Memories

By Laurie Loveman

In the height of Prohibition, in 1932, after suffering the loss of two firefighter friends in one fire, followed by the deaths of his wife and son in another fire, former New York City Fire Captain Jake McCann is appointed Fire Chief in the small town of Woodhill, Ohio where his twin brother Dave is a physician. The town may be small, but the trouble and turmoil in Woodhill are not. Jake is joined by his two closest friends, Freddy Pratter and Mickey Justini, who are appointed to the fire department with Jake. Like Jake, they have their own personal demons. Sharing an interest in horses, Jake falls in love with Laura Darvey, a woman married to a local bootlegger, who is also the operator of a protection racket. The affair causes the three friends to become tangled in a series of horrifying crimes that force them all to unexpectedly face their demons.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 1, 2010
• ISBN: 9781617920257

Laurie Loveman

            Laurie Loveman has always lived in northeast Ohio. She is an author, retired fire department officer, and a former member of the National Fire Protection Association (NFPA) Technical Committee on Fire and Life Safety in Animal Housing Facilities.  She has a degree in Fire and Safety Engineering Technology from the University of Cincinnati and is a consultant on fire safety in equine facilities.  With a lifetime's experience in the horse industry, Laurie has written many articles for equine and fire service publications, and her novels, set in the 1930s, reflect her interest not just in horses, but also on topics relevant to firefighting today, such as firefighter stress, medical ethics, and arson.   In her spare time Laurie enjoys horseback riding, attending barbershop harmony performances, spending time with family and friends, and researching 1930s history. 

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Dan Darvey thought he saw something move in the corner behind the chimney. A mouse, he guessed, but didn’t care enough about it to investigate further. He was sitting on a cardboard carton by the attic dormer window of his mother’s house on Ashwood Street. A wisp of breeze caressed Dan’s cheek now that evening had dissipated the June heat. A bare electric bulb at the top of the attic stairs cast just enough light on Dan’s watch so he could see it was a few minutes past ten.

Downstairs his mother was listening to records and muttering about what Dan might be doing in the attic. He’d been keeping his treasure in the attic for four years, and in all that time, Alma Darvey had never come upstairs to look for herself. But, that was because Dan had warned her long ago not to intrude on his business, just as he’d warned his wife. Dan knew his mother was too afraid of rousing his anger—she knew just how far she could push him—but he wasn’t sure of Laura. That was the main reason he couldn’t keep his treasure at home on Hall Street, in his own attic. Laura would find his treasure, he was sure of it. Laura would be immediately suspicious of anything she was told not to touch. And, if she found out, she wouldn’t understand....

Dan’s daughter, whose mummified remains now rested in his lap, had vaguely resembled him during her two-month lifespan four years ago. Her eyes, Dan recalled, running a finger gently along her cheek, had been that grayish new- baby color instead of blue, like his, and she had been born with a fuzz of blond hair, lighter than Dan’s. Most of her hair had rubbed off over the years, though. Dan still remembered clearly her moments of life, could recall touching the breathing body. It had been so soft then, not like the dried leather his finger now caressed.

I love my little girl, he crooned tenderly to the blanket-wrapped bundle as he lifted her to kiss her forehead, You’re always gonna stay with your daddy, don’t you worry. Daddy loves you.

He set the baby on his lap once more and reached into the small cardboard box where his daughter’s body rested when he wasn’t holding her. Dan estimated that the pillow he lifted from the box weighed several pounds already. The fifty-two thousand dollars worth of stuffing was in twenty, fifty, and hundred-dollar bills.

With the baby cradled against his chest and the money-filled pillow on his lap, Dan gazed out the window. The only thing to see, looking past the arborvitaes at the back of the yard, was the firehouse parking lot. It was deserted since no one stayed in the firehouse any more. Talk was, Woodhill was finally going to hire a couple of real firemen instead of relying on those half-trained guys who showed up on the rare occasion of an alarm. In fact, Dan recalled, Laura had said that Dave McCann’s twin brother was coming from New York City to take the chief’s job and a pal of his was coming as an officer. Damn mayor musta made ‘em a helluva deal to get ‘em to come here...probably end up with half of New York here... first Dave McCann comes here to be a doctor...now his brother...next thing ya know the mayor’ll be importing every bum in New York, takin’ away what few jobs there are to be had ‘round here....

