“Pop! Pop! Get up! The kitchen’s on fire!” He grunted but didn’t move. Christie grabbed him up from the chair and hurried him out to the front door. She helped Pop into her vehicle. After moving her car away from the house, she ran around to the back to the kitchen.
The kitchen door stood open, and heavier smoke poured through the opening. Christie couldn’t see any fire, but she gingerly opened the screen door. Propping it open, she peeked inside. On the stove, a cast iron skillet churned with thick black smoke. Flames licked the sides.
Christie grabbed a large bag of baking soda from under the sink and scooped a cup out. She carefully sprinkled the baking soda over the area and as the smoke calmed, she poured more of the baking soda into the pan. Grabbing an oven mitt, she placed a cast iron griddle pan on top as a cover. Smoke trickled out the sides, but it looked to be contained. With the pan covered, she turned off the back burner and slid the pan to the side.
Looking around, she saw blackened, soot-covered walls. If she hadn’t come home…no, she didn’t want to think about it. She choked back a sob. Christie went around to the truck where her father’s head lolled to the side. He was still groggy.
“Pop! Pop! Wake up!”
He looked at her through blurry eyes. “What…what’s going on?”
“You left a pan with bacon grease burning on the stove. You could have set the house on fire or been killed. What were you thinking?” Her anger boiled over.
“I did no such thing.”
“Pop, I barely saved the kitchen. It was minutes, if not seconds, from going up the back of the wall. If that would have happened, the entire place would have gone up in flames.” She broke down in tears.
“Ah, girly. Don’t go on crying. It’s okay.” His words slurred.
“It’s not okay, Pop. You could have been killed.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Pop, look at me. Did you take any medication?”
Christie looked at his pupils. There was definitely some sort of drug in his system.
“Come here, now, darling.” He took her in his arms, and she wept quietly on his chest. After she’d composed herself, he held her arms and looked at her. “On my honor, I did not leave that pan on.”
She sniffled. “Did you cook bacon today?”
“Yes, but I turned off the stove.”
“Maybe you thought you had but left it on or turned it on by accident.”
“Or ‘ya-Hootie’ did it.”
Christie moaned. Ever since she was a child, a running family joke had been that when something would happen that no one would fess up to, her father always said it must have been ‘ya-Hootie’ who had done it. “Pop, be serious.”
He moaned and pulled his arm next to his chest.
“Are you hurt, Pop?”
“Naw. I just must have slept crooked-like. It’s just a bit sore, is all.”
“Should we take you to the doctor? Did you breathe in any of the smoke?”
He waved her away, and she backed up as he exited the vehicle and stumbled. “I’m all right. No need to fuss.” He sat in one of the wooden chairs under the trees.
Christie followed suit and sat in the chair opposite him. “Pop, why didn’t you wake up? Didn’t you hear the boys barking? Did you take a pain pill?”
“I just got so sleepy all of a sudden. I think I let the dogs out when Marie stopped by.”
“Marie came here?”
“Yes. She came over because she wanted to see how you were getting on, and she brought me a piece of pie, too. We had a nice chat, then she left.”
“Then you cooked the bacon?”
“Naw. I cooked it earlier.” He looked at Christie. “Don’t be giving me those looks, Missy. I’m telling you; I didn’t leave the stove on.”
“You could have forgotten.”
“I didn’t.”
“But you could have.”
“I could have. But I didn’t. I haven’t. I wouldn’t.”
Christie sighed. They were getting nowhere. “Pop, I’d feel better if you went in for a check-up.”
“I don’t need to go to no doctors. I’m fine.”
“If you’re in pain from your shoulder, that’s what pain pills are for. But they can make you sleepy. I just need to know if you took one or two. We don’t want something to happen where you’re asleep.”
“I did not take any of them pills.”
She rose. “Let’s talk about it later. For now, I need to start wiping down the kitchen walls and cleaning up.”
Inside the kitchen, she surveyed the damage. Not bad, but it would take some elbow grease. Before she started, she called Trish, but the call went to voicemail. Christie left Trish a phone message, telling her what had happened. She then got Marie’s phone number and called her.
“Marie. Hi, it’s Christie. Sorry to bother you so late—”
“No problem. You sound upset. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Well, not exactly. Listen, my Pop said you stopped by earlier.”
Marie answered, “I did. I wanted to see how you all are doing after the accident and, well, everything else.”
“Pop’s doing okay. But here’s the reason I’m calling. We had a grease fire in the kitchen and—”
“Oh, no. So sorry to hear that. Are you all okay? Do you need someplace to stay?”
“Thanks. We’re fine, and the house is okay. Just some smoke damage in the kitchen that shouldn’t be too difficult to fix. That kitchen could use a good painting anyway. From what I can gather, I believe it started from when Pop fried some bacon earlier. He said that he didn’t leave the stove on. I’m just trying—”
“I did smell bacon when I arrived, but everything was fine when I got there.”
“Did you go in the kitchen?”
“Yes. I went in to get forks to share the pie I brought with me.”
What am I missing?
“Just another question, Marie. When you left, were the dogs inside or outside?”
“I think they went outside. They were barking something awful, so I think there must have been an animal around. Your Pop let them outside, and they took off to who knows where. Then, we went out front to the oaks.”
“Okay. Well, thanks. Wait. You all weren’t in the house when you ate the pie?”
“No. We thought we’d go out front and enjoy the shade and cool breeze.”
“Appreciate it. Thanks again. Goodnight.”
“Let me know if you need anything. I can paint, too.”
“Thanks for the offer.”
After they said goodbye, Christie disconnected the call. First Curtis’s accident, and now, her father’s near-miss. Those were some incriminating coincidences. Yes, both men were elderly. The incidents could be connected or simply things that happened. She rubbed her head and saw her reflection in the kitchen window. She pointed at the reflection, “Hey, you! I could use some help figuring this out.”
“Who you talking to?”
Christie screamed. “Pop, don’t sneak up on me like that. You scared me to death.”
“If everything’s okay now, I’m going to watch the news. You coming, ‘ya-Hootie?’” He grinned at her and left the kitchen.
She opened the door and stood on the back porch. She heard a crack. Searching the copse of trees, she couldn’t see anything.
Probably a deer.
Goosebumps rose on her arms. The feeling of being watched was overwhelming. If someone had intended to burn down the house, there had to be a reason. She was getting close. Unfortunately, she still had no idea who had wanted Hector out of the way or if this was even linked to his death. Christie went inside and turned out the kitchen lights. Searching for any movement, she finally relaxed.
You’re being silly
Another crack.
She swiveled around just in time to see a figure astride a horse riding away.