No Facilities

I’m going to run through Cee’s challenge quickly because I have a lot for you to read. So much that I’ll give you a chance to opt-out for now. Cee is continuing her “Seasons” challenge with “Summer or Fire.” That was the easy one. Earlier this month, Teagan Geneviene posed a Halloween Game/Creativity Challenge. I’ll explain Teagan’s challenge at the end, but suffice it to say, she got me off my hey-I-published-a-book lazy butt and back to writing. The short story is long, If you want to skip to the gallery, click here but please come back. No, you’re ready to read? Let’s go.

Wicked Wedding

Fire Captain Morgan Thrall stood looking at the smoldering structure of the restaurant while his crew was gathering hoses and stowing their gear. The Fire Marshal was talking to the few wedding guests who had hung around—the Best Man, his son, who had been the ring bearer and the photographer. Turning to the photographer, he asked, “Excuse me, Ms. …”

“Conners. Jessica Conners.”

“Thank you, Ms. Conners. Would you mind if I spoke to the wedding guests first? I think father wants to leave to be with the family.”

“That’s fine, sir. I was planning to be here all day, anyway.”

“Great. Thank you.”

He walked back to the Best Man. They had previously introduced themselves. “Mr. Thompson, Ms. Conners has agreed to let me speak with you first. I appreciate your staying around; I’ll try to get you on your way as soon as possible.”

“I’m not sure I have much to offer, but I’m happy to help. And you can call me Jim.”

“Thanks Jim, you can call me Kenny. I’m just trying to get any observations you might have, things you might remember, et cetera while the events are fresh in your mind. I might have more questions later, as our investigation continues.”

“Investigation? I assumed the fire started in the kitchen. I mean, it’s a restaurant, where else would it start?”

“That’s what we have to figure out. I’m told that you pulled the fire alarm. When did you first realize the building was on fire?”

Jim started shaking his head. “I didn’t pull the alarm. I think I was the first person on the second floor to hear it, though. I was standing near the stairs, and I could smell the smoke. I started telling the guests to leave as I was heading over to the head table.”

“You weren’t at the head table at the time?”

“Jimmy,” he tussled his young son’s hair, “had to go to the bathroom. I went along to show him where it was.”

“Tell him about the woman on the balcony, dad!”

The Fire Marshal looked down at the boy. “You saw a woman on the balcony, Jimmy?”

Jim interrupted. “He thought he did, Kenny. I looked. There wasn’t anyone on the balcony. Actually, the stairs to the balcony and loft were roped off. The photographer wanted to get some shots from up there, but the manager said it wasn’t safe.”

“Could she have gone up there anyway? Photographers can be obstinate when their ‘art’ is involved.”

“No. The bride was getting ready to cut the cake. She, the photographer, was in front of that table.”

Jimmy pleaded with his dad. “There was a woman up there, dad. I think it was Aunt Catherine.”

“I think you’re mistaken, son.” Jim looked over to the Fire Marshal. “I think he might have seen Catherine getting up to go over to the cake table. Maybe from his vantage point, he thought she was on the balcony.”

Ken knelt in front of the boy. “Jimmy, why do you think the woman you saw was your Aunt Catherine?”

“She was wearing a wedding gown. There’s only one bride, right?”

“You’re right, son.” Ken smiled and stood. Looking at the father, he nodded. “You’re probably right about the different perspective playing a role here.”

“Do you have any other questions for us, Kenny? I really need to get going. I’m driving the bride and groom to the airport in Boston for their honeymoon flight.”

“We’re good. Like I said, I may have more questions for you after we know more about how the fire started. Tell the…” he paused before saying, happy couple. “Tell your brother and his bride that I hope they have a wonderful time on their honeymoon. You might remind them that the important thing is that no one was hurt.”

“I’ll add that after I tell them that the gift table was completely destroyed. So much for a Halloween theme, I’m sure the fire enjoyed the straw and dried flowers.”

After sharing contact information, Kenny walked over to a picnic table where the photographer was sitting in the shade of a small tree. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Conners.”

“Please, call me Jessica. I’ve been going through my photos—trying to see if I can salvage a complete enough package for the dejected couple.”

“Do you have any pictures of the fire?”

“I have a bunch. I just kept shooting as they were hustling us out. I can show them to you if you have time.”

“I’d like to look at all your photos.”

“You’re welcome to come over to my studio. We can go through them.”

“I meant, I’d like to take the memory card or cards with me today.”