Tiny paws skittering across a piece of brittle paper made Dan break loose from his reverie. She’ll be makin’ me set traps, he thought, visualizing his mother screeching about rats. Shit, if there were rats up here they woulda got my baby years ago....

He didn’t like the thought, so he changed the subject, hugging his daughter, telling her, Now, don’t you worry about any little mice, they won’t hurtcha, not as long as I’m around. And we’re gonna get a real fire department, howdya like that, sweetheart? He looked out the window again, then in a harsh voice, too loud in the stillness of the attic, he said, It’s about time the damn assholes runnin’ this town did somethin’ to make us modern. It’s 1932, for the luvva Pete. That said, Dan immediately forgot about the fire department. He leaned over slightly to remove a wad of bills from his trouser pocket, added the money to the pillow, then put the pillow back in the carton.

Setting the blanket-wrapped baby on the pillow, he whispered, Ah, my sweet darling, I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, so I won’t see you for a little while, but don’t you worry, I’ll be back. Carefully, he closed the carton flaps and set the carton under the attic window.

It was getting to be embarrassing, all the handshakes, goodbyes, and good-natured kidding about going to the wild west. Chuckling to himself, Captain Jake McCann made his way through a tangle of hoses. The fire was in an abandoned carriage barn behind the National Biscuit Company plant on Manhattan’s West 14th Street. The cause of the fire was anyone’s guess; nobody saw a thing and if they did, they weren’t about to tell the fire department.

No luck, no witnesses, Jake reported to Chief Reed.

So, what else is new? Reed said, detaining Jake with another handshake. Listen, McCann, in case I don’t see you before you leave, I’ll wish you good luck now in your new job. You deserve the break.

Thanks, Chief. I’ll miss working with you, Jake said, and continued into the alley leading to the carriage barn.

Hey, hey, McCann! someone shouted as he passed by, we hear you’re goin’ to the wilderness! Whadda they got in Cleveland we don’t got here, huh? Cleveland, Ohio, willya kiss my baby’s butt!

Woodhill, Ohio, Jake corrected cheerfully as he strode past.

Ha, even worse, it ain’t even on a map!

Twenty miles southeast of Cleveland, Jake added, spotting his best friend, Lieutenant Freddy Pratter. He changed course to meet him. Freddy and his company had just been relieved and were slumping to the ground to rest near a brick retaining wall. As Jake hunkered down next to George Samson, Freddy flopped against the wall, gulping air like a fish out of water.

Must be a thousand goddam degrees out, Freddy panted, wiping dirt and soot off his face with an already- filthy bandanna. Shit, if it’s like this in June, what’re we gonna have in August?

Snowstorms, George said. Ya know, I can’t get over you guys, leavin’ New York to go fight grass fires in some hoot’n holler town in the middle of nowhere.

Jake said, George, you have no spirit of adventure.

Goddam right, George snapped, looking from Jake to Freddy and back again. He was going to miss these two, even more than he’d missed Mickey Justini when Mickey quit after Phil and Gordie died. Funny, if ya thought about any one of the three—Mickey, Jake, or Freddy—the other two came right to mind....

George glanced from Jake to Freddy and back again, amused by how much alike Jake and Freddy looked even though they weren’t related. Jake was thirty-two and Freddy a year older, and both of ‘em were an inch or two under six feet. Jake’s wavy brown hair curled around his ears when it got too long. Phil Preston used to chase Jake all over the firehouse with a pair of rusty horse clippers, yellin’ he was gonna give Jake a real haircut. ‘Course, Phil never did catch Jake, ‘cause the kid was too damn fast. George chuckled, remembering. Freddy’s hair was the same color as Jake’s, but it was straight, and Freddy always took care that it looked good. ‘Course it was hard tellin’ now, with it stickin’ out all over and filthy.

The sun and his own fatigue were making George sleepy, and he nearly dozed off, but Freddy’s laugh jolted him awake. George tried to block out Freddy. Too bad he ain’t quiet like Jake. Sure, but Jake used to laugh a lot until those goddam fires buried his sense of humor along with his wife and kid.

Freddy changed too, but he hid it better. Dammit, we all changed. Freddy used to get us all goin’, crackin’ jokes, tellin’ stories. You could almost tell how Freddy’s mind was workin’, gettin’ ready to tell a whopper, just by watchin’ his blue eyes. Sometimes ya thought Freddy was seein’ straight through ya. And his eyes would turn icy, when he looked atcha that way. Not like Jake’s brown eyes that glint, jet black, when he’s crossed, which thank God, isn’t too often. Funny, when ya really look at ‘em, they don’t look so much the same.... Must be fourteen years of bein’ friends that make ‘em seem so much alike....

