Flashover
He slowed to a stop several yards ahead of her and then turned around. “You got me there.”
“How is John John?” She peered at the little baby, with his cap of dark hair and the nose so like his father’s.
“John John is fine, fine, as we are fond of saying. Thanks to you.”
She smiled, remembering the day when they’d arrived to find him barely breathing due to a respiratory infection, mother hysterical, dad trying to remember his infant CPR, hands shaking so badly he could hardly hang on to the baby. She stabilized the child and transported him to the hospital, where he fully recovered. Ivy figured the parents might never do so after a scare like that. “He looks like the strong, silent type.”
“As the guy who hands over the 4:00 a.m. bottle, I would have to disagree about the silent part. Anyway, I really do need to get him home, Ivy. So what can I do for you?”
“I want to know what’s going on with the investigation. The house on Alder Street?”
“It’s pending.”
“That’s not enough.”
He sighed. “Ivy, I like you. You’re a ferociously determined person with a heart of gold, but Chief Strong isn’t too happy with you right now. She ordered me to keep you out of the whole thing. You understand, don’t you?”
Ivy’s gut clenched. “I got hurt in that fire. I have a right to know. And a friend of mine is involved. I’m afraid he’s headed for trouble.”
He rubbed a hand over his chin. “Look, I can tell you it was arson. Does that help?”
“I already knew that. What was the ignition source?”
He laughed. “Nice try. You know I couldn’t tell you that even if you weren’t in the doghouse with Strong.”
“Come on, Doug. Don’t I get anything at all? We’ve worked together for a long time.”
“Yes.” He sighed. “And you saved my son’s life so I’ll throw you a bone here, but if this info gets out anywhere, we’re both toast. You got me?”
She nodded.
“I’m pretty sure that whoever torched that place was trying to make sure someone died in that fire.”
Her mouth fell open. “What? How do you know that?”
“Did you have a hard time opening the bedroom door?”
She recalled it had taken both Jeff and her to pry it open and they’d still had to batter the door across the threshold. “Yeah, as a matter of fact.”
“That’s because someone jammed something in the frame so tight no one could have gotten it out.”
The enormity of it hit her. “So the arsonist was hoping to prevent someone from escaping, probably Cyril, but there was no body recovered. How did he get out?”
“Not sure. It’s conceivable they both climbed down the oak tree that’s outside his window. It’s not an easy climb, but when you’re faced with burning to death it might have its appeal. This is all theoretical, of course.”
Ivy could picture it. Cyril, in a panic with smoke filling his room, shimmied down the tree and ran. She would make the same risky choice in the face of burning to death, especially with the door wedged shut. “I wonder who wanted Cyril dead.”
He pulled the shade more fully over the baby’s head. “I don’t know, Ivy, but you need to leave that up to the police and on-duty people to find out. You should focus on recovery. And remember, you never heard any of this from me.” He jogged away.
Leave it up to the police? Sure, she would, but it wouldn’t hurt to look into things since she unfortunately had the time and she had the uneasy feeling Moe was involved. She felt sort of like a big sister to the guy. It pained her to think he might be involved in something he didn’t understand.
The lights of the gym were on and she could see movement. She checked her watch. One fifteen. Of course. It was Tim’s team prepping for the big game. She had to talk to him about what she’d discovered. He was the best listener she’d ever met and she knew he wouldn’t brush her off. Besides, his smile always cheered her up.
Wishing her shoulder would permit her to jog, she headed toward the school. There were a few early birds there but the bleachers were still largely unoccupied. She saw Charlie Gregor, and waved.
“Hey, Charlie. What brings you out for a high-school game?”
Charlie’s glasses shone in the overhead lighting. He looked cool in his silk shirt, in spite of the warmth. “Thought I’d check out the local talent. Someday my sister’s kids will need to pick a high school.”
“You really plan ahead, don’t you?”
He laughed. “Nah, it’s just an excuse. I will go anywhere to watch a little basketball, pro or otherwise. Want to sit?”
“Sure.” She didn’t feel like engaging in the usual cheerful banter; her mind was whirling with Doug Chee’s revelation. Fortunately, Charlie was uncharacteristically silent.