Jessica raised her eyes up from her camera while barely turning her head. “That’s not going to happen. These people paid a lot of money for wedding photographs. I’m not running the risk of them seeing one of their photos in a newspaper before they’ve seen them from me. If you want to see these photos, come to my studio. If there’s an image you need, I can print it out for you.”

“I assure you; we wouldn’t share your photos with the press.”

She put her camera down and turned sharply. “Look, Kenny. I know you have a job to do. So, do I. The bride and groom will be gone for almost three weeks. Once you have the photos, they’re subject to an FOI request. If you want to see them, have a seat and join me as I stare at this small screen, or visit my studio. By the way, the SD card is locked with a password.”

Kenny sat next to Jessica on the bench of the picnic table. She advanced through the photos from the start of the reception. He stopped her after two or three images. “I think it would be better to see these on a larger monitor. When will you be in your studio?”

“I’m shooting a gender reveal party tomorrow,” Kenny rolled his eyes, “Don’t judge, I have a mortgage. I can meet you early Monday.”

Kenny chuckled. “When you say early, can we meet at seven o’clock?”

“If you bring coffee. Medium, hot, light and sweet—Splenda.”

Ken smiled. “I’ll see you at seven for a good look at all the photos.”

Jessica started to say something and then stopped. Ken looked at her curiously. “Is there something else, Ms. Conners?”

“Well, we can look at all the digital photos. I also shoot with a medium format film camera. I won’t get those photos back from the lab until later in the week.”

“I can have the State Police lab develop them tomorrow. If you give me the film, I can bring them with me on Monday.”

Jessica laughed. “I’m sorry, Ken. I’ve been using this lab since before digital was a thing. No offense to the boys at the State, but they aren’t processing my film.”

Ken stood and glared down at her. “Jessica, I’m afraid I have to insist. If there are photos on that film that capture a crime in progress, or an illegal condition like a code violation, sending them out to a private lab could cause chain-of-custody issues.”

“Chain-of-custody, hmmm, I’ve watched enough Law and Order to feel sure you can work around that, Kenny. You’re concerned about not being able to use a photo as evidence. I’m concerned about out-of-date chemicals, improper timing, the wrong temperature, poor mixing—you’re not getting my film. If you have to insist, you’ll also have to have a warrant. By the time you get one, the film will be on its way to—well, it will be on its way. Remember, light and sweet.” She handed him her business card.

–●–●–●–

Kenny walked to where the captain was standing, looking at the whiffs of smoke still blowing around the structure. “What do you think, Morgan?”

“Hard to say, Kenny. One thing is for sure, once a fire starts in these old mill buildings, it spreads fast, in every direction. Everyone got out OK and, surprisingly, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of damage. I guess it’s a good thing the station is less than half a mile from here. How’d your interviews go?”

“Not much there. Nicky Nikon is a piece of work. I’m meeting with her again Monday morning, and then I have to wait until she has her film developed.”

“Film? That’s a new one. Who uses film these days?”

“I’m sure there’s a reason. Can we go inside? I mean, is it safe?”

“I don’t think we should go up to the second floor or the loft until we have an engineer look at those stairs, but the kitchen and the utility room are both accessible.”

Morgan told one of the firefighters that the crew could take off as soon as they packed up. He said he’d catch a ride with the Fire Marshal. They walked back through the eerily empty dining room to the kitchen. The smell of smoke, wet furniture and table linens, and food was an odd mix. Kenny snarked, “This place is going to be ripe tomorrow.” To their surprise, the kitchen wasn’t heavily damaged by fire.

“This room looks clean, Morgan. I would have expected the fire to have started here.”

“I think it did, Kenny. Look over in that back corner. That’s a charbroiler grill and next to it is a stock pot range. Over a hundred and fifty thousand BTUs between them.”

As they got closer to the equipment, Kenny snapped a picture, then walked over to the wall and pulled back some stainless steel panels that were warped from the heat. “I think you’re right Morgan. I think it started right here. These columns are badly charred.”

Morgan wedged a Halligan bar behind the stainless-steel sheet and ripped it off the wall. He showed the bar to Kenny and smiled. “Don’t leave home without it.”

Kenny laughed. “Those are handy tools. Do you think the fire started on the equipment and spread into the wall, or could this column have ignited from the heat?”

Morgan studied the situation. “I think it started on the grill but moved into the wall quickly. The kitchen staff we talked to said they hit the suppressor when they first saw the fire, but the nozzles are focused on the grill and burner. When they realized it wasn’t having any effect, they pulled the alarm.”

“Did anyone grab an extinguisher?”

