Firefly Rain (34 page)

“Oh, right. That party.” I did my best to avoid blushing at the
memory. “But you’ve pretty much got it right. She thought that they guided angels to righteous souls and showed them the way back to Heaven.”

“Cute.” Jenna drummed her fingers on the table. “Did she actually believe that, or was it a story to keep you from bringing nine zillion bugs into the house?”

“They’re beetles, not bugs,” I corrected her. “And I don’t know. She might have. That’s where it gets weird.”

“Weirder,” Jenna corrected. “Spill the details.”

“When Father died and we put in his stone…” My voice trailed off, and I started again. “After Mother had said her good-byes at the graveside, I went back out there. The stone was crawling with lightning bugs. Hundreds of them. And I brushed every last one off. The ones who kept coming back, well, I killed them.”

“Cripes,” Jenna breathed. “And you think—”

I held up my hand. “I’m not done yet. When Mother died, I did the same thing. No fireflies on her grave, not a one.”

Jenna got up and turned away from me. “For God’s sake, Logan, why?”

“Stupid reasons,” I said. “With Father, it was because I was angry at him, angry that he’d wasted his life and been none of the things a boy wants his father to be. With Mother, it was different. It was like she could find her own way to Heaven, and I’d be damned if I’d let some insect grab the credit. I had faith in her, you know?” I exhaled sharply, a sound that might have been a sob leaking out with the air.

“That was a pretty unrighteous thing to do,” Jenna finally said. “Not that any rational human being would believe that firefly crap, but still, you don’t mess with your parents’ gravestones. You just don’t.”

I shrugged. “I guess. It was a long time ago.”

“Five years for your mother,” she shot back, and she sank back down into her chair. “This makes a bit more sense now. The firefly stuff, anyway.”

“It does, at that,” I nodded. “But it’s hard to believe, you know?”

“Tell that to the ghost in the bedroom,” she said wearily. “You can’t do anything the easy way, can you?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Never could.”

“What you need,” she said cautiously, “is someone to take care of you, because you’re clearly not capable of doing it yourself.”

She looked as if she was going to say more then, but a knock on the door interrupted her.

“Who the hell is that?” Jenna asked, half-rising out of her chair. “It’s kind of late for the neighbors to come over for a cup of sugar.”

“The neighbors wouldn’t come over here after dark if the devil and all his personal injury lawyers were chasing them,” I replied, edging my way over to the door. I pulled back the shade a little bit, enough to see who was out there.

It was Adrienne, wild-eyed and clutching a bag, and behind her, like the Angel of Death, was Hanratty.

I unlocked the door. “Jacob, who is it?” Jenna asked, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I opened the door and stepped back, and Adrienne and her escort tumbled in. Without a word, Adrienne collapsed into my arms and started sobbing. Hanratty stared at me with undisguised contempt, while Jenna looked back and forth with an expression that slowly hardened into pure granite.

I stroked Adrienne’s hair and murmured that it was going to be all right, that she was safe. It didn’t seem to do any good, but it didn’t seem to do any harm either, so I kept up until Hanratty impaled me with a look.

“Mr. Logan,” she said in a tone that chilled the room nicely, “I am very sorry to disturb you at this late hour.”

“It’s fine,” I said, raising my head and my voice. “My friend and I”—I indicated Jenna with a nod, which she returned—“were just talking. What can I do for you?”

She snorted. “For me? Nothing. For her”—she jerked a thumb at Adrienne—“it remains to be seen.” With surprising gentleness, she detached Adrienne from my arms and led her over to the table. “You got any coffee or Wild Turkey or something you can give the girl? Can’t you see she needs a little help here?”

Jenna sprang into action before I did, hurrying over to the stove and starting a pot of Folgers. “Jacob, what’s going on?”

I looked back and forth. Jenna was fussing by the stove while Hanratty was crouched next to a shivering Adrienne. Her eyes were huge and dark, what Mother used to call “raccoon eyes.” Only then did I notice what she was wearing: a rain slicker over an ankle-length bathrobe, and slippers on her feet. They were fuzzy slippers, no less, with bunny noses and big floppy ears. One of them was scorched a bit along the left side.

Two and two suddenly came together in my brain, and I do believe my jaw actually dropped. “Don’t tell me,” I started, and then Jenna elbowed me out of the way.

