Winter Tides

by James P. Blaylock

  “Dirty son-of-a-bitch!” Collier shouted at him, throwing a wild, windmilling punch, heaving himself around with the force of it, sprawling past Edmund, who easily ducked away.

  “Fire! You crazy asshole!” Edmund screamed at him again. “Fire!” Other people were coming across the lot from the direction of the theatre now.

  Collier spun around, understanding about the fire now, and Edmund backed away, holding his hands up defensively. Black smoke, thank God, had finally begun to billow out through the lattice, and the sight of it had stopped Collier dead. “The hose!” Edmund shouted at him, and then he turned around without another word and ran across the lawn and up the stairs. He yanked the screen door open and looked around the living room, which was empty. “Jenny!” Edmund shouted, kicking over a pole lamp for good measure as he headed straight on through toward the bedrooms.

  The little girl appeared then, peering cautiously out through a half-open bedroom door. She looked curiously at him, not moving, putting a finger in her mouth. He grabbed her hand, drew her toward him, and picked her up, carrying her back out across the living room floor and out through the door, which he kicked open hard, hearing it bang against the house. Smoke was blowing back across the porch now, into the house, and he ran through the smoke, down the steps and out onto the lawn. Dave and Anne were just then arriving from the theatre. And here came the Earl, too, and an old woman in a dress, both of them following along. He heard a siren then. Someone had been bright enough to call the fire department!

  Edmund set Jenny down safely at the edge of the lawn. “She’s all right,” he said to Anne, casting his voice a little deep. He looked briefly into Anne’s face, struck suddenly with her almost supernatural similarity to the doll in his tableau beneath the porch, the way she tilted her head, just as the doll had tilted her own. For a moment he pictured Anne burning under there, looking back at him in wide wonder….

  He shook the image out of his head and yanked his ruined coat off, tossing it onto the grass, and then turned around and headed back toward where Collier was directing hose water through the lattice, or at least was trying to. Collier was down on his hands and knees, coughing in the smoke, the water glancing off the wooden slats and spraying him in the face. Edmund grasped the lattice with both hands and tore it entirely away, the old redwood laths splintering apart. “Here,” he said, grabbing the hose away from Collier. He took a deep breath, held it, and then shoved his head in through the opening, closing his eyes against the smoke—which was mostly white now, the fire not burning nearly as savagely as he had thought it was when he was trapped beneath the porch.

  Peering carefully into the flickering shadows, Edmund looked for the face in the smoke, trying to sense the presence of the child who had helped him with his task. But clearly she was gone, and most of the fire, it seemed, had gone with her.

  He pointed the hose and sprayed the hell out of everything, pressing forward until his shoulders shoved through the gap, waving the hose up and down, inundating the dirt, flooding the bottom of the floorboards. The smoke cleared away, and he searched the burned debris with his eyes, trying to get a glimpse of the burned plastic doll. He felt his shirt rip, and the broken end of a piece of lath gouged him in the neck. With any luck it had cut him, and with even more luck, Collier would have managed to dampen the fire before the toys had been entirely burned so that the fire department would know that the whole thing was the work of a child, that Collier had been ignoring his pyromaniac daughter again. Water dripped onto his head and back. He saw the doll then, facing him now, her features withered, flesh charred. He had the sudden urge to take it, to keep it, to show it to the Night Girl when she came to him again tonight. He wondered how Anne would react to the sight of it.

  But he controlled himself. Social Services would probably want it as evidence. All by itself, the burned doll could ruin Collier.

  Edmund pushed back out of the hole, taking the hose with him. The smoke was sketchy and drifting now, clearing away. A fire truck had pulled into the theatre lot, and three helmeted firemen sprinted toward the porch, pushing past the onlookers. “I think I got it,” Edmund said to them, tossing down the hose. One of the firemen kneeled in front of the hole, took a look, and then sprayed the hose under the porch again for a moment before being satisfied. Edmund walked back out into the middle of the lawn, smoothing his hair back, rolling up his sleeves. There were a dozen people standing around now—neighbors, a couple of kids. Two surfers were jogging across the vacant lot, carrying their boards under their arms, anxious to see what was going on.

