Fire Games

by Mark Stewart

  KENDAL SKIPPED down the front steps of the morgue two at a time. His face portrayed a magical appearance. His voice couldn’t contain his excitement.

  “Claire, hand me the car keys. We have to get to 41 Clifton Street.”

  “I can’t see why you’re so happy all of a sudden?”

  “Why shouldn’t I be? The dead female isn’t Tegan. Even though the dead girl was burnt beyond recognition, she’s too tall. Besides, Tegan doesn’t have a nose ring or wears high heels. All these facts add up to; she’s alive.”

  Claire resembled a thunderstorm. She pushed her fists onto her hips glaring at Kendal.

  “What’s wrong?” he probed.

  “The young dead woman lying on the slab in the morgue is someone’s daughter. Don’t you care?”

  “Of course, I do. There’s nothing I can do about it. When the coroner has made a positive identification, I’ll convince Captain Hughes to hand over the case to Philips. Finding the parents of a missing person is his specialty.”

  “I’m certain, he’ll love you,” growled Claire, sarcastically. “I get the feeling he doesn’t like you.”

  Kendal walked to the driver’s side of his car and accidentally kicked a stone. He watched it skipping across the road and into the gutter. He saw several more stones and repeated the kicking sequence.

  “Sugar, what are you doing?”

  “I’m kicking stones.”

  “Why?”

  “Every stone I kicked ended at the same place.”

  Claire slapped the car’s roof. “I don’t have to major in a science degree to understand why stones, when kicked end up at the same place.”

  “The destination of the stones represents a particular place and time in the future when Patrick and I will face each other, one on one.”

  “I think you should visit a shrink. You’ve been watching too many detective movies.” She slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. “Coming?”

  Kendal slipped behind the steering wheel. “You don’t understand. Why are we always one step behind Patrick?”

  She returned a blank look.

  “He’s playing games. We have to think about what he’ll do next.”

  “And where,” added Claire.

  “Acknowledge this. Patrick could have killed me several times, yet he let me off the hook. Why?”

  Claire kept up her blank look.

  “He wants to infuriate me. He wants me to beg to die. I’m supposed to go into the next world not knowing his identity. It’s the ultimate win.”

  “Why? What have you done?”

  “Something about the fight my father and I had.”

  “What fight?”

  “When I was seventeen I tracked my father to a sleazy nigtclub named Miss Finns. After I had broken his nose, Chuck, the bouncer had me thrown out.”

  “You interrogated and forced me to spill my guts, and you’ve never told me of your grey past. I don’t think that’s fair.”

  “Sorry, it’s personal. I didn’t even tell my mother.”

  Claire remained tight-lipped watching the houses fly past as they drove to 41 Craven Street.

  Kendal parked his car behind a fire truck. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air. The firey’s had done a great job to contain the fire. Even though the house still looked intact, it was extensively damaged.

  “Sugar, before we exit the car, I want to apologize for snapping. You’re entitled to secrets.” She leaned sideways, puckering her lips.

  Kendal leaned her way and yanked her cap over her eyes. “I should’ve said.”

  Claire opened the car door and caught him up trying to grab the attention of the fire chief who had taken a breather from barking orders into his radio.

  “Chief, have you any news?” asked Kendal for the third time.

  “Yeah, I estimate the fire’s caused damage totaling one hundred thousand bucks. We saved the house just in time. A few more minutes and she’d be an expensive mound of ashes.” He pulled a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end and spat it on the ground.

  “Have you seen anyone lurking about?” asked Claire.

  The over-weight fire chief lit his cigar.

  “Look doll face, unlike you cops, I’ve been a trifle busy.”

  “I think he’s having a bad day,” whispered Claire in Kendal’s ear.

  “Probably losing at a poker game and the fire interrupted his first big win of the night.”

  Looking at the fire chief’s black-eyed stare, Claire giggled. He retaliated by lifting his middle finger.

  “Come on Tiger,” she yelled, shaking her fist. “I haven’t had my workout today. I’ll vent my frustrations out on you.”

  Kendal grabbed Claire by the arm and walked several paces away from the fire.

  “The time it took you to harass the loser, I’ve been surveying the area. There are two kids squatting next to the big Elm tree across the street counting money.”

  “From now on I’m going to call you Eagle Eye,” chuckled Claire.

  “Give me a pat on the back later. I’ll grab the girl. Don’t come back alone.”

  “Why do you have to nab the girl?”

  “The boy looks fitter.”

  Both kids saw the Detectives making a beeline for the tree and sprinted off in opposite directions, stuffing money in their pockets as they ran. The boy sprinted up a narrow lane fenced on both sides. The girl ran up the road towards a park.