Hey, George, let’s finish up, Freddy said, intruding sharply. When George didn’t immediately respond, he added, Whatsa matter? You okay?

Huh? Oh, sorry. daydreaming, George said, getting to his feet, rubbing at the ache in his right knee that was getting worse and harder to hide, especially from Freddy, who could be a damn Mother Hen when he felt like it. Drove the guys nuts when he started worryin’ about their aches and pains. Ha, the way I’m goin’ I should get out while I can. The thought of retiring crossed George’s mind again, but he shoved it aside. I’m comin’, hold your horses, he growled, following Freddy and the others.

When Jake was out of earshot, George said, I still can’t figure out why you’re goin’ with Jake, Freddy. Didja run outta women in Manhattan? Ya can’t settle for startin’ on the broads in Brooklyn or the Bronx, for chrissake, ya gotta go clear to Ohio?

I’m just going to keep Jake outta trouble. You know, sometimes his temper lets loose.

You’re full of it, George said.

Freddy shook his head. C’mon, pal, you know he’s gotta get outta here. It’s been more’n three years since Phil and Gordie died, and two since he lost Sara and Sean. Ya can’t go back, you know what I mean? It’s no good, his living at home with his folks after having his own family and place. When Jake’s brother called about the chief’s job in Woodhill, Jake saw his chance to get away from all the rotten memories. That’s why he went right away for the interview.

And for you?

Freddy shrugged. Jake’s the closest thing I got to family. Without him, I got no reason to stay. Besides, Mickey’s coming to Woodhill, too. I wanna see him, George. I want the three of us to be together again.

CHAPTER TWO

The stench of too many people in too small an area clung to the Penn Station platform—a diluted odor of the perspiration-laden bodies clustered around the newstand that Jake had just left. He paused, making an obstruction in the flow of human tide, causing people to eddy and swirl around the small island he created. Jake’s parents, Libby and J.P, and Freddy, weren’t where he left them when he went to the newstand. Freddy had the last three issues of Adventure magazine, but Jake didn’t want short stories, he wanted something he could lose himself in so he wouldn’t think about leaving Libby and J.P, his comrades at the firehouse, or the pair of graves in Greenwood Cemetery.

Stopping was a mistake, Jake realized as a panhandler began homing in on him. The man paused and hunched forward as a ragged cough shook him. Moments before the man reached him, Jake spotted his parents and Freddy and headed towards them.

Jake was close enough to hear J.P. say, I’ve told Jake a dozen times already, Fred, but you listen, too. If you get into trouble anywhere along the way, you just get to the nearest police station and tell ‘em to call back here and and ask for Detective J.P. McCann, and someone’ll know where I am, you understand? Connections are important, and you got me for one, so use me if you have to.

Libby was clutching J.P.’s hand. Without realizing what he was doing, J.P. caressed the back of her hand with his other hand while he spoke, then he brushed a kiss upon her wrist. When he saw Jake, he said, Don’t worry, when you call me I’ll ship your books and stuff.

Jake nodded, smiling to quell another flash of panic at the idea of leaving, and the memory that a month ago he was acting the big shot, taking this same train to have an interview with Woodhill Mayor Bob Gleason and the Woodhill councilmen. Now that the idea was reality, Jake wondered how he could have been so quick to make plans that would take him away from safety and security. He chided himself for lacking confidence, and dismissed the urge to call the whole thing off.

We’d better get going, Freddy said.

Jake kissed his mother and whispered, I love you, Ma. Now stop worrying about me so much, okay?

Sweetheart, I love you too, Libby replied, stifling tears. Everything will be fine, honey, you’ll see, and you’ll be with Davey. Jake knew she was saying the words more to soothe herself than to convince him. Ever since his interview, Libby had been overly-cheerful, blithely commenting time after time how nice it would be for Jake to be with Dave, how nice it would be for the brothers to be together. She smiled a lot, but Jake had seen the sadness in her eyes.

Jake closed the book with a satisfied sigh. Freddy was in the window seat, staring at the passing scenery. They’d been traveling for over an hour and Jake wasn’t sure where in New York State the train was, but he was tired of sitting. He said, You want to read this book? It’s pretty good.