  “Everything’s under control, folks,” Edmund said, speaking to the crowd, and he bent down on one knee next to Jenny and asked, “Are you okay, darlin’?”

  She nodded, clearly frightened out of her wits. Edmund looked at Anne and shook his head, trying to get the point across that this was the kind of trouble that none of them needed. He walked over to the Earl and in a low voice he said, “I’m sorry this had to happen, Dad. I saw smoke coming out through the front of the porch there and crawled underneath to have a look. The fire was already going. Lord knows how it started. Same as the car fire, I guess.”

  “You cut yourself,” the Earl said tiredly.

  Edmund wiped his neck, then looked at the blood smeared on his hand. “It’s nothing.”

  Collier was stone-faced, staring dead ahead. Edmund wandered up to him next, searching for something to say that would irritate the old man without making him violent, something that, ideally, would sound innocent and helpful to a bystander. He folded his arms, clucking his tongue sympathetically. “It’s better not to shoot water straight into a fire like that,” he said. “It blows the embers around too much. What you want is a mist, a smothering mist.” He worked his hands together in the air in order to illustrate. Collier looked at him blankly.

  The fireman crawled out from under the porch and said something to the other two. One of them pried the lattice off the other side of the porch, and they sprayed the hose around under there, too, completely uselessly, from Edmund’s point of view. Edmund bent down and looked underneath. The wooden post was charred, and the underside of the floorboards were smoky black, but there clearly wasn’t any other damage. He saw that the fireman had brought out the doll, a couple of pieces of charred playing cards, and the lighter fluid can. One of them sniffed a card, then handed it to the other. Thank God Collier had knocked them apart with the hose before they were completely burned.

  “I’m the one who spotted the fire,” Edmund said to one of the firemen, who nodded and then ignored him. Collier headed up the side of the house. Had he seen the burned toys? Yes, he had. He was catching on. The old man lifted the barbecue lid, moved the charcoal sack, and then put the lid down again. He looked around, maybe hoping that he’d left the lighter fluid on the porch. Finally he turned and walked out toward the firemen.

  “This is Mr. Collier,” Edmund told them. “He’s my tenant. He and his granddaughter.”

  “We’ve met,” one of the firemen said.

  “Of course,” Edmund said. “You were here the other night, when the truck burned. We were luckier this time. There doesn’t look like much damage under there, although there was a hell of a lot of smoke. I saw it coming out through the lattice there and came down to check the situation out. When I saw what was burning, I summoned Mr. Collier and instructed him to get the garden hose while I went in after the little girl.”

  “Instructed!” Collier said, nearly spitting the word out. “I don’t need any goddamn instruction from you.”

  “Hey, no harm meant,” Edmund told him. “I’m sorry. I guess we’re all a little shook up.” He wiped at the blood on his neck again, then made a point of staring at his bloodstained hand. Then he ran his hand over his forearm. “Singed the hair right off. I guess you don’t feel the heat; you just do what you have to do. It’s later on that the realization catches up to you.”

  “That does happen,” the fireman said.

  Edmund bent ove
r and picked up his coat from where it still lay on the lawn. “Looks like something the cat dragged in,” he said.

  “You spotted the truck fire the other night, too, didn’t you?” one of the firemen asked Edmund.

  “Guilty as charged,” he said. “I’m a little tired of it, too.”

  “Not half as tired as I am,” Collier said.

  “My father owns the warehouse here,” Edmund told them. “I’m the general manager of it.” He nodded at the Earl’s. “That’s my office window on the second floor. I was up there working when I glanced out and saw the smoke.”

  “Nobody else down here?” the first fireman asked.

  “Not that I could see. I rushed straight down. Jenny—the little girl—had been out here playing a couple of minutes earlier, and I was afraid she was under there, under the porch. But I guess she went inside right before it started up. I had to move fast, I can tell you. No time to change out of my suit.” He shook wet dirt out of the torn coat and folded it over his arm.