  Kendal stopped at the park gate. His gaze roamed the bushes. He heard a groan. Two feet were poking out from under a hedge, not more than nine feet from where he stood. He grabbed the ankles and dragged the kicking girl to her feet.

  “Hello,” she said, sounding innocent.

  “Don’t hello me,” Kendal growled, flashing his police badge in her face. “You’re under arrest for arson.”

  “It’s not my fault. I’m innocent. I saw the fire and wanted to watch.”

  “Empty your pockets.”

  “I know my rights. I’m telling my lawyer you’re harassing me. I’m innocent,” she repeated.

  “Empty your pockets,” ordered Kendal.

  The girl complied by slowly turning out her pockets.

  “I reckon there are a thousand bucks on the ground.”

  “If you let me go, I’ll split the money with you,” she whispered.

  “Don’t try to bribe your way out of this one.”

  The girl made a loud snorting sound, drew back, and spat in Kendal’s face. He grabbed her jumper to wipe his face.

  “Stop, you’ll make my new jumper dirty,” she yelled.

  “You probably stole it out of the house before you set it alight.”

  Unable to break free of the vice-like grip the girl’s shoulders drooped.

  Kendal looked around and saw a pool behind a low wire fence. He grinned mischievously at the girl.

  “What are you snickering about Coppa?”

  “You’re going to give me the information I seek.”

  “Never,” she spat.

  Kendal dragged the girl by the arm, opened the small wire gate and stared at the pool.

  “Any time you want to tell me who put you up to starting the fire, be sure to let me know.”

  The girl’s eyes widened, watching the gap to the pool shrink. At the edge of the pool, she squirmed against her captor’s grip. She grabbed hold of his coat in an attempt to force him to stop pushing her towards the water.

  For the umpteenth time, the girl looked over her shoulder. She gulped.

  “You wouldn’t be so mean.”

  Kendal shuffled her backwards and made her stand on her toes as she hovered over the edge of the water.

  “Try me.”

  “I can’t swim,” the girl stammered.

  “Good, it’ll give you a great reason to start talking. Now tell me who paid you a grand to burn a house?”

  The girl clamped her jaw shut.

  “I can’t hear you.”

  Kendal spun the girl around and f
orced her to stare down at the water. Her toes hung precariously over the edge.

  “I’m not scared,” she advised. “The pool only looks a metre deep.”

  “You’re correct. The other end looks a whole lot deeper,” barked Kendal.

  “You don’t mean what I’m thinking?” she screamed.

  “In fact, I am.” He dragged the screaming girl to the other end. “You’ve one last chance before you go for a swim.”

  “I’ve nothin’ to say.”

  The look of horror on the girl’s face when she overbalanced captured the moment.

  A sleeping dog woke to the sound of the splash. Its constant yapping was annoying. The girl screamed obscenities just before she went under for the second time. Eyeballing Kendal, she thrashed about the pool, her limbs flying in all directions. He grinned, amused at her pathetic attempt to stop from drowning.

  An outside light brightened. A man in his mid-forties parted the curtains over a glass sliding door. Shaking his head, he closely watched the scene. Kendal flashed his police badge at the man.

  The girl went under for the third time, re-surfaced and glared at the owner of the pool.

  “Help me, I’m drowning,” she wailed.

  The man opened the sliding door. He stepped outside yelling verbal diarrhea.

  “Sir, all’s fine, this is police business.”

  The girl’s feet scraped the pool’s tiled floor. She stood, pouting. Kendal did all he could to stop from laughing.

  “I didn’t think you’d drown in half a metre of water.” He pointed at a sticker on the pool’s wall. “You should’ve read the fine print. ‘Caution, 0.5m deep.’”

  “I thought you were letting me drown?” Punching the surface of the water, she sent Kendal a cold icy stare.

  “You’re too valuable a witness. Come out; you look like a drowned rat.”

  “You could at least give me a handout. I’m half frozen.”

  “No way, kids love to splash.”

  The girl pouted and folded her arms.

  Kendal sat in the chair he nearly fell over, boasting a smug look.

  “Freeze, I’ve got all night.”

  The man who had gone back inside the house reappeared. He marched over to the edge of the pool. After looking at the girl, he focused on Kendal.

  “You can’t leave the young lady in the pool. It’s cold.”

  “The girl has chosen to stay where she is.”

  “I’m calling the police.”

  “Sir, use my mobile. Ask for Captain Hughes.”

  The man snatched the mobile and walked off whispering into the phone only to return several moments later wearing a blank expression.

