My Poodle didn’t look sleepy in the slightest. Nor did she lie down. In deference to my wishes, she did deign to sit, but her gaze was still focused intently on the door.
“What’d you see out there?” I asked, as I struggled to lift a heavy carton back on top of the stack. “A mouse? I hope it wasn’t a bat.”
Faith got up and trotted back to the door. Her whine was louder this time, and she scratched at the wooden panel with a front paw.
“Oh, all right.” I nudged the box into place. The room wasn’t in great shape, but at least I’d managed to create a semblance of order. “You win; we’ll go back upstairs. I’ve got to get cleaned up before next period anyway.”
I dusted off my hands and walked over to the door. As I drew near, Faith’s agitation increased. She gave a sharp bark to urge me on.
“What?” I said. “I’m coming.”
Too bad Faith couldn’t answer that question, because if I’d paid attention to her sooner we’d have been a lot better off.
As it was, the first inkling I had that something was wrong came when I opened the door and a searing wall of heat slammed into the room. Thick, dark smoke billowed after it. Orange spears of flame danced on the wall outside.
The basement was on fire.
Seventeen
“Oh, God.”
Opening my mouth, even to pray, was a big mistake. I took in a lungful of smoke and fell back, gasping. Luckily, instinct kicked in. I grabbed my dog and pulled her back, then slammed the door shut.
Faith’s barking was loud and insistent, and the sound seemed to bounce off the walls in the small enclosed space. A moment later, that noise was joined by another, more welcome one. The fire alarm went off, its siren wailing a warning in the hallway above us.
Any minute now, students and teachers would begin filing out of the building. The faculty would know this wasn’t a drill, but I doubted anyone would miss me. I could only hope the firefighters would arrive quickly and that the smoke would be copious enough to lead them to the site of the blaze.
What little air the room held was quickly becoming stifling. Since most of the space was underground, there was only one small window, tucked in just below the ceiling. The glass was grimy from years of neglect, and the hinges were old and rusted. Quickly, I dragged the chair over to the wall and climbed up to have a closer look.
Originally the casement window had been meant to open from the top. I grasped the handle and tried to turn it. It wouldn’t budge. I gritted my teeth and tried again. Still nothing.
I glanced back at the door. Smoke was seeping in around all four sides. No matter how quickly the firemen arrived, it might not be soon enough. Our only chance was to break the window and hope that we could wriggle out.
I hopped down off the chair and led Faith to the other side of the room. “Stay!”
My Poodle understands about a dozen basic commands. In a normal situation, she’d have done what I asked. Now, however, Faith knew that something was terribly wrong. Her first impulse was to keep as close to me as possible.
She pushed her nose into my hand and followed me back across the room, her shoulder crowding against my leg. What she didn’t understand was that when I broke the window, glass was going to go flying. It was bad enough I had to stand within range, but there was no point in both of us getting hurt.
I hurried back to the table and swept my arm across the surface, sending papers flying. Like all show Poodles, Faith has been table-trained for her own safety and security. Even though it’s only a short hop to the ground, she knows it’s an unbreakable rule not to budge once she’s been left. This wasn’t the rubber-matted grooming table she was used to, but I hoped she would make the connection.
“Up,” I said, patting the wooden top.
Faith hesitated, then jumped up and placed her front paws on the table’s edge. I reached around behind and lifted her hindquarter. “Down!”
She gave me a reproachful look, and I could read the concern in her eyes. Faith thought I was going to leave her behind. My heart wrenched, but I didn’t have time to argue.
“Down!” I repeated, pulling her front paws toward me. Though I could feel her resistance, she sank down slowly onto the table. “Stay!”
Faith whined under her breath, but she didn’t move when I walked back to the wall. Quickly I yanked my sweater off over my head and wrapped it around my fisted hand. It didn’t look like it would offer much protection.
Ignoring that thought, I climbed back up on the chair’s smooth seat. The legs were uneven and it wobbled beneath me as I took aim at the window. Turning my face away, I shielded my eyes with my left hand and let fly with my right.