“Coffee,” she announced, putting the cup and saucer right in front of Adrienne. “Now, what happened?”

It was Hanratty who answered, which didn’t surprise me one bit. “Around eight o’clock tonight, we got a call that Mr. Logan’s missing car had been seen on Maynard Street, heading north. Miss Moore here”—she indicated Adrienne—“maintained an apartment on the first floor of a three-story building at the intersection of Maynard and Blount.”

“Maintained?”

Hanratty glowered and nodded as Adrienne gratefully sipped her coffee. I could see her hands shaking.

“Maintained,” Adrienne said. “It’s… it’s not there anymore.” And she burst out sobbing again. Jenna moved to comfort her, while Hanratty fixed her eye on me. “Your car, you will be interested to know, has been located.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” I said. “What
happened
, Hanratty?”

Her voice took on a more formal, clipped tone. “At a quarter past nine this evening, an officer was dispatched to the vicinity of Maynard Road to see if your car could be intercepted. As he approached the intersection of Maynard and Blount, he heard a crash and saw flames ahead of him. At that time, he turned on his siren and hurried to the site, where he spotted your car. It had apparently been driven at high velocity into the wall of Miss Moore’s apartment, and had managed to punch through that wall into her bedroom.” She looked quickly over at Adrienne. “If she hadn’t been off brushing her teeth, it probably would have killed her.”

“Jesus,” I said softly.

Hanratty nodded. “Something like that. The fuel tank went up properly right about then and the building started to go with it. Gas heat, you know. Officer Bates was able to clear the building, including Miss Moore, and call for backup and the fire department. The fire was brought under control, but Miss Moore’s apartment was rendered uninhabitable.”

“Oh, that’s terrible.” I looked over to where Adrienne sat. She and Jenna were murmuring to each other. “Is she all right?”

“Shook up, but that’s all. The paramedics from County General said she’s fine physically. We had them take a good long look at her, have no fear, and that was before we took her statement.”

“Of course.” The words came out of me in a rush. “I’m just glad she’s all right.” A sudden thought struck me. “What about the driver of the car? Did you catch him?”

“That’s the interesting thing,” Hanratty drawled. “There wasn’t one.”

“What? That’s impossible.”

She nodded. “You’re right. But there was no sign of a driver in the wreckage, nor was there any description from eyewitnesses of anyone fleeing the area. No prints were lifted from the wreck, though considering the shape it was in that’s hardly surprising. A wreck like that, normally we’re picking up what’s left of the driver with a vacuum cleaner. You don’t expect to find prints on something burned out that badly.”

“Well, at least the insurance company will finally listen to me,” I said distantly. “No witnesses?”

Hanratty slowly shook her head from side to side. “Not a one. Best guess we’ve got, honestly, is that the driver started the car toward the apartment and then bailed out onto the pavement. If he’d been in the car when it hit, he would have been a pulled pork sandwich by the time it burned out. No chance of survival, much less one of getting up and running off without being seen.”

I nodded. “So what now?”

“Now,” Hanratty said with immense satisfaction, “I get to ask you to account for your whereabouts between nine and a quarter past that hour this evening.” She took out her notepad and opened it with a flourish. “Speak clearly, please.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” I turned my back on Hanratty and went over to the sink, looking for some clean water to wash out the rotten taste in my mouth. “I was here, all right? With Jenna the whole time.”

“Don’t say anything without a lawyer, Logan,” Jenna said,
as if on cue. She looked up from Adrienne, who seemed a bit calmer, and she glared at Hanratty. You could hear the sparks crackle then, in that old-time Frankenstein movie sort of way. I saw Adrienne draw back an inch without thinking about it, and I’m pretty sure I did the same. “She’s just trying to mess with you.”

“And you are?” Hanratty asked, a great fat cat sitting in front of a brand-new mouse hole.

“Jennifer Conlon.” The words came out pure ice.

“Your business here?”

“I’m visiting Mr. Logan.”

“And your relationship to him?”

“If I say ‘purely sexual,’ will you put your pencil down already? I’m a friend, here to visit, and I was with Mr. Logan the entire evening. The only time he was out of sight was when he went off to take a leak, and even then I could hear him.” She crossed her arms and leaned forward. “Now are you done trying to mess with Jacob, or do you have more bullshit up your sleeve, Officer? There’s a girl here who’s an obvious wreck, and you dragged her out here into the howling wilderness just so you could play bad cop? That’s fine police work, it is.”

