Flashover Pt. 04

"Ugh. I may never eat again."

"Not even a piece of pie?"

"Okay, maybe a small piece, when we get back. Maybe."

He helped her clean the table, putting leftovers in containers as she rinsed dishes and loaded the dishwasher. One nice thing about grilling is it didn't make a mess of the kitchen. Once the dishwasher was whispering, he returned to the grill and scrubbed the grate before closing the vents to kill the fire. By morning it should be cool enough to be covered and tucked back up close to the house.

The sun was just touching the tops of the trees when he threw a folded sheet into the back of his cruiser and held the front door open for her. The fireworks were scheduled to start at nine-thirty, but by leaving now they could stop and feed Marmalade and still get to the park with plenty of time to find a place to sit before the show started.

They drove back into town, talking about nothing and everything, and enjoying each other's company. Maggie had been to his place enough to know where everything was, so it took only minutes for her to feed Marmalade while Sean cleaned the cat's litter box. With Marmalade taken care of, they returned to his car and made their way to Brunswick City Park. The closer to the park they got, the more cars there were parked on the edge of the road with groups of people clustered around them.

"Hey, chief," Fish said as Sean eased to a stop beside him. He bent over and looked inside the car. "Maggie."

"Any place for me to park in there?" Sean asked as Maggie waggled her fingers at Fish in a wave.

Fish smiled. "I think we can find you a place. The lots are full, and we're not letting anymore cars in, so you can leave the car right here behind mine." Fish moved aside a barricade that prevented cars from entering the park. Sean crept through and stopped behind Fish's cruiser.

"The keys are in it if you need to move it," Sean said as they stepped out of the car. He didn't worry about anyone stealing it with Fish right there, and they'd be back to the car before he finished directing traffic.

"It'll be fine right where it is. Enjoy the display."

"Where?" Sean asked Maggie as he tucked the sheet under his arm.

"Let's try over by the duck pond."

She took him by the arm and dragged him across the grassy area that surrounded the ball fields. The outfields, along with the ground surrounding the four ball fields, were littered with people, some sitting, some standing, some lying on blankets and sheets, but all talking excitedly while waiting for the display to start. He could hear music blaring in the distance. The fireworks were going to be launched from the big parking lot around the recreation center, but they were heading away from that toward one of the farthest corners of the park.

They followed a paved but dark and tree covered path, using the flashlights on their phones to light their way, until they popped out in another grassy area dotted with picnic pavilions and the pond. Like the other fields, there were plenty of people gathered about, but they weren't as tightly packed as the ball fields that shared parking with the rec center.

"The show is going to start any minute," Maggie said as she stopped and looked back in the direction of the music. "How about here?" Most of the people had clustered around the pavilions and the outcropping of large rocks, so they'd have a place to sit, leaving the grassy field around the pond lightly populated enough that they found a small area where they'd have a bit of privacy.

"Looks good to me," he said as he flipped the sheet out on the grass.

They sat and he took her hand. They were close enough they could easily hear the patriotic music without it being deafening, yet far enough away the fireworks wouldn't be directly overhead. They'd barely gotten settled when the first rocket went off with a chest thumping boom. He grinned and pulled her down to lie on their backs. The fireworks might not be directly overhead, but lying down saved them from having to crane their necks so sharply upwards.

As the Star-Spangled Banner, God Bless the U.S.A., and The Thunderer, among others, played, the sky was rocked with thudding booms and illuminated with brilliant showers of red, blue, green, and white. It had cooled considerably and she snuggled in, her head resting on his arm as the heavens popped and sizzled. He glanced at her a couple of times, the flashes lighting her face enough for him to see the faint smile on her lips. Boston might have a more spectacular fireworks display, and of course the taped music couldn't compete with the Boston Pops, but Brunswick had Maggie, and no fireworks display or live performance could top that. As the sky roared and thudded with the grand finale, he couldn't remember enjoying a fireworks display more.

When all that remained of the show was the lingering smell of burned gunpowder, the crowd began to cheer. Maggie rolled over and smiled down at him.