She didn’t recognize Tim at first as she scanned the court. He was barking out commands to the kids working on basketball drills. He joked with them in between, face alight with excitement.
She waited until Tim was alone for a minute.
“Hi, Tim.”
His head whipped up from his notes, face breaking into a wide grin. “Hi, Ivy. I didn’t think you were going to make it. I’m glad you decided to come watch.”
“Oh, well, actually I…” Her words were cut off with the noisy arrival of the opposing team.
He nodded to her. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you after the game, okay?”
She didn’t want to stay in that sweltering gym. She wanted to find Moe and ask him about Cyril, but Tim was already talking with the other coach. With a sigh she returned to the rapidly filling bleachers. A big man wearing a hat and jacket eased his bulk onto the space beside her. Tinted glasses obscured his eyes.
His voice was gravelly. “Going to be a good game, I hear.”
“I guess,” Ivy said. Her mind returned to the arson fire. She made a note to track down her crew, too, and find out if they knew anything. Saturday night was party night, and a group of firefighters would gather later at a local restaurant for eating and loud music. She’d attended some of the social nights herself, enjoying the camaraderie and the stories, especially if Antonio was there. Now the thought of meeting up with him made her stomach clench. She was glad that he’d transferred departments.
The referee’s whistle blew and the court broke into spirited competition. Ivy was sucked into the game in spite of herself. Tim’s team played with practiced skill. At the half, they were behind fifteen points, but they rallied to win the game by a scant two baskets.
Tim beamed as he shook the other coach’s hand. Bleachers emptied until the court was a mass of happy parents and sweating teenagers. Ivy was surprised when Tim found her in the melee.
“Was that a great game or what?” His face was boyish, flushed with enthusiasm.
Ivy couldn’t help but smile. “It certainly was. Congratulations, coach.”
He caught up her hand. “Thanks. Hey, we’re going out to pizza to celebrate. Come with us.”
She squeezed his long fingers for a moment before she let go. “Ah, no, thanks, Tim. I’ve got something I need to do.”
His smile dimmed. “Oh, I forgot. It’s party night, huh?”
She nodded. “Do you want to come by after your pizza party? You know the guys all like you.” They were polite, certainly, but there was always a feeling that anyone who wasn’t in suppression was an outsider. She felt it, maybe even projected it, and she knew that Tim had certainly felt it, too. He doesn’t deserve to play second fiddle to anyone. The thought startled her.
“No, thanks. I’m going to take Mark to the hospital to see his mom after we eat. She’s struggling with breast cancer. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
She watched him go, his broad shoulders cutting a path through the happy throngs, wondering for a moment if she should have chosen the basketball party.
Ivy stopped to get a drink of water at the fountain before she exited the gym. The parking lot was nearly empty as she made her way along, purse slung over her good shoulder. She let her mind drift as she walked past the lot and onto the grass.
Out of nowhere came the sound of running feet. As she tensed and turned to look behind her, a heavy body plowed into her, knocking her to the ground. Her purse fell underneath her, and she felt hands prodding, scrambling to get a handhold on her bag. She tried to scream, but the man’s weight pinned her face to the ground.
Pulse pounding, she tried with all her strength to push him away, but she couldn’t budge him. The best she could do was keep curled around her purse as tightly as she could.
No way, creep. You’re not going to make a victim of me.
With his fingers wrapped around her hair, her attacker yanked so hard her eyes teared.
It was all she could do to keep fighting.
Just when she thought she would have to give in, she heard a shout.
The weight was lifted off her and she could breathe again. Vaguely she saw a man’s figure running away.
Another face peered into hers. “Ivy? Are you okay? It’s me.”
Through her tears she looked into Antonio’s handsome face.
FIVE
Antonio sat with Ivy while she caught her breath. “I came to see the game, but I was too late so I stopped to talk to some friends in the parking lot. Then I saw that guy on top of you. Are you sure you’re okay?”
She nodded, wiping the moisture from her face. “Just winded, and my shoulder is throbbing. I thought we were safe from purse snatchings in this small town.”
“Guess there’s nowhere safe from crime anymore.” He hauled her up in his muscular arms and kept her there for a moment. His low whisper tickled her ear. “I was worried when I saw you lying there.”