A hot knife of pain shot up through my elbow and into my shoulder. My fist felt like it had connected with a brick wall. Opening my eyes, I saw that the window was still in one piece.
I’d managed to crack it, though. A network of tiny lines emanated out from the site where my fist had landed. Faith was on her feet now, barking again. The smoke in the room was growing thicker. I drew back my arm, gritted my teeth, and punched at the window again.
This time, my battered knuckles met only brief resistance, then plowed on through. It still hurt like hell. I heard a ripping sound as the sweater shredded on a jagged edge and felt the same sharp shard dig into my wrist.
Most of the glass scattered outward but some came raining back into the room. I felt the pieces bounce off my shoulders and sprinkle through my hair. A welcome rush of cool air accompanied them.
Hurriedly I pulled the sweater off my hand, then rewound it. Blood was flowing freely underneath, and the scratchy wool stuck to the site of the cut. Worrying about that was a luxury I didn’t have time for.
I turned my face away again and used my repadded hand to beat around the edges of the hole, enlarging it out to the frame. As the glass gave way, I heard the glorious sound of sirens, growing steadily nearer.
Standing on the chair, I could just barely see out the window. I knew the fire drill procedure. It would have sent the majority of the building’s inhabitants out the back toward the parking lot.
By my estimation, this small window was on the side of the mansion, nearer to the administrative offices than the classrooms. A row of bushes ran along this wall, so the window was at least partially hidden. The lawn beyond was probably empty as faculty and students gathered in the designated areas to count noses.
No doubt about it, this wasn’t my lucky day. I could only hope that someone would hear my shouts before the approaching sirens drowned them out. I stood up on my toes, lifted my mouth toward the opening, and screamed as loudly as I could.
“What the hell!”
The voice came from just outside and sounded just as startled as I was. “I need help. Who’s there?”
“Yo! Where the hell are you? I don’t see nobody.”
I tried to place the voice, but couldn’t. It didn’t matter. Whoever he was, he sounded like an angel to me.
“Look behind the bushes, there’s a window. The basement is on fire, and I’m trapped down here.”
“Hot damn,” he said, and I heard the bushes rustle. “Where are you?”
“The window with all the broken glass around it. Watch your step.” Once a mother, always a mother. “The fire’s right outside this room. I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Lady, you aren’t going to fit through that window.” There was a pause, then the face of the speaker loomed in the opening above me. It was Jane’s friend, Brad.
“Do I look like I have a choice?” I demanded. “If you can’t pull me out, then go get someone who can.”
“I’m going.” The face pulled back. “Stay right there.”
Not a deep thinker, that boy.
He was only gone for a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity. The temperature in the room was rising. I felt it even more keenly when I hopped down off the chair and went to get Faith. With the draw from the window, the room was filling even faster with thick, dark sm
oke. My lungs burned as I drew it in.
The Poodle’s frantic barks had quieted. Her tail was down and her ears pressed tight against her head. Her eyes were watering; so were mine. I scratched beneath her chin for reassurance, but she didn’t look convinced.
Adrenaline pumping through me, I managed to drag the heavy table over beside the wall. It was taller than the chair. When I climbed up to stand on top, the window was at shoulder height. The clear blue sky looked wonderful, the earth below it, empty. Where was everyone?
I got Faith up beside me then started yelling again. I prayed Brad had gone for help, but the fact that he’d run away wasn’t entirely reassuring. For all I knew, he could be halfway to downtown Greenwich.
After a moment, I heard voices. One was raised in anger. “I’m telling you there’s someone down there,” Brad was saying. “She says she’s stuck.”
“Hello?” I rasped. My voice was growing hoarse. “We need help.”
“I told you so!” The teenage anthem, delivered at full decibel.
“Ms. Travis? Is that you? Where are you?”
Thank you, God. It was Russell Hanover. The troops had arrived. And none too soon either.