"It worked. No rain." She gave a grazing kiss. "Thank you for saving the show for everyone, and for bringing me. I had a great time."

He smiled back at her as they sat up. "So did I."

"Ready to go? There's pie at home."

"Ugh."

"Just a small piece?"

"Okay. A small piece."

They stood, popped the sheet a couple of times to remove any clinging grass, and then folded it as a team. "Can you stay tonight?" she asked.

"I think that can be arranged."

"Good."

She tucked her arm inside his as they made their way back toward his car, again using their phones for light.

They'd almost reached his car with he saw the first flickers of lightening and heard the distant rumble of thunder. He looked at the weather radar on his phone. It appeared they were going to get another light and sound show sometime in the next thirty minutes to an hour. If they hurried, they might get home before the rain started.

That suited him fine. They may even have to skip the pie. He couldn't explain why, but he'd discovered he enjoyed making love to Maggie during a thunderstorm. There was something about the lightning and thunder outside the window that made the experience much more intense, and she seemed to feel it too. The more violent the storm, the more passionate their love making seemed to be.

"It's going to storm," he said softly.

"I saw." She smiled at him. "We may have to save the pie until tomorrow."

He chuckled but said nothing. That wasn't the first time she seemed to be able to tell what he was thinking, and he still wasn't sure he liked her reading his mind.

Wednesday morning, Sean was sitting at his desk entering his employment information into PISTOL, changing the configuration of the software as he stumbled across things that didn't apply to Brunswick or that he wanted to work another way. He'd started with his personnel file because it was the thinnest, and if he screwed something up, it would be on his file, not one of his officers. He'd gotten only his name and badge number entered when he realized the requirement to assign an officer to a division and precinct was unnecessary. Brunswick was so small they didn't need to divide their force up, and by tailoring the package to his smaller department, the software wouldn't nag them to enter things that didn't apply. Having been with the department only six months, it didn't take him long to enter his information into the system. All the software really needed for case files was his badge number, but he was going to make use of the personnel module to keep track of commendations, reprimands, reviews, training, and all the other information related to his officers.

Once he finished entering his employment information, he began inputting what little data he had for the arson case. Keying the file into the system was less about tracking the case than it was to see what other changes to the software's configuration he wanted to make. Most of the software was fine with the defaults, but every now and again he found something he wanted to change. He was flipping through the configuration screens, looking for the check box to enable the linking of addresses to Google Maps, when Chips stuck his head into Sean's office and rapped softly on the door frame.

"Sean? I have someone here I think you want to talk to."

"Who is it?"

"Sally."

"She's from the Mills?"

"Yeah. She's a regular around here and has been for ages. If anyone knows who did it, she will."

"She say anything?"

"No."

"Okay, let's go."

He pushed back from his desk and followed Chips into the interrogation room. The moment he entered the room he recognized the woman as the one he'd chased off when they cleaned out Barns' property. "Hello, Sally," Sean said as he entered the room. She said nothing, staring at him with eyes full of distrust and malice. It was clear she remembered him as well. "I'm Chief McGhee, and I'd like to ask you a few questions." She still said nothing. "The sooner you talk to us, the sooner you can go. Or I can have you sent over to County for...?" He paused and looked at Chips.

"Loitering and public nuisance," Chips supplied.

Sean settled into the chair across from Sally, trying to appear less threatening. "You don't want that, and I don't want that. So just tell me what I want to know and you can go."

"I wasn't doing nothin'," she finally sneered.

"My officer says otherwise."

"All you pigs can go fuck yourself."

Sean sighed in exaggerated disappointment and rose from his chair. "County it is. Put her in a cell and Mirandize her."

"Wait! What do you want to know?" she asked as she glared at him.

He settled back into his chair. "Know anything about the fire where you were staying?"

"No."

"You're sure? Nobody bragging about how they set fire to the buildings after we cleaned the place out? You know, to show us we can't push them around?"

"No. Nobody. Pisses me off they burned the place. It was a good place. Plenty of space so nobody gets in your shit or hassles you. Warm enough in the winter and cool enough in the summer. The pigs didn't hassle us. It wasn't any of us."

