Chapter 9
Bess
“Oh, come on! You cheat, Dad.”
Hugo laughs as his son tosses his remaining cards on the table. Carson is joking, but you can tell he’s annoyed his dad just won the third game in a row.
“You can’t really cheat in Crazy Eights, Carson,” Tate points out, quietly gathering up the pile of cards.
It had been her idea to play a game after dinner. I got the sense Hugo might have had different ideas, and Carson probably would’ve done anything suggested by Tate, but I was actually excited about the prospect.
It’s been so many years since I’ve last played any game.
Mom used to love card games, any card games.
Crazy Eights, Canasta, Rummy, you name it, she’d play.
I remember many nights after we cleaned up the dinner dishes, we’d sit down at the table with a cup of tea, a plate of cookies, and a deck of cards.
Even in my teens, I preferred that over going out and partying with my friends, like my brother used to do.
Not that I had a ton of friends to start with. Not back then anyway.
“I bet you if anyone could, it’d be my dad,” Carson insists, with a little smirk on his face that seems to be reserved for Tate.
I think it’s sweet, those two. I hope they get to keep what they’ve found so young, but growing up can be an angsty, sometimes messy business, and it’s not often these young relationships stand the course of time.
Of course, there are exceptions, like Tate’s father and Savvy, but even though their love survived the decades, their relationship was nonexistent for most of those years. Plus, there’s a lot they had to overcome to get where they are today.
Then there are some of us who never had much luck in love at all, and almost give up on it completely. Until one day the opportunity is right there, ready to grab, if they can overcome their mistrust.
“You sure are thinking hard on something,” Hugo says softly, covering my hand resting on the table with his.
“Never mind me, I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to win three times when it is well known I’m the queen of Crazy Eights,” I tease to deflect.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Carson mutters, teasing a snort from me.
“Sorry, Bess, you were pretty brutal,” Hugo adds, clearly laughing at me.
“We can always play one more so you can claim your crown,” Tatum offers with a grin, already shuffling the deck.
Since I was the one who indicated the third game would be the last because I wanted to get home, the challenge is for me.
It is a little after ten, which is already beyond my regular bedtime, but tomorrow is my day off.
Besides, this has been such a surprisingly fun and relaxing night—I’ve barely given any thought to my troubles—I don’t really want it to end yet.
“Fine,” I concede. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you; I’m not going to go easy on you this time. Start dealing.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m about to get clobbered for the fourth time—this time by Tate—when my phone rings.
I’m instantly apprehensive, and I can feel Hugo’s eyes on me when I check the caller.
“It’s Lola,” I announce, relieved when her name pops up on my call display. “Excuse me for a minute.”
I get up and walk across the room to the front window as I answer her call.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Where are you?”
Her question jars me, and I get an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Um…at a friend’s place. Why?”
“I’m just driving down Main on my way home from arguably the worst date ever—remind me to tell you about it later—I passed the coffee shop and glanced over, and I could’ve sworn I saw a flashlight or something inside.
I thought maybe the power was out, or the breaker tripped, but it was probably just a reflection of headlights. I can go back and make sure.”
That uneasy feeling has grown into sour churning, and I almost jump when a hand lands on my shoulder.
Hugo.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes,” I answer him.
“Okay, I’ll go check it out,” Lola responds in my ear.
“No,” I quickly tell her, alarm bells going off in my head. “Don’t go in alone. I’m leaving now.”
I turn to Hugo as I end the call. I’m probably overreacting—hopefully—but my gut tells me not to try and handle this on my own.
“Are you going to tell me what is going on?” he asks, his jaw set.
“Lola thinks she saw someone inside the coffee shop with a flashlight. She thought it might’ve been me.”
I haven’t even finished my sentence when Hugo is already on the move.
“Stay here,” he orders, grabbing his phone off the charger in the kitchen and snatching his keys from the table.
“I’m…um…no. Definitely not,” I snap, scooping my purse from the couch and going for my coat. “That’s my business and my home.”
He already has his hand on the doorknob, and rolls his eyes to the ceiling, clenching his jaw.
“Fine, but you ride with me. Son, I need you to drive Tate home and make sure to take Ragnar with you.”
“Why can’t—” I start objecting, when he jabs a finger in my face.
“Do you wanna argue, or do you wanna come?”