I guess so, Freddy said in a tired voice. He held his hand out, waited for Jake to lay the book upon it, and when Jake did, Freddy muttered, "The Case of the Velvet Claws. Humph, Erle Stanley Gardner... Freddy opened the book and skimmed a page. Yeah, thanks, I’ll start it now."

Leaving Freddy, Jake strolled through the cars behind theirs, stopping now and then to chat with people.

Guess what? Jake said when he got back to his seat.

Don’t do that, Freddy snapped, you know I can’t stand it when you ask questions that don’t need an answer.

Sorry, sorry, I forgot, but don’t you want to know what I found out?

No.

Well, can I at least ask why you’re acting so rotten?

I was thinking about your mother.

I beg your pardon?

I said, Freddy said with a frown, I was thinking about your mother. Your mother and Mickey’s are the closest I’ve ever been to having a mother. I’m gonna miss ‘em, and your dad, too.

Oh...yeah, me, too. Not counting my interview, this is the first time I’ve ever been away from New York, did you know that?

Freddy hissed, For chrissake, Jake, don’t end a sentence with a question that’s not really a question. I can’t stand it any more!

Jesus, Jake groaned, but then he went on, Dave’s been on his own since high school graduation. He went away to college and then medical school.... I always figured he’d come home and go to work in some hospital like Bellevue or Manhattan General, some big place like that. Whoever thought he’d end up in a town we never even heard of, and what’s even funnier is that we’re ending up there, too.

Funny isn’t exactly the word I’d use.

Aw, c’mon, Freddy, what’s really the matter? You sorry you decided to come with me, is that it? You want to go back?

No, Freddy replied slowly. He was still looking out the window. I just don’t know what’s ahead and you know me, I like to have everything planned out. Organized. I shoulda gone with you on your interview, then I’d be able to have schedules and stuff set up. Freddy chuckled. You know I gotta have schedules. I’ll be all right once we get things set up, and see what we have to work with when Mickey gets there.

You sure that’s it?

Yeah, don’t worry about me, Freddy said with a half smile, I’m just feeling sorry for myself for not having a family to leave. Stupid, huh?

Jake grinned. Dammit, Freddy, if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s when you end a statement with an unneccessary question.

Dan Darvey leaned casually against the doorframe of Wessel’s Poultry Shop. He watched the crated chickens while his men beat the crap out of the store owner.

That’s enough, boys, he announced, gagging slightly when he saw the smear of red that hid the face of Moishe Greenberger. Barbaric, that’s what this is, Dan thought as he walked over to the barely conscious man. It would be so much neater to just shoot the guy, cripple him, maybe. He looked beyond Greenberger’s head at a spot on the sawdust- strewn floor. I’ll be back in two days for the money. Make sure you have it or you and your store are goin’ out in a blaze of glory, and I do mean a blaze.

Dan left the shop. The car was parked two blocks away, and as he walked, Dan eyed women coming in his direction, especially the ones who were pushing babies in buggies. Which one do I want? he wondered, playing one of his favorite mind games. He appraised each of them, nodding pleasantly in return at those who smiled at him. He knew he looked good, that women liked tall men, and that he had—shit, what was it the broad in East Cleveland called it?—ah, charisma, that’s what. Sexy, would be more like it...she said he was that, too...yeah, but the broad in East Cleveland is wearing real thin...of course, there’s always Laura...good old Laura, the sweet faithful wife...talk about keeping a respectable front.... Hell, a house and wife in Woodhill is about as sickeningly respectable as I can get, he thought dismally as he reached the car and waited for Trapp and Al to catch up.

Where to, Dan? Trapp asked, sliding behind the wheel.

Back to Iggy’s place.

At Iggy Dolinsky’s apartment building, Dan climbed a long flight of outside stairs and entered through a rear door. He held a quick conference with his second-in-command and deposited a large wad of bills in a safe. There were a few more collections to make before Dan and his men could go out for dinner. Dan mulled over checking out a couple of the houses afterwards, just to see if there were any new girls. It would be a nice end to the day.

When the train descended into the darkness of the tunnel leading into Cleveland’s Terminal Tower, the thundering of the wheels on the tracks woke Jake from a nap and distracted Freddy from the Erle Stanley Gardner mystery. Briefly, Jake was disconcerted by the sensation of hurtling downward in darkness; it was the way he felt sometimes when the nightmares came upon him. When the train slowed and he could see the lighted platform, Jake shook himself free of the feeling and said, Dave should be here to meet us.