"You're sure? How do you know?"

"Why would we want to burn the place down? Except for that one time you came in there, nobody bothered us. In a few weeks, people would have forgotten and we could have moved back in. That's the way it always is. People chase us off, then in a few weeks, they forget about us. We ain't hurtin' nobody there. We just want to be left alone. Now, you fucking pigs is hasslin' us over shit. Why can't people just leave us alone? We ain't hurtin' nobody."

"See anybody hanging around who didn't belong? Anybody new staying there?"

"No."

"Anyone talk to you or anyone else? Ask any questions?"

"No. I told you, nobody hassled us there."

"How about when you're out? Anyone talk to you then? Anyone asking questions about how many people staying there? Anything like that?"

"No."

"So, you didn't see anybody snooping around, nobody was asking questions, nobody new was staying there, but yet you say you're sure it wasn't any of the normal people? How do you explain that? Those fires didn't start themselves."

"I don't know! I'm just telling you what I seen."

"Where do you stay during the day?"

"What do you mean?"

"Where do you spend most of your time? Is it out begging, in the mill buildings, where?"

Sally scratched at a boob. "I go to burger joints around lunch and dinner. More stuff thrown away then. The rest of the time I spend mostly in the building. It's cooler in there."

Sean thought about it. The timing made sense. Both fires happened about mealtime, probably so Sally wouldn't be in the building. He nodded. The pieces were starting to fit together. "If you knew who it was, you'd tell me?"

"Fuck yeah! Burn my house down and cause the pigs to start hasslin' me? Yeah, I'd tell you."

He believed her. He looked at Chips. "Where'd you pick her up?"

"McDonalds. She hangs around there and digs through the trash for scraps."

He nodded and pulled his wallet out. "Buy her a burger or something and then drop her off," he said, handing Chips a ten.

He took the bill and nodded. "Come on Sally. You've done this enough times you know the drill, but this time you get a Happy Meal out of it."

She rose. "You're still a fucking pig. Both of you."

Sean couldn't help but smile at her calling him a pig. Sally didn't smell as bad as Toejam, but she wasn't exactly roses and honeysuckle either. He was going to have to spray the place with air freshener again, and he probably should wipe down her chair just to be safe.

After disinfecting the room, he returned to his desk and finished entering his case information into PISTOL, including what he'd just learned from Sally. One case down, seven big file cabinets to go. The last task he wanted to finish, before he started the grind of setting up all the other laptops and entering his officers' personnel information, was to configure their evidence camera and computer.

He spent the next hour unpacking and setting up the three by three by three-foot light box and remote camera in the evidence room. The computer-controlled camera allowed the person taking the photo to see exactly what the picture would look like before it was taken, and the built-in illumination of the light box would ensure even lighting with no shadows and a plain white background. Using the box, his department could get crystal clear, high-resolution, close-up photos of anything that would fit in the box. It was probably overkill for Brunswick, but compared to the price of the hardware and software for PISTOL, and the file servers, it was a bargain, and it made things so much easier and faster. If the evidence wouldn't fit in the box, they could still do what they were doing now and place the evidence on a table with a white tablecloth. At least now they had a decent camera and a tripod to make even that task easier.

After he finished configuring the setup, he tested the computer and camera using his side arm and his apartment key. It worked perfectly, automatically saving the pictures to a folder on the network. The photos were of such high quality he could easily read the serial number on his weapon and see the wear on the key. As he worked his key back onto his ring, he smiled to himself. The light box would probably be used more by his officers for items they were selling on eBay than evidence, but even if that was true, it cost the department nothing and would help them remember how to use the device when they needed it for work.

"I'm going to lunch," Sean said, sticking his head into the dispatcher's office.

"Going for your walk?" Terri asked.

"Yeah. I must be nuts."

She grinned. "It's only ninety-one out there."

He rolled his eyes. "No, you're right, I'm definitely nuts."

"I love it! You'll get used to it."

"Uh-huh," he grunted.