  “Where were you, sir?” The fireman directed the question to Collier, who looked more lost than angry now.

  “In the theatre,” he said. “I sent Jenny inside to watch Gilligan, and I was heading over to check on her when I saw Edmund here crawling out from under the damn porch. I ran over to see what was up, and all of a sudden there’s a fire broken out.”

  “Who’s this Gilligan?” the fireman asked. “Some kind of pet?”

  “The show,” Collier said. “Gilligan’s Island.”

  The fireman nodded. “The girl was unsupervised, then?”

  “For about a minute, like I said. I was right over there at the theatre, just long enough to get my sets people going, and then I intended to come back over. So let’s cut the crap.” Edmund nearly laughed. The old man was getting good and angry. “Jenny didn’t start this fire any more than she started that fire the other night,” he said. “I’m about sick of this kind of talk. When the hell did she have time to light a fire? She wasn’t alone longer than the blink of an eye. And nobody starts a house on fire and then goes inside to watch the television. Even a four-year-old wouldn’t do a crazy damn thing like that.”

  “I agree,” Edmund said as if he meant it. “That sounds pretty crazy to me, too. I sure can’t explain it.”

  “No, I bet you can’t,” Collier said.

  “I’m not sure I understand your implication,” Edmund said flatly. He looked back toward the parking lot and saw that the crowd had pretty much gone away. Anne sat at the edge of the lawn, playing some kind of hand jive game with Jenny, and Dave stood talking to the Earl. The woman, whoever she was, stood alone. “Earl!” Edmund hollered, moving away from Collier and the fireman. The Earl strode toward him, leaving Dave behind.

  “Yeah,” he said. “What can I do?”

  “Hang in here with Collier for a little while, will you?” Edmund asked him. “He’s pretty shook up. This doesn’t look real good for Jenny, and he can see that. He’s a little defensive about it.” Then to the fireman he said, “Maybe we can have a word in private.”

  The fireman nodded, and they moved away, out of earshot of the others. “I’m not happy to have to say this,” Edmund told him, “but Jenny’s been in and out from under that porch all morning. I know that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. But she was under there a couple of minutes before I saw the smoke. Her grandfather doesn’t know that, because he was over in the theatre. He wasn’t over there that long, like he said, but she was under there for … I don’t know, five minutes anyway.” He shook his head sadly. “I guess I don’t know what to think. Like he said, it doesn’t make any sense, her going inside like that. Maybe there was some kind of spontaneous combustion….”

  “Mr. Collier asserts that you were under the porch too.”

  “That’s correct. I grew up around here. My father’s owned this place for nearly fifty years. I played under that porch myself when I was a kid. It’s a private place. Kids love a private place. I’ll tell you the truth—when I saw the smoke, I got suspicious. Like I said, I was a kid once myself.”

  “You started fires when you were a kid?”

  The fireman looked straight at him, the dirty little bastard. Edmund fought down his anger. “I’ll ignore that question,” he said. “It’s not the kind of thing I’d expect from a public servant.”

  “What did you see when you looked under there? Anything? Too smoky?”

  “No, actually, the wind was blowing most of the smoke back under the house at first. I think that’s why Mr. Collier didn’t see any sign of it when he was coming back over from the theatre. Naturally he wondered what the hell I was doing under there. Anyway …” He paused and looked thoughtful, as if he had something tough to say. “… What I saw was a bunch of stuff burning. Looked like … I don’t know, leaves and junk, wadded-up paper, toys, all set up against that post right about in the center of the porch. What got me was that there was a doll on fire, too, sitting in the middle of it all. I don’t know why, but I guess it upset me a little bit. It was almost scary, you know? I can see now that it’s not evidence of anything, maybe just kid stuff that got a little out of hand.”

  “But you didn’t see anything that makes you certain that it was the little girl that started the fire? You didn’t see her carry anything in or out of there?”

