Chapter 8. Headache after Headache

WHITNEY

I'd nearly reached the corner when a maroon Saturn sedan screeched to a stop on the perpendicular street. Before GM discontinued the brand about fifteen years ago, Saturns had been very popular in the area. They were manufactured in the town of Spring Hill, which sat just south of Nashville, and many of the carmaker's employees drove them. The rosary hanging from the rearview mirror swung forward and smacked against the inside of the windshield before swinging back. Judith Bottiglieri sat at the wheel, her face puckered in rage. It appeared that she'd been headed to the fire station, but jammed on the brakes when she saw me coming up the side street. The pickup truck behind her slammed into her back bumper with a BAM, rocking her car forward. Matthew sat at the wheel of the truck. What in the world?

Both of them rolled down their windows and began screaming at me. With them hollering over each other, I couldn't make out what they were saying. But I didn't have to hear their words to know they were angry as hornets, and that the target of their anger was yours truly. I turned toward the firehouse with the oven. Judith pulled her car into the fire station and again braked to a quick stop. As before, Matthew was too close and ran his front bumper into the back of her car, but with less force this time. Thank goodness both vehicles were older models that already sported assorted dents and scrapes. A fender bender wouldn't make things much worse.

As the two climbed out of their cars, four more vehicles came up the road and turned into the parking lot. Tabitha, Benedict, Peter, and Mary Ruth slammed their doors as they, too, exited their vehicles. All six yelled at me now. Neck veins throbbed. Eyes bulged. Spittle flew. I looked from one to another to another, trying to figure out what had them so agitated. Finally, I threw up a hand in a stop gesture. Once they quieted, I turned to Benny, "What's got all of you so upset?"

He jabbed an accusing finger at me. "You gave John five hundred dollars more than you gave the rest of us!"

Sheesh."John was holding out. We only paid him more because it was late, we were tired, and we wanted to get the deal done without having to resort to legal action."

Peter scoffed. "That doesn't make it fair!"

He wasn't wrong, and I might have felt the same way in their situation, but we'd paid them a fair amount and I didn't at all appreciate the aggressive way they'd approached me here. I was alone, one against six. Not exactly a fair fight, should one break out. I hoped it wouldn't come to that, but I didn't trust these folks. My body warmed with a fast, nervous pulse.

Judith virtually snarled. "You'd better pay each of us another five hundred dollars or we're calling things off!"

"Calling things off?" I repeated. "What do you mean?"

She crossed her arms over her chest in what seemed to be a Bottiglieri family habit. "We'll rescind the contracts."

"The deeds were properly signed and notarized," I said. "They've been filed in the county records. It's all done. There's nothing to rescind. We legally own the townhouse now."

"Well…" She looked up in thought, evidently hoping to find a viable argument written in the clouds. She brought her eyes back down to look at me. "We won't cash our checks, then. If we don't cash them, that means you haven't paid us and there's no deal."

Benny looked sheepish. "I already deposited mine."

"Me too," said Tabitha.

The others concurred, though it didn't matter one way or another. I'd tendered payment, kept up my end of the bargain. As far as I knew, failing to cash a check wouldn't negate the deed.

Peter stepped up close to me. I was taller than him, but he had a good hundred pounds on me. I turned the dolly and eased behind it so the oven now stood between me and this pushy jerk.

He gripped the edges of the stovetop and leaned over it, his face so close I could tell he'd eaten something with onions for lunch. "You refusing to pay us? 'Cause you'd regret it. Trust me."

I wished I had my big wrench in my pocket, my defensive weapon of choice. But a cell phone is a weapon of sorts, too, isn't it? I pulled my phone from my pocket and hit the button to record a video. I aimed the lens at him. "Are you threatening me?"

My ploy worked. He backed away, a fake smile plastered on his face. "We're not threatening you. We're just asking you to pay us equal amounts for our equal shares, that's all."

"Really?" I said, sarcastically drawing out the word. "I'm surprised at you, Peter. You were nearly as stubborn as John. You demanded more than your siblings received. We gave you thirty-eight dollars in cash. Remember?"

My tactic worked. The other five turned their ire on Peter now, yelling at him. Benny even gave him a small shove toward Judith. Judith shoved her brother right back toward Benny. He put his arms over his head to protect himself as Mary Ruth clobbered him with her purse. I'd never seen middle-aged people act so childish. Grow up, for Pete's sake!

Lest the situation devolve into fratricide, I drew their attention back to me. "I don't have the checkbook with me, so I can't pay you today. Besides, I have to get an okay from my partners." I doubted Buck and Presley would balk at paying the additional amount, but I still had to run it by them. Though I knew I'd have an answer sooner, I said, "I'll get back to you on Monday." The Bottiglieris had given me unnecessary flack today. They deserved to sweat a little.

