FIRE ALARM ON FIRST NIGHT: A NEW YEAR'S EVE STORY

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By Margaret S. Hamilton

 

 

New Year’s Eve, Jericho, Ohio

 

Up to her elbows in mounds of washed lettuce and spinach in the parish hall kitchen, Lizzie Christopher assembled large bowls of mixed salad garnished with carrot peels and dotted with sliced radishes. The parish hall would be one of many event spaces serving dinner to the townspeople on First Night, or New Year’s Eve, before the evening concerts, one-act plays, and fireworks. The whole town would turn out for the family-style afternoon and evening celebration.

 

Tommy Pfeiffer, a ten-year-old who did odd jobs around town, knocked on the kitchen door carrying two tote bags. “Hi, Lizzie, Dolores sent two containers of her special salad dressing from the diner.”

 

Lizzie put down her vegetable peeler to accept the salad dressing. “Thanks, Tommy. You’re a big help.” Tommy had grown taller since the summer, his curly hair flopping over his forehead.

 

“Want to grab a snack and stick around for a few minutes?”

 

“No thanks. I’m on my usual route, checking things out.”

 

“Around one-thirty, I’ll drop by the library to check on my kids running the crafts and chess activities. Won’t you join me?”

 

“Yeah, sure, I haven’t seen Phillip and Claire since day camp last summer.” He wiped his nose with a wadded tissue. “Will I need a First Night Button?”

 

First Night attendees wore large metal buttons on their coats, which gave them admission to all the events.

 

“I have an extra I’ll give you.” Lizzie pinned it on his jacket.

 

“Thanks for the button.” Tommy flipped through a small notebook before he tucked it into his coat pocket. “See ya later.”

 

Five minutes later, Paul Battelle, a local attorney, carried twenty-four packs of soft drinks and flavored waters into the parish hall. “Have you seen Tommy Pfeiffer?”

 

“He just left with his little notebook. Tommy mentioned something about making his usual rounds.”

 

Paul furrowed his brow. “Tommy lives with his mother and grandmother in one of the duplexes on the other side of Main Street. The landlord, Stan Harrison, is harassing the tenants, trying to force them out so he can sell the buildings as teardowns to a developer who wants to build luxury apartments. I asked Tommy to tell me if anything is amiss, not to gather evidence against his landlord.”

 

Lizzie smiled. “Tommy’s like me.” Her sleuthing skills had served her well, particularly investigating unscrupulous townspeople and their nefarious deeds.

 

“Harrison is in debt, desperate, and actively endangering his tenants.”

 

“Including Tommy’s family?”

 

Paul’s face turned sober. “Especially Tommy’s family. Tommy’s mother is a capable businesswoman. Not only does she run a non-profit, but she also organized all the tenants to fight eviction. I help the group with their legal matters.”

 

“Tommy promised to meet me here at one-thirty.” Lizzie checked her phone. “That gives him an hour to snoop around the duplexes.”

 

Paul pulled out his car keys. “I need to find him before Harrison does.”

 

“Tommy calls himself a free-range kid. I know he carries a basic version of a cell phone.”

 

Paul unlocked his phone. “Good idea. I’ll ask Tommy’s mother for his number. You have mine. Text me when he shows up.”

 

Lizzie peeled more carrots and chopped what was left into tiny bits to add some crunch to the salads. She put plastic wrap on top of each bowl and placed the containers in the walk-in refrigerator.

 

Paul called her at one, requesting her assistance at the duplexes, near the intersection of Oak and First Streets.

Lizzie shrugged on her heavy down parka and wrapped a long scarf around her neck. She raced to Main Street, which was behind barricades to accommodate outdoor children’s activities—ice carving, a giant bubble machine, and noise parade—on the Green.

 

After crossing Main Street, she strode down a side street to the four-block section of town known as “the duplexes,” two-family clapboard houses, each with a shared front porch, one apartment on each floor. Many college students and staff members lived in the close-knit neighborhood.

 

Lizzie continued to the intersection of First and Oak Streets. Paul waited with Tommy next to a line of fire trucks and police vehicles.

 

“Hi, guys, what’s up?”

 

Paul kept his voice low. “Tommy told me Stan Harrison cut the gas to several buildings, then entered the apartments and left electric heaters with frayed or damaged cords running full blast. Stan’s not allowed to turn off the gas—only the utility company can do that—and the electric heaters represent a serious fire hazard. All the affected apartments are unoccupied, because the occupants are out of town. The police have alerted the residents who are home.”

 

Lizzie gasped. “But if one of the duplexes catches fire, others will burn, too.”

 

“When Tommy saw what Harrison was doing, he called 911. Fire and police responded.”

 

“Did the police arrest Harrison?”

 

“They can’t find him. He may be hiding in one of the unoccupied units. He has a master key to all the apartments.”

 

Lizzie’s mouth was dry. “He might be in Tommy’s apartment. Can you discretely call his mother?”

 

Paul stepped behind a fire truck and made the call. He joined Lizzie a minute later. “No answer.”

 

“Tommy,” Lizzie said, “is your mom running errands today?”

 

“Nah, she’s working at home. After she finishes, we’re going to one of the First Night dinners and the fireworks.”

 

“What a great way to spend New Year’s Eve,” Lizzie said. “It’s time to deliver snacks to the chess and craft programs. Want to come with me?”

 

“I have to check on Mom and Grandma,” Tommy said. “I’m not going anywhere until I know they’re all right.”