Terri Landers was thirty-three and looked like a strong gust of wind would blow her away. Tall and waif thin, with short brown hair and stylish glasses, she reminded him of a cross between one of those too thin supermodels and a kindergarten teacher. Probably because of a combination of her size, and growing up in the area, she complained bitterly about the cold all winter. She usually wore a sweater in the office and was probably enjoying watching him suffer with the heat as she had with the cold.

He ambled through the downtown area, thankful for the awnings to blunt the intensity of the sun. The station was two blocks off Main Street, about middle way down. He always followed the same path, up to Main, make a left, walk to the end of the downtown area before crossing over and walking the length of downtown on the other side. He would then cross the road again and walk back until he made another left to return to the station.

He greeted passersby and wandered into a few of the businesses to enjoy a moment of air conditioning, greet the owners and the help, and nod to customers. He wanted to give the impression he was in no hurry so if someone wanted to talk to him, they wouldn't feel like they were interrupting. Since he'd taken over as chief, he'd stopped in every store at least once.

He reached the end of the ten-block downtown area and crossed the street to begin working his way down the other side. About midway, he decided he'd stop in at Pop's Place. Pop's Place and the Big Belly Deli were his normal stops for lunch when he was on his weekly walkabout. They were swamped, as usual. Pop's was known for their burgers and was open from ten to three, daily. There were no tables available so he took a stool at the old-fashioned counter.

"Hey, chief! The usual?" Linda, the short, smiling, overweight server asked as she filled a water glass for him. If she were wearing a pink and white uniform instead of a Pop's Place t-shirt and jeans, and started chomping on a stick of gum, Linda would be the complete waitress stereotype.

He couldn't help but grin. When he'd moved to Brunswick he'd wondered how well he'd adjust to small-town life. Now that he was here, he couldn't imagine ever returning to a big city. The town's-folk had adopted him as one of their own and he was enjoying the hell out of their friendly, southern hospitality. None of the restaurants he frequented in Boston ever remembered his 'usual.'

"That'll be perfect. Thanks."

Less than five minutes later his bacon cheeseburger with extra pickle and a side of seasoned fries slid to a stop in front of him.

"There you go, sugar. Need anything else?"

"No. I think this'll do," he said as she topped off his water glass. He smiled again. It was a good thing he didn't need anything because Linda was moving away to ring out a customer before he'd even answered.

He ate his burger, watching the coming and goings of the lunch crowd. Pop's was squeezed into a narrow but deep building between Rich Spangler's office and a mom & pop store that sold leather goods, some of it custom made on site. The restaurant looked like something right out of the forties or fifties with its black and white tiled floor, backless stools at the counter, and Formica everything, but the burgers were inexpensive and much tastier than their price suggested they'd be.

Finished with lunch, he paid the $7.49 bill by leaving a ten tucked under his plate, and stepped out into the heat to finish his tour. A man stepped out of a store that sold locally made pottery. "Hey, chief, can I talk to you a minute?" he called.

Sean was about halfway across a side street when he heard the man call. He turned and returned to the man. "Sure, Mr...?"

The man extended his hand. "Stan. Stan Lifsey."

Sean shook his hand. Stan was a small man with thinning brown hair, a pinched face, and small frameless glasses. He wouldn't look out of place playing a shopkeeper in a western. "What can I do for you, Mr. Lifsey?"

"It's about the stop sign, there," Stan said, jerking his thumb at the red octagon. "People aren't stopping, and they're not yielding for people in the crosswalk. Someone is going to get run over. Another problem is when someone is trying to make a left, other drivers sometimes pass on the right. You can see where the curb has been broken down over the years from them trying to squeeze by. I had a customer nearly get run over a couple days ago. I was carrying a box full of cups to a woman's car for her. We were halfway across the intersection when this guy made a left off Main and drove right past us. Scared the bejeebers out of her and me both."

Sean nodded. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll have an officer keep an eye on it. We'll have a few educational moments about right of way in a crosswalk."

Stan chuckled. "Thanks, chief. I appreciate it."