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Fire and Brimstone

Written by Terry Howard

Grantville, summer of 1636

"What can I do for you, Mr. Underwood?" the young lawyer asked.

"I want an injunction compelling that bar to change its name. It's embarrassing," Deacon Albert Underwood said. "I asked the man politely to take that sign down and he laughed at me."

Jimmy Dick found Albert's polite request rude and demanding, followed by an even ruder ultimatum. Jimmy laughed at him.

"They have no right to use the name. They aren't Baptist. That's why we threw them out. Drinking is a sin and calling that place The Baptist Basement Bar and Grill is insulting. Baptists do not drink!" The last words rang with passion, fire and brimstone. "You know what I thought it said when I first saw it? I thought is said The Bargain Basement Bar and Grill; after all it surely couldn't say what it does, could it? But I took a second look and lo and behold it did say what it does.

"I pointed out he could shorten the sign by two words and still use it. You know what he said? He said 'if we take off and grill how will people know we serve food?' The man is a cretin and a fool; they should throw him in jail and throw away the key!"

The young lawyer found himself wondering if the old deacon ever said anything without filling it with passion. "Mr. Underwood, I understand and I sympathize." He told a social lie, but then lawyers are . . . well, (I guess I'd better not say. I don't want to get sued.) "But I doubt if there is anything I can do for you. The word Baptist is in the public domain. It's not like you've got a trademark on it and it is attached to a church after all."

"But they're not Baptist, neither the bar nor the church. They call themselves Anabaptist. They are against every thing we stand for, like decency and order and right living. Ask any of the down-time pastors. The whole lot of them are anarchist. Can't you get them for false advertising or something?"

"Mister Underwood, it will not hold up. What defines a Baptist is adult-only baptism and baptism by full submersion which they have been doing since they opened here in Grantville even if they didn't always do it before. So, I am sorry, there is nothing I can do for you.

"The chief of police is a reasonable man and he has a lot of influence with Jimmy Dick. Why don't you talk to him?"

"I did! He told me to go see a lawyer."

"Then I guess you will just have to learn to live with it, sir."

"You mean the law will do nothing? Well, if that is the case, someone ought to just burn the place down."

"That, sir, would be illegal." Realizing someone as passionate about the subject as the old deacon clearly might actually go to such an extreme, the young lawyer thought to head off trouble before it started. "Since you've mentioned it, if anything happens I will have to tell the police about this conversation."

"Attorney client privilege."

"First, you haven't paid a retaining fee so you are not a client. Second, the privilege does not apply when a client announces ahead of time that they are going to do something illegal. Good day, sir. I cannot help you."

"Well, I wouldn't do it anyway. But someone should."

****

Not many nights later flames shot up from the roof high into the sky, as if the spirit of the building sought heaven. The walls were quarried limestone, but the furnishings burned nicely as did the floor and the roof, except for the roof slates, which, along with the stained glass for the windows, were the only things congregation purchased, except for song books, Bibles and modern plumbing. Unfortunately, the fire burned the walls to lime. They were still standing but the building inspector declared them unsafe. They would have to come down. Beyond question, it was arson. Someone used so much fuel oil or kerosene that some of it floated out on top of the water when the fire department got busy controlling the blaze.

****

At first light, the coals still glowing, Lyndon Johnson started investigating the fire. The fire chief estimated how much petroleum someone used.

"That much?" a shocked Lyndon asked.

"It takes a lot for some to float out like it did."

A radio call to the dispatcher and a few phone calls to the gas stations established for a fact, no one bought any diesel recently which did not go into a vehicle's tank.

"Well, that's a dead end. Looks like someone's been sitting on a stash all this while. We can look, but, if the sweep for fuel back in '31 didn't turn it up, it's not likely we will either," Lyndon told the fire chief.

"I didn't think it would be that easy," the fire chief replied.

****

Jimmy Dick stood there looking at the ash filled hole in the ground. The sign over the door, by some fluke, somehow, survived. He shook his head. "We weren't even open a month. The worst of it is, I had insurance on my contents but the congregation didn't have any insurance at all. At least it was all new stuff. I sold all the up-time furniture and furnishings to an Italian. I'm glad I kept the juke box at my house, or it would be gone too."

"Why'd'ya do that for?" Bubba asked.

"Because, Bubba, it could be overheard upstairs. Some songs shouldn't be heard in church, even if it is through the floor."

"Oh," Bubba said sadly looking at the ashes.

Lyndon asked, "Who wanted you out of business badly enough to do this, Jimmy?"

"I don't know, Lyndon. Not the other bars. They were happy to get rid of Ken's regulars. I can give you a list of the regulars who wouldn't come; some because they wouldn't drink in a church, others because I wouldn't keep the krauts out. But, damn it, Lyndon, it is kind of hard to tell your landlord he can't buy a beer in your bar. And if they were going to burn something down, they would have torched the beauty salon in the old building."