“Paul, would you find a police officer?” Lizzie asked. “Tommy, do you have a house key?”

 

He nodded, pulling out two deadbolt keys on a chain from under his sweatshirt. He handed the chain to Paul. “The key with the blue dot is our upstairs neighbor. I’m watering their plants and taking in the mail while they’re out of town.”

 

“Thanks,” Lizzie said. “Tommy, you stay with me. Let the police do their job.”

 

“Don’t you need to deliver snacks to Phillip and Claire?”

 

“I’ll text them. They can run across the street from the library.” She patted his shoulder. “You and your family are more important.” She smiled. “I know Dolores at the diner appreciates your help running errands.”

 

“Dolores gives me take-out dinners instead of paying me, so we save money on groceries. Wednesdays are best because it’s hot meatloaf sandwich day.” He rubbed his nose. “Paul isn’t back yet. I need to find Mom and Grandma.”

 

“Just a little while longer. First, the police need to check all the apartments for defective electric heaters. And then the utility company will turn the gas back on. Brrr. The apartments must be cold with no heat.”

 

“Harrison’s done it before,” Tommy said. “In the summer, he turns off the electricity so we can’t use our window air conditioners.” He paused. “What’s a fourplex?”

 

“It sounds like a building with four apartments, two on the main floor and two on the second floor.”

 

“Double the apartments in the same space as a duplex. And no parking. Harrison already won’t let Mom park her car in the driveway. And I’m not allowed to leave my bike on the front porch. Dolores keeps it in the storage shed behind the diner.” Tommy chewed his lip. “Please, Lizzie, can we move closer to my house?”

 

“Do you promise to stay with me on the sidewalk? That’s a mom question. How would you answer your mother?”

 

“Yes, Ma’am!”

 

Tommy led the way to his duplex. Lizzie texted Paul that they were outside on the sidewalk.

The gray clapboard building was quiet. No lights were on. The shades on the windows were drawn.

 

“Tommy, do you live up or down?”

“Down. Our upstairs neighbors work for the college.” He stared at the duplex. “In the winter, we always have the shades up during the day. Grandma likes the sunshine. And we can lower the thermostat to save money, too.”

 

Paul Battelle joined them. He knelt on the sidewalk to talk to Tommy. “Hey, buddy, we need your help. You know all the ins and outs of your duplex, right? Basement windows, back doors, what’s locked, all that good stuff.”

 

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Tommy trotted to the far side of the duplex. “The window on the side has a broken lock. During the summer we put an air conditioner in it. The screen lifts out.” He positioned two plastic recycling containers under the window and removed a chisel taped inside one of them. “You can stand on the containers to reach the window and use the chisel to pry it open. Sometimes Harrison locks us out of the apartment, but I can always get in.”

 

Paul made a call to relay the information. “Let’s stand across the street.”

 

“Did you find Mom? Where’s Grandma?”

 

“They’re inside your apartment. The police went upstairs. They could hear Mom and Grandma talking from downstairs.”

 

“Harrison’s hiding in their apartment, isn’t he?” Tommy asked.

 

“Yes. But we’re going to get him.”

 

Two more fire trucks screamed to a stop. The firefighters jumped off the trucks and, carrying large fire extinguishers, entered the front door to the upstairs unit in Tommy’s building.

 

“There’s a fire in the apartment! I need to get Mom and Grandma out.” Tommy started to run after the firefighters.

 

Lizzie grabbed Tommy’s arm. He could move at warp speed. Fastest mile runner at day camp. “Tommy, please stay put. My job is keeping you safe.”

 

He shifted his shoulders. “I know, I know.” His eyes teared up. “But Mom and Grandma are trapped inside with Harrison. He might hurt them.”

 

Lizzie whispered in his ear. “Your mom is a strong, capable woman. Trust her.”

 

Tommy gulped. “Yeah, she lifts weights and does kickboxing.”

 

The front door of Tommy’s apartment burst open, and Stan Harrison emerged. He stumbled down the steps and headed straight for Lizzie and Tommy.

“Tommy, let’s get him!” Lizzie wrapped the strap of her crossbody bag around her hand and charged.

 

Tommy dove for one of Harrison’s legs and hung on, not losing his grip, no matter how much Harrison kicked.

 

Lizzie whirled her bag in a circle and slung it into Harrison’s head. He crashed to the ground. She put her hiking boot-clad foot firmly on his back. “Paul, I could use some help.”

 

Paul added his foot to Harrison’s back. “I didn’t learn this in law school.”

 

“You need to get out more,” Lizzie said.

 

Two police officers took over, cuffing Harrison before guiding him inside a patrol car.

 

Tommy’s mom and grandma emerged from the apartment. “Tommy, are you all right?”

 

Lizzie called to them. “Grab your coats and boots, ladies. I’ll take you for a cup of hot coffee.”

 

She hugged Tommy. “We’ll drop you off at the lightning chess tournament.”

 

“Checkmate and happy new year!” Tommy raced to greet his mother and grandmother.

 

THE END

 

Margaret S. Hamilton writes the Jericho Mysteries series about a small Ohio college town. She has also published forty short stories, many of them featuring amateur sleuth Lizzie Christopher.

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“Fire Alarm on First Night” was originally published in Kings River Life Magazine in December 2024. Our thanks to Lorie Lewis Ham for allowing publication on the blog.

 

Fire Alarm On First Night: New Year’s Eve Mystery Short Story | Kings River Life Magazine