Frappes, Flamingos, and a Fireman (A Charlotte Ritter Mystery Book 2) Read online

  As I rounded the corner near the yogurt, someone called my name.

  “Charlotte,” my name slightly echoed, spoken with a British accent.

  “Ian? Hey! Fancy seeing you here.”

  “I needed socks and salad dressing and figured this was the best one-stop-shop,” he said smiling.

  I laughed. “Interesting combination. Just what kind of meal are you preparing?”

  He hemmed and hawed and we just stood there in awkward silence for a few seconds.

  “Well, uh—“

  “Charlotte, I…I feel I need to apologize,” he said, surprising me.

  “What for?”

  “See, it’s like this…you began explaining just how challenging Tommy’s needs can be, and how doubtful it is that he would ever live independently. And, that made me realize how different our lives are. I have this empty nest void that I disguise as ‘freedom,’ and I fill it with travel and activities. You don’t have that option.”

  “Not really.”

  Ian looked towards the ground and shuffle his feet.

  “As much as I like you, I really want someone who can fill that void along with me. I kind of overreacted and carried on about my hobbies instead of really discussing my concerns with you. I don’t know what came over me really.” He said, sounding extremely sincere and British.

  “Fear. We were hitting it off; enjoying each other’s company. Once you realized our lives weren’t compatible, it scared you. You didn’t want to like me anymore. I know because that’s how I felt about you. I didn’t want to like you anymore.”

  “You’re right. Problem is…I still like you.”

  “I still like you, too, Ian. But, I think your reaction was the right one. It wouldn’t work. Tommy will always be with me, and I need someone who is comfortable with that.”

  Ian nodded his head. “Agreed. I’m so sorry it isn’t me.”

  “At least you’re man enough to admit it.”

  “I’d better go find those socks,” he said with a nervous laugh.

  “You Brits eat the strangest things,” I teased as he walked away.

  He laughed as he walked away to find some socks.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JOSEPH texted me while I was at the store, asking if his friends could come over to premiere their film project. My original plan was to make a big party of it, but this kid was so on-the-fly, procrastinating ‘til the last minute. Even though it wouldn’t be what I had hoped, I agreed. Of course I gave him a texted lecture on planning, advance notice, etc. Being a teenage boy; I’m sure he took the lesson to heart and learned from it (insert sarcasm).

  Since I was still at the store, I grabbed some party supplies and snacks while texting parents and fighting back road rage as I navigated the congested aisles. Pet peeve: people parking their buggies in the middle of the aisle while they walk off to look at products. So annoying.

  After successfully making it through the self-check-out, which always seems to think there’s an unexpected item in the bagging area, I drove home amidst a sudden afternoon thunderstorm. Some Brevard County drivers have this bizarre rain-induced behavior that causes them to drive stupidly and cause wrecks. Seconds after the rain began, I heard emergency vehicles coming towards me. Somehow, I managed to get home without a wreck; only stopping once to let an ambulance through a red light.

  I preheated the oven for all the frozen, junky appetizers I was preparing. Then, I hung some black and silver streamers and balloons and pulled out our popcorn bowls. I was determined to make this a party. When Carrie arrived home, she began helping me with food and décor. We had the place looking snazzy by the time Joseph and his friends arrived. Cole also showed up; being invited as a cast member. He had helped Joseph out by volunteering to be a zombie. Only one set of parents made it, but our crowd of eleven was plenty.

  Everyone enjoyed the pizza rolls, potato skins, popcorn chicken and mozzarella sticks. Then, we gathered around the television in the living room to watch the premiere of the kids’ film: Sky Marshal and the Zombie Airship.

  The film featured the boys in long coats, top hats and goggles using clockwork gadgets and some basic physics principles to free their airship from a zombie attack. I found it rather ingenious. In fact, we gave it a standing ovation and declared it an “A plus,” two thumbs up movie. And, personally, I would’ve given Cole an award for best supporting actor. He made a great zombie.

