“What rule? I’ve never heard of that. You’re making it up.” I smiled. “Besides, rules are made to be broken. Ever hear of that one?”
“Oh, come on, Syd. I want to meet your guy.”
“Stop calling him ‘my guy.’” I folded the Portrero Meyer Homes page to mark my place then opened a different magazine. I gazed at the homes, pretended to be engrossed with reading the descriptions. I even followed the text with my fingers, like a child just learning to read. I turned the page and did the same for the next house, making the appropriate sounds of appreciation here and there—or so I thought.
“I know you’re not reading those, you know.”
I looked up. Mac smiled, almost ready to burst into laughter. Time to change the subject again.
“What time do you want me to be here to babysit Josh while you and Mike go to Sin City this weekend?”
“Let me check with Mike, and I’ll text you.” She grinned. “I haven’t forgotten about your guy.” She batted her eyelashes.
“All right. Look, you’ll meet him when you meet him.”
“But when?” she whined.
I sighed. “Soon. That’s the best I can do.”
“Okay. Fine. Can we work out tomorrow? I can meet you at the park.”
“Let’s do that. Six o’clock.” I stood and gathered my things and the real estate magazine. I felt beat and was ready to go home. Getting the third degree took a lot out of a person. I was never on the receiving end of those. Mac walked me to the door, then I hopped in my car and headed home.
When I arrived home, I jumped in the shower, brushed my teeth, then pulled on my pajamas. I climbed into bed with the real estate magazine. I looked through it, searching for more Portrero Meyer Homes communities. I found an ad for condos in Fontana. They were way out of my price range—not that I planned to look for anything built by Portrero Meyer. The prices ranged from four hundred thousand to five hundred fifty thousand dollars. My goodness. That seemed like a lot of money for an apartment. I wondered what Bernie had paid for his condo. It was nice and in a good area but small. He’d purchased it when he was single. Well, technically, he was still single, but I considered him to be non-single at the moment. However, I considered myself to be single. Yeah, the logic didn’t make sense.
I didn’t find any more Portrero Meyer Homes listings in that magazine. I regretted not taking a few more of Mac’s stash. I doubted Mike knew she longed for something more. They had a nice home. What more did she want, for crying out loud?
I’d had enough of real estate, and I tossed the magazine on the nightstand. Time to get some sleep. Who knew what tomorrow had in store for me?
Chapter Ten
Hours later, I woke to a high-pitched squeal. I reached toward the nightstand and fumbled around for the alarm clock. I jabbed at the button, but the sound continued. I looked at the clock. It was 2:15 a.m. I sniffed the air. What was that smell? Smoke! I flipped on the light and jumped out of bed. I ran out in the hall to take a look and doubled over, coughing. Not smart. Smoke billowed in the hallway and consumed the living room. I couldn’t see anything. The blaring of the smoke detector continued. I hurried back into the bedroom, slammed the door, and looked around the room. Don’t panic! And don’t breathe. Wait, no. Breathe but not too deeply. My cell phone! Call the fire department. Where’s my phone? What did I do with my damn phone? Must. Get. Out.
I dove across the bed and grabbed the cordless phone. It fell from my shaky grasp and onto the floor. I rolled across the bed and landed on my butt on the floor. I kept an eye out for smoke coming under the door. I should’ve put something there to block the smoke. So much to do. I dialed 911 and reported the fire. They told me the fire department was already on its way. Good. I had to get out of there. I’d rehearsed the scenario in my mind dozens of times.
I grabbed a jacket and my purse off the hook. My coughing worsened, and my eyes burned. I snagged my Glock pistol from the drawer and a pair of running shoes from the floor. My gym bag was sitting next to the running shoes. I threw everything into the bag, then unlocked and opened the window by the bed. I remembered my cell phone plugged into its charger on the other nightstand and tossed it in, too. Kicking the screen with my bare foot proved unsuccessful—and it hurt. I shoved my feet into my shoes and tried again. The screen popped partially out, so I gave it another go. Once it fell out, I climbed through the window, choking on smoke. The window led to the backyard, near the patio. My foot landed in a container garden. I lost my balance and tumbled to the ground. I pushed myself up, still coughing. I limped to the front of the apartment building. A fire truck turned the corner, lights flashing. Most of my neighbors had already made it out onto the street. They huddled together, murmuring. Several had blankets thrown over their shoulders. A few were wearing slippers, and others were shoeless. I knelt to tie my shoes then pulled on my jacket.
