Wayward Secrets, page 8
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure. One of the carnies saw him messing around near the tent. About five minutes later, flames.”
Another kid playing with fire. “What exactly does this thing do?”
“Not sure yet. The other one is in a metal bucket out back. I wanted to understand how they work before setting it off so took this one apart.” He picked a paper tube, about three inches in diameter and four inches tall, from the table. “I think this made that circle of ashes we found.”
I took the tube from him and gave it a little squeeze. “Feels like standard cardstock.” A shiver rushed through me at that declaration.
“What?” Reed asked.
“I’m not sure.” I scanned my memories. “Something about cardstock. Anyway, what was this used for?”
He pointed out a one-inch-deep cone cut from the same cardstock. A small amount of purple powder lay in the cone’s tip. “I took the cylinder apart from the top down. This cone was taped to the bottom of the tube. See the little cuts at the center of the cylinder?”
I turned it and found two one-inch slices across from each other at the midpoint. “I see them.”
“This strip of plastic”—he tapped a four-inch-long by one-and-a-half-inch-wide piece of thin plastic—“was inserted through the slices.”
The plastic glistened like it was wet. “What’s the liquid on it?”
“Don’t know. It’s clear, thick like honey, and there was a line of it running down the center of the plastic. I just got the thing disassembled and haven’t had the chance to research anything yet.”
Research. If Martin Reed ever stepped away from law enforcement, he could get a job anywhere as a researcher. Everything fascinated the man.
Also laid out on the table was a length of twine with a cotton ball tied to one end.
“How were these other things involved?” I asked.
“Okay.” He wiggled all ten fingers. “This is kind of cool. I’m only guessing, because like I said, I haven’t researched or set off the other one yet. It appears that pulling out the plastic strip dropped the liquid onto the purple powder. That must somehow start the fire. The flames light the twine, which is covered in acetone. It reminds me of how Cordick doused the ropes of the hanging meditation chair with lighter fluid. In this case, the twine burns all the way to the cotton ball, which is set next to the item meant to be set on fire.”
“Far more complex than the cigarette and matches.”
“It looks like this one takes longer to ignite.”
“That sounds right. The pretzel-clown said he’d been away from his cart for six or seven minutes and caught the flames just starting. The jester-juggler was away from his prop trunk for about ten minutes, and it was engulfed when he found the fire.” I stared at the pieces scattered across the table. “This is sort of complex for a kid, don’t you think?”
Reed shrugged a shoulder. “It’s amazing what you can find on YouTube.” He pointed at my desk. “Can we use your computer?”
“Sure.” I woke it up, entered the password, and stepped aside to let my deputy work his magic with internet research. “What are you entering?”
“Flammable purple powder. That’s the most distinctive ingredient.” He scrolled through a few screens and frowned. “It’s only giving me fire extinguishers and pyrotechnics.” He tapped his fingers lightly on the keyboard. “How about chemical fire without matches?”
About a second later, we had more than twenty-eight million results. The very first was a video showing purple flames.
Reed shifted to the edge of the chair and read. “Potassium permanganate. It’s used to treat athlete’s foot, impetigo, eczema, and blistering wounds.”
“And it’s flammable? That doesn’t sound like good medicine to me.”
He chuckled. “It has to be diluted with plenty of water. Then you soak the infected area.”
“How does it work as a firebomb?”
He started the video, and we watched a man explain all of his ingredients—potassium permanganate, glycerin, and a cotton ball coated with petroleum jelly and wax. He added a drop of glycerin to about a quarter teaspoon of the powder and explained that as the glycerin soaked into the permanganate, it absorbed the oxygen. The lack of oxygen created intense heat and eventually flames. When the powder started burning, he tossed the cotton ball into the flame and explained that the cotton would burn for a few minutes, giving you time to add kindling and other wood to your campfire.
“So if you go camping and forget your matches,” Reed stated drolly, “you can pull your science kit out of your backpack to start your fire.”
I stared at him and then snorted a laugh. “Let’s go see how this all works in our situation.”
I followed him out the back door and held it open for a K-9 deputy that wasn’t with us right now. I missed my pup.
Reed took the remaining cylinder to the middle of the gravel parking lot. We didn’t know if this thing would come to life slowly or burst in an explosion, so kept it in the metal bucket.
The juggler’s steamer trunk came to mind. “That little thing did all that damage?”
“We’re about to find out.” With the string dangling from the paper tube, Reed set the cotton ball on top of a small pile of dead leaves and was about to pull the plastic strip from its slot when Igor appeared holding the boy in question by the back of his collar.
“Caught him,” Igor announced unnecessarily.
“Just in time.” Reed shot a glare at the boy, making him squirm more than he already was. “Not sure if you’ve seen what your handiwork does.”
The boy shook his head. “I didn’t—”
“Quiet,” Igor snapped.
“Do I pull it fast or slow?” Reed asked him.
The boy stared with plenty of attitude, then asked, “Am I supposed to be quiet or answer you?”
Igor tapped the boy on the back of the head with a thick finger. “Do not be wise guy.”
He looked up at the big man. “What’s a wise guy?”
Igor growled. “Answer him.”