"You'd better!" Judith growled.

Ugh.Ten o'clock in the morning and already my patience had been exhausted.

The six got into their automobiles, and more bumpers met as each one tried to be the first to exit the parking lot. These people took sibling rivalry to a whole new level.

Once they'd gone, I set up two sawhorses across the entrance to the parking lot. If any of them tried to come back to make more demands, I wanted it made clear they were not welcome.

I rolled the oven over by the dumpster and tilted it left and right, walking it off the dolly. For safety's sake, I removed the door. Didn't want a child or animal getting trapped inside. I returned to the townhouse to remove the rest of the smaller appliances that would need to be replaced. I'd leave the refrigerator for Buck to handle. By the time I was done it was early afternoon, and I decided to call it a day. I had grocery shopping and housecleaning to do at home, and I wanted to spend some quality time with my cat. I hadn't seen much of the sweet little guy lately. I attached a padlock to the front door so that we wouldn't have to climb through the upstairs window next time, and headed out.

At the break of dawn Sunday morning, Sawdust followed me to the door. Colette would be working at her restaurant today, and Buck and I planned to meet at the building supply store that afternoon to buy materials and supplies for the fire station rehab. For now, I simply needed to complete some measurements to make sure we bought the appropriate amounts of framing materials, sheetrock, drywall tape, and joint compound to build the wall that would divide the current large secondary bedroom into two smaller rooms. Might as well get an early start.

I looked down at my cat as he peered up at me. "Want to go to work with me?"

My beautiful buff-colored boy issued a definitive mew. I took it as a yes. I rounded up his carrier and opened the door, and he sashayed in, swishing his bushy tail. Cleo watched from her comfy spot atop the papasan chair. She opened her mouth and yawned. She obviously preferred to stay right here and continue her nap than get into a carrier. I could understand why. For her, a carrier usually meant a trip to the vet. Not so for Sawdust, who often accompanied me to work, so long as we weren't performing tasks that might pose a danger to him.

I carried Sawdust out to my SUV, stashed him in the back seat, and ran the belt buckle through the carrier's handle to secure it in place. As we drove to the fire station, I told Sawdust all about our plans. He meowed on occasion, letting me know he approved. As we drew near the station, my nose detected the scent of smoke. I sniffed the air. Is someone grilling? I quickly dismissed the idea. It was only half past seven, much too early to barbecue. But smoke is definitely coming from somewhere… The air was cloudy with it, increasingly so as I neared our destination. I gasped as the firehouse came into view, reflexively hitting the brake. Thank goodness nobody was behind me. Smoke billowed from a second-story window and flames shot out, doing their best to evade the stream of water a firefighter had aimed at it. Could there be anything more ironic than a fire station on fire?

My heart banged in my chest and my head spun. What happened here? Unfortunately, I was no stranger to fires. Old, defective wiring in the cottage had caused a fire there, and for a few moments I thought I'd lost Sawdust. And I'd recently watched helplessly as a boat burned on the lake after exploding with a man inside. I'd tried to force the memories from my mind, but seeing the flames here brought that same feeling of horror back to the surface.

I pulled into the parking lot of the café next door, where a crowd of patrons stood, watching the excitement. I parked my car, unrolled the windows so Sawdust wouldn't get overheated, and scurried over to the station. A female firefighter held up a hand to stop me, much as I'd held up a hand to silence the Bottiglieris when they'd accosted me here the day before. "Stay back, ma'am."

I took a few steps back, gesturing at the firehouse. "I own the building."

She ran her gaze over my coveralls and boots. "You're with the historical society? We've been trying to get in touch with you."

My guess was she'd envisioned someone in Victorian-era dress, not a woman dressed like a grease monkey. "No," I explained, "I'm not from the historical society. My cousin and I just bought the station from them." My guess was the property records hadn't yet been updated to reflect the change in ownership. Thank goodness we had an insurance policy in place. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"We don't know the details yet," she said. "Was anyone in the building?"

"No," I said. "At least nobody should have been." Could a homeless person or reckless teenagers have found their way into the station and accidentally caused the conflagration?

"Was there anything flammable inside?" the firefighter asked.

"Not that I know of." I fanned the smoke out of my face, but it was too late. The air infiltrated my lungs, making me cough. When I could get my breath, I said, "We just completed the demolition. All the debris was removed and put in that bin." I gestured to the dumpster.

"Any building materials inside? Paint? Thinner? Lumber?"