People stumbled out of the building, carrying whatever they’d managed to grab on the way out. A man with a cast on his leg hobbled out, holding a sleeping boy about Josh’s age in his arms. I rushed to help him and got them across the street. I ushered the onlookers over there to get them out of the way of the firefighters. I attempted to calm the crowd while looking for anyone needing assistance as they left the building, as well as those in the crowd who may have suffered injuries. I’d seen people make it out of buildings safely, only to succumb to a heart attack, stroke, or other ailment afterward.
The San Sansolita PD had arrived, and Bryant strolled toward me.
“You okay, Sydney?” She eyed my elbow, angling for a better view.
I looked down at the blood. When had I done that? She waved over a stumpy male medic from the ambulance.
I shook my head, and the medic stopped, looking at Bryant.
“No, I’m okay. They should take care of the people who are injured.” I bent and straightened my elbow. I had to admit, it hurt.
“Sydney, you are one of the injured.” Bryant pointed at my elbow and said to the medic, “Look at her, please.” She stood there, apparently to make sure I didn’t run away. I didn’t need babysitting. Did I? I outranked her and didn’t have to listen. But my elbow hurt, and I was clearly injured. Too tired to argue or deal with it on my own later, I let the medic do his job as I looked at the crowd.
“Bryant, can you please photograph those people?”
“Sure thing.”
Since I doubted I would be able to sleep in my apartment for a while, I called Mac.
“Hello?”
“Mac, it’s me. There was a fire and—”
“What? Syd? You’re in a fire?”
“No. There was a fire at my apartment building tonight, and I need a place to stay for a few days.”
“Oh, my God! Of course, you can stay here. You’re sure you’re not hurt?”
I looked at my patched up elbow. “Other than a scratch on my elbow, I’m fine.”
“Good. When will you get here?”
“I’m going to see if I can grab a few things from my apartment. I’ll come over as soon as I can.”
“All right. I’ll get the spare bedroom ready.”
“Mac, go back to sleep. I’m fine, so don’t worry.” I had a key to their house and could let myself in if they were asleep when I came.
“Okay. Bye, Syd. Be careful.”
“Bye, Mac.” I doubted if she would be able to sleep. I wouldn’t be working out with her in a few hours—that was for sure. I might have to start looking for a house sooner, rather than later. I put my phone in my jacket pocket.
The fire chief was scanning the crowd.
I walked toward him. “Excuse me, Chief Thomas? Have you determined the cause of the fire yet?”
“Hey, Detective Valentine. Our preliminary investigation indicates the fire started in Apartment 2B.”
“What? That’s next to my apartment. Was it electrical?” The manager recently had several electrical issues repaired—or so he’d said.
“Nope. Looks like arson.” He watched his crew th
en turned to me.
“Are you sure?” I surveyed the crowd, looking for anyone suspicious. Sometimes arsonists hung around to observe their handiwork. I didn’t know all of my neighbors, so I couldn’t tell who lived there and who was being nosey.
“Come on in. Let me show you.” Chief Thomas ambled toward the building. I followed him inside to Apartment 2B.
The apartment was the mirror image of mine, and we shared a living room wall. Thomas pointed to a burned circular area in the carpet with charred debris scattered about and leading to the wall we shared. Smoke still filled the air and it burned my throat and eyes.
“See that spot where it’s charred more than the rest?” He shined a flashlight downward. “That’s where it started. It appears to be tires. There are some unburned pieces in the corner.”