She pulled away. “I thought worry was a feeling you didn’t indulge in. Too angsty, or something.” Immediately she wished she hadn’t said it.
He laughed, his teeth white in the darkness. “Oh, I give worry a few minutes out of my life sometimes. Come on, I’ll drive you home. Do you want to call the police first?”
“No. I just want to get out of here. Now.”
He led her to his SUV.
She tried to steady her body and emotions as they drove. She could feel a scrape on her knee and various bruises beginning to form.
Antonio eyed her. “Actually, I didn’t come just to see the game. I came to check on you.”
“Really?” She tried to hide the satisfaction in her voice. “That was nice of you.”
“Sure. I’m planning a hiking trip with some of the crew next week. Thought I’d invite you along.”
She didn’t dare look at him. “How does Denise feel about that?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “We aren’t exclusive. She knows that.”
She wondered if that’s what he told people when they were dating. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m taking it easy on the shoulder for a while.”
“Okay.”
He chatted away as they drove. Ivy could see why women found him irresistible. She’d thought he was everything she’d wanted in a man, a partner. Was he looking for reconciliation? Was she?
Ivy felt a surge of relief when they pulled into her parking lot and Antonio walked her to the door. Happy as she was to know he missed her, wanted her, she couldn’t forget how things had changed.
“If you change your mind about hiking, let me know,” he said, giving her a hug.
As quickly as she could, she went inside and closed the door before she said something she might possibly regret.
Ivy felt plenty old the next morning as she eased her arm into the sling after her shower. The sky was a steel gray, indicating a summer storm was on the way. It would be good for the guys, if it brought enough rain to dampen the parched vegetation on the surrounding hillsides.
The phone rang. She figured it was Tim. He made it a point to call every so often on Sundays and invite her to church. She told him in as patient a way as she could that she was not interested. He could go worship God until he ran out of breath. For her part, Ivy was still busy hating Him. Then again, it could be Antonio, she mused.
As she picked up the phone she straightened Sadie’s picture, marveling again at how lovely her sister had been, a dark-haired beauty with an easy smile. “Hello?”
A loud breathy voice filled up the phone line. “Hello, Ivy. It’s Madge.”
Ivy sighed in relief and exchanged pleasant small talk with Moe’s mother. “I’m glad you called. I had a question for you. What can you tell me about Cyril?”
“Moe’s friend?” Madge paused. “He ran the recycle shack for a while, that’s how Moe met him. He worked at the local bookstore, too, I think. But he quit early on. From what I gather he’s not above skirting the law a bit, but he’s always been sweet to my Moe and that’s what matters to me.”
“What do you mean, skirting the law?”
“Oh, I’ve just heard things. I don’t want to gossip.”
“I understand, but his house burned down, Madge. It would be good if we could locate him.”
“My goodness, burned down? He’s had a bad string of luck, poor guy. And after getting fired and all.”
“Fired? From where? Why?”
“No, now I’ve said too much. I called to ask you to check on Moe for the next few days. I’ve got to go visit my sister. She’s had surgery you see, for her appendix. I filled Moe’s refrigerator and made sure his stock of soap operas is okay. He will call me every night to check in, but I would feel better knowing you’ll look out for him.”
“Of course I will.”
“Good. Do you still have my cell number?”
“Yes. I’ll make sure he’s okay.”
Her relieved sigh was loud. “Thank goodness for you, Ivy. You’re a blessing from God. I’ll be back in a few days. Bye now.”
A blessing from God? Yeah, right.
Ivy spent the next few hours searching the Internet for any information about Cyril. It didn’t help that his last name was an unknown. “There are way too many Cyrils in the world,” she finally grumped at one thirty as she left her apartment, empty soda can in hand. The hallway was warm and stuffy compared to her air-conditioned unit. She could smell the tang of garlic and ginger from Mrs. Wang’s pork dumplings. Her mouth watered at the thought of the succulent pillows and she remembered she hadn’t eaten.
She tapped lightly on door 6H. “Moe? It’s Ivy. Are you home?”
There was no sound, but that was not unusual. Sometimes it took the man a few minutes to decide to open the door. She knocked again. “Hey, Moe. Your mom asked me to check on you. I wanted to talk before your shows. I know you watch them at two o’clock. I promise I’ll make it quick.”