  After all our guests left and the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, I checked my phone and noticed a missed call. It was Mr. Baker asking for a breakfast staff meeting. I texted him that I’d be there; then returned to cleaning up.

  Tommy was fixating on Valentine’s Day again, and using markers to create a card for “the little, red-head girl.” I left him to it because there was too much to get done to spend thirty minutes trying to separate his imaginary world from reality. Besides, the last time I told him something from a television show wasn’t real he assured me that he knew it wasn’t, but he wanted to pretend anyway. He was being creative and staying focused on a task; why mess that up?

  The rest of us took down the streamers, vacuumed and threw out the uneaten popcorn. Sure, we could’ve put it in baggies and saved it, but face it—no one ever eats leftover popcorn. It would’ve sat in the pantry forever; or at least until an airship captain discovered it while scavenging for food during a zombie apocalypse.

  The following morning, we all made it out the door on time in spite of Carrie having to search for her misplaced orchestra music and Tommy deciding at the last second he wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to take with him. They went off to school, and I went to my breakfast meeting.

  Mr. Baker opened the front door and welcome me inside, but the smell of bacon and coffee was really all the welcome I needed. I followed my nose to the kitchen where Cole stood sipping a caramel frappe.

  “Mornin’,” he said to me with a wink.

  “Good morning! Something smells delicious,” I commented.

  “I’ve got pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, orange juice and coffee. Think this is enough? I can make something else or grab a different juice from the store,” Janet offered.

  “No, no! This is more than enough. Perfect,” I assured her.

  “I never eat this good in the mornings,” said Cole. “This is gonna spoil me.”

  “So have you gotten hooked on frappes now?” I asked.

  “Apparently so. It works out well on hot days when I want a cold drink but still need coffee.” He explained.

  We made our plates, filled our coffee mugs (those of us drinking hot coffee) and went to the dining table where stacks of files and paperwork awaited our attention. I perused some of Ginny’s notes on a particular file while scarfing down two strips of bacon.

  “Ginny has some files marked here,” I mumbled, swallowing a bite of pancake. “She said you needed them for your meeting with Child and Family Services. What was all that about again?”

  “We have a couple of clients from custody cases that are still active with CFS, and one in particular who hasn’t met his requirements from them. Mr. Dugray, the one you said you saw the other day. He jeopardized his time with his son. Can’t seem to get a handle on that alcohol problem.”

  “Wait a minute. So, he’s still having issues with his behavior and could potentially lose visitation? Uh, why hasn’t this been brought up before now?”

  “What do you mean? I didn’t need you to do any work on this,” Mr. Baker replied, confused by my question.

  “Didn’t Charlotte tell you that she suspected Dugray was involved in the office fire?” Cole asked.

  “And we discovered he works for the electrical company that did the installation that proved faulty?” I added.

  “Oh,” replied Mr. Baker, as the realization hit him. “That’s a lot of coincidence.”

  “It’s anything but coincidence,” I told him.

  “We need to share this information with the investigator from the fire chief’s off
ice,” Cole told me.

  “Do you think we have enough for them to investigate?” I asked.

  Cole turned in his chair to face me directly. “I know what you’re thinking. We are not investigating this ourselves. We are turning this over to the proper authorities.”

  “I’m just saying that maybe we could help connect a few dots—“

  Cole grabbed my fork, which was holding a bite of eggs, and stuck it in my mouth.

  “No dots, Charlie. We’ll take care of this when the meeting’s done.”

  After the meeting, Janet filled my travel cup with fresh coffee and sent me out the door with Cole.

  “You two get that information to the investigator. It’s worrisome that he could be out there waiting to do something else to harm the firm. This could be more dangerous than we know,” she told me, wringing her hands.

  “Think of it this way; he set the fire at night so he probably just wanted to hurt the business and not a person. Plus, with the evidence we have, I’m sure they’ll bring him in quickly.”