I snap my mouth closed and shrug into my coat, bristling when he adds under his breath, “Smart choice.”
Hugo gets on the radio as he backs his cruiser out of the driveway.
“All units. Possible burglary in progress. One forty Main Street. Be aware; front entrance, side alley entrance, and fire escape entrance in the rear.”
“She said it might’ve been the reflection of a headlight,” I share, worried maybe we’re overreacting.
He briefly takes his eyes off the road to look at me. “What does your gut tell you?”
When I don’t immediately answer, he adds, “Yeah, mine too.”
The moment we turn onto Main Street, I can see a couple of patrol cars already parked in front of Strange Brew. Then I spot Lola’s blue Volkswagen Beetle, it’s driver’s side door wide open.
“Dammit, Lola,” I grumble, as we pull up to Strange Brew.
That’s when I see the shop’s front door wide open, smoke streaming out, and my heart lodges in my throat.
“Stay put,” Hugo barks, jumping from the cruiser.
But he shouldn’t have bothered; I’m right on his heels when he runs straight into the smoke-filled coffee shop.
Hugo
Even as Lloyd updates me with the fire chief’s report, I don’t take my eyes off Bess.
Stubborn woman ran in right after me without thinking, sucking in big lungfuls of smoke. Even coughing so hard she couldn’t stand up straight, she blundered her way into the kitchen, which apparently was the source of the fire.
Lola had stuck around, keeping an eye on Strange Brew from the street.
She didn’t see anyone leave—we later discovered they exited through the side door and likely went behind the buildings—but she did notice the smoke filling the coffee shop.
That’s when she called 911, unlocked the front door, and went in.
KC Kingma arrived on the scene moments later and followed her inside.
Between the two of them, they were able to knock down the fire.
It had been a simple setup; a couple of kitchen towels liberally doused in cooking oil and left on the industrial-sized range.
One burner was left on low, igniting the fire.
Luckily, as per safety regulations, Bess had a couple fire extinguishers.
Lola had grabbed the one in the kitchen and directed KC to the second one behind the counter in the shop.
When the fire department showed up shortly after Bess and I got there, they doused the area of the fire with the hose, making sure nothing could flare up again.
If Lola hadn’t already been keeping an eye on the coffee shop, it’s unlikely anyone would’ve noticed the fire until it was already too late. Other than the occasional second-floor apartment, most of the buildings on this section of Main Street are businesses. It’s quiet here at night.
Unfortunately, even as quickly as they got to it, the damage to the kitchen is quite extensive.
Only the side of the range and hood was directly affected by the flames, but the smoke and water damage affect the entire kitchen and beyond.
At the very least, the range, ovens, and exhaust hood, as well as any and all supplies and staples will have to be replaced.
It’s a massive loss, and I can see the impact starting to hit Bess, as she sits on the stretcher in the back of the ambulance, staring out blankly while the medic checks her over. She didn’t want to leave her shop, but I forced her to get looked at when the EMTs showed up.
“What the hell is going on, man?” Lloyd asks, staring down the road. “First Clem’s place, and now Strange Brew. Do we have a firebug?”
“Fuck if I know.”
Chance sure as hell couldn’t have had a hand in this one; he’s still in the hospital.
Are we dealing with two firebugs? In a town our size that seems a bit of a stretch, to put it mildly.
With little evidence to suggest otherwise, Chance’s guilt seemed a foregone conclusion, but I’m thinking we might want to reexamine that.
I don’t believe in coincidence.
The sound of squealing brakes has me whip around to see Savvy’s cruiser come to a stop behind the fire engine blocking most of the road. She comes flying out of the vehicle and starts running toward us, leaving her door wide open.
“Lloyd, can you…”
“Yeah, I’ll move it.”
I step into Savvy’s path, intending to block her. “Bess is fine. She wasn’t home at the time.”
Savvy strains to look around me, and I know she’s caught sight of her friend when she pokes a sharp finger in my chest.
“Then how come she’s in the back of a fucking ambulance?”
“The place was filled with smoke when we got here. She’s getting checked out as a precaution.”
“She shouldn’t have been in there in the first place,” Savvy points out.
I nod. “Right, you try telling her that.”
She grunts in response.
“All I heard from Tate when Carson dropped her off was there was a break-in at Strange Brew. It wasn’t until I got behind the wheel and turned on the radio, I heard all the chatter. Get me up to speed.”