  “Not a thing. No, sir. All I wanted to say was that she was under there. Her grandfather doesn’t know that. He’s telling you the absolute truth as far as he understands it.”

  “And there were no other children around?”

  “Not a one.”

  “All right. Thanks for your help.”

  “Thank you. I wonder if I can say one more thing. I guess … I don’t want it to sound like I’m accusing anybody here, but I’m not crazy about fires breaking out every other day, either. These old buildings …” He shook his head. “I’ve got employees working here, there’s a play going up in a couple of weeks here in the theatre, and I’ve got my tenants to worry about. This could have been a tragedy today if I hadn’t looked out the window when I did.”

  “I appreciate that,” the fireman said. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  The fireman left him and walked toward Collier then, and Edmund drifted back to the porch and looked underneath. He pursed his lips and cocked his head, as if he were studying things out. The whole thing had gone unbelievably well. Not a hitch. This time nobody would buy any nonsense about imaginary friends. Collier’s days were numbered.

  Edmund turned around and headed back across the lawn in the direction of the warehouse. There was nothing more for him to do here, and his hanging around could easily set Collier off. The man was dangerously unstable, aside from being a loser and a welfare case. But he still had too much sympathy from the peanut gallery for Edmund to go mano a mano with him here. Today’s activities would have to be a part of the tenderizing process. Later he could grill the old man over an open flame, literally, if he had to.

  “Edmund!”

  He heard the voice behind him and turned around, putting a quizzical look on his face. It was Dave, obviously full of baloney. Anne hadn’t moved. They were out of earshot if they kept their voices down. “What’s up?” Edmund asked, giving him a look of doubt, as if perhaps Dave were in some sort of immediate trouble and were asking for help.

  Dave moved past him, blocking his way. “I just wanted to make a little something clear,” he said.

  “And what would that be?”

  “I don’t think it was Jenny who started this fire today. And it wasn’t her who started the fire the other night, either.”

  “I agree entirely, Dave. She’s a very misunderstood little girl. And I admire your stepping forward now, at a sensitive time like this. You’re telling the wrong person, though. All I did was rescue her, Dave. You know what I mean? You and I don’t always see eye to eye, but I can’t imagine you’re so small-minded as to have a problem with that. Maybe it’s time you crawled out from under your past.”


  Dave stared at him, and for a moment Edmund wondered if he’d gone too far. He braced himself, ready to block a punch.

  “You want to explain that?”

  “What’s to explain? A little girl was in trouble, and I walked in and brought her out. People do that kind of thing all the time, Dave, and they don’t make it into a lifetime issue. So now, if you’re through, I’m late for about three meetings and I’ve got to run home and change suits and wash the blood off.” He saw that Dave wasn’t going to take a punch at him after all. He had gotten to the bastard, deflated him. He stepped aside and started off again, across the lot.

  “I’ll make it simple,” Dave said to his back. “Leave Collier alone. Leave Anne alone.”

  Edmund turned toward him again and shook his head tiredly. “My relationship with Anne is none of your business, Dave. Although I can understand why you’re worried about it.”

  “I’m making it my business. Stay out of her building. Don’t hang around there.”

  “Dave, I’m reminding you who signs your paycheck.”

  “Makes no difference.”

  “Really?”

  “Not a bit.”

  “Then you’re fired. I can’t have my employees threatening me. I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not sorry, and I’m not fired. The Earl hired me, and the Earl’s got to fire me. Go ahead and ask him to. I don’t think he will. What I think is that you’ve got your hand in the till, Ed. I think you’re stealing from the Earl, and I think I can prove it.”

  “Is that what you want to do?” Edmund said, walking toward him and stopping a couple of feet away. “You want to cause my father grief by making up a lot of slanderous crap? I’m a little surprised at that, Dave. I’ve always known you were emotional, but I didn’t have any idea you were vicious.”

  “Call it what you want. I’m ready to pull the plug. I’m not going to talk about this again. I’m serious.”

  “Not half as serious as I am, Dave.”