  “Are you Detective Kendal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Captain Hughes explained you have everything under control.” The man marched back inside the house, slamming the glass sliding door shut. Hiding behind the curtain, he kept up a silent vigil on the scene outside.

  The girl puffed out her cheeks. She started jogging on the spot to keep warm. Occasionally she splashed water at her warden. She soon tired and stood like a statue, sobbing.

  “What’s your name, girl?”

  “I’m not sayin’ nothin’,” she stammered.

  After five minutes long cold minutes, the girl’s lips were blue.

  “I’m freezing; please help me out. I don’t think I can walk.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Samantha, my friends call me Sam.”

  “I don’t trust you, Samantha. The water looks cold.”

  As if summing up her options her shoulders slumped. She walked to the pool’s steps and climbed out of the pool.

  Kendal displayed a fox like grin and led Sam by the collar back to the car. He opened the rear passenger door and pushed the girl onto the seat next to the boy.

  “Did I miss a pool party?” giggled Claire.

  “Samantha here insisted on going for a swim.”

  “Sam. Name’s Sam,” yelled the girl from the back seat.

  “Sam wanted me to join her. She got all upset when I refused. Sam got all huffy and decided to jump in. I was content to be her personal lifeguard.”

  “Sounds like a fictitious story, Sugar.”

  “Sam’s boyfriend?” asked Kendal, pointing to the boy.

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t muttered a single word. The way he stopped running so quick, I thought he was a sheep.” She blocked her nose. “He sure could use a bath.”

  “I thought the smell came from you.”

  Claire faked a laugh. “Funny, Sugar, very funny.”

  Kendal drove the car a short distance up the road. He parked a stone’s throw away from the burnt house. Facing the kids, he glared at their sullen faces.

  “Sugar, nice office, clean windows, love the drapes, bit cramped, though.”

  “Do you mind? I want answers to my questions.”

  “I’ll make a deal,” blurted the boy lifting his head.

  “I’m not into deals, but I’m listening,” said Kendal.

  “Don’t tell ‘em nothin’,” bellowed Sam.

  The boy started sobbing. He frowned at the girl. “I’ve had enough of the street. I’m going home. I want to go back to school. I want a life.”

  Sam spat at the boy’s face. “You never did fit into the gang.”

  “What’s your name boy?” asked Kendal.

  “Brandt.”

  “What can you tell us about the fire?” asked Claire.

  “All I know is a tall person wearing a black balaclava threw money at our feet. To keep the money, he told us to burn a house to the ground.”

  “Go on,” urged Kendal.

  “You want to write all my words down?” asked Brandt, bowing his head.

  “I’ll remember what you have to say, word for word.”

  The boy looked up. A blank look plastered on his face.

  “I have a gifted memory. If it makes you happy, my personal secretary is good at taking dictation.” He handed Claire a pocket-sized notebook and pen then faked a grin.

  Sam rolled her eyes and looked out the window.

  “What’s your full name, Brandt?” asked Claire.

  The boy bit his lower lip. He began to tremble as he shook his head.

  “I’m not going to say. The hooded figure said he knows where I live. I will say the job was easy. Find a deserted house. Burn it to the ground.”

  “Was there anyone home when you torched the house?” asked Claire.

  “Nope,” insisted the lad. He brought his hands together so he could drum his fingers. “We searched every room just to make sure.”

  “Why that particular house?” asked Kendal, pointing at the smoldering pile of rubble.

  Sam turned from the window. The expression on her face looked sullen. She appeared to be ready to finish her nightmare.

  “The house has no significance to anything. It was the first one we found empty.”

  “The person behind the hood, I need to know his identity?” said Kendal.

  “There’s nothing else to add.”

  Brandt started sobbing. He again looked at his feet. “Scary. I felt scared of the voice.”

  “Everyone out,” ordered Kendal. “Go, you’re both free. Tonight is your lucky night. Let me warn you. If I see either of you again, I won’t be so nice.”

  The kids started to walk off. Brandt turned and ran back to the car.

  “Thank you,” he sobbed. Extending his hand, he appeared relieved.

  “I’ve just had a thought,” advised Kendal. “How would you like a lift home?”

  The boy nodded and jumped back into the car.

  “Which way is home?” asked Claire.

  “At the end of this road turn left. There’s a train station not far from here. If I could have some money, I’ll catch the next train to Riddles Creek.”

  “Shame Sam didn’t heed my warning,” mentioned Kendal, watching the girl sprint towards Melbourne’s red light district.


  “She’ll come home,” said Brandt confidently. “She’s my sister.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN