Part 26 (1/2)
”Hey, Lieut. This is Carl Steding at the Chattanooga Times Free Press Chattanooga Times Free Press. I had a chat with Scott Donovan. Apparently he spoke to you yesterday?”
”Yeah.”
”He claims you folks are in the middle of some sort of plague related to an alarm you went on.”
”If you're calling out of idle curiosity, I really don't have time. If you know anything about those three firefighters who went down three years ago or the Southeast Travelers incident, that's a different story.”
”Funny you should mention Southeast Travelers. I followed that for our paper. It was the Chattanooga Times Chattanooga Times then.” then.”
”You know a firefighter named Charlie Drago?”
”For a while Charlie Drago was one of my primary sources. The last year or so, he's been a little less than reliable. What Donovan told me about you was intriguing, though. Especially in light of what I saw on the wire service yesterday. I understand you folks had an explosion a couple of days after you found out about this syndrome. We had almost the same thing happen three years ago.”
”Okay. You've got my attention. What happened?”
”Three of our firefighters turned into vegetables after that Southeast Travelers fire. About a week after that, just about the time we were gearing up to start an investigation, the fire department got called to an LPG tanker accident. Big explosion. Six firefighters died. These were the same guys who'd worked with the three who went down after Southeast Travelers. Same s.h.i.+ft. After that everybody was talking about the tanker incident, not Southeast Travelers. You could almost say somebody'd planned it that way. At least that's how it looks from this perspective.”
”So you think somebody caused your tanker explosion in order to get rid of the rest of the people who were going to get sick?”
”All I'm saying is you people start talking about this syndrome, then a day or two later you come within a cat's whisker of losing everybody who's left. Isn't that what happened?”
”Basically.”
”Same thing happened here. That's all I'm saying. Now we get a pretty big explosion in this area maybe once every twenty-five or thirty years. How often does your department respond to something like that?”
”I don't even remember one.”
”If everybody had died at your trailer fire, how much time do you think the authorities would have for the syndrome? For one thing, there wouldn't be anyone left to get the syndrome. They establish a cause for your trailer?”
”Ammonium nitrate was the agent. It's beginning to look like it was not an accident, either. What about your LPG tanker?”
”Never really figured it out. Driver died in the fire. Impeccable driving record. A family man with kids. Nondrinker. Never used drugs. That we knew of. No reason for a wreck. It's funny how much stuff happened right around that time. This isn't really on the point, but the daughter of one of the downed firefighters died in a house fire during all the investigations. Pretty gal. Anastasia was her name. I guess she'd been doing a lot of legwork, kind of an unofficial private investigator for the families. Cops found her in her burned-out apartment. Somebody torched it with gasoline. Never found the perp.”
”You say Donovan called you?”
”Sure did. I know Scott from way back. Him and some other guy stuck around for a coupla weeks. Top-notch. Both of them. Couldn't ask for a better pair. We had many a Scotch together. Those two slaved away from six in the morning until midnight. Canyon View was only one of a couple of dozen firms had packages in that fire. And hey, n.o.body else sent help. You see Scott, tell him 'hey, boy' from Carl in Chattanooga, will you?”
”I'll do that. Did Scott happen to mention JCP, Inc.? Jane's California Propulsion-”
”I know who they are. Why do you ask about them?”
”Did he mention them when he called?”
”Not that I recall.”
”They have any packages at Southeast Travelers? Anything that might have broken or spilled?”
”Why are you singling them out?”
”They had some stuff in the truck we think caused our problem.”
”I honestly don't know. Only saw the complete list of companies once. I think I could get it for you, though. Might take a couple of days.”
”I would appreciate that, Carl. In fact, that might be about the best thing you could do to help.”
”You got it, buddy. I'll call back when I find out something.”
”Thanks. Oh, and one other thing. Charlie Drago mentioned he caught somebody prowling Southeast Travelers sometime after the fire, maybe destroying evidence or looking for something. He said the guy threatened him.”
”Never heard that, but I wouldn't doubt it. For a while here we had private investigators and legal aides crawling all over the place. And Charlie has a way of failing to ingratiate himself with people. It's just a way he has. I wouldn't put too much stock in what Drago says. He's a little over-the-top these days.”
”I gathered that. Thanks.”
42. WE'RE A LITTLE LATE TRYING TO SAVE YOUR LIFE, BUT WE GOT THE CAR WASHED.
Minutes before the funeral, Wes Tindale found me in the fire station. ”Mamie and Lill ready?” he asked.
”Who?”
”Mamie and Lill.”
I'd forgotten my in-laws penchant for renaming our kids, forgotten that their need for control was so overwhelming they couldn't bear to utter the names their daughter and I had given their grandchildren.
”Allyson and and Britney Britney have a couple of hours free this morning. After lunch I'm going to need them back.” have a couple of hours free this morning. After lunch I'm going to need them back.”
”Really?”
”I'm going to need them back.” For someone who often bl.u.s.tered like a whale coming up for air, Wes was easily hurt and nursed grudges for years. I'd always a.s.sumed his thin hide was one of the reasons for the drinking.
More surgically than any family I'd ever known the Tindales could express disapproval with a look or an exhalation or a mere twitch of the lips. The expression they used most often on my girls, sometimes mouthed in perfect synchronicity, was, ”That's a no-no.”
Disapproval of those around them was constant. Living in Arizona with them would be worse for my girls than being in a seventeenth-century Moroccan prison.
Crazed with the thought that I'd uncovered a conspiracy of some sort, or that Carl Steding from the Chattanooga Times Free Press Chattanooga Times Free Press had, that somebody or something was orchestrating the events of the past week, I sought out Stevenson and Shad. I found them in the kitchen munching doughnuts meant for the volunteers who'd come in to empty the hose beds and decorate the fire engine that would serve as Stan Beebe's hea.r.s.e. Bloated with sugar and grease they'd washed down with free coffee, Shad and Stevenson shrugged off my news about the coincidence of explosions in Tennessee and Was.h.i.+ngton. had, that somebody or something was orchestrating the events of the past week, I sought out Stevenson and Shad. I found them in the kitchen munching doughnuts meant for the volunteers who'd come in to empty the hose beds and decorate the fire engine that would serve as Stan Beebe's hea.r.s.e. Bloated with sugar and grease they'd washed down with free coffee, Shad and Stevenson shrugged off my news about the coincidence of explosions in Tennessee and Was.h.i.+ngton.
”That's what fire departments are about,” Shad said. ”They respond to emergencies.”
”I don't think you can equate this trailer explosion with an LPG incident three years ago in Tennessee,” Stevenson said. ”An LPG truck that rolls over on the highway is an accident. What we have up the hill there was a triggered explosion. You sure you don't know anything about how it started?”
”Wait. Let me try to remember. Yeah. I killed Caputo and then almost blew up my little girls.”
”You did?” Shad asked.
”You guys need to lay off the junk food.”
Stan's funeral was held in the white wooden-frame Lutheran church on Northeast Eighth, a few blocks north of the station.