunday morning.
Not only was he drunk out of his skull, and already lost his license as a result of multiple prior DUIs, but he borrowed the truck he was driving from the shop.
It belonged to a customer who was scheduled to pick it up Monday morning.
Clem about lost his shit when we notified him. He took a huge hit and ended up paying damages out of pocket to save his business; there was no way insurance would cover any of it. Then he turned around and had his brother sign over his share of Main Street Mechanics as repayment.
She nods in agreement. “Althof is already on that. I put him in charge of the investigation, and he’s trying to track Chance down for a word.”
Rick Althof is the Edwards County Sheriff’s Office newest addition.
A transplant from Coeur d’Alene where he was a detective for the police department, he now fills the newly commission-approved role of sheriff’s investigator.
The guy is a bit of a loner, keeps to himself most of the time, but seems decent enough.
“Now…about you,” Savvy redirects the conversation. “What did the doctor say?”
“No concussion. Just a scratch on my scalp and my right ear is a bit messed up, but—”
“Messed up, how?”
“Ruptured eardrum but it should heal on its own.”
“I bet he told you to take it easy, and yet, here you are,” she says pointedly, gesturing at me.
“But I’m heading home now to do just that,” I quickly announce, getting to my feet.
“Is there any point in me telling you not to show your face tomorrow?” she asks when I’m halfway out the door.
I shoot her a grin over my shoulder.
“Probably not.”