It was there that I found Lamar.
I took a seat in the bench outside the captain’s office. The door was half open, and since the building was all steel and concrete, the sound of their voices carried.
“What a firefighter does on his own time is his own business,” the captain said. “Especially a vollie. I ain’t saying that I approve, mind you. It’s just that he’s got some old fashioned notions.”
“Old fashioned?” Lamar said. “You’re saying that these notions don’t keeping him from doing his job.”
“I believe that’s what I just said.”
“That woman who died in Nagswood might argue with you.”
“We settled this problem on the site, Lamar.”
“That was before the body was found. My stepson heard her screaming. I’m wondering why Loach didn’t.”
“What exactly are you hinting at?” The captain raised his voice. “That my vollies had something to do with it?”
“I ain’t hinting—I’m saying it.” Lamar’s chair scrapped across the floor. “In this envelope is a formal complaint against your company for dereliction of duty, refusal to render aide, and endangering the safety of a fellow volunteer.”
The other captain’s chair scraped on the concrete, too. “Lamar, you want to think about this good and hard before you go after Eugene. He’s got friends, and this is a small town. Remember that.”
“Nobody knows that better than me,” Lamar said. “I hope other folks remember that, too.”
A couple of seconds later, Lamar came out of the office and walked right past me. His cap was pulled down over his eyes. He was staring at the ground, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket.
His truck was parked across the street underneath a row of oak trees. Lamar trotted out to the yellow line, waited for a car to pass and then crossed to the parking slot. The meter showed red, indicating that he had been in the fire station almost thirty minutes.
I paused to let several trucks pass. A Landis Logging Company semi sped by close to the side of the road, blowing dust and pine bark chips in its wake. Landis’ truckers were infamous speeders, but the deputies always looked the other way because of the name on the side.
The instant a break opened, I made a dash for it. Halfway across the highway, my cellphone started ringing.
“Terrific timing, Doc.” I answered. “A logging truck’s about to obliterate me.”
“I’ve got news.”
“Hang on.” I ducked behind an appliance delivery truck. “Did you read about the Nagswood victim? It said the medical examiner identified her.”
“Don’t believe everything you read,” Abner scoffed. “The finger you sent? The hyphenated lady ran some tests and found some interesting chemical compounds.”
“Like what?”
I peeked around the delivery truck. Lamar was kicked back in the cab of the truck, hat covering his face, the radio cranked. The sound of Molly Hatchet drifted down the street.
“She found alkali metal,” Doc said. “Sodium, to be exact.”
“Sodium?” I said. “Really.”
“A significant quantity was also found on the body of the Nagswood victim.”
“You won’t believe this.” I told him about the theft from the college lab. “Some coincidence, huh?”
“Good to know,” Abner said, “We can get together later to compare notes. Listen, Boone, I’ve got a job for you.”
“What kind of job?”
“Investigative work. You up to it?”
“What do you need me to do? Collect more physical evidence?”
“I want you to interview a man named Troy Blevins. He teaches band at your old high school.”
“Thought you’d want dirt on Eugene Loach.”
“Never heard of him.”
“He let Mrs. Vega die. Lamar filed a formal complaint against him for dereliction of duty. Loach has to be involved somehow.”
“Maybe he is. I still need you to ask this band teacher some questions.”
“Text me a list.”
“Already did. Check your phone.”
A patrol car rolled past me and hit its lights. It swung into the parking place a few slots ahead of Lamar. Deputy Mercer climbed out. He wore the same mirrored sunglasses and carried a ticket book tucked under his arm.
“Got to go, Doc,” I said. “There’s a situation here. Anything else?”
“Just one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I need you to draw five hundred dollars out of my bank account and bring it down to Galax tomorrow morning.”
“Five hundred bucks? What for?”
“Bail money,” he said, sounding very pleased with himself. “I’m in the Allegheny County jail.”
8
Before I had hung up, Abner admitted he was locked up for interfering with a police investigation. He wouldn’t go into details, except that there was no need to hurry because the arraignment wouldn’t happen until morning. I agreed to wait, even though I hated the idea of leaving him in a cell overnight.
When I got back to the truck, Mercer was finishing a parking ticket and a noise ordinance violation.
“Wait just a cotton picking minute,” Lamar told him. “You’re a county deputy. You can’t write me up for a city ordinance.”
“Tell it to the judge.”
“We’re both in public service,” Lamar said, his voice rising. “How about a little professional courtesy?”
“Professional courtesy is for professionals.” Mercer clicked his ink pen. “You volunteers ain’t real firemen. Just overgrown boys playing with your hoses.”
Mercer sauntered back to the prowler and pulled right in front of a logging truck, which had to lay on its brakes to keep from pancaking him.
“Almost wish that truck had kept going,” Lamar said when I got in and he pulled out behind the logging truck. “I’ve got to talk with Hoyt about that boy. Power’s gone to his head.”
“Mercer knows how to spread the love around,” I said.
Lamar clicked the radio on. A commercial was playing for a new development, Autumn Hills, the same one that I had seen in Landis’s office.
Lamar shook his head. “Building in the flood plain. Hope they know how to swim.”
“Isn’t that illegal? How did they get the permits?”
“Autumn Hills Development Company has Trey Landis on the board. That’s the only permit they needed.”
“I thought Mom was the family cynic.”
“When you’re born and bred in Allegheny County, it ain’t cynicism. It’s called the Way Things Work.”
I leaned forward to turn the volume lower when an Emergency Broadcast System message came in.
“Authorities in Allegheny County,” the computer-generated voice said, “have issued a Silver Alert for Henry James Meeks. Last seen in Galax North Carolina wearing overalls and a light blue shirt. Anyone knowing his whereabouts, contact the Allegheny County Sheriff’s Office.”
Lamar shook his head in disbelief. “There’s a stretch if I ever heard one. That’s not a Silver Alert. It’s a statewide APB. Hoyt’s using the system to catch Stumpy for him.”
“Why would he do that?”
“So he can arrest him, of course.”
“Hoyt thinks Stumpy’s involved with with the fires?”
“That’s what I’m guessing. A man reports one fire, so they assume he started the second one. As if Stumpy could stay sober long enough to plan his next meal.”
“I thought Stumpy gave up drinking.”
“Stumpy’s given up drinking more times than I can remember.”
“So what’s next?”
“Next is your Mama’s protest at the County Council.” Lamar hit the accelerator. The speedometer climbed. “We better not be late, if we know what’s good for us.”
9
Lamar and I arrived just in time for the meeting. In the parking lot across from the courthouse, I spotted Cedar and Luigi.
“Catch you later,” I told Lamar and jogged over to met them. “Fancy meeting y’all here.”
Cedar gave me a peck on the cheek. “When I heard about your mom’s protest, and I had to come watch the fireworks.”