The door opened and Moe peered at her, blinking behind his thick glasses. “Ivy? Is that you?”
“Yes, Moe. Are you doing okay?”
He nodded.
“Can I come in?”
“Okay.” He moved to the side so she could get by. His apartment was tidy, Spartan almost, with a couch and padded chair the only furniture in the front room, along with a TV. The tiny kitchen opened up onto the space, and she could see he’d already removed the plastic from his microwave-popcorn package and laid the bundle neatly on the counter, ready for popping. His bottle of water sat next to it, carefully wrapped in a paper towel.
“Here’s another can for you.”
He nodded and added it to a bag near the door. “Thank you.”
“How have you been, Moe?”
“Okay.” He sat on the sofa, hands folded in his lap.
“Good. Your mom said if you need anything to let me know. Do you remember where my apartment is?”
“Apartment A, floor six, northwest corner of Ash and Finley streets.”
“Ah, yeah. Wow. That’s it all right.” The last time she’d talked to him he’d rattled off a string of bus schedule information. “I wanted to know about your friend Cyril.”
Moe stiffened and began to rock slightly back and forth.
Ivy watched his brown eyes as he stared at a spot on the far wall. “Moe, why were you at his house the night of the fire?”
Moe shook his head but did not answer.
Ivy sat down next to him. “I know that he’s been missing, Moe. Was he into some trouble? Did he tell you anything about a problem he was having?”
The man began to rock more violently.
“It’s kind of important.”
“Apartment A, floor six, northwest corner of Ash and Finley streets.” He stared into space and repeated the phrase three more times.
Though she felt a surge of frustration, Ivy put a hand gently on his arm, which trembled slightly under her touch. “Okay, Moe. We don’t need to talk anymore right now. Why don’t you pop your popcorn and watch your show? I’ll come back later.”
She waited until he had prepared his snack and settled himself into the chair with the remote. He did not turn his head as she said goodbye.
Back in her own apartment there was a message from her mother inviting her to come over. Ivy shuddered. She could not face the idea of sitting at the kitchen table hearing her mother try to encourage her to change careers or find a nice man to settle down with. She had probably already been busy scanning the church directory to look for any eligible men she could find to coerce into taking Ivy on a date.
“I’m a firefighter, Mom,” she’d said many times, more frequently since the Antonio debacle. “That’s who I am and all I want to be.”
She tried to flex her shoulder until the pain stopped her. What was she now? What if she couldn’t go back to her beloved calling? The thought froze her insides.
Well, I’m not just going to sit here until I get my job back. She grabbed her keys and headed for the elevator, determined to solve the mystery about Cyril before it got Moe’s friend into deeper trouble.
In the car, she turned on her radio pager, listening hungrily to the chatter. The guys were en route to a fire at an office building. Probably nothing major, but listening to the captain radio their ETA made her feel like crying. She could almost feel the quiver in their stomachs as they climbed onto the rig, the rush that came with the chance to knock down a fire. She fought back tears as she turned the key.
Tim saw Ivy standing on the sidewalk near the burned house, body tense and rigid. It filled him with a desperate desire to lift away her fear, some way, any way. When she didn’t hear him speak, he put a hand on her shoulder.
Whirling, she lost her balance and he caught her.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. What brings you here? What’s wrong?”
She leaned her head against his chest for a moment. Then she straightened. “Nothing. I’m fine. I was just…I don’t know.”
“Remembering?”
“Oh, never mind. How did you find me?”
“I figured it wouldn’t take too long before you defied the doctor’s orders and drove somewhere. I kind of guessed you’d be back here.”
She filled him in on Doug Chee’s revelation.
He whistled. “So the door was wedged closed? Kinda shoots down the notion that Cyril torched the place for the insurance money. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to try to kill the guy.”
“Or Cyril tried to kill someone and make it look like something else.”
“Either way, something didn’t go right for somebody.” He gave her a sideways look. “I take it you’re not going to leave this up to Chee and the police?”
“No. I did talk to the police this morning, though, because some jerk tried to steal my purse last night.”
His mouth dropped open. “After the game? What happened? Are you hurt?”