“Why tires?” I looked around the room at the soggy carpet and damaged wall.
“Toxic fumes.” He strolled to the sliding-glass door and jiggled it. The door came off its track easily.
“What the…?” I stepped outside to look at the track. It had been bent outward, making it easy to lift out and up.
“It’s as easy as that. These are pretty cheap, and someone bent it without much trouble. My guess is he or she did it when you weren’t around. You might’ve heard someone out here working on it. If you heard something prior to this, you probably assumed the apartment management was doing some repairs. Anyway, once the arsonist gained entry, he’d only have to toss something in here to get the fire started.”
“All right. Did someone throw something at that wall, too?” I pointed to the wall separating my apartment from 2B. “It looks like it.”
“Most likely, that was an accelerant—maybe gasoline.” He walked next to a charred and soggy path in the carpet leading to the wall. “Someone poured something here and splashed it on the wall.” He watched me. “Somebody trying to get to you, Detective?”
“Me? Why me? Maybe someone wanted to hurt whoever lives in this apartment.”
Chief Thomas shook his head. “Do you see any furniture here? Two of the other tenants told me nobody lives here. It’s been vacant for a couple of months, they said.”
I looked around. “Shit.” He was right. So, who had tried to kill me this time?
“We found the apartment manager trying to put the fire out with an extinguisher. We made him leave before he got hurt. Besides that wall, there’s smoke and water damage in your apartment. The manager let us in to take a look. It’s a good thing someone called right away.”
“If someone was after me, why not toss whatever it was into my apartment?”
He crossed his arms. “What would you have done if someone had done that?”
“I would’ve heard it, put the fire out with the extinguisher, then called the fire department.”
“Right. Whoever did it hoped you’d be asleep and die from toxic smoke inhalation… or get trapped and burn to death.”
“Bad way to go, either way.” I sighed. I didn’t have a business card on me to give him. He knew how to find me if he needed to. “Let me know if you find anything else?”
“You got it. If I can help, let me know.” He turned and took a step then glanced my way. “Detective? Be careful. Somebody went to some effort to start this. They may try again.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I got the message. Thanks, Chief.” On the way to my apartment, I got out my cell phone and looked at the time. It was almost five o’clock. I called Bernie.
“Syd?”
“Bernie, there was a fire in my apartment building a couple of hours ago.” I pushed open the door and stepped inside the dark living room to my apartment. I flipped on the light, and nothing happened.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. Chief Thomas told me it was arson.” I kept flashlights throughout my apartment. I opened the closet near the door and removed the flashlight from the shelf. I turned it on, and it lit up the room.
“Did it start in your apartment?”
“He said the fire started in the apartment next to mine. That apartment was empty, and an accelerant was used.” I walked to my bedroom and shined the flashlight along the walls and floor.
“How bad is the damage to your apartment?”
“I’m in my bedroom now and it looks okay. The living room wall has been damaged, and I can smell smoke. I’m going to Mac’s once I get my clothes and other things.”
“Are you coming in today?”
“I don’t need time off. I’m going to call the L-T once I get off the phone with you.”
“I’ll call Peterson for you.”
“Thanks, Bernie. I’ll see you later then.”
“Bye, Syd.”
I closed and locked the window I’d opened. After loading up on personal necessities, clothing, shoes, and other miscellaneous items that would fit in my gym bag, I headed to Mac’s. She’d called while I was packing, and I’d let her know I would be there soon.
I unlocked Mac’s front door and found her curled up, asleep on the sofa under a Batman comforter. Josh was on a Caped Crusader kick. The muted television showed one of the home shopping channels pushing a high-speed blender. How could she have fallen asleep that quickly? I’d just spoken to her. I dropped my belongings on the floor in the spare bedroom. After prying the remote from her grasp, I switched off the television and shook her awake. She gasped, and her eyes popped open wide. She wiped her mouth and blinked.
“It’s me, Mac. Go to bed.”
She rubbed her eyes and stretched. “You’re okay?” She stifled a yawn then stood.
