Tin City Tinder (A Boone Childress Mystery) (3 page)

She pulled a pack of Marlboros from her turnouts. A lot of firefighters smoked. Every time I had to define ironic, I thought of firefighters with charred faces lighting up a cancer stick.
 

But Julia’s smoking wasn’t ironic. It was stupid and tragic. Both of her parents had died of COPD. She had nursed them both in their final days, and it had not helped her kick the habit.

“Hey!” Otto yelled. “Did y’all year that?”

“Hear what?” Julia said.

Then I heard it, too.

A scream from inside the house.

“It’s a woman’s voice!” I shouted. “Somebody’s in there!”

Julia cupped a hand to her ear. “What?”

“Inside! There’s somebody inside the house! I just heard a screamI”

“The house is empty,” Julia dropped the cigarette and reached for her helmet. “Y’all are hearing things.”

“No, I heard it—yes! There it is again! From the back of the house!”
 

I jumped onto the porch. Peered into the smoke-filled corridor. The way was clear.

“Hold on!" Julia yelled. "Two in, two out!”

Before she could stop me, I bounded inside and dropped my face shield into place.

“Goddamn it, Boone!”

When I got out, Julia was going to kill me. But someone was in danger. No way could I stand around waiting.

The corridor was shrouded in thick smoke. It clung to the ceiling like a thunder head. I crunched over debris, stomping my heavy boots to make sure the footing was solid. I sloshed through standing water. The water could get so hot, it boiled around your boots and steamed your toes inside.

At the first doorway, I entered a small bedroom. The windows in the room were black with smoke. The glass was so dark, no light could reach inside. I clicked my head beam on and began turning in a tight circle. I scanned the area, noting the burned-out box mattress in the corner, an open closet, and a narrow door leading to another room.

The heat rose from the floor. It seeped through my boots. Time to move. The room was still hot, although there was no open fire. The scream had come from this direction, I was sure of it.

There!
 

I heard it again.

A sound like a baby crying.

Behind the narrow door.

I grabbed the brass knob without thinking. The metal was as hot as a charcoal briquette. The heat seared my insulated gloves.

“Shit all!” I yelled. “That was fucking hot!”

What a stupid move. It was Fire School 101 stuff: Don’t touch anything with your body. Use a tool.

My hooligan was on the truck because I'd run straight into a fire without it. I had violated a dozen policies and procedures by rushing in alone.

Nothing to do about that now.

Just get the victim and get out!

I gave the bathroom door a roundhouse kick. The wood exploded, and the lock fell to the floor. The door swung wide on melted hinges.

“You’re safe!” I yelled.

A blackened toilet sat to the left, and the tub was to the right. It was cast-iron with high sides.
 

I leaned over and peeked inside, dreading what I might find.

A baby. I expected to find a baby. What kind, I didn’t know, but I definitely didn’t expect to see a large, bristling mass.

“Hiss!”

Hiss?

The quivering black mass stuck out its legs.

Then its claws.

A cat!

A freaked out, pissed off, stand-still-so-I-can-rip-your-face-off cat.

In one twisted, screeching movement, it launched itself at my face. It latched on with its claws. Sinking them into the cowl that covered my neck.

“Get off me!”

Half blinded by the critter stretched across my shield, I stumbled backward and tripped. I landed ass-first on the floor. It was covered in steaming water that turned my pants into a sauna. My crotch heated up faster than a lit bottle rocket.

The cat dug its claws in more deeply. Still screaming, it ripped the fabric gloves with its teeth, tearing out chunks of cloth.
 

“Boone!” Julia called from the corridor. “What’s your location?”

“Here!” I felt the floor shake with Julia’s weight. “I’m being eaten by a house cat!”

I pulled the claws free from my neck. Then tried to stand. My foot caught on a fallen joist, and I slammed into the doorframe as Julia reached the bedroom.

The ceiling rained down red-hot cinders.

“Come on, rookie!” Julia grabbed my jacket. “What in the hell’s stuck to your face?”

“A cat!”

“That ain’t no cat, you moron!”

“What is it?”

Julia laughed.

As we turned toward the kitchen, the ceiling collapsed behind us. Tons of gypsum board, cotton insulation, and two-by-eight inch rafters landed on the floor. The subfloor collapsed, opening a hole to the basement.
 

It quickly filled with fresh tinder for the fire.