Lyndon's next question probed a bit deeper. "Who had it in for you personally?"

"Most of my family, half of the regulars, all of my ex-tenants and most of the current ones," Jimmy replied.

Lyndon pushed, "Why the tenants?"

"I raised the rent. My family 'cause I ended up with the property and they thought it should have been split up. The regulars because, over the years, when they were being stupid idiots I pointed it out to them, and I wasn't the least bit polite about it when I did it either."

Lyndon probed deeper still, "Sounds like you got half the world mad at you. Why, Jimmy?"

Jimmy actually looked a bit sheepish. "Because I enjoyed being a jerk? Freud told me I have a death wish."

"Like you talked to Sigmund Freud!"

"You mean you haven't?"

"Get me the list of the old regulars who don't come. I'll start there."

****

Back at the station, Lyndon found a note in his inbox telling him to call a lawyer's office. Shortly he stood knocking on Deacon Underwood's door. "Mr. Underwood, have you heard the Anabaptist church burned last night?"

"Serves them right. They never should have opened a bar in the basement."

"Mind if I ask where you were last night?"

"Home, in bed."

"All night long?"

"I can't sleep like I used too. So I get up and read and then go back to bed."

"Anything you want to tell me?"

"You mean like, 'Yes, I kidnapped the Lindbergh baby.' Well, I didn't."

Lyndon did not trust the gleam in the old man's eye.

****

"Hey, Jason, any ideas on who burned the bar?"

"Hey yourself, Lyndon, and what you really mean is did I do it since I got a record as a suspected arsonist.

"They never proved it. I never said I did it, never said I didn't, either. In this case I didn't. If I find out who did, I'll beat the crap out him before I tell you. He burned a church, Lyndon. I don't go to church, 'cept for weddings and funerals. It shouldn't have been there. But I would never burn a church.

"You ask me, it was one of the pious hypocrites. The churches are full of them. You know how you tell a Catholic from a Baptist in a liquor store? The Catholics will talk to each other, the Baptists won't."

"Well, you were in town. and you might have it in for Jimmy, you both being Shavers after all."

"I ain't got nothin' against Jimmy. But, he shouldn't have opened a bar in the basement of a church. It just ain't right."

****

A few days later the chief asked "How is the arson case coming?"

"A lot of dead ends," Lyndon said. "The only thing I've turned up is Jason Shaver's being in town. He says everything is cool between him and Jimmy. I know better. So there's opportunity and motive. I'd question him again but he's back in Magdeburg at the glass works."

"How'd they move the fuel oil?" the chief asked. "It wasn't carried in by hand, not that much, not by one person anyway. Freight moves around town at night since the League of Women Voters got the daylight traffic ban voted in. Ask the haulers if they saw anything."

****

"Herr John's Son?" Lyndon just stepped into the gas station to sign for the tank of gas for the cruiser. The attendant said, "I have a question."

"Yes?"

"The police called the day after the fire and asked if anyone had been bought diesel, and I said no except into trucks."

"Yes," Lyndon prompted.

"Is it important? One man buys ten gallons into cans once or twice a week."

"Do you know who he is?"

"No."

"The next time he comes in, call the station. Then stall him if you can and try to get a name."

"Yes, Herr John's Son."

****

"Wesley, your electric truck was seen around town the night of the fire? Know anything about it?"

"Now that's the strangest thing. When I came in the morning after, I found the big door closed but not latched. Nothing missing or out of place so I just figured we forgot."

"You're telling me someone could have used your truck without you knowing it?"

"Yeah."

"How'd they get in?"

"Through a window, maybe? I didn't check. Like I said, nothing was missing."

"Any idea who could have borrowed it?"

"Not offhand."

"You think of anything, let me know. I should talk to your partner too."

"Sure, she's home getting over having her appendix out. Been laid up all week."

"Just for the record, where were you that night?"

"Home in bed. Where else?"

****

Three days later a message caught up with Lyndon to call Wesley at the conversion shop.

"Wesley?"

"Hey, Lyndon, after we talked I added a bar to the door. This morning the bar was upside down. There's some nicks you wouldn't notice if you weren't looking for them and the chalk marks on the wheels were gone too."

"I'll be over in just a bit. Don't touch anything until I get there."

"Hey," Lyndon called out to the office, "I need a fingerprinter. Who's up?"

The chief came out of his office.

Lyndon addressed him. "Maybe we just got a break in the arson case."

A week later on a roof top in Grantville

"See anything?" the radio asked.

"What did I tell you an hour ago?" Rick asked in nearly accent-free English.

"Nothing."

"What did I tell you the hour before that?"

"Nothing."

"What did I tell you once an hour yesterday and four yesterdays before that?"

"Nothing."

"Do you see a pattern here?"

"I see nothing."

"Have you been watching Hogan's Heroes?"