  I left my car at the Bakers’ house and rode with Cole.

  “Let’s see; we have the invoice from the electrical company, the print out of Dugray’s employment history, a signed letter from Mr. Baker stating that Dugray is a client whose case was lost, and my signed letter stating that I saw him the night of the fire. You really think this is enough?” I asked Cole, secretly hoping he’d say we should do some digging.

  “It’ll have to be. It’s all we’ve got,” he replied.

  “I bet we could find more.” I nudged.

  “Stop it, Charlie.”

  “You know I hate it when you call me that. No one calls me that. My name is Charlotte,” I reminded him, agitated.

  “I know,” he said with a grin. “Seriously, you put yourself in danger last year. No more of that nonsense. You’re not a private investigator.”

  “I could be.”

  “Yeah,” Cole said with a sigh. “You probably could. You can do about anything you put your mind to.”

  I smiled at him. “Except convince my dearest and bestest friend to just, ya know, drive by this guy’s house to take a quick look…see if something looks suspicious.”

  Cole shook his head. “You’re stubborn as a bulldog, I swear. Will not let things go.”

  “It’s one of my finest qualities. Come on, just a look.”

  “Alright. But, if we drive by there; and that is all we are going to do by the way, you have to promise me two things.”

  “Two? Two things in return for one?”

  “Yes, two. First, you have to promise we will take all our information straight to the fire department or police or whoever they tell us to give it to, and that’s it. You leave it alone.”

  “Was all that just the first thing because it sounded like two things?”

  “Charlotte?” Cole raised his voice a little.

  “Yes, okay. Promise,” I relented.

  “Second,…um…you have to let me take you to dinner…on Valentine’s Day.”

  I sat there in shocked silence for a few moments letting that question sink in. Valentine’s Day dinner? Wouldn’t that be romantic? We couldn’t be romantic; it’d ruin everything! How could we run around town having coffee and driving by suspects’ houses if we were a couple? Hadn’t he ever watched Moonlighting?

  “I like being friends, Cole,” I said softly.

  “I do, too. I’m not meaning anything romantic. I just don’t want you sitting home eating a pint of ice cream like you did last year. Let’s go out…you and me…as friends.”

  Ahhh, Cole. He was one of the good guys.

  “I didn’t sit home and eat a pint of ice cream,” I argued.

  “Yes, you did. Carrie told me. And this year, all three of your kids have dates. Joseph told me he and his friends are taking Tommy and a girl from his class with them to the community center dance.”

  “When did Joseph tell you this? And when did Carrie become a snitch?”

  “She’s always been a snitch; telling me stuff about you. That’s why she’s my favorite. Joseph told me the other day when I was helping out with his film.”

  “I meant to tell you, your zombie skills are impressive. And remind me to have a long talk with Carrie about loyalty. Anyway…sure. Yes. Let’s go out for dinner.”

  “Good! I’ll even buy you ice cream. But, not a pint.”

  “It wasn’t a pint! It was one of those tiny, gourmet, three bite containers.”

  “Yeah, whatever, Charlie. Oops, sorry.”

  We used the GPS on my phone to find Austin Dugray’s residence.

  “It should be just up there, on the right. Slow down,” I instructed.

  “We’d have gotten here five minutes ago if that thing hadn’t sent us the back way,” complained Cole.

  “Well, we’re here now. Look for forty-two twenty-eight.”

  “I see it. That’s it. Man, when was the last time he mowed his lawn?” Cole said with disdain.

  “This house looks vacant. Are you sure this is it?”

  “The number is on the house. Look!” He said pointing to some plastic numbers barely hanging onto the front of the house.

  I opened my door.

  “Where are you going?” Cole asked. “We’re just driving by, remember?”

  “A quick look. That’s it. Promise.”

  I exited the car and walked towards the house. Notices hung on the front door. Cole parked on the street and walked up to join me on the porch.

  “This is a foreclosure,” I told him. “Dugray is worse off than we thought. It’s not just his visitation in jeopardy. He’s lost his house.”

  “But, he still has his job? As an electrician? What’s going on with this guy?”

  “We need to find out.”

  Cole looked at me at gave a heavy sigh. “Yeah, we do. I’ll call the company he’s supposed to be working for, and you call the bank. See what you can find out.”

  I gave Cole a quick hug, happy he was on board to do some investigating.

  “This’ll be fun,” I squealed as I ran back to the car.

  “I’ve heard that before. Right before it wasn’t fun.” Cole said with his forehead wrinkled.

  Cole and I spent the day making calls and gathering “intel,” as they call it in spy movies. We agreed to share notes over supper at my house. I had errands to run, and he wanted to check on his kids.

  I enlisted the kids to help me cook. Since they loved having Cole around, they didn’t mind. We threw around ideas of what to make and finally came to a decision. We ordered pizza. Pizza was our usual fall back plan.

  Carrie opened the door when Cole rang the doorbell, and led him to the kitchen.

  “We ordered one with bacon, onion and olives just for you and me,” she told him.

  “Another reason you’re my favorite,” he whispered as they entered the room.

  Cole set some papers on the counter. “I think we can connect some dots.”

  “I sure hope so. But, let’s eat first. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  “You skipped lunch? I thought your life revolved around food…and coffee.”

  “Sometimes there’s just an anomaly…like today.”

  “Anomaly?” asked Tommy. “That’s where Nemo lives!”

  “No, bud, that’s called an anemone,” Carrie corrected him, giggling.

  “Don’t worry. Nemo couldn’t say it either,” added Joseph, patting Tommy on the back.

  The three large pizzas went fast. I sent the kids to do homework and take showers while Cole and I talked.

  “So, the house is Dugray’s and is definitely in foreclosure. He had refinanced after his divorce so it was solely in his name. The bank didn’t have any other address for him, and the person I spoke with said they had started getting their mail returned.”

  “He’s not even living there, then?” Cole asked.

  “Apparently not.”

  “I found out something interesting,” Cole began. �
�He’s been employed by the electrical company without any issues until this past week. He just quit showing up. Vanished. They couldn’t reach him and just now processed his termination.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. And I got the name and number for a guy that worked some jobs with Dugray. I arranged a meeting for tomorrow, and thought you’d want to go.”

  “Yes! You think he’ll have something worthwhile to tell us?”

  “It’s worth having a sit-down. Then, maybe we can piece things together another to take this to the authorities,” Cole hinted.

  “Yeah, okay. But, first, we question the partner. I wish we had some leverage to convince him to talk.”

  “You’ve been watching cop shows again, haven’t you?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WALKING in the door to my home, I heard my phone in my purse, sounding repeatedly from multiple texts.

  “Must be Su,” I muttered to myself, giggling.

  She had sent me two videos clips of a speaker at the Mississippi Autism Conference she had coordinated. Quite the Super Woman, that gal. Amongst the video texts was a message about how she had spent the night before huddled under a blanket eating chocolate and crying from the anxiety of it all. I texted a reply:

  Been there. Done that. Whatever helps you deal. You still managed to pull off something incredible.

  When the kids arrived home, Carrie and Joseph were in the midst of a small disagreement.

  “I’m just not a fan of Hans Zimmer’s music,” Carrie was saying.

  “But, he composed the music for the Dark Knight and Inception; my favorite movie,” Joseph replied.

  “I prefer Alexandre Desplat and John Williams!”

  “They’re great, too! I just don’t see how you can discount Hans Zimmer. His stuff is excellent.”

  There had been similar discussions about movie directors, comic book series, etc. Tommy just ignored them and continued listening to his favorite Gospel music artist, Dottie Peoples through his headphones. I suddenly realized how different my children were from their peers. And it was good.