Flames roared up from the basement.
 

The house began to shake.

“Move!” Julia half-lifted, half-dragged me out the kitchen to the back porch. “Hit us with the spray!”

Otto turned the hose on us. The spray knocked the heat off our turnouts. Steam filled my helmet.

The faux cat jumped off my head. It dropped to the ground, whipped a long bare tail, and hissed like it was saying,
You want a piece of me
?
 

When no one took up its offer, it bounded across the grass to an overgrown azalea bush.

“Looks like you rescued yourself a certified Carolina possum!” Julia pointed at the animal and laughed. “Charcoal colored, to boot.”

“Possum?” I removed my helmet. Sweat hit the scratches the possum had left on my neck. I winced from the sting. “Seriously?”

Otto called over his shoulder. “You about got yourself killed over a possum?”

“Thought it was a house cat,” I said.

“And why?” Lamar came up behind us. “Would you risk your life to rescue a goddamn cat? Why didn’t you just leave it there?”

Lamar was born and raised a farm boy. He had a hierarchical view of an animal’s value in the world. Humans was sacred and worth risking life and limb to save. Animals were good to have around, and you never willingly hurt one. But when it came down to it, no animal was worth the life of a human being.

“It sounded,” I said, “like a baby. How could I tell it was only a possum?”

“That ain’t good enough.” Lamar took my helmet away to examine the scratches. “Did I not tell you this house was abandoned? Did you not hear me?”

“You told me and I heard you,” I said, “but if the house is abandoned, how did all the buildings catch fire simultaneously?”

Lamar looked at the scorched possum, still frozen in fear but hissing a warning. He turned back at the fire, which radiated waves of heat. “That’s for the fire investigators to figure out. Like I told you a hundred times, we don’t ask how the fire started, just how fast we can put it out.”

“Like I told you,” I said, “I’ll never stop asking how.”

“Stick to your guns.” Julia patted my ass. “Even if you’re firing spitballs at a steel tank.”

Lamar handed my helmet back. “Find the first-aid kit in my truck and clean up that scratch. Get back to work ASAP.”

“Yes, Captain.” I headed for Lamar’s truck. I gave the possum a wide berth as it crouched in the shadows and continued to hiss. “Watch it, possum. I’ve got a pair of snips in the truck, and I’m not afraid to use them.”

“Hey, rookie,” Otto called to me. “Hold up.”

I turned to answer as Otto opened the hose full blast. A charged stream blew my helmet off, knocked me on my ass, and rolled me across the grass. Water shot up my nose and into my mouth.
 

I got up choking and spitting mad.

“Welcome,” Julie yelled as they all laughed, “to the brotherhood, Possum. Next time, don't be last man on site!”

5

A few minutes later, I had a tube of antibacterial ointment in one hand and a bandage strip in the other. I used the side mirror of Lamar’s truck to place the strip on my neck. My brain told my hands to go left, but they followed the mirror image instead, and I put the bandage on crooked.

I tore it off and sucked air between my teeth. “Damn! That stings.”

“Need a hand with that?” A man with a round potbelly in a white wife beater T-shirt appeared in the mirror. “Your hands are going all which way.”

“Hey, Stumpy,” I said. “Yeah, I can’t tell left from right.”

“I got that problem myself,” Stumpy tore open a new strip. “But it usually ain’t from looking into a mirror. This might sting some.”

“Tsss!” Yeah, it stung. More than a little. “What brings you out here?”

“Best watch for infection,” Stumpy gave the bandage a good slap. “Possums carry diseases, you know. This one feller I know got the gangrene from it and had to get his thumb amputated.”

Stump was well known in Galax, a good ol’ boy who could fix anything he wanted. If you could get him to want to. He dropped out of school to work the family farm, but then his daddy died and the government bought out the tobacco allotments. Folks said he gambled away most of the money and then drank up what was left.

 
“I was staying in that old Airstream trailer on the back of the property. I was the one who called in the fire.”

I caught his eye in the mirror. “You don’t say?”

“Don’t you go looking at me like that. Ain’t me who started it, I promise you that. I was sound asleep when the boom went off. Practically knocked me off the couch. Well, it did knock me off, if the truth be known, but I already greased the skids with a few cold ones.”

“Boom? You heard an explosion? Did you tell Lamar and the sheriff?”

Stump scoffed. “Like Hoyt’s going to listen to me.”