A large man coming up from behind the two men interrupted. “Once someone pulled the alarm, everyone ran out. Hi, I’m Paul Wilton, the manager. I saw the staff running out as soon as I heard the alarm. I stopped them and sent a few into the dining room and a couple others up to the second floor. I told them to make sure the guests got out. I came back here, but the fire was too far up in the wall to do anything with an extinguisher.”

Morgan nodded. “Yeah, I can see why.  Whoever put the addition on this place should have taken a lesson from the nineteenth century craftsmen that built the original mill.”

Paul Wilton looked confused. “This wasn’t part of the mill. This was the home of the mill owner, Phineas Burch. The original house was built in eighteen-eighty, it ended right about here. Phineas added the rest—including what we use as the main dining area and the second floor and loft above that space— after he got married and started a family. I think the addition went up around nineteen hundred. Still old school, I would think.”

Morgan shook his head. “No. See that column in the center of the room? The corners are chamfered. The chamfers are cut in at the top and bottom and are over an inch wide. If you look at the columns in the addition, the corners are straight.”

Paul looked around. “Maybe these were going to be covered. Maybe there was no need waste time making fancy corners.”

Kenny answered this time. “Those chamfers aren’t decorative. They make it harder for fire to spread.”

Morgan nodded. “Yeah, fire will start fast and then lick its way up sharp corners like this in an instant. Then it spreads at each joint. The open design of the timber frame structure meant the fire hit the second floor in less than minute.”

Kenny snapped a bunch of photos with his phone. He looked over toward the manager. “Paul, I don’t see any obvious violations here, just poor protection, and poor construction. Maybe the crew back then was in a hurry. We’ll be back on Monday. If possible, I’d like to talk to the person who was using the grill.” He handed Paul a business card. “He or she can call me at that number.”

“I’ll find out from the chef who was working where. I’ll have them give you a call, but they might be afraid to meet with you.”

“Tell them we’re not with INS. If they have a good memory, we can cover it in a phone call. But tell them it’s important for us to know everything they remember from when the fire started.”

–●–●–●–

Monday morning, Ken Lowery arrived at “Memories by Jessica,” coffee in hand. Jessica let him in and locked the door behind them. “I don’t open until ten. I see you remembered the coffee, thanks.”

“And I took the liberty of getting a couple bagels and a small box of Munchkins.”

“I shouldn’t indulge, but since you were so kind…” She reached for a bagel. “I have everything loaded in the room I use when reviewing photos with clients. They’re displayed on a big screen, but you can also look at a smaller monitor on the table.”

Kenny was impressed. Half the room was filled with framed photos and shelves full of photo albums. Just ahead of the center was a curved desktop with a couple computers on it. On the front wall was a 57-inch monitor. “Wow, that’s a huge monitor.”

“A lot of people have these in their homes, and they sometimes loop a slideshow on them. I help them put those shows together here. Some photos work better on a large screen than others. I can also project them onto a larger screen if they like. Have a seat. Grab the mouse. You can drive.”

Kenny started scrolling through the images. “Jessica, I forgot to ask one question. The Best Man’s son, Jimmy, said he saw a woman on the balcony. The balcony was closed, but his father said you wanted to go up there. Is there any chance you did go up?”

“No. I only wanted to get a few shots of the room from that vantage point. I asked the manager, but he said it wasn’t safe. The boy probably saw a reflection. I had several remote flash units set up. They can play tricks on your eyes when they go off.”

“That makes sense.”

Kenny stopped to study a few images. “You got some great shots of the fire on your way out. Look here,” he moved the mouse in a circle around a section on the desktop monitor, “you can see the fire sneaking up the corner of this column.” He moved the cursor to the left. “These columns are already ablaze.”

“I saw that on the camera’s screen as I was on my way out. I stopped and snapped a few more of those. Once I saw how fast it was moving, I focused on getting my ass out of there.”

Kenny flipped through the next several photos. “This is like a stop-action animation. How many frames per second can you shoot?”

“Eight. If you like, I can print these with the timestamp right on them.”

“That would be very helpful. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome. It’s no trouble. Just jot down the numbers of the ones you want. I’ll cue them up to print when you’re done.”

Kenny finished reviewing the photos and handed Jessica a list of seventeen for her to print. While they were printing, he remembered the film. “Jessica, with all this fancy equipment, why do you still bring a film camera along to a wedding?”

“Film has a much better dynamic range than digital sensors. I like the light and the grain of those photos. My camera also has a larger aspect ratio, six-by-seven, which a lot of my customers like, once they see the results.”

“Seems like a bit of a bother for photos people will probably put away in some drawer.”

