Clarets of Fire

by Christine E. Blum

  “Exactly.” I nodded to Sally and got out of the way of her big swing. “Maybe he was practicing his story. You know how they say when someone is lying about their testimony they tend to tell it the same way time after time? And if they are telling the truth it will vary slightly with each recount?”

  “I hadn’t heard that, but it makes sense.” Sally spotted a tennis ball by the pool and walked out the French doors to retrieve it.

  I followed behind her. “You need to quit watching PBS so much, Sally, and come over to the dark side. Immerse yourself in a little Bull and Law & Order.”

  She laughed. “Maybe I should.” After thinking for a moment, she asked, “How well did you know Roberto?” She bounced the ball to test its freshness. I sat down on the steps to my office and let my face catch some sun.

  “Not very well. He was little more than a kid and we had nothing in common. But even when he was working, he always seemed distracted and a little arrogant to me. Like in a ‘If you only knew, I’m better than this,’ kind of way. I feel guilty saying that about the dead, but it’s the impression I got of Roberto.”

  “Hey, this is your BFF you’re talking to, I completely understand.” My best friend forever gave a quick nod.

  “Thanks. Where are you going with this, Sally?”

  “I was just thinking that maybe Roberto and Brandon were in on starting the fire together. Perhaps to just burn the auto parts store and something went terribly wrong, the fire spread and Roberto was trapped inside the burning building? We are talking about insurance money here.”

  “That’s a plausible theory. Roberto may have needed an attitude adjustment, but I know he respected the Brunos and I can’t believe he would willingly do anything to hurt them.”

  “It’s a different world out there today, although I doubt that most of these kids even see it, they’re so focused on their tiny phone screens. I told you that I’ve been giving CPR classes at the church, haven’t I, Halsey?”

  “I remember you mentioning something about cardiopulmonary resuscitation instruction; how’s that going?”

  “The class is mostly filled with the people that are probably going to need CPR sooner rather than later. A bunch of old fogies. But I was pleased last Sunday to see four guys about Roberto’s age in attendance.”

  “Did you ask what brought them in?”

  “In a round-about way I did. I asked if there was anything in particular that they wanted me to show them, and this one fellow said that his kid sister had a pool accident and he just froze. Luckily, there was someone else on site to administer CPR.”

  “Hmm, you know how people say that millennials are the me, me, me generation? That they think that they deserve everything?”

  Sally gave me a firm nod in agreement.

  “What if the truth is the opposite? And their arrogance is just a defense mechanism for feelings of inadequacy? Think about it, everything they say and do is judged immediately by their peers and their families on social media.”

  “You’re right. At least when I made a bone-head move as a kid I could go and hide in my room and leaf through my granddaddy’s encyclopedia of infectious diseases.”

  I had no rebound to that statement from Sally.

  She tossed the tennis ball in the air and went through the motions of serving, letting the ball drop back down at her feet.

  We both were lost in thought for a moment. Bardot ambled up to us from the chaise lounge by the pool. I assumed that she had put all the squirrels in their place and was relinquishing patrol for a while.

  Sally went through another serve motion and this time hit the ball, aiming for the fence that separated my yard from Marisol’s. It sailed high and over, and we heard the sound of pottery breaking.

  “I’m suing you, Halsey!” came a yell from the other side of the fence.

  “Bardot, you know a lot more than you’re saying, don’t you? Don’t you?”

  Sally had a special voice she used when talking to Bardot—it’s a habit people fall into with babies and pets that I’ve never understood. After all Bardot doesn’t bark slower or softer when she is among friends of the human variety.

  Although I must admit that Bardot loved it and was now on her back at Sally’s feet, legs splayed wide for all the world to see her lady parts.

  “Sorry to interrupt this canine love fest,” said Jack, coming in the street entrance of my office. “Hello, wifey-to-be.” He gave me a kiss.

  “Not if you’re going to call me ‘wifey.’”

  “Sorry. Hi, Sally. How are you doing?”

  I looked over and saw that Bardot had suddenly sat up straight and at attention for Jack.

  You’re such a teacher’s pet . . .

  “I’ve only got a minute, but I thought you’d find this interesting,” Jack teased us.

  “What have you got, big guy?” This had gotten Sally’s attention.

  “It’s about the fire. I was working with my friend Mark early this morning . . . we’re training a couple of new dogs. Mark’s with the DEA; he and I go way back,” Jack said for Sally’s benefit.

  “Did he say that there were drugs involved with the strip mall fire?”

  “In a way, Halsey. The Drug Enforcement Agency was called when it was reported that the drugstore’s safe was missing from the scene.”

  “Maybe it burned to almost nothing like the pizza oven?”

  “Same question I asked, Sally. But the owners of the drugstore have paperwork showing that the safe was guaranteed to be fireproof for heat up to seventeen hundred degrees for about an hour.”

  “What if the safe didn’t live up to its claims?”

  Someone has to be the skeptic.

  “Mark says that’s unlikely. This safe was made with something called ‘insulite’; it has passed UL tests with flying colors and is the preferred material for vaults used by financial institutions.”