"Yes. Sergeant Schultz is a hoot. Talk to you in another hour."

"Hang on, I see a light. Someone is in the building." The soft noise of the carrier wave and the occasional mutter of voices in the background of the station were the only sounds for long enough to measure time in fractions of an hour instead of numbered minutes.

"Okay, they are opening the doors and yes the truck is rolling out. It's comin' down. Move."

"People are in place, Rick. Come on down."

"Let me guess, you've seen The Price is Right?"

"Sure, my landlady brought them home and we watched them over and over. A panda is waiting for you in the alley."

"A panda?"

"Yes, a black and white patrol car."

"Where did you come up with that one? Never mind. I'm on my way."

Wesley's electric truck made its way to the fair grounds where things to be delivered downtown were left until the middle hours of the night when traffic wouldn't endanger the swarms of kids and other pedestrians. The driver and passenger loaded up, made the three stops and headed back to the conversion shop. When the two of them were exiting the side door of the shop, car lights came on at both ends of the alley.

A voice called out, "Freeze." Then, "Put your hands on your heads." Then, "Abe? Is that you?"

Abe, a known hillbilly-ophile answered, "Rick?"

"Yeah."

"What's going on?"

"You tell me."

"We were borrowing Wesley's truck. He said we could."

"No, he didn't."

"Yes, he did. We needed to help someone move and we borrowed his truck. When we brought it back I said 'thanks' and he said 'any time.'"

"Abe, you know that is not what he meant."

"It is what he said."

"Come on. Let's go down to the station."

At the station, they called Wesley. "Sure, I loaned Abe the truck to move some old lady. But I didn't mean he could use it for free anytime he wanted without asking."

Lyndon nodded. "Rick tells me it isn't a question of Abe misunderstanding either, even if he has the I-don't-know-English-too-goodroutine down pat. Shoot, his proper English is better than mine and he can do hillbilly just fine."

"So," Wesley asked, "did they burn the church?"

"No. The dispatcher at the fairgrounds says Abe worked the other side of town that night and he's got records to prove it. Only thing they've got to say is they saw a dark pickup truck go by on rubber tires and they sure wished your truck had rubber tires. So now I get to chase down every dark truck in town that still has tires, which is most of them.

"Are you going to press charges." Lyndon asked.

"No. They didn't hurt anything, but I am going to charge them rent."

****

The next day Lyndon stopped for gas. Barely through the door to sign the chit the attendant spoke to him.

"Herr John's Son, I have something to say."

"Yes?"

"I have a name. He is Abe Holt."

"Thanks. We picked him up last night."

"Then he burned the church?"

"No. He has a solid alibi."

"I have been thinking, Herr Underwood, he has been buying a lot of diesel into his truck. I have been wondering why so much driving. And now, after the fire, he has stopped."

"Oh, really?" Lyndon said. "Interesting. What color is Underwood's truck?"

"It is dark blue, Herr John's Son."

"Hm. Thanks, Johann."

"Any time, Herr John's Son."

****

"Hey, Lyndon," the chief called out when Lyndon got to the station. "What did you get last night?"

"A red herring. The fellows using Wesley's truck didn't do it. But they saw a dark pickup moving through town. So I follow that lead next."

"Well, over lunch someone from the CoC asked me about it."

****

"Chief Richards, how is the investigation going in the religious discrimination case?"

"The what?"

"The religious discrimination case. Have you found out who burned the church down?"

The chief asked for an explanation, "It's religious discrimination?"

"Of course it is."

"Why?"

"Arson. The only church in town to be burned is a down-time church. Your up-timer churches are strange and crazy, but for the most part, they are staying put in Grantville . . . well, other than the Pentecostals. These people are a long-standing despised minority. They are actively expanding under your protection."

"Maybe the bar was the target and the church just happened to be over it?"

"Don't be crazy. Who would care about a bar? No. You need to be investigating the loud-mouthed Lutherans whose pastor, from the pulpit, called it an act of divine justice."

****

"I got the distinct impression if we didn't look into it the CoC would.

"I told him we weren't calling it a religious discrimination case at this time, and if the Lutheran pastor had an accident one dark night, I would come looking for him.

"So, if you don't have any other leads, check it out."

"I may actually have something. It turns out Underwood has a dark blue truck, which I know runs on diesel. He fills up way too often, but not since the fire."

"Oh, really," the chief said. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"To see Albert."

****

The door opened and Albert Underwood said, "Yes?"

"Brother Underwood," the chief said, they went to the same church. The archaic greeting matched the man being addressed. "I have a problem, and as a deacon of the church I thought you might be able to help me out."

"If I can I surely will. What's the problem?"

"I've got a suspect in an arson case who's got motive, opportunity, and ability, which is enough to bring him in and book him."

The old man paled. "I didn't do it."

"I didn't say you did. So far the evidence is purely circumstantial so a judge would most likely throw it out. Without ...