“The digital is more of a bother. With film, I have to be careful. I can’t just keep clicking away. I plan the photos better and I end up with fewer to sort through. I started out using film, and I love that camera. Digital cameras get upgraded so often; I don’t have time to fall in love.”

Kenny laughed, causing Jessica to shoot him an angry glare.

“Do you find that funny?”

“No. I guess not. At least I didn’t mean any disrespect. It’s just that falling in love with a device isn’t something I hear very often. Maybe it’s an artist thing.”

“Perhaps. I know musicians who feel that way about specific instruments. I imagine craftsmen feel that way about certain tools. I remember my grandmother having a small cultivator that she always used in her garden.”

“You’re probably right. In any case, thank you for these prints. I don’t think I’ll need to see the others; it looks like you covered the entire room with these. We know where the fire started, and your photos confirm our suspicions about the way it spread.”

Jessica seemed lost in thought for a few seconds. “Do you think the building can be repaired?”

Kenny took a last sip of his coffee. “That depends on the insurance company.”

Jessica sighed. “Ugh, don’t get me started. I have to call mine after we’re done here. Fortunately, I paid extra for a policy with replacement value, but I’m sure they have a way to make that complicated.”

Kenny raised his hand as if he was going to snap his fingers. “Actually, Morgan Thrall, the Captain on the fire crew, said some of your equipment looked like it wasn’t damaged—at least not by the fire—it may have water damage. If the engineer says the stairs are safe, we can schedule a time for you to visit. Maybe you didn’t lose everything.”

“That would be great. Even if it is damaged, it would help me prove the items were on-site. That’s sure to be another issue with the insurance company.”

Kenny nodded. “Insurance is tricky. The building isn’t too badly damaged, but it would have to be brought up to code if they want to reopen. That would require changing or replacing a lot of things that weren’t damaged by the fire. I’m not sure how much of that insurance will cover.”

“Even for a historic building? I took a picture of the NRHP’s plaque that was on the wall next to the entrance.”

“The Building Code allows for alternatives to some requirements, but the basic safety elements have to be met. It’s the same with ADA requirements. For example, there’s no other way to access, or egress from the second floor than those awful stairs.”

Jessica finished the last bite of her bagel and washed it down with some coffee. “I hope they can reopen. It’d be a shame to lose such a beautiful venue. Most of the weddings I shoot are in bland halls that look like a conference room at the local Marriott.” She chuckled. “In fact, some are in a conference room at the local Marriott.”

Kenny laughed. “You take care, Jessica. Thanks again for these.” He raised the photos.

–●–●–●–

Wednesday morning, Kenny’s cell phone rang. The Caller-ID said “Unknown,” but he recognized the number from Jessica Conner’s business card. He answered without revealing that. “Hello, this is Kenny.”

“Hi Kenny. It’s Jessica Conners. I was wondering if you could stop by my studio. I think there’s something you should see.”

“That sounds intriguing, Jessica. I have a couple appointments; will you be there for a while?”

“I’ll be here all day.”

Jessica started arranging photos, printouts and screenshots from the research she had been doing since her proofs arrived from the lab. Her phone rang around 1:30.

“Jessica, it’s Kenny. I’m on my way to your studio. I’m stopping for coffee. Can I bring you anything?”

“I’d love a medium iced coffee with cream and two Splenda.”

“I’ll see you in fifteen.”

Kenny arrived, handed Jessica her coffee and asked what was so important.

Jessica smiled. “Thanks for this. I got my negatives back from the lab last night. I got up early to look at them. I also ordered prints and a digital scan, and I’ve been checking to see if there were any from areas or angles, I didn’t have from my digital camera. I found something that shocked me.”

Jessica motioned for Kenny to walk back to the room where they reviewed the digital photos. She handed him a large black and white print. “Here, the proofs are small, but I printed this from the scanned image.”

Kenny’s eyes grew wide. He set his coffee down and studied the photo. Jessica noticed his hands were shaking very slightly.

“I had the same reaction. Looks like the ring bearer was right.”

“Jessica, when did you take this photo? Was this during the reception or when you were setting up before the it started?”

Jessica pointed to a row of black and white prints, then she flashed a digital photo on the review screen. “My film camera doesn’t have any electronics, but by comparing the positions of people, it looks like I took this photo shortly after the one being displayed. So about two-fifteen.”

Kenny was still studying the black and white photo. It clearly showed a slightly out of focus image of a bride on the balcony of the loft, directly over the wedding party’s table. The bride—the woman married earlier that day—was seated at that table. Everything but the bride on the balcony was in sharp focus.

“Jessica, is this some kind of reflection? Some aberration? If not, who is this woman?”