  “Interesting . . . good work, honey. I’m guessing that since Mark is now involved the contents of this safe were of the pharmaceutical kind?”

  Jack pointed his index finger to his nose, indicating that my hunch was correct. Bardot saw that as some sort of doggie command hand signal and offered up a “down,” “rollover,” and “crouch” pose to cover her bases.

  “Jack, what was the size of this safe? Could it be moved by a couple of young, strong guys?”

  “Who do you have in mind, Sally?” Jack gave her a wink.

  We waited for him to continue.

  “Okay, never mind. The safe would have been heavy but movable. I’m told that it was used mostly to house the opioids in their inventory. The good news is that if whoever stole the drugs goes to sell them on the street that at least they are legit and not synthetic. But naturally Mark would rather take possession of them first. You ladies have someone in mind for this theft?”

  Sally was about to speak when I interrupted.

  “It’s a long shot, and we really have no evidence at all. We’re just throwing spaghetti on the wall to see if it sticks.”

  Jack squinted his eyes at me to show his suspicion.

  “Cross my heart,” I said while deliberately running my hand in an “X” pattern over both breasts.

  Jack was no longer squinting.

  The ring of his cell phone broke in, and he grabbed it out of his pocket to check the caller ID.

  “Darn, I’ve got to boogie, babe, I’ve got a crazy day. I’ll call you when I can. Bye, Sally!”

  “Well, that was an interesting bit of news,” Sally looked at me.

  “It sure was. Who knows what those drugs could fetch on the street? I remember reading something saying that Oxy is going for a crazy fourteen times what it sells for in a drugstore.”

  “What? That could make me lose my religion!” Sally looked at her pedometer, exited, and continued her step routine.

  * * *

  I made myself a second cup of tea, drank it, relaxed, and then managed to herd my thoughts into laying out Liza Gilhooly’s site in the after
noon, which made me feel like I hadn’t totally wasted the day musing about “kids these days.” I was hoping to get started on it right away while my mind was focused, so I gave her a call.

  “Halsey, what a nice surprise! Is my website finished?” She followed her silly question with a deep, extended belly laugh.

  “In a way, Liza. I’ve got all the technical specs and site map worked out and was wondering when you had time to go over everything.”

  “Wow, I was just kidding. You really are fast. Hmm, I’ve got a couple of showings this evening . . . hey, want to meet sometime tomorrow?”

  “Perfect; ten work for you?”

  “Sure does unless one of my showings turns into an extended showing if you get my drift.” On came that Liza laugh again.

  “Quick question before I let you go, Liza. You were telling me the other day about this Provident Commerce Group. Do you remember the names of any of the partners?”

  “Oh, sweetie, you’re asking me to dust off a lot of cobwebs in my thinking cap. It’s also possible that what they told me was a total fabrication. I’m going to need to work on this for a bit. I’ll call you if I get a brain burp. Toodles.”

  I wasn’t sure how much help Liza would be if she regained her memory, but I wasn’t about to give up on the owners of the strip mall. Too many things didn’t add up or sounded very unusual. Why didn’t anyone know their names? Why did they hide behind managers and shill company lawyers? I made a note to find out how much rent the Brunos had been paying. I was about to call it a day and go for a swim with Bardot when the great Aretha Franklin sang out as my ringtone with her rendition of, “I Say a Little Prayer.” I figured Liza was calling back to tell me that she’d had a “brain burp” as she called it.

  “You remembered a name?” I’d answered, not bothering to check the caller ID.

  “What name? This is Inspector Mason.”

  Ugh.

  “I thought that you were someone else calling.”

  “What name are you asking someone to remember, Halsey?”

  I was sliding down the rabbit hole and needed to end this.

  “How can I help you, Inspector? I assume that you called for a reason. You are aware that I am affianced?”

  That shut him up for a moment.

  “I want to follow up on your conversation with this Brandon guy,” he said. “I’d like to take your statement and record exactly what you saw and what was said.”

  “Okay, ask away.”

  “I’m afraid it has to be a little more formal than a phone call. If you give me your address I can stop by within the hour.”

  Ew, that wasn’t going to happen. It was getting dark out, no bueno.

  “I’m all booked up today and I don’t really like to have visitors. My dog can be very possessive and protective of me.”

  “You know I’ve met your dog, Halsey?” Inspector Mason paused for a beat. “Are you able to come down to the firehouse? It is very close to where you live.”

  “How do you know where I live?”

  “Anytime that is convenient, like between nine and ten tomorrow morning.”

  Convenient my butt. Then I had an idea.

  “I have an important meeting at ten so whatever you need to know has to happen in less than an hour. I’ll see you then, Inspector Mason.”

  I hung up before he could argue to change the meeting time.

  It was then that I did something that I was most certainly going to regret.

  “Marisol, I need your help,” I said after I’d dialed.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, right at nine, I parked across the street from Fire Station 62 and watched an engine back into one of two large garage doors. As expected, the vehicle was pristine, the cherry red so polished that I could see my reflection in the side of the truck from thirty feet away. The driver waved to me from out his window. Ah, I was entering the world of happy, helpful people.