The boy sighed. “Slowly. At an upward angle, not just straight out or not enough of the stuff will scrape off.”
The stuff? Did he even know what he’d been working with?
Reed followed the instructions and then stepped away from the firebomb.
“It’ll take a few minutes,” the boy stated.
After four or four-and-a-half minutes, smoke started to rise from the cylinder. After another minute, a burst of flames shot an inch above the tube and died down. Then the acetone-soaked string burned to the cotton ball and started the leaves on fire.
“I get it,” Reed commented, impressed. “There’s enough of the cotton exposed to catch fire. It’ll burn slowly, though, because of the wax and petroleum jelly. One or the other, the jelly or the wax, would probably be enough. Both seems like overkill.” He nodded his head. “I can see these cotton balls being great for camping.”
“Speaking of overkill,” I added, “why the potassium permanganate and glycerin? Why not just light the cotton ball and walk away?”
We both glanced at the boy, who’d gone mute again.
Reed stated, “Someone asked you to set these devices around the circus. Didn’t they?”
The boy crossed his arms. “I’ll tell you all about it, but not without my parents here.”
I bit back a grin. “At least he didn’t ask for a lawyer.”
“Who are your parents?” Reed asked.
Turned out, they were sideshow carnies, new to the circus this season. Big cat trainers.
The boy glared at us. “They’re probably freaking out right now ’cause you took me from my home.”
“Watch the attitude, mister,” Reed scolded right back. “You started fires around their new place of employment. They’ll be lucky if Creed lets them stay.”
“I return to circus,” Igor volunteered, handing off custody of the boy to Reed. “Will send parents here.”
“Thank you, Igor.” To Reed, I said, “It’s day one and we’ve already got trouble.”
“We do. What’s going on with the tellers?”
I gave him a thirty-second update. “We’re not doing this with just the two of us again. Last season nearly killed us.” I paused, and we both frowned at my poor choice of words. “Anyway, I also need to help Tripp more at the B&B. I’m going to run up to the Barlows’ and have a chat with River about bringing on a second deputy.”
Reed’s shoulders dropped with relief. “Excellent. Kiss those babies for me.”
Kissing the babies was never a problem. I whistled for Meeka and remembered, again, that she wasn’t here.
“It’s not just you,” Reed assured. “It’s weird that she isn’t here.”
This from the man who initially insisted the station didn’t need a K-9.
Chapter Eleven
I’d never seen a man so grateful to find someone at his door.
“Proprietress, please, come in.” He opened the door wide and stood to the side.
The Barlow cottage usually smelled of flowers or herbs, both fresh and dried. Many times, incense smoked in the background. Or Briar would have a pot of something wonderful bubbling on the stove. And River emitted a natural scent that, if bottled, would double his already massive fortune. Now, he smelled of sour milk—the white stain on the shoulder of his black shirt had to be spit-up—and there was a faint stink of dirty diapers in the air.
They had converted the sitting room off the front door into Baby Central. Eventually, the babies would share the small third bedroom upstairs, but this setup provided more space, Morgan explained, while they figured out life with twins. There were two bassinets, a changing table, and a bookcase packed with diapers, clean clothes, and other baby things I couldn’t identify. Currently, the babies lay on a blanket on the floor next to each other. Both were crying. Normal for Juniper. Not so much for Talon.
“What’s wrong with them?” I asked, amazed at how much two tiny beings could upend a place.
“Juniper requires a fresh diaper,” an exhausted River stated. “Talon would like to eat.”
I peered around the corner to the kitchen, expecting Briar or Morgan to appear. When a few seconds had passed and I neither saw nor heard either of them, I turned back to River.
“Are you here alone with them?”
“I am indeed,” he said with a heavy sigh. “If it isn’t too much of an imposition, may I beg your assistance?”
River wasn’t one to ask for help. He was right there to lend a hand if anyone needed anything but always handled his issues on his own.
I glanced down at the screaming infants. Well, Juni was screaming. Talon was crying just loud enough to let us know he needed something. “Double trouble. What would you like me to do?”
He practically dropped to his knees with relief. “Which do you prefer?”
“I’ll take Talon.” I was happy to help, but since he gave me the choice, I’d let him handle the diaper situation.
“There is a bottle of expressed milk in the warmer. I had just put it in when you knocked. It should be ready.”
I knew how to use the bottle warmer. Briar had given me very detailed instructions one day. I also knew that poor Morgan did little else than feed or pump lately. There were a couple dozen serving-size bags of milk in the freezer, waiting for times like this when Morgan stepped away for a few minutes to clear her head. She’d recovered from labor remarkably quickly, and while far from back to her normal self, she was getting around well.
“Come with me, little one,” I murmured to Talon as I lifted him from the blanket. A pair of wooden rocking chairs, handmade by River, was the perfect spot to sit. The hungry boy greedily accepted the bottle, but I pulled the nipple out of his mouth again. “Slow down, buddy. You don’t want to spit it all back up.”
My gaze shifted between the tiny bundle in my arm and the one on the changing table. River had finished putting on the new diaper and had plucked a new outfit from the shelf. When Juniper was once again bundled in her blanket, midnight blue with silver crescent moons, River sat in the chair next to me.
“Where are the Ladies Barlow?” I asked, grinning at the way Talon stared at me with his big black-brown eyes while he drank. So curious about the world around him.
River set a pillow on his lap beneath his arm, nestled Juniper in the bend of his elbow, and then rested his head on the back of the chair. His heavy eyelids closed halfway. “Lady Briar went down to assist Willow at the shop. Morgan is taking her daily walk and should return soon.” He opened his eyes again. “Why are you here, Proprietress? And in uniform. Is there a problem?”
“More like there’s potential for problems that I’d like to avoid.”
I spoke succinctly and quickly, not sure how long the man would stay awake, and pitched my desire for another deputy.
“I thought Deputy Reed had formed a team at the circus,” River replied when I’d finished.
“They’re in place and did a great job finding the firebomb devices. They only look out for the trouble and report it to us, though. Reed or I need to take over when there’s an actual problem.”
“Of course,” he murmured, laying his head back again.
“While he was taking care of that, Effie and Cybil called for help at the Triangle.”
“What problem are the tellers having?” Eyes firmly shut.
I explained how they were sure that Jola and Lily Grace were missing. “I doubt they are, but I still needed to look into it. Meanwhile, no one is available to patrol the commons. And if this pattern continues all season . . .”
“I understand your dilemma,” he murmured and then fell asleep, his daughter secure between the pillow and his torso.
“You and your sister are exhausting your daddy,” I whispered to Talon.
When he finished the bottle, I draped a cloth over my shoulder and added him next. Rocking slowly, I patted and rubbed small circles on his back. A tiny burp sounded in my ear a few seconds later. When I pulled him away, he was out cold, a content smile on his perfect little face. I set him in his bassinet and took an equally content, for now, Juniper from River’s arms and placed her in the other. The motion of taking her woke River.
“It appears I drifted off,” he commented. “I apologize.”
“Don’t worry about it. You were only out for a few minutes.”
“You were asking about hiring a second deputy. Yes, of course. Do you have anyone in mind?”
“Jagger.”
River contemplated this. “Other than the man’s impressive size, why him? What are his credentials?”
By size, he meant that Jagger was slightly smaller than a wooly mammoth. “His resume includes a stint as a bodyguard during college, and he’s got high-level martial arts skills. I don’t know if he’s interested. There are others I can approach if he’s not, but Jagger has helped me a few times, and I think he’d be a great addition to the team.”
“The safety of our tourists and villagers is paramount. Your attention is divided—”
“I’m fine,” I insisted with a shake of my head.
He locked eyes with me, doing that hypnotic thing he did sometimes. “This past year has been one of change for me as well, Lady Jayne. Not only willingly uprooting my life for Lady Morgan but bringing these two into it.” He cast a fond smile on his children. “I, too, felt I could handle multiple responsibilities on my own. As you just witnessed, I have been humbled. While your abilities are as impressive as they are numerous, you are not capable of giving your full attention to being sheriff, running a bed-and-breakfast, and staying in tune with the needs of the village.”
“Being sheriff helps with that.”
“I respectfully disagree. As sheriff, you are on the lookout for troubles of a law enforcement nature. The needs of the village require a different mindset.”
He was right. All three duties were equally important to me, and all three deserved my full attention. Not long ago, Rosalyn had lectured me on this same topic. “You can’t give one hundred percent to two full-time jobs.” While managing the village for River wasn’t a full-time job, it was an important responsibility I had agreed to.
“So hiring Jagger?” I asked. “Am I good to go with that?”
“You are good to go,” River agreed.
Mimicking his wife, I place my palms together in thanks. “Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”
“I would love a coffee. There is a basket with all the supplies—”
I held up a hand. “Say no more.”
It was a noteworthy day in the history of the Barlow cottage when River showed up with his coffee basket. Briar and Morgan drank their own tea and herbal infusion blends exclusively. To allow not only a man but bags of Violet’s signature roast to occupy space in their kitchen was a sign of total acceptance for River.
A few minutes later, I set a steaming mug on the table next to him. “I’m sure it’s not as good as what Violet would make. Or even as good as Tripp would—”
“You have provided me with a cup of coffee.” He took a sip and gave a contented sigh. “It tastes like coffee and is greatly appreciated.”
I smiled at the exhausted man. “Are you going to be okay here alone? I can stop back later.”
“Lady Briar will be gone for a few more hours, but Morgan should return soon.” He raised a triumphant fist in the air while taking another sip from his mug. “I will not be done in by these wee beasties.”
Using any excuse I could to see the babies, I planned to check on them all again despite his objections. I said goodbye, hopped into my truck, and returned to the station. Knowing Reed had the firebomb situation under control, I didn’t even stop inside and instead headed straight to the commons. At this time of day, Jagger should be at 3G. Maeve wouldn’t be happy with me for taking her bouncer, but I’d pull out all the stops to do exactly that.
Jagger stood at attention on the pub’s front porch and listened to my proposal.
“Yes,” he replied, seconds after I’d started talking.
I gave him a mock scowl. “I didn’t get to finish my pitch.”