Don’t see him, Freddy replied, scanning the platform as the train inched to a complete stop. Among the men waiting on the platform were three women, one of whom wore plaid trousers and an oversized white shirt. She had light chestnut hair that was tied with a ribbon at the back of her neck and Freddy guessed she was about five-foot-four, maybe a little shorter. Her hands were shoved in her trouser pockets and she looked completely at ease waiting there among strangers. For a second, he fantasized she was waiting for him, but then the business of collecting belongings and shuffling along the aisle to the door took her out of mind.

Jake stopped about twenty feet from the train to wait for Freddy, and at the same moment Freddy caught up, the woman with the chestnut hair spotted them, smiled broadly, and made her way through the departing passengers towards them.

Welcome to Ohio, she said, extending her hand to Jake who took it with such a bewildered expression that the woman laughed.

Are you sure you’re waiting for us? Freddy asked, extending his hand so the woman would, for the sake of good manners, have to clasp it.

Absolutely, she chuckled, releasing Jake’s hand and taking Freddy’s. Please forgive me for the lack of introduction. I’m Laura Darvey, a friend of Dave’s, and his stand-in tonight as your welcoming committee. There was an automobile accident south of town and he was needed at the hospital, so I offered to pick you up and bring you home.

After their luggage was stowed in Laura’s station wagon, they were ready to leave Public Square. Jake sat next to Laura, and Freddy, getting drowsy, lounged in the back seat. Laura said, We have about a forty-minute drive, so don’t stand on ceremony; if you’re tired, just go to sleep and I’ll try to avoid bumpy roads.

How’d you meet Dave? Freddy asked through a yawn.

I’m a nurse. I work for a number of doctors in Woodhill, taking care of patients who are convalescing at home. Dave and I met the first day he came to Woodhill and we’ve been friends ever since.

Good friends? Freddy asked.

Friends, Freddy, Laura said firmly. Dave is dating a dear friend of mine, and I’m married.

Too bad, Freddy said, ending with another yawn.

Is your husband a doctor? Jake asked, relieved that this vibrant woman was already taken. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved because no special relationship would be demanded of him or because Laura’s being married meant Freddy wouldn’t start something with her, only to ditch her if the relationship deepened to Freddy’s emotional limit.

Laura laughed. No, Dan’s a salesman. He has several different business ventures and he assists John Fannelli with his real estate business.

I met Fannelli last month when I had my interview. He seemed like a pretty nice guy to me.

Oh, he is, Laura said, flashing a smile at Jake, he’s very popular in town. That’s probably how he won his council seat—by being well-liked, that is. I mean, he does know most of the people in town, especially the newcomers... sold most of them their houses....

Silence descended among them. Freddy had fallen asleep and Laura was concentrating on driving through a series of pavement repairs. When they were halfway through the construction area Jake offered to drive, but Laura refused, saying, Thanks, but I’m quite used to driving at night. In fact, most of the time when I’m driving in the dark, I’m driving a four-horse van. I have horses, she added, catching a sidelong glance at Jake’s surprised expression.

Why? I mean, why do you have to be driving horses around at night?

To horse shows. You see, I raise Appaloosas and there are a number of us in the area trying to establish a breed registry for our horses. Appaloosas are a color breed; we’d like to get them recognized as a legitimate breed since they actually are. Appaloosas— Laura gave an embarrassed laugh, —I’m sorry. I get so excited about my horses that I forget that others aren’t always interested.

No, don’t apologize. I know a little bit about horses, used to ride when I was a kid, but I never saw an Appaloosa except in books. They were Indian horses, weren’t they? Like Pintos?

Yes. They were bred by the Nez Perce Indians. I didn’t know you rode. Dave never mentioned it.

It’s been years and Dave only tried it a couple of times before he decided it wasn’t for him.... We only look alike, that doesn’t mean we think alike or enjoy the same things.

Ah, a gentle rebuke, Laura said. I stand well-chastised. I don’t know about you, but Dave’s been a nervous wreck, he’s so excited to see you. We’re all excited, especially the volunteers. She paused, as if trying to arrange her thoughts. This change is going to be wonderful ...there hasn’t been this much pride in the fire department since my father was chief. He died six years ago, and that’s how long Woodhill has been stumbling along, trying to run a fire department without the knowledge to do it right. That’s why we need your expertise. Laura pointed across Jake’s chest to a sign as they drove by, but he missed it. That was the Dalebridge sign. We’ll be in your new home town in under ten minutes.