“I’m fine.”
“Going to bed now. G’night.” She shuffled toward the hall, giving me a backhand wave.
“Good night.” I unpacked my clothes and toiletries. Everything stank of smoke, so I loaded them all into the washer. I borrowed a pair of Mac’s pajamas that I found in the dryer. I brushed my teeth then jumped in the shower. Getting the grime and smoke off me felt good. Once my load finished, I threw everything in the dryer and headed to bed. I needed to lie down—even if I didn’t sleep.
I planned to take another run at Sylvia Frakes in the morning. I thought she was up to no good. I wondered if Monica Stewart had mentioned anything to Sylvia or Vincent Frakes. I would have bet that she had told him, at least.
Had the investigation almost gotten me killed?
Although I was up late, I hopped out of bed early the next morning. Getting smoked out of my home and being told that someone might be trying to kill me had made a peaceful night’s rest nearly impossible. I’d mostly just lain in Mac’s spare bedroom, staring at the walls and thinking. Even so, I felt energized and in a kick-butt mood. I left Mac a note on the counter then wolfed down a bowl of oatmeal. I grabbed a banana before peeking in on my nephew on the way out of the door. Mac and Mike were still conked out when I left. I made a mental note to call Brad to let him know where I’d gone and what had happened.
I got stuck in traffic on the way to work, and Bernie called to let me know he would be late because he’d had a late night with Khrystal. She was still experiencing severe morning sickness, and he’d taken her to the emergency room, where they had waited for a while to be seen. However, the doctor had sent Khrystal home after the examination. Bernie had likely been in the emergency room when I’d called him. He never said a word about her not feeling well during our conversation about the fire.
Chapter Eleven
Despite the traffic, I made it to work without being late since I’d left earlier than usual. I stopped at Theresa’s desk because I wanted to check on her progress with her investigation into Jake and Shelly Milton’s home rental. She wasn’t at her desk yet, so I wrote a note and placed it on her keyboard. I stopped at the coffee station, made a cup of green tea, then went to my desk to complete my backlog of reports.
I called Rudy, our fingerprint technician, about Jane Doe and the man found in the street. Rudy told me he hadn’t been able to determine the identity of either vi
ctim through the prints. That happened more often than not. If someone had never been fingerprinted, there wasn’t anything in the system to match them to. Missing Persons still had no reports matching John Doe. I was always amazed when we found dead bodies whom nobody seemed to be searching for—at least not through Missing Persons.
After working on the reports for a while, hitting the road seemed like a good idea. Frakes Realty was open, and I intended to pay Sylvia a visit. I didn’t want to waste my industrious mood.
“Good morning, Sydney.” Lieutenant Peterson stood at my desk. “How’s your apartment?”
“Mostly smoke and water damage, and the adjoining wall to the next apartment needs to be repaired.”
“Chief Thomas told me it was arson. Do you have any idea who’s responsible?”
If I did, would I be sitting here, having a leisurely cup of tea? “We’re not in anyone’s face about anything yet. So, no. I don’t know.”
“Maybe you’re close and just don’t know it. People panic.” He gazed at me as if he’d said something profound.
“I’m going to be heading out to Frakes Realty in a bit. I want to interview someone.”
“Bernie’s going to be late. Theresa has other cases going on, but you can take her if she’s free. Let me know if you do. Her Milton case might be related to your Jane Doe case.”
No kidding. “All right. I’ve already put a note on her desk to come see me when she has the chance.”
“Be careful and keep me in the loop.” He turned toward his office.
“Will do, L-T.” I strolled to Theresa’s desk to see if she’d come in, but I saw my note was still on her keyboard. Well, I might as well give Brad a call while I was waiting. If she didn’t come in soon, I planned to go to Frakes Realty alone. I checked my recent calls and scrolled to find my last call to Brad. I tapped his number, and an automated message alerted me that the number was no longer in service. What the hell? I stared at the display. Then, I tried again. Same message. I stared at the phone and frowned.
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