“I’m in the basement. There’s a window in the foundation wall behind the bushes. Faith and I are trapped in the storeroom. The fire’s right outside the door. I think this is where it started. You’ve got to get the firemen down here.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll do that.” The bushes shoved aside as he spoke. Russell squatted down and peered in the window.
Ed Weinstein loomed just behind him. His hand was clasped around Brad’s arm, and there was nothing friendly in the gesture. Off to the rear, Harriet was hurrying away, presumably to alert the firemen.
“My God!” Russell cried, seeing the smoke. It was as close to profanity as I’d ever heard him come. “We’ve got to get you out of there.”
“Good idea,” I agreed. “Faith’s here, too. She has to go first. If I can lift her up, will you pull her through the window?”
Russell looked at the opening dubiously. “Will she fit?”
“She’s a dog, for Pete’s sake.” Ed elbowed some branches aside and knelt down on the soft turf outside the window. “Don’t worry about her. Melanie, give me your hands and I’ll pull you out.”
“Not a chance.” I drew back from the opening. “Faith comes first. Without me here there’s no way she can reach the window.”
Ed scowled. Russell frowned. “Now, Melanie,” he said in the soothing tone one might use to address an idiot, “this may not be the time—”
“Damn it, it’s the only time! This room is filling up with smoke, and there’s a fire burning just on the other side of a very flimsy door. If you can’t help me, clear out of the way and let me call for someone who will.”
Later it would occur to me that yelling at my boss was no way to foster job security. Now, however, my fit of temper had the desired effect.
“Of course Ed and I will help you,” Russell said, moving into position. “Tell us what you want us to do.”
“Not me.” Ed backed away. “I’m not getting myself bitten by some stupid dog.”
“Men!” The epithet was heartfelt. A pump-clad foot applied itself to Ed’s butt, and abruptly he went tumbling away. “Melanie? It’s Rita Kinney. What do you need?”
Her face appeared in the opening, looking pale, but determined. Ed might be stronger, but I’d take Rita’s conviction any day.
“Help Russell pull Faith out through the window.”
“You got it.”
Faith came up into my arms compliantly, but when I lifted her toward the opening she began to struggle. It would have been hard enough raising forty-five pounds of deadweight to shoulder height; her wiggling made the task almost impossible.
“Shhh,” I crooned. “It’s all right. You’re a good girl. You go first, and I’ll be right behind you.”
Faith didn’t look happy, but she seemed to understand what I needed her to do. Thank God she was a Poodle and could reason things through. Her paws scrambled for purchase on the sill. Her head ducked down and through the opening. Her neck and shoulders followed.
Despite Russell’s doubts, Faith’s body wasn’t too big to fit through the window. It was her luxurious coat of mane hair that made her appear so much larger than she was. As I braced against her hindquarter to push with my shoulder, Faith cried out sharply.
She was stuck. A piece of glass, caught in the sash, had snagged in her neck hair and held her fast. By that time, Russell had grasped Faith’s front legs. Rita moved in to loop an arm around the Poodle’s neck.
“Just pull it free,” I said tersely. A mane coat that had taken nearly two years to grow was about to be ruined. “We don’t have time to worry about it.”
Faith whimpered softly as Rita went to work, but she didn’t show her teeth. Seconds later, a hank of long black hair fell away. Realizing she was loose, the Poodle began to struggle toward the outside. I gave her hindquarter one last shove. Faith stumbled slightly, then sprang free.
“Somebody grab her!” I yelled. Faith had never run away before, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
“I’ve got her,” said Rita. “Don’t worry, she’s fine.”
“Now you,” Russell said quickly. “Ed, get over here.”
Looking somewhat sheepish, Ed Weinstein complied. “Look,” he said, “it’s not like I was afraid of the dog or anything.”
“Nobody cares.” I couldn’t be bothered to deal with his attempts to save face. “Just get me out of here.”
While Faith’s body had fit through the window easily, however, mine did not. Russell used his foot to kick away the last of the glass so the sash was clear. Even so, my shoulders were almost as wide as the opening.