CHAPTER THREE

Dave McCann lived at the corner of Court and West Water streets. His medical office and apartment took the whole second floor of the First Bank of Woodhill building. Exterior stairs alongside the bank met the sidewalk at the front. A bronze sign announced, David M. McCann, M.D. and an embossed arrow pointed up the stairs. At the rear of the bank, another set of exterior stairs led to the apartment’s kitchen, keeping Dave’s apartment and his medical office separated, although there was an entrance to the apartment from the office waiting room. On West Water Street a pair of maple trees, perhaps two feet in diameter, shaded the entire end of West Water next to the bank building. Their roots had long ago heaved up sections of sidewalk surrounding their bases and their upper branches hovered above the roof of the bank building and intermingled with the branches of another pair of maples on the other side of the street.

The patterns made by the maple leaves and gently swaying branches threw gray dancing shadows against the ceiling and walls of the bedroom that Jake and Freddy were sharing. Freddy was waking up in stages where he woke, dozed off, then woke again for a slightly longer amount of time before dozing off again for a shorter period before repeating the process. On the other single bed, Jake was sleeping on his stomach, his head underneath the pillow. Finally wide awake, Freddy got up, wanting to go immediately to the firehouse. He was sidetracked, though, by the aroma of bacon. In the kitchen, Dave was turning bacon strips in a skillet.

Upon Freddy’s entrance Dave said, Morning, coffee’s right here and ready. I apologize again for not meeting your train last night. How was the trip? I think we were all too tired to speak coherently.

The last thing I remember was getting into your friend’s car, Freddy said, pouring coffee into a mug. In case I didn’t say it before, thanks for letting me stay here.

My pleasure, but you and Jake aren’t going to have much time for hanging around. The mayor’s pretty anxious to get the fire department into operation. Setting his own plate on the table, Dave handed Freddy a plate of bacon and eggs. He continued, You know, the fire department’s barely operating. Fortunately, we haven’t had many fires, only a few grass and leaf pile fires, and a couple of house fires where we’ve gotten help from the fire departments in Allen Falls and Dalebridge. Allen Falls is three miles south and Dalebridge is four miles north.

Beats me how this town could get by without a fire department. What if those other towns were busy with their own fires when you needed ‘em?

Jake entered during the last part of Freddy’s question. Am I hearing bad news? he asked, going straight to the stove to fill his plate.

Nothing you don’t already know, Dave said. I was just telling Freddy about the interesting challenge you have ahead of you.

Really? Then tell us the truth, not the sales pitch the mayor gave me, Jake said, bringing his plate to the table.

You saw the firehouse, Jake. You know better than me what it will take to bring it up to snuff. I’ll say this, though. The men you have as volunteers are good men, they just haven’t had much training. Don’t expect them to suddenly turn into firemen as good as you had in New York. Since Paul Sanderson died, they’ve had very little guidance, but in spite of that they’ve tried and somehow or another they have managed to put out fires. Most of them, from what I hear, are glad you’re here; there’s a couple who aren’t, but I don’t think they’ll cause you any trouble. They just need time to get used to the idea of having a boss again. In any event, you’re going to have your hands full.

Jake asked, What about the town? I can understand its needing a good fire department, but if money’s as tight here as it is in the rest of the country, where’s Woodhill getting its money from? And, why go to the expense of hiring three fulltime men? Why didn’t they make a deal with another town to let the Woodhill men train with the other town’s fire department?

"I don’t know. First, I don’t have any idea of what it takes to train a fireman and I don’t know what the laws are about having one department train with another, and second, Woodhill has money because, despite the economy, it’s been discovered by industry. We’ve got a rail line going directly into Cleveland, decent roads going north and south, and two companies have already bought land to build new plants just south of town. In Akron, the tire companies are slow, but here it’s not only business as usual, it’s business better than usual. Oh, Ben Stevenson’s sawmill is shut down, but he’s still got lumber for sale, and the quarry’s still operating.

Actually, our best asset is the new hospital. We have a hundred beds, which makes us the only large hospital between Akron and Cleveland, and already there’s talk of enlarging it. And, when the new plants are built they could bring in up to about a hundred families, and that’ll put Woodhill in a real squeeze. We’ll need a bigger police force and a real fire department— Dave interrupted himself, —Like I said before, you’re going to have your hands full. He set his dish and cup in the sink. Now, you’ll have to excuse me, I have house calls to make. In case you forgot, the village hall’s just across the street on the far side of the square. My assistant will be here before noon—his name is Casey Durban—and I’ll be back at noon for lunch before office hours.