“But—“

“He’d say it was the Jagr bombs going off in my head. Jackass. He knows I quit hard liquor ages ago.”

“When was that?”

“Last month. Harder than it sounds.” Stumpy hocked a loogie and spat. “Listen here, I found a finger. “

“A human finger?”

“On my front porch. Right after I fell off the couch last night. Put it the freezer. Want to see it?”

“Absolutely! Show it to me.”

Stumpy half bowed, looking relieved. “Finally somebody believes me. Let’s go up to the trailer.”

Human remains! I’d been waiting forever for a human identification case. I followed two yards behind Stumpy, carrying my helmet in one hand. I pulling off my gloves when Lamar called me back.

“Boone! Where are you going? You’re still on duty, and there’s work to be done.”

“Jesus Christ. What now?” I stopped. My boots kicked up cinders in the soil. “This close. I was this close to seeing human remains.”

I waved to Lamar, who was directing Otto to wind the hose in a donut roll. The finger would have to wait. Cleaning up was an essential part of the job.
 

“You’re leaving?” Stumpy jogged past me. He began walking backwards. “Thought you believed me about the finger.”

“Definitely,” I said. “But you heard the captain. There’s work to be done. You going to be around later? I can come back after my afternoon class.”

Stumpy’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah, sure, right.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“You’re a Scout?”

“I have a Swiss Army knife.”

“Close enough. Shake on it.”

Stumpy stuck out a grimy hand, black with soot. His skin was so thin, the veins underneath looked like blood worms. When I shook to seal the deal, my own paw engulfed Stumpy’s. It felt as if a gentle squeeze would crush his bones.

“Boone!” Lamar bellowed.

“Got to go. Later!”
 

I tossed my gear inside the pickup and jogged back to the tanker. My first fire call. Flames! Explosions! And the icing on the cake, a human finger!
 

The presence of the finger could only mean one thing: An explosion had caused the house fire, and the blast had thrown debris all the way to Stumpy’s house.

This fire was intentional, and by god, I was going to prove it.

A car horn sounded. An ice blue BMW parked behind the fire trucks. A man of average height, dressed in a pinstriped gray suit, climbed out of the driver’s seat. He was tanned and fit, with a pile of dark hair swept back in a pompadour.
 

“Sheriff!” He removed a pair of sunglasses and flashed a bleached smile. “Good to see you. How are the kids? Saw that boy of yours did well in the swim meet this past week.”

“Kind of you to notice, Mr. Landis.” Hoyt’s face brightened, and he extended a beefy hand. “What brings you to the middle of nowhere?”

“Oh, Just in the area and saw the commotion. Mind if we take a walk? There’s a couple things I’d like to discuss.”

Hoyt followed Landis down the driveway. I tried to eavesdrop. Their voices were drowned out by the noise of the crews storing hose, releasing pressure valves, and making plans for where they would share their after-fire beer. It was a tradition for firefighters to toast one another’s hard work and good fortune after a call. It was also tradition for the rookie to buy.

That meant me.

Julia handed me a hooligan tool. “Don’t let Lamar see you left this behind. He’s real particular about tools. Especially when he made them himself.”

“Thanks. Who’s that?” I pointed to Landis. “The guy in the suit talking to Hoyt?”

Julia blew her nose into a handkerchief. The phlegm was coal black. “That would be Trey Landis. His family owns half the county and all the judges. You grew up here, and you never heard of him?”
 

“It’s been four years. You forget stuff,” I said. “Wonder why he’s here?”

“Trey’s a big siren chaser. They say he’s got a scanner stuck to his dashboard. His family’s real big contributors to the Fraternal Order of Police and the Fireman’s Beneficiary. They gave a thousand dollars last year.”
 

“That’s generous.”

“They’re millionaires. A thousand bucks’s chump change to them.”

“That’s what I took home every month.” I folded my turnouts and put them in the floorboard. “It’s all about scale.”

“Not the way I see it,” she said. "One time, Otto and me were passing the boot for a voile who died working a car fire. This one guy put a twenty in, and I know for a fact that it was the last twenty dollars he had on this earth. He said the widow needed it more than him. I knew the guy didn’t have a bite to eat in his house, and his truck was out of gas. For a solid week, he ate nothing but saltine crackers and walked everywhere he went. So when a man’s as rich as Landis, I ain’t so impressed by a thousand dollars.”