  I’d gotten a text from Liza Gilhooly about an hour before, asking if we could postpone our meeting until Monday. She said that she was busy with an offer she needed to get inked. I realized that her business leases and deeds would always take top priority.

  This station looked relatively new compared to some of the relics I’ve seen around Venice; it was modern, sleek, but inviting. The façade of the entry to the lobby was made of corrugated tin siding that had been painted what I’d call an “Easter purple.” The front door was locked but to the right was a lighted red button. A strip of paper with the words PLEASE RING BELL was taped beside it.

  I did as I was told. Something I do on rare occasions.

  In moments the door opened, and I heard a man say, “There’s no one here.” I hadn’t expected the big door to open so wide. In order to avoid being hit by it, I had to keep moving into the wall until I was actually wedged between the outside of the door and the right side of the building’s façade.

  “I’m behind the door.” I felt like a dork.

  I saw two heads appear around the open door and smile at me. They were both in their twenties I guessed. One was tall, dark, and handsome and one was tall, blond, and handsome. Take your pick.

  “Hi, I’m Halsey, and I was told to meet Inspector Mason here.”

  “Come on in. I’m Cody and this is Phillip. We’re paramedics, but the captain’s engine just pulled into the apparatus bay and he should be able to help you.”

  “Thank you. Is there any chance that I could get a quick tour of the station?” As a teenager I’d practiced the look I gave them in the mirror for hours each day. It was the one where I smile with closed lips, putting slight emphasis on my right cheek where the dimple is more pronounced. Simultaneously, I ever so slightly raise my left eyebrow to give my expression some counterbalance and allure. And since they were both well over six feet tall I had to raise my eyes up for eye contact.

  Works every time.

  “Sure,” they said in unison.

  The lobby was cavernous . . . To the left a wide staircase ascended past a mural painted in the bright, saturated colors that I remember seeing at the strip mall fire. It depicts three firefighters climbing painted stairs that appear to be a continuation of the actual stairs of the station and into a doorway ablaze in orange fire. One of the men carries a working water hose. It is impressive and somber at the same time.

  “Upstairs are the sleeping quarters,” Phillip explained, following the direction that I was looking. “And in front of us is the pole that we use during night dispatches.”

  “Would you like to head up and take a look?”

  How could I say “no” to dear Cody?

  “I thought that you had a meeting at ten that you just can’t miss?”

  Cue the needle-scratching-record sound effect.

  “Ah, Inspector Mason. These gentlemen were kind enough to give me a tour of the station while I waited for you to arrive for our nine-a.m. meeting. I’ve got just about thirty-five minutes now.”

  Never mind that my meeting had been postponed. A promise is a promise.

  “I’ve been in the apparatus bay the entire time waiting for you, Halsey!”

  “How would I have known that? I came into the lobby just like any other tax-paying citizen.”

  I heard snickers from my fire boys.

  “Come on into the garage. I’ve set up in there and the captain is joining us.”

  Mason turned his back on me and started toward a side door.

  I didn’t budge.

  “Are you coming?” he demanded.

  “What is that word I’m waiting to hear, Cody?”

  “Is it ‘please’?”

  “I think it is.”

  I literally could see smoke coming out of Inspector Mason’s ears at this point and turned my attention to the pole, expecting firefighters to arrive on scene at any second.

  Mason dropped his head and turned it to one shoulder in an effort to control his temper.

  This is a man that didn’t like to be scolded. Which led me t
o believe that he had been . . . a lot.

  “Please.” It was more than a whisper but sounded like it came from a sickly Keebler elf.

  “Thanks, guys. If it’s alright with you, I’ll come back and finish that tour when I’m less pressed for time and aggravation.”

  “Sure!”

  At that point a voice came over the loudspeaker system, and I could make out the words “paramedics” and part of an address.

  “That’s us,” Phillip said, and they took off.

  Inside my mind I quickly said a little prayer for their safety. They’re so young.

  Inspector Mason had already gone through the side door, and I followed suit.

  The apparatus bay was cavernous but bright and sunny. Men were gathered around a waist-high platform that when I got nearer saw—embedded in the top—a laminated map of the Los Angeles area. The station captain introduced himself to me, since Inspector Mason still hadn’t been able to put his hands on his misplaced manners.

  “Thanks for coming down to help us, Ms. Halsey.” Another firefighter that looked like the picture of kindness. The captain’s warm face and smile made me promise myself to drink some of the station’s water before I left. I could use some squeaky clean to rub off on me.

  “Thank you, Captain, for keeping our Mar Vista community safe. Thank all of you,” I added, addressing the few firefighters standing on each side of him.

  “I’d like to go over two events that you witnessed. One on the day of the fire and the second when you encountered the owner of the auto parts store the next morning.”

  Inspector Mason really doesn’t play well with others . . .

  I nodded slightly and waited for him to ask his question. The noise of a second truck pulling in had distracted him. Mason walked out of the apparatus bay as he spoke, and I followed along with the others.

  “Now this is important—”

  “I assume so or I wouldn’t be here.” I couldn’t resist.