A few minutes after Dave left, Jake and Freddy came downstairs and surveyed Woodhill from in front of the bank. Freddy shaded his eyes with his hand and looked south on Court. Jake, pal, you don’t need me at your meeting, so why don’t I go right to the firehouse, kinda get things started? Without waiting for an answer, Freddy jogged down the street.

The Woodhill Village Hall was a large Victorian house appropriated by the village and remodeled for its current use. The brickwork was completely hidden by ivy, making the windows appear as deep holes in the greenery. Facing the square on the north side was St. Ann’s Catholic Church, and to the south a five-story building shadowed a grove of clump birch. Painted at the third-story level was a sign proclaiming it to be the New Woodhill Hotel, Finest In Ohio. It looked to be over a hundred years old, although the sign was relatively newer. Next to the village hall was a newly- constructed squat brick building whose sign starkly identified it as the Woodhill Police Department.

Mayor Bob Gleason, the six village councilmen, and Police Chief Matthew Gardner were seated at a table in the council chambers, which had once been a parlor. The mayor beckoned Jake to a seat, then reintroduced him to the others and made a first-time introduction to the police chief.

John Harmon, owner of Harmon’s Hardware and Grain, was a dumpy little man with a bald head. In the heat he kept brushing back the few strands of long hair that repeatedly fell into his eyes. His hand moved back and forth continually. Real estate broker, John Fannelli, grinned widely, showing absolutely perfect teeth. With his spare frame, curly black hair and shining black-brown eyes, Jake thought Fannelli looked like he should be a movie actor. Fannelli was in stark contrast to Morris Gemmelman, the bank president, who had to top the scales at three hundred pounds. He was clad in a striped suit whose vest barely reached across his huge midriff. Gemmelman’s face glistened with perspiration. Bob Dennison, Raymond Taylor, and Joe Gibbs were also not taking the heat well. They bobbed their heads in acknowledgement of their introduction to Jake and then sat motionless. Chief Gardner merely nodded in Jake’s direction. He was a tall well-muscled man in his mid-fifties who still had a full head of straight blond hair that was starting to turn gray at the temples.

Mayor Gleason cut a trim figure despite the rapidly increasing temperature and the stuffiness of the room. He ran a hand through his blond hair and with blue eyes matching Gardner’s, indicated with a glare that Gardner was not to light the cigar he was flipping between two fingers. Jake stifled a smile at the silent interchange.

We are pleased to welcome you to Woodhill, Gleason opened. You already know the specifics of your position and the salary, so all I need from you is your signature on this form and then I’ll administer the oath of office. Jake signed and repeated the oath. Gleason smiled broadly from one councilman to another before going on, I’d like to be the first to congratulate you, Chief. Now, down to business. First, the current state of the department. He chuckled apologetically. As I mentioned at our first meeting, the department is, for all intents and purposes, non-functioning. Physical equipment includes the building, some furnishings in the living quarters, an assortment of firefighting tools— what exactly, I don’t know—and one 1926 Ford pumper. He paused to see Jake’s reaction, and when Jake blandly returned his gaze, Gleason said, We have passed an ordinance authorizing up to thirty men on the department. I believe there are a dozen or so volunteers on the roster, and one, Alex Carpenter, has been the acting chief. Alex has told me he would defer to your greater experience. Well, according to Alex, the volunteers have resisted training and spend most of their time at the firehouse playing cards and what have you.

Escapin’ their wives, Matt Gardner remarked.

Be that as it may, Gleason said, casting an imploring eye at Gardner, we do have funds available to upgrade the department, and we have agreed to your request to appoint two full-time paid officers.

No doubt you’ll want to buy another fire truck, Harmon grumbled. Whatever you do, remember it has to come out of your budget and we have to approve large expenditures.

I understand that, Mr. Harmon, Jake replied mildly. By the way, is there someplace local we could buy uniforms and work clothes?

Irwin Rosenfeld is the man to see, Gemmelman said.

John Fannelli leaped to his feet and angrily wagged his finger in Gemmelman’s face. What’s wrong with Whitney’s?"

John! the mayor spoke sharply, That’s enough!

Jake stared pointedly at Fannelli and waited until the man sat down before he spoke. "I’ll be making fire inspections, so I’ll need a copy of the current Ohio fire