Torch Scene

by Renee Pawlish

  “Thanks a lot,” I murmured.

  Ken watched us closely, then came and checked the tape. “Don’t try anything stupid.”

  I wisely kept my mouth shut. He contemplated us for a second, then whirled around and left.

  I looked around. “We need to cut the tape.”

  “With what?”

  My mind raced. I stared at the coffee table. “Maybe…”

  “What?”

  I sat up. “I need to stand up.”

  “Huh?”

  A banging sound interrupted us. We stared up at the ceiling. There it was again: Boom, boom.

  “What’s he doing?”

  We waited in eerie silence. Boom, boom. Then an acrid odor wafted down to us.

  She crinkled her nose. “Is that gasoline?”

  I nodded. “He’s poking holes in the walls.”

  “What for?”

  “He’ll put the accelerant in there. The house’ll burn faster that way.”

  “Oh my god.”

  “We’ve got to hurry,” I said.

  I leaned forward and stood up, careful not to lose my balance. Then I hopped and turned myself around.

  “What’re you doing?”

  I now had my butt to the table. “I’m going to break the table.”

  She sat up, curious. “What on earth for?”

  “So I can get a sharp edge and cut this tape.”

  I sat down hard in the center of table, putting all my weight into the fall. The wood cracked.

  Nadine’s look was one of disgust. “I told Nick that table was trash,” she said.

  I struggled to sit up. I bent forward and ended up doing a face-plant into the couch. Nadine muttered something unflattering, but I finally managed to get to back on my feet. I dropped again and the coffee table split in two, with me lying in the middle.

  “Got it,” I said triumphantly.

  “Oh, that’s brilliant.”

  I ignored her and worked my way to one of the splintered ends of the table top. I got my hands somewhere over the splinters and raked my hands across. My shoulders stretched and burned. I couldn’t see what I was doing or if the effort had made any difference.

  The pounding upstairs became more frequent. We glanced up in unison.

  “Oh geez,” Nadine said. “Hurry. We’re running out of time,” she said. Snide had turned to frantic.

  I worked at the tape again, trying a back and forth motion across the splinters. Something warm and wet ran down my palms, and my hands hurt. I’d cut myself. I steeled myself against the pain and shoved my hands back into the splinters. A jagged piece of wood poked into the tape and I sawed at the tape. Suddenly it gave, just a little.

  The gasoline smell grew stronger. Ken would have this bonfire ready to go soon. We had to get out, and fast.

  “Hurry!” Nadine said again.

  “I’m trying,” I muttered.

  I felt for the jagged piece and raked the tape across it again. The tape split wider and I pushed out with my hands. Not quite enough. I kept at it and the tape ripped an inch more. I pushed and pulled, my arms aching, and suddenly my arms separated.

  “Got it!” I worked myself to my feet and sat on the edge of the couch.

  “Get us out of here,” Nadine said.

  The tape around my ankles was easier because I could see what I was doing. Sort of. I wiped again at the blood on my face, then started on my ankles. I found the edge of the tape and pulled at it, finally getting a piece to tear off. It took much longer than I would’ve preferred, but I finally freed my ankles. I stood up and looked around.

  “What about me?” Nadine asked.

  “Hold on.”

  I stomped on the jagged edge of the table and broke off a large splinter. Using it as a knife, I crudely hacked at the tape on her wrists and ankles, and finally freed her.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said.

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

  I looked at one of the basement windows, high up on the wall. It was about two feet wide and a foot high.

  “We’ll never fit through those.” I cursed, then turned to her. “We have to sneak out.”

  “He’s going to burn my house down! I can’t just let him.”

  “Better the house than us.” I grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

  We made our way to the stairs and I held up a hand. I peeked around the corner and listened. I heard a couple of distant thumps.

  “I think he’s on the second floor,” I whispered. “I’ll go up first and if it’s clear, we’ll make a beeline for the front door. Got it?”

  She nodded, barely breathing.

  “Let’s go.”

  We tiptoed up the stairs. As we neared the basement door, I raised my hand and stopped. She bumped into me and I whirled around and glared at her.

  “Sorry,” she mouthed.

  I put a finger to my lips, indicating she should be quiet and I turned my head. Did I hear something or was it just the electricity in my nerves? After a minute, I continued to the door. I eased it open and looked around. If Ken was lurking somewhere, I couldn’t tell.

  I stepped into the hallway, waited a second, then signaled for her to come on up. She joined me in the hallway and I pointed to the front door. We eased across the floor.

  A whump came from somewhere upstairs. He’d lit the place on fire, and it was burning fast.

  “He’s got this rigged to blow sky high,” I said. “Move!”

  We made it to the end of the hall and the doorway was within reach when a banshee cry split the air. I turned halfway around, in time to see Ken launching himself at me. I raised an arm, but it was too late. He plowed into me, knocking me into Nadine. She crashed against the front door and slid to the floor, stunned.

  “NO!” he screamed.