Jessica pointed to the papers arranged on the table. “That’s real, Kenny. I think that’s the late Margaret Burch.”

“A ghost? You think little Jimmy saw a ghost, and that you captured a ghost on film?”

“Yes, I do.”

Kenny sighed and shook his head. “Jessica, I’m the Fire Marshal for this town. I deal in facts. I investigate burned out buildings looking for facts and then I arrange those facts to tell a story. I don’t know of any facts that can support the notion of a ghost appearing at a wedding.”

Jessica took a drink of her coffee. “Well, consider this. A child’s vision and perception aren’t governed or controlled by thirty, forty- or fifty-years’ worth of adult learning and societal pressure. Jimmy told you what he saw. His brain didn’t push it aside because of what people might think, and he wasn’t embarrassed to say it.”

Kenny shook his head more adamantly. “And what, your old film camera isn’t guided by some bias built into modern day electronic algorithms? No, I think we have a coincidence. A reflection, a flash of light, a shadow that Jimmy saw, and you captured. I don’t believe in ghosts, and I’m not putting it in my report.”

Jessica smiled. “Suit yourself, but I’m putting it in my book.”

“Book? You’re writing a book?”

“Well. I’m putting together a photo album, in book form. I spoke to Jimmy’s father. He thinks his sister-in-law would be fascinated by this image and what my research has turned up. He also thinks some of the wedding guests would want to buy a copy. He’ll be here in a little while, after he picks Jimmy up from school.”

Kenny was confused. “Research? What are you talking about?”

Jessica started pointing to different articles she had printed. “Margaret Burch was supposed to be married in that very loft over a hundred years ago. In fact, she and her fiancé were going to take their vows on that balcony. Her fiancé died in a freak automobile accident on the way to the wedding. His car went off the road and he drowned in the mill pond.”

“So, what, she pops into every wedding to mourn over her lost love?”

“This was the first wedding since the day she was to be married.”

Kenny rubbed his forehead. “That’s crazy. You just said that was over a hundred years ago. You’re telling me there hasn’t been another wedding in a hundred years?”

“Phineas Burch never used the second floor or the loft for any events after that day. A few years later, Margaret committed suicide—she drowned herself in the mill pond—dressed in her wedding gown. After that, Phineas sold the building and the mill. The new owners used the building as an office and used the second floor and loft for storage.”

“Did they ever see a ghost?”

“Several workers said that they thought the loft was haunted. They heard strange noises while retrieving old records and while moving boxes into storage. Some said that something cold touched them. Several refused to go up there.”

Kenny still wasn’t buying any of this story. “When did it become a restaurant?”

“Twenty years ago. But the owner only started using the second floor five years ago. He mostly rents it out for holiday parties, business meetings and the occasional political fund-raiser. This was the first wedding he scheduled. He’s never used the loft.”

Kenny looked at the picture again. “Let me guess, you think Margaret set the building on fire out of jealousy—out of spite?”

Jessica grew tired of Kenny’s unwillingness to consider what she considered facts. “Don’t you think it’s odd that the building wasn’t destroyed? When I was there yesterday, to get my equipment, I noticed that the balcony was untouched by fire. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

Kenny pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s strange, Jessica. I’ve investigated hundreds of fires. Burn patterns often look like the fire had a mind of its own. Some things are completely consumed while other things are undamaged.”

Jessica started fumbling through the proofs she got from the lab. “I only printed the picture of the bride from the digital scan. But look at these proofs.” She handed a stack of smaller photos to Kenny. “As I was leaving, I stopped at the top of the stairs to let an elderly couple go ahead of me. I didn’t remember until I saw these that I shot the rest of the roll in my medium format camera. Look carefully at that column on the right.”

Kenny studied the photos. “The flames appear to stop about two feet up the column.”

Jessica pulled the next one out of the pile. “And they stay there on that column, the one the balcony is attached to, while you can clearly see they are growing on these others.”

Kenny compared the photos.

Jessica smiled. “Still think it’s just odd behavior?”

Kenny looked over at Jessica. “You make an interesting case for an appearance by the ghost of Margaret Burch. But I’m still leaving it out of my report.”

“Well, when Jim and Jimmy get here, we’re all going over to the restaurant. Jim spoke with the owner, and he’s willing to let us include some historic photos they found in the loft when he bought the building. He was going to donate them to the Historical Society.”

“Did he say if he’s going to reopen?”

Jessica laughed. “He is. Not only that, he’s going to rename the restaurant, ‘Margaret’s Loft’ in honor of the bride.”

Teagan’s challenge asked us to work from her list with the first letter of our first or last name.

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