Hanratty put the pad down, and for a moment I actually thought she might try to arrest Jenna. “Actually, I brought her here because she insisted on it. She was going to drive, but I didn’t think she was in any shape to do so, so I gave her a lift.” She favored Adrienne with a look. “Honey, would you mind telling this nice lady here your version of this?”

Adrienne nodded, then drained the last of her coffee. “I’d gone to bed, actually—my bed was right up against the wall—when I realized… I realized I hadn’t brushed my teeth. So I got up to do that, and then all of a sudden there was this… this
noise
. I
thought something had exploded, so I ran back to see what it was, and everything was on fire. So, so, so I grabbed a handful of clothes, ’cause they were the only things I could reach that weren’t already
burning
, and then I ran. There was a policeman outside and he was yelling at people to get out, and someone was screaming, and then someone put this on me to cover up, and I just sat down on the curb and watched.”

“The bag is mine,” Hanratty added wryly. “You’re probably going to need to take her shopping tomorrow, though I don’t think the fire department’s in a hurry to get the slicker back.” Jenna shot her a look, and she subsided. “Keep going, child.”

Adrienne sniffled. Jenna handed her a tissue from somewhere, and there was a champion bout of nose-blowing before Adrienne could continue. “Thank you,” the librarian said. “I’m so sorry for disturbing your… your visit with Mr. Logan.”

“Jacob’s already disturbed,” Jenna answered automatically. “Now keep going. I’ll freshen up your cup.” She shoved back from the table, took the mug with a disapproving look, and put the flame under the kettle. I sidled over to the cabinet that held my meager condiment selection and pulled out the sugar, which Jenna took wordlessly.

Adrienne, I could see, was watching us with big eyes. “I really am sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But I didn’t… I mean, my whole apartment was gone, and everything in it, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I thought maybe I could stay out here for a while.” She took a deep breath. “Until I found someplace else. It wouldn’t take long, I promise, and I wouldn’t touch anything, and…” Abruptly, she collapsed down on herself, miserable.

“Of course you can stay,” Jenna said. “Now stop crying. You don’t have the complexion for it.” Gracefully, she dumped too much sugar and too much milk into the coffee, then stirred it.
“Drink this, and then we’ll have a look at what you brought, and get you into something that smells a little less like soot. You’ve got another bedroom you can make up, right, Logan?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything.

“Good,” Jenna plowed on. “Now, Officer Hanratty, is there anything else you need to do here, or are we finished?”

Hanratty lurched to her feet. “Honey, we’re just getting started. Come on down to the station tomorrow and I’ll take formal statements from you and Mr. Logan. Then I can get him the paperwork he needs for his insurance.” She turned to me. “You’ll need to identify the car, of course.”

“Of course.” I moved the kettle to a cold burner and thought desperate thoughts about a beer. “What time should we be down there?”

“By noon,” Hanratty answered. “I’ll let myself out, as usual. Good night.” She marched over to the door, then turned and said to Adrienne, “You call if you need anything, okay?”

Adrienne nodded, huddled in on herself in a way that was heartbreaking to see. “I will. Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” Hanratty said and stalked out. This time, she didn’t slam the door, and it swung back and forth a few times until I finally shut it.

The sound hung in the air for longer than it had any right to, nearly until I heard Hanratty drive away. Then, and only then, did we move around the kitchen again. The tension drained out of the air, and I could feel those steel bands around my chest loosen up, just a touch.

Jenna put her cup down on the table with a clank. “That was special, now, wasn’t it?”

“Hanratty’s a charmer, like I told you.” I rummaged through the cabinet and came up with some ancient Sweet’N Low, just in case. “Do you want anything else to drink, Adrienne?”

“No, thanks.” She didn’t sit, but rather hovered, her eyes constantly flicking to the door and the night outside.

“I think formal introductions are in order,” I said as I poured hot water and instant coffee into a cup of my own. “Jenna, this is Adrienne Moore. She’s one of the librarians here in town, and she’s been a big help to me in all this mess. Adrienne, this is Jenna. She’s a friend and business associate of mine from Boston.”