  His fists pummeled me and I put up my hands to ward off the blows. I grabbed at him and got my hands around his neck. I squeezed and he made a choking sound, then kneed me in the gut. My grip loosened and he rolled away. I got to my knees as he scrambled to his feet and threw a roundhouse at me. I ducked and the blow hit me on the side of the head. He yowled in pain and I saw sparks in my vision. I became aware of flames at the top of the stairs, followed by heat. Somewhere behind me, Nadine moaned.

  Ken roared with rage and kicked at me, but I deflected it and he tumbled backward. I pounced and landed on top of him. We wrestled and then he slapped me on the side of the head again and everything blurred. Another whoosh sounded, closer this time, and heat surrounded us. I blinked and fought to focus, aware that I might die in this ugly conflagration. Ken screamed again and swiped at me. I shifted left, then balled my hand into a fist and slammed it into his stomach. His breath came out in a rush and he staggered backward into the living room. Smoke grew thicker as I pushed myself to my feet. I suddenly felt lightheaded, and I swayed for a second. Around the edge of the room, yellow and orange licked at the walls. I shook my head, not sure if it was real.

  Then I sensed movement to my left and I jumped toward Ken. I stole a look over my shoulder. Nadine was pushing herself up, using the front door as leverage. She righted herself, grabbed the doorknob, and yanked it open. The fire reveled in the oxygen. A harsh boom rocked us and the walls in the living room exploded. A blast of air hit me and I slammed into Ken. We ended up in a heap again. All around us were flames. I kicked at him and he scooted back. Then his arm suddenly burst into flame. More spilled accelerant? He screamed and waved his arm in terror, then rolled over, trying to put out the fire.

  I got up and grabbed the big vase and threw it at the bay window. The glass cracked. I didn’t waste any time. I put up my arms and hurled myself into the glass. It shattered and broke, and I tumbled into the grass outside. Another explosion rocked me and I dog-paddled through the lawn, thinking of nothing but putting distance between me and the fire. Somewhere back in the blaze, I thought I heard Ken, still screaming. Or it might’ve been me.

  Hands grabbed me. I fought for a second until i
t dawned on me that they were dragging me away from the heat, smoke and flames. I coughed and gagged, then rolled over.

  “It’s okay,” a sweet voice said.

  I looked up into Willie’s face. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she held my face. Behind her, Cal was staring down at me. And then I noticed the Goofball Brothers, hovering nearby, unsure of what to do.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she repeated. She leaned down and kissed my sweaty, bloodstained face. “I love you, Reed.”

  “I love you, too,” I croaked, my throat like sandpaper.

  I trembled uncontrollably, aware of noise and people around me. And Willie holding me. It was nice.

  I sucked in air as I stared back at the house. It was completely enveloped in flames, the inferno lighting up the night sky.

  A thought crossed my mind. Ken had been right. It was a perfect fire.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “You are one lucky guy,” a tall, paper-thin nurse said to me as he finished putting salve and a bandage on my wrist.

  “I don’t feel like it,” I mumbled. My body was a mass of aches and pains. I had a number of small cuts and burns on my arms, a cut on my forehead that needed stitches, a sore nose and more bruises than an overripe banana.

  “If he’s sarcastic, he’s doing okay,” Willie said. She was sitting in a chair next to the examining table I was lying on, and for once, she wasn’t the one performing the medical duties.

  Once I’d made it out of the fire, Willie and Cal had stayed with me until an ambulance transported me to the hospital. I’d insisted that I was fine, but since I hadn’t been steady on my feet, I’d lost the argument.

  “You don’t have a concussion, so that’s a good thing,” the nurse went on. He was friendly and talkative. “Man, with everything they’re finding out about concussions.” He didn’t finish the sentence.

  “Uh-huh,” I managed. After all the excitement, weariness was setting in.

  “I think we’re done here,” he finally pronounced. “I’ll get your paperwork, and I think there’s a detective out there who wants to talk to you.”

  “Great,” I said. I sat up slowly.

  He laughed as he pulled the privacy curtain back and left our little room.

  “You do know how to worry a girl,” Willie said.

  I turned to her and asked the question that had been puzzling me since she appeared on Nadine’s lawn. “How did you find us?”

  “After you called Cal, he told me what was going on.”

  “Can’t keep his mouth shut,” I said, but with humor in my voice.

  “Good thing, too.” She leaned forward in the chair. “I had a bad feeling about things, so I told him we should come down and meet you at Nadine’s house. I didn’t have to ask twice. Cal drove us there, while Ace and Deuce followed behind us.” She grinned conspiratorially. “They wanted to be our backup.”

  A barely audible tap sounded on the door, and Sarah Spillman came into the room. Her eyes went from me to Willie and back.

  “You’ve seen better days,” she said to me.

  I nodded and the effort hurt. “I hear you want to talk to me.”

  “Yes.” She glanced at Willie, who took the hint.

  “I’ll be in the waiting room,” Willie said. She stood up, leaned on the bed and kissed me. Then she left.

  Spillman watched it all with her usual detached demeanor.

  “I’m exhausted,” I said. “Let’s get this over with, so I can go home. Or am I under arrest for breaking some law? In which case, can I have a private cell?”

  She suppressed a smile. “How’d you end up at Nadine’s house?”

  I gave her an abbreviated version of events, leaving out Cal’s illegal searches and my encounters with Tony and Ray. I didn’t think she needed to know any of that.

  “That’s it?” she said.

  “Yeah. Should there be more?”

  She stared at me to the point where I grew uncomfortable.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It must be nice not to have to worry about things like illegal search and entry, warrants…the law.”

  “I got the bad guy.”

  “Yes, you did. And you were damn lucky you didn’t die in the process.”

  “I’ve heard that before.” I took in a deep breath and exhaled, my throat scratchy from inhaling all that smoke. “I just wanted to help Willie.”

  Spillman glanced toward the door. “She seems nice.”

  “She is.”

  Silence stretched between us, interrupted by the sounds of doctors and nurses moving about on the other side of the door.

  Something occurred to me and I was almost afraid to ask. “Where’s Nadine?”

  “She’s okay. Quite shook up, but she’ll be fine. Her house is a total loss.”

  “What a shame,” I said, with complete sincerity. She may not have had good judgment in men, but she didn’t deserve what she’d gotten.

  Another knock on the door, and the nurse came in with paperwork. “Here you go,” he said. Then, “Oh, excuse me,” when he saw Spillman.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “We’re finished.”

  He handed me the paperwork. “You’re good to go. Take it easy for a few days.”

  “I will.” I slid my behind off the table and stood up gingerly.

  Spillman held the door open for me. “We’ll be in touch.”

  “I can’t wait,” I said as I hobbled down the hall to the waiting room.

  Willie was sitting with Cal, who grinned when he saw me.

  “And you wonder why I don’t want to get involved.”

  “Ha ha,” I said. “Someone take me home. And if my mother calls, take a message.”

  They laughed as we headed out the door.

  Cal left us and went back to his place in the foothills, and Ace and Deuce drove us home. An hour later, I was tucked in bed, and Willie was beside me, her arms draped over me.

  “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she murmured.

  “Me, too,” I said.

  She soon fell asleep. I lay awake for a bit, one thing nagging at me: who had called Nick from Stan Pommerville’s house? Both Stan and Leena seemed so sincere in their denials, so who was lying? Then the answer suddenly hit me. It made perfect sense. My brain was finally able to shut down and I fell into a deep, restful sleep.

  ***

  She looked like Leena. Same round face, small nose, flaxen blond hair and brown eyes. She was sitting at a table by the window, staring outside as she fiddled with her coffee cup.

  “Mrs. Pommerville?”

  Her head tipped up and she met my gaze. “Please, have a seat.”

  I pulled out a chair and sat across from her. She nervously toyed with her cup, swirling the liquid in it, then taking a perfunctory sip. I rested my hands on the table and began.

  “You called Nick O’Rourke the night he was murdered.”

  She wasn’t surprised. She sipped her coffee again and then set down the cup.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Because Leena told you what Nick did to her,” I said.

  She nodded and studied the table. “I was never particularly fond of Nick when they were dating, but I wasn’t going to interfere. Then when everything went bad with Stan’s business, I was relieved that Leena broke up with him. But I had no idea of what he’d done until she told me.” She looked up at me. “I don’t know why Leena chose that night to tell me, but she did. I was so angry at Nick, I couldn’t see straight. Leena left and I called him. Can you believe he tried to downplay what he’d done?” She shook her head in disgust. “I lit into him, and then he said someone was at the door, and he hung up. It was probably a lie just to get off the phone, but I felt better for calling – a little bit, anyway.”

  The interruption was probably Ken coming to visit…and commit murder. What if Nick had kept talking to her? Would he still be alive?

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know Leena would tell you.”

  “I’m g
lad she did.” Her face clouded. “And I’m glad Nick’s dead. I know, that’s a terrible thing to say, but he’s done so much damage to my family.”

  I didn’t say anything, because who could fault her for that?

  “I need to go,” she said. She pushed away from the table and stood up. “I hope your questions are answered, but even if they’re not, I hope you’ll leave us alone.”

  I watched as she worked her way between tables and then out the door. I sat for a while, feeling the aches and pains of my body. I must’ve looked a sight. Then I laughed, relieved that my mother couldn’t see me now. Talk about worrying her into an early grave. With that thought, I got up and headed for home.

  THE END

  Thank you for reading Torch Scene. If you enjoyed it, would you please write a review? You have no idea how much it warms my heart to get a new review. And this isn't just for me. Think of all the people out there who need reviews to make decisions, and you would be helping them.

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  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Detective Sarah Spillman appears in three short stories that you can read in the short story collection, Take Five. It also includes a Reed Ferguson short story, Elvis And The Sports Card Cheat. You can also buy the stories separately.

  Purchase Take Five here: http://amzn.to/14iNQCA.

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  Purchase Saturday Night Special here: http://amzn.to/1icGeuU

  Purchase Dance of the Macabre here: http://amzn.to/1nicv4r

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  Stephen King and Dean Koontz have long been known as masters of horror. I believe you can add Renee Pawlish to that list… The plot is entrancing. It grabbed my attention from the beginning and held it to the end.

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