Each man grasping an arm, they began to pull. I twisted and turned, feeling like a piece of laundry being put through an old-fashioned wringer.
“Too bad I’m not double-jointed,” I muttered.
Ed snickered like a dirty old man. If I hadn’t needed him so badly, I might have been tempted to tell him how repulsive I found him.
“There,” Russell said triumphantly, as my bruised shoulders finally pulled free. “Now just keep her straight, and we’ve got it.”
Moments later, I was lying on the cool ground, my cheek pressed against the sparse winter grass. I inhaled the clear air deeply and smelled the earth beneath me. Nothing had ever smelled so good.
Out of the corner of one eye, I saw Faith leap free from Rita’s grasp. The Poodle bounded to me joyously and began to lick my face. Usually I try to project a more dignified image at work, but I had neither the energy nor the desire to push her away.
“Thank you,” I said to Russell, who was looking like he was trying not to smile.
“Don’t mention it.” He waved a hand dismissively, then realized it was covered with blood. His gaze quickly went from his hand to mine. “Ms. Travis, you’re bleeding.”
I’d forgotten all about that. “I cut my wrist when I broke the window.”
“You may need stitches. We’d better have the paramedics have a look at that.”
There was the sound of a splintering crash behind me. Faith peered down into the storeroom. I turned and did the same. The door was open and the smoke was clearing as a wide arc of water sprayed into the room.
Two firefighters followed it and a face appeared in the window below us. “I was told there was somebody down here.”
“That was me,” I said.
“How’s the fire?” Russell asked anxiously.
“Just about out. Getting right to the source helped a lot. You had more smoke here than flames. We’ve managed to contain it to this area of the basement, but you’re going to have considerable smoke and water damage.”
“Thank goodness it wasn’t worse,” said Russell. “Any sign of what started it?”
“I’d say so.” The fireman frowned. “Somebody set this blaze.”
Eighteen
; “No doubt about it,” said Detective Shertz. “It was arson. Whoever set the fire used a bundle of rags soaked with paint thinner as an accelerant. Left them right outside the door. Lucky for you, there wasn’t much in the vicinity that would burn.”
I slumped back in the wing chair in Russell’s office, feeling numb. Maybe I was going into shock, I thought. It was bad enough knowing that the fire had been set deliberately. Now I had to contemplate who, or what, had been the target.
More than two hours had passed since Faith and I had been rescued from the basement. In that time, the firefighters had secured the area and made sure that the blaze was totally out. The arson investigator had arrived to have a look; Detective Shertz had shown up as well. School had been dismissed for the day, and the media was once again camped at the end of the driveway.
On a personal front, I’d just arrived back at Howard Academy after a trip to Greenwich Hospital to have my wrist attended to. Rita had driven while I’d held my arm upright and wrapped in a towel, so the blood wouldn’t ruin her upholstery. She’d been kind enough to let Faith ride in the backseat.
One tetanus shot and six stitches later, I had failed to see the humor when the ER doctor joked that, for a suicide, I had lousy aim. I almost told him I’d do better next time. But hey, why drag his day down to the level of mine?
As soon as we got back to school, Harriet had hunted me down. The detective and Mr. Hanover were in his office. They requested the pleasure of my company. Immediately. That’s the way things are done in private school—an iron fist inside the velvet glove.
I didn’t hurry. Instead, I walked Faith around outside and let her sniff a few spots in case there was anything she needed to do. I figured I could blame my tardiness on blood loss.
My dog seemed to have come through our adventure in fine shape. If you didn’t count the section of hair that was missing on the back of her neck, that is. Six inches or more gone, sliced off in an irregular line. I could trim the hair around it, but I was never going to be able to hide a hole like that.
Any Poodle person will tell you that in the show ring, neck hair makes the trim. Aunt Peg was going to have a fit when she saw what had happened.
Melanie Travis 06 - Hush Puppy Page 15