She related the whole story, except the part when Antonio asked her to go hiking with him. At the mention of Antonio’s name, Tim’s brow furrowed and a dark expression crossed his face.
“Good thing Antonio was there,” he said in clipped tones.
“Yeah. Anyway, I figured I’d look into a few things, that’s all. While I’m off, I mean.”
He smiled. “Well, how about I take you out for some ice cream and we can talk some more?”
“You don’t have to entertain me.”
“Believe it or not, I like hanging out with you. Usually you’re surrounded by people wearing Nomex, and I can’t get close unless I happen to be on fire or something.” The bitter thought rose before he could stop it. Even with Antonio gone, you’re still out of reach. He squelched the thought and opened the passenger-side door. “I’ll drive.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he propelled her into the seat.
On the way to the ice-cream shop, Ivy asked Tim to stop at Corner Street Bookstore. “I’ve got to ask Mr. Evans about Cyril. Madge said Cyril worked at the bookstore.”
The bookstore owner, Sergei Evans, greeted them with a smile. “Good afternoon.”
The shop featured wooden shelves crammed full of books of every description and a long ladder that rolled between them. There was a small section with new bestsellers, but most of the volumes were older, with an occasional antique sprinkled in.
“Hello, Mr. Evans,” Tim said.
The man piled his papers in a tidy stack next to the cash register and came around the counter. “Hello. Can I help you find a book?” He looked at Ivy closely as he slipped on wire-rimmed glasses. “I would say you are not the kind who would like to read about needlework or floral arranging.”
“You got that right on the money,” Tim said as he thumbed through a sports magazine. “The only needles she uses are the kind to administer an IV.”
Tim smiled at the look Ivy shot him as they followed Mr. Evans around the small shop.
He pulled a book off a high shelf and handed it to Ivy. “Perhaps a memoir by a blind man who climbed Mt. Everest?”
She took the book and read the back. “That’s interesting, but…”
He handed down another. “And maybe a story of Peary’s expedition to the North Pole?”
“That sounds great, Mr. Evans, but that’s not why we’re here,” Tim repeated. “Do you happen to know a man named Cyril?”
“Cyril?” He frowned. “A short man, rather fragile-looking?”
Tim nodded, his pulse quickening. The image matched the description Madge had given them.
“He asked me for a job several months back, but I couldn’t accommodate him. Why?”
“He’s a friend of a friend. We were told he worked here.”
“No, I didn’t hire him. I had no contact with him after that one encounter.”
Tim hid his disappointment. “Okay. Thanks anyway.”
Ivy paid for her purchases and they left the cool of the bookstore, practically running into Mitch. He jerked backward.
“Oh, hi, guys.”
“Hey, Mitch.” Tim noted the weary lines painted on his wide face and felt a tingle of alarm. “Did you have a rough shift? You look beat.”
“Shift? No. I’m off for a few days.”
Ivy clicked her tongue. “Taking time off isn’t going to get you closer to that boat you’re after. You need all the overtime you can get.”
His brow furrowed. “Who made you my mother?”
Tim blinked at Mitch’s tone. “Easy, man. She was just teasing.”
He gave a half laugh. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”
“How about we all three go get some ice cream?” Tim gestured to Ivy. “We’ve gotta keep this girl out of trouble.”
“No, I can’t.” Mitch said. “I’ve gotta run.”
Tim tried to read his expression, to see if he was telling the truth, hating the suspicion that clouded his mind. He wished he wasn’t burdened by knowing Mitch’s secret. “Where are you headed?”
“Me?” He looked momentarily disoriented. “Oh, just out for a jog. Catch you later.”
Tim and Ivy walked the rest of the block and ordered ice-cream sundaes, settling at a table by the window to enjoy their treat.
He watched her dive into the sundae, her face as eager as a little girl’s. The image tugged at his insides.
Ivy took a spoonful of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. “Do you think Mitch is acting funny?”
“Maybe.” Tim tried to focus on his black-and-tan sundae, willing her not to ask him anything else. Above all things, he did not want to lie to Ivy.
“Maybe?” She looked closer at him. “Tim? Do you have some idea of what’s bothering my cousin?”
“Oh, me? It’s not—” He broke off as her attention was riveted to a spot on the sidewalk outside. “What’s wrong, Ivy?”