Heaven's Fire (19 page)

"So if the silica wasn't on the barge before you set up, and it wasn't in the sandbags," Simon said slowly, "there's only one place it could have been."

Pat had seen Simon work before--the way he laid out all the facts in his head before he was ready to lay them out in words, so he said it for him: "The lift charge.".

"But why use silica?" Simon asked. "Why not just use regular sand? That way there would have been no trace at all."

"Silica is fine, like the black powder."

"But would anyone have noticed once it was wrapped?"

"You know how it is, Simon. You develop a feel for it. Any of us might have noticed something was wrong. My father, or Angela, or Tudy, or me."

"Or Ray?" Simon asked.

Pat shrugged and in the silence that followed, Woodsy Owl glided down to make his kill.

*****

Simon was alone on the porch when Jake stepped out. She and Angela had finally gotten Sadie calmed down, though Jake suspected it was finding the coffeemaker empty that had jolted the woman from her tears. God forbid the men should be without their coffee. Taking care of others was what Sadie Firenze had done for the sixty-odd years of her life, and though it wouldn't have been Jake's choice, that routine seemed to be sustaining her now.

Just as Jake sat down on the glider, Pat came back out carrying a couple of thick, black 3-ring binders.
"
The last two years of financials, Simon. Is that enough?
"

Simon, who had been lying on the hammock lost in thought when Jake came out, set down the coffee cup he'd balanced on his stomach and sat up to take the binders.
"
For now. I’ll get them over to our auditors in the morning and let you know if they need anything more.
"

Angela had followed Pat out the door.
"
More coffee, Simon? Jake, would you like some?
"

Simon stood up abruptly.
"
No thanks, Angela. We should get going.
"

Jake guessed she didn't want any coffee. Sadie, who apparently was equipped with radar, came out of the kitchen with plates covered in plastic wrap.
"
You take these with you,
"
she said.
"
It’s stuffed shells and chicken. I have a little antipast left in the kitchen. You want to take that, too?
"

"
Not me,
"
said Simon.
"
Maybe Jake?
"

Jake regretfully declined the antipasto, too, not wanting to be a pig. Or a bigger pig than she'd already been. She took both plates, one in each hand, and nearly dropped them as each bent under the weight of the chicken and the pasta.

Angela helped her stack one on top of the other. "There's one éclair left. Why don't I get that, too? It will just go to waste here."

"Won't someone eat--" Simon started to ask. Jake wanted to clap a hand over his mouth. No one in their right mind would turn down one of Angela's chocolate éclairs.

Angela, to Jake's relief, was having none of it. "No, no, you must take it. My mother doesn't eat sweets, and I--"

She broke off, startled, as rustling sounded in the woods nearby.

"Probably just that owl we saw earlier," Pat said, putting an arm around his skittish sister. "Or the dogs."

"We should bring them in tonight," Angela said. She turned to Simon and Jake. "We have coyotes nearby and I worry about Bela and Lugosi."

"The coyotes are probably more frightened of the dogs than the dogs are of them," Pat assured her.

"I know, but they seem very hungry. The paper said there have been attacks on small pets." She disengaged Pat's arm and held up two hands in surrender. "I know, I know. You will say the dogs are not small, but I worry about Lugosi, since he's a cripple."

"Lugosi is fine," Sadie said. "Now you go get that éclair from the ice box."

Angela went to do her mother's bidding. Sadie watched the screen door close behind her. "My daughter, she worries Lugosi suffers." She shrugged. "I say to her, 'So what's better, that he's dead?'"

Sadie certainly did know how to cut through the clutter.

Angela came out with the wrapped éclair in one hand and her handbag--the Coach Hamptons Leather Carryall, if Jake were any judge of handbags--in the other. She gave the éclair to Jake, who balanced it on top of the plates.

"
Mamma, I need to run home for some night things, then I’m going to come back and stay with you."

Jake thought that sounded like a good idea given Sadie’s state of mind. It would at the very least give her somebody to feed in the morning.

As they all started down the porch steps, the
"
crippled
"
dog Angela had been talking about came bounding up the steps, made an astonishing u-turn and bounded back down. Then he stopped, tail-wagging, and fell over sideways.

"My God, is he dead?" Jake asked.

"No," Angela said, dropping her Coach bag on the ground with a thud in order to fish a cigarette butt out of the dog's mouth. "That's how he lies down."

Jake, amazed to see the chic Angela now giving the two-legged dog a tummy-rub, just managed a
"
Wow.
"

Angela straightened up, tucking her bag up under her arm. "Poor puppy."

"He does really well, though. It's incredible." Jake reached down to give the dog a scratch, too. Lugosi's back leg moved rhythmically in time with the scratching and his tongue lolled out one side of his mouth.

"Not as well as he once did," Angela said, watching him with a sad smile. "He's getting old. I hate to see him in pain, not able to do the things he loves."

"Like chasing cars?" Pat had followed them down the steps and was en
route to his car. "That's what got him into trouble in the first place."

Jake nodded off on the drive back. The result, Simon assumed, of the home-made wine and all the food she had shoveled in. He’d never seen a woman, especially a woman who probably went all of a hundred and ten pounds, eat that much.

Simon welcomed the quiet. A chance to think. Assuming he and Pat were right, the lift charge had been replaced with silica sand, which according to Pat would have been similar enough in weight and texture that it couldn’t have been detected without opening the wrap on the shell.

That meant not only wasn’t the explosion an accident, but it was sabotage perpetrated by someone who had access to the shell.

Pasquale had built the shell.

Pasquale had finished the shell with the lift charge.

Pasquale, Pat, Ray, Angela, Tudy, Sadie, and presumably anyone who worked at Firenze, had access to keys to the north magazine, where the shell was stored.

Ray had driven the shells to the lakefront.

Pat had placed them on the barge.

Pasquale had fired them. And been killed by them.

Ray was missing. And did the Firenze’s accounting.

If there was something hinky in the Firenze financial records, that would provide motive, meaning Ray might very well be gone, but not in the dearly departed sense. More in the skipped-with-company-funds sense. With the explosion that killed Pasquale little more than a diversion.

And if that was true, Simon would make Ray pay.

About halfway to Liberty, Jake woke up with a start.
"
Uh-oh.
"

Simon glanced over at her.
"
What?
"

She made a face.
"
My car. It’s not in Liberty--it’s at home.
"

"
Where’s home?
"

"
Shorewood. One of the camera guys is a neighbor and we carpooled in. They’ll all be gone now, though.
"

Shorewood was on the north shore--as far north of Milwaukee as Simon’s house was south. He checked the clock on the dashboard.
"
It’s after eleven. I’ll take you home, but we’ll have to stop on the way and let my dog out. By the time I take you up there and get back to my place, she’ll have all four legs crossed.
"

"At least she has four legs to cross," Jake pointed out.

File that, Simon thought, under
"
Count Your Blessings.
"

*****

Jake was impressed as they pulled up the long driveway. Simon’s house was right on the lake. When he pulled up in front, she hesitated for just a second before hopping out of the car. She had to see the house.

"
Why don't you wait here," Simon said, not budging from the driver‘s seat. "It’s a real mess.
"

He‘d have to get out of the car sometime if he was going to take the dog out. Jake started up the walk.
"
Whose isn’t? Besides, I’m not interested in your dirty dishes, I want to see the house.
"
She stopped and turned, realizing she was being wine-pushy. "Please?"

He shook his head, but got out of the truck. Jake waited as he retrieved his briefcase and the videotapes out of the back, and then remembered the leftovers. She took Simon's plate, leaving hers--and the éclair--for the second leg of the trip to her house.

Speaking of houses, Simon's was gorgeous, but of a style she couldn’t quite place. Sort of Raul Julia’s THE ADDAMS FAMILY meets Steve Martin’s FATHER OF THE BRIDE. Victorian, Gothic, Traditional...who knew? Not her, but it was both beautiful and lovingly maintained, with pink roses blooming under every window. And it was as much an individual as its owner.

Simon unlocked the door, and they stepped in.
"
I’m still working on it, so 'a mess' is more understatement than euphemism in this case.
"
He let the dog, an Irish Setter, out the side door as Jake tucked the leftovers into the refrigerator.

"
Go on Irish, but make it quick.
"

Jake watched the dog bound out the door barking.
"
Irish, the setter? And you're making fun of Lily White?
"

"
Could have been worse. Could have been just ‘Dog.’
"
He peered off into the darkness.
"
She’s after something, so she’ll be a couple minutes. I'll show you around.
"

He took her through the house, talking easily now and pointing out what he’d done in each room. Apparently he had started rehabbing it when he and his wife were still together. Only the room Simon called the study seemed incomplete. Just inside the door, the wall was striped with nine or ten different shades of yellow, cream, and white paint.

"
Having trouble deciding?
"
Jake asked.

Simon shrugged.
"
I don’t know. They look good in the paint store. Then I bring them back here, and they just don’t work. It’s the last room, though.
"
He moved aside so she could see the rest of the room.
"
I’m finished after this.
"

Jake gasped when she stepped past him. The moonlight reflecting on the lake outside shone through the glass wall and filled the room.
"
It’s absolutely gorgeous.
"

"
It is, isn’t it?
"
He'd brought the tapes in and set them on the entertainment center. Now he was standing just behind her, looking over her head at the lake.

"
No wonder you can’t decide what to do in here,
"
she said softly. "The view is so magnificent, it will put everything else to shame.
"

"
That’s part of it.
"
He laid his hand tentatively on her shoulder. She could feel his breath on the top of her head. It would be the nape of my neck, she thought, if I wasn't so short. Still, an involuntary tremor ran through her, and she backed right up into him. Betrayed by her own butt.

Evidently taking it as a good sign, Simon lifted her hair and kissed her neck. That’s when her knees turned to Jell-O. It had been an awfully long time... She whimpered involuntarily and he turned her around to face him.

His eyes were half closed, but asking a question.
The
question. Oh, heck. Blame it on the moonlight. And the homemade wine. She snaked her arms up around his neck as he ran his hands down her sides to her waist. Another tremor.

"
I want to make love to you.
"
Then he kissed her. Not like in the editing suite, when they’d both been going at it tooth and nail. Gently. Exploratory kissing. First he kissed her top lip, then the bottom. Then both of them. Then he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Meanwhile, his hands were on her butt, holding her up against him.