Combustible (A Boone Childress Novel)

by CC Abbott

  "Some bomb dog you are," Boone said. "Those are birds."

  They stopped for a water fountain near the green.

  “Come on. We’re going to miss Eugene,” Boone said.

  “He’s thirsty.” Cedar held the pedal down to let Chigger drink first.

  Chigger covered the steel dish with both paws and lapped up the stream of rusty water. He hiked his leg to let loose on the fountain base.

  Cedar jumped back. "I can't take you anywhere."

  The Atamasco VFW was number three in line for the parade, while the Frisco house was near the end, number one hundred seventy three. As he ran with Chigger to catch up with the Atamasco firefighters, he passed several men from his own firehouse, notably Lamar and Julia, who waved his one fingered salute at Boone.

  Turning the corner of Third and Palmetto, the Atamasco VFW, came into view. There were nineteen firefighters in brown and yellow turnouts lead by the fire captain’s yellow truck. The parade led them down the rivulet of Third Street to the wide channels of downtown.

  The parade turned the corner onto Palmetto Street, the truck sounding its horn. On the corner of Second Street, they passed the public library building and neared the green. Eugene Guthrie was marching on the opposite side of the street from where Cedar was in position.

  “Luigi,” he said as if his friend were standing next to him, “tell Cedar to cross the street.”

  Through the ear bud Luigi had given them, he heard Luigi give the direction and Cedar acknowledge it.

  Boone loitered for a moment at the corner to watch the Bragg High Band march by, led by Mr. Blevins, who probably had more on his mind, like the angry phone calls he was getting about the Tin City cemetery.

  Boone blew his nose into his handkerchief. It was the signal.

  "Let’s go, Chigger,” Cedar said, her voice coming into Boone’s ear bud.

  Five minutes later, Eugene Loach marched past the Firebird Hotel. He was turned waving to the crowd when Cedar crashed into his hip, knocking him flat on the pavement.

  Cedar dropped knees-first on top of Eugene, pinning him to the ground.

  “Get off me!” Eugene bellowed.

  “Sorry,” Cedar said, “trying to catch my dog. Chigger!”

  Boone moved closer. He saw Eugene draw back his leg, like he was going to kick Cedar. Then when Loach saw her face, he held off.

  “Lucky you’re a girl,” he said.

  Lucky, she’s a white girl, Boone thought. If she had been Latin, what would he had have done?

  The other firefighters stopped short, and Chigger raced between their legs until he found Cedar. He leaped into her arms, and she held him still long enough to get a good, long sniff.

  Chigger barked and growled.

  Boone pumped his fist. Yes!

  “Get that mutt away from me!” Eugene bellowed.

  “Sorry officer,” Cedar said, backing up to the curb.

  “I ain’t no cop,” Eugene growled. “I’m a goddamn firefighter.”

  He was a lot of other things, too, Boone thought as he waited for the parade to move on. A few minutes later, he and Cedar met up on the front steps of the public library.

  “Yes!” Boone said, leaning down to rub Chigger’s ears. “Good boy, you caught the bad man. Yes, you did.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Cedar said.

  Boone laughed, thinking she was teasing. The look on her face showed she wasn’t. “But he snarled at Eugene. You said he got aggressive when he detected a smell.”

  “No,” she said. “He sits when he detects bomb materials. He snarls when he thinks someone’s threatening me.”

  “You mean—“

  “Eugene Loach isn’t the guy you’re looking for."

  "Okay,” Boone said, “if Eugene Loach isn't the arsonist, who is?"

  "You look bummed," Cedar said, setting an iced tea on the metal table. She pulled up a chair, and they sat with Luigi on Red Fox Java's patio to watch the parade inch by. With almost two hundred groups marching, it would take over an hour to finish.

  "Disappointed,” Boone said. “I thought I had the case solved."

  "You sound like Nancy Drew."

  "Ahem."

  "The Hardy Boys then."

  "That's not much better."

  Luigi looked at them with a curious expression. "Is this an obscure American cultural reference?"

  "Quaint is a better word, Luigi."

  Cedar reached down to scratch Chigger's ears. Despite the ticket Mercer had given her, the dog was stretched on the patio at her feet. "The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew were books about young detectives."

  "Ah," Luigi said. "Why is this relevant?"

  "Boone always wanted to be a sleuth."

  "A fact that has nothing to do with this situation." Boone took a long sip of iced tea. How could he explain that he felt personally responsible for Consuelo's death? Finding the arsonist was the only way he could think of to wipe the slate clean. "It's something I have to do."

  "So what's the plan now?" Cedar said.

  "I have no idea." Boone looked up in time to see Eugene Loach and his boys approaching. “Here comes trouble.”

  "Look what we got here, boys," Eugene said. "A socialist and his foreigner buddy."

  Luigi watched as Eugene passed the table. His eyes narrowed, and for the first time, Boone saw a look on his face. A mixture of disgust and anger. "There is a word in Japan for men like you. We call them baka yaro."

  "That means white man, right?"

  "No,” Luigi said. “It means stupid bastard."

  Ronnie and Donnie followed Loach, who stepped over the iron banister into the patio area. Loach lifted Chigger up by the scruff of the neck.

  “Nice dog you got here.” He shouted into the beagle’s face. “You ain’t so tough now, are you. Huh? Huh?”

  Chigger growled and showed his teeth, while Cedar threw back her chair and grabbed Eugene’s arm, pulling it at the elbow. She let out a string of scorching profanity.

  Boone stood too, but his access to Loach’s face—which he intended to punch—was blocked by the table. The rest of the customers on the patio went silent, their attention drawn to a fireman menacing a small dog and a young woman, who suddenly snatched a glass of iced tea and threw it into the man’s face.

  Eugene’s first reaction was to cover his face with his left. His second was to throw Chigger with his right, a weak toss that sent the dog over the iron banister.

  Boone moved before thinking. He leaped like a wide receiver going for an overthrown pass, fingertips extended to catch the dog. Chigger fell into his hands, still snarling, as Boone’s dive carried him halfway over the banister. For an instant, he teetered on his stomach, then both elbows hit the asphalt, and Chigger jumped free. The sleeves of Boone’s shirt shredded, and he felt the pavement ripping his skin just as a horn sounded.

  He looked up.

  A fire truck. Bearing down on him. Twenty feet away.

  The tires are bald, he thought, and then pulled his legs free of the banister