"No. I was coming here to measure. I planned to pick up supplies and materials today."

She nodded and collected my contact information. "We'll be in touch once we know more and to let you know whether it's safe enough for you to go inside."

I thanked her and returned to my car, where I promptly phoned Presley, waking her up.

"How bad is it?" she asked, her voice still gravelly from sleep.

"Hard to say. It's still burning so we won't know until we can get inside."

As a silent partner who'd have no responsibility for repairing the mess here, Presley was pragmatic. "Well, this is why we paid for insurance."

Buck, on the other hand, spat a string of curses when I informed him about the fire. "First the Bottiglieris give us grief, and now this. Maybe we should bail on these projects and get the hell out of Germantown. These properties have been nothing but headaches."

After working out all the design details, I was too mentally invested in these projects to give up on them now. I told Buck I'd be in touch once I knew more. I started the motor, exited the parking lot, and drove around the block the long way to avoid the firetrucks in the street. Gideon, Joanna, and Holden stood on the opposite sidewalk from the townhouse, where they could watch the goings on without being in the way. D-Jay, Samira, and Kavish stood nearby. Macy, presumably, was in bed, per doctor's orders. I hoped the fire engine sirens hadn't startled her. A trio of older men had even brought canvas lawn chairs along so they could sit while they watched the activity, apparently considering the event to be first-class entertainment. I assumed it was the sirens that had drawn everyone outside, but perhaps they'd smelled the smoke first. Maybe one of them had been the person to call in the report and summon help.

I parked in the narrow driveway of the townhouse, carried Sawdust up to the porch, and left him there temporarily before walking over to speak with the neighbors.

Not bothering with a greeting, Samira jumped right in. "What happened? How did the station catch fire?"

I raised my shoulders and palms. "No idea. I'm hoping the firefighters will be able to tell us once they've put the fire out."

Joanna glanced upward. "It's a good thing it's not windy, or the fire might have spread to our homes." She put a hand to her head. "All this smoke is giving me a headache."

Gideon cast a glance at Joanna before turning to me, his face tight with concern. "You think it could be arson?"

My mind hadn't gone there yet but, now that he'd brought it up, I realized it was possible. The Bottiglieris hadn't been at all happy with me yesterday. Maybe Peter had made good on his threat to make me regret not paying them the additional $500 each, or at least not paying them right away. Maybe he'd started the fire to show me what he was capable of if we didn't fork over the additional funds. Then again, maybe it was only a homeless person or delinquents who'd caused the fire, like I'd wondered earlier. Or maybe there'd been some type of freak accident, a piece of equipment that had short-circuited or something. But Buck and I always ensured everything was unplugged when we left a worksite. Hmm.

The only thing I knew for certain was that I didn't want the day to be a total waste. To that end, I decided to do some demo work on the townhouse. I'd already driven over. Might as well make good use of my time.

I bid adieu to the neighbors, returned to the townhouse, and carried Sawdust into the place. Though I'd expected to smell some smoke inside, the scent was much stronger than I'd anticipated, and a haze hung in the air. When I turned around, I sucked air for the second time that morning. What the—?! Someone had written THEIVES in bright red spray paint on the living room wall. They'd misspelled the word by putting the e before the i. The letters were enormous, spanning from floor to ceiling, though they were relatively narrow. The paint had dripped, looking like blood running down the wall. As if we wouldn't get the message, they'd painted the word across the kitchen cabinets, too. The exterior kitchen door had been left open, which explained how the house had filled with smoke. I bumped the door closed with my hip in the hopes of preserving any fingerprints that might be on the knob. I continued on to discover they'd spray-painted the sentiment on the master bedroom walls as well. They'd started to paint it across the bathroom mirror, but the can must've run out partway through. They'd only gotten so far as theiv.

It must have been one of the Bottiglieris.Each of them likely had keys to the townhouse. After all, they'd all lived here at one point, as had their parents until their deaths not too long ago. Besides, they'd be the only ones who'd write a word like thieves—or should I say theives?—on the wall. Only the Bottiglieris had a reason to believe, however unfounded, that Buck, Presley, and I had stolen from them. I found myself putting a hand to my head, just like Joanna had earlier. This juvenile vengeance was enough to give anyone a migraine.

Mentally chastising myself for not immediately changing the locks on the place, I snapped photos of the vandalized walls and texted them to Collin before dialing his number. He answered the phone sounding incredulous. "Someone vandalized the townhouse?"

"Looks that way," I said. "But that's not all. The fire station is burning as we speak."

"What the—?" His mind shifted from fiancé mode to detective mode. "Stay put, so long as it's safe. I'm on my way."