Free Opal Fire by Barbra Annino Page B

through the windshield. She smiled at me in return.
    Smalls' bag. It had to be. Why she would pull a prank like that, I had no clue.
    By the time I changed and fed Thor it was late afternoon. I would have to submit something by the end of the day to make tomorrow’s paper. In a small town, papers don’t always publish daily. Some run weekly. The Amethyst Globe has four editions. Tuesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. The Tuesday and Friday editions are news, local culture, gossip, sports, want ads, job listings, and anything else you’d find in most city papers. The weekend editions are designed to appeal to tourists, so in addition to the regular features, there are listings for events and entertainment, plus local lore and history. Not exactly cutting edge.
    I didn’t have enough to go on from my point of view of the fire, nor did I want to highlight anything regarding arson, since that had not been confirmed. In fact, the way the wheels rolled around here, it could take weeks to confirm.
    In the meantime, I needed a story today. So I thought I’d interview some of the people who were first on the scene.
    I reached for my cell phone and dialed Leo.
    “Please tell me you haven’t broken another law,” he said.
    “Funny. It wasn’t my fault.”
    “It never is.”
    “The moon is in Scorpio or something.”
    “No it isn’t.”
    “How would you know?”
    “Your grandmother bought me an astrology calendar for Christmas. I check it every day.”
    “You do?”
    “I have to. She quizzes me.”
    “I’ll talk to her about that.”
    “I wish you would.”
    “Listen, who were those guys trying to help at the fire last night?”
    “You mean the firemen?”
    “Ha, ha, smarty pants. No, the three musketeers who headed up the citizen’s academy crowd.”
    “Oh, the Citizens on Patrol. That’s Jed, Jeb, and Ned.”
    “You’re screwing with me, right?”
    “No, but since you mentioned it, will I ever see you outside of my station again?”
    “That depends. Are those really their names?”
    “Yes. Two are related. I’m not sure which.”
    “Where can I find them?”
    Leo paused. “Three O’clock on a Friday? Gotta be the Elk’s Lodge.”
    “Okay. Pick me up from the paper at six. Aunt Angelica is making dinner for us.”
    I decided to walk to the Elk’s Lodge. It was freezing out, but I bundled up and the fresh air felt good against my skin.
    The door to the lodge was locked. To the left, a note taped above the bell read: “Ring Bell for entrance. Members Only.”
    I was not a member, but I buzzed it anyway. Maybe I could get a free day pass like they hand out at the gym.
    A scratchy voice came through the speaker. “Yeah?”
    “Hi, I’m looking for Jeb, Jed, and Ned?”
    “So?”
    “So are they in there?”
    “Maybe.”
    I really was itching to slap someone today and I wondered if this might be my victim.
    “Well, suppose they were in there. Do you think they have time for a chat?”
    “‘Bout what?”
    Okay, new tactic.
    “About the fact that it is freezing cold and I’m wearing my tightest sweater without a coat or a bra.”
    Magically, the door yawned opened.
    The room was dark and musty with a curved bar in the center, cushioned with a leather pad around the edge. A few men sprinkled the bar. One was playing video poker and three more bent over a shuffleboard.
    I walked up to the wrap-around bar and caught disappointment on the bartender’s face. I almost apologized for my less than generous rack before Mr. Huckleberry slid a shot over to me.
    “Everyone opens with a whiskey,” he said.
    The bartender was balancing a glass on his stomach, sliding a towel in and out of it. He drank me in before he said, “Members only, girly.”
    “Hey, show some respect,” Mr. Huckleberry said, puffing on his cigar. Smoking was still permitted in private clubs in Illinois. “That’s Oscar’s granddaughter.”
    The bartender looked surprised. “Scuse, me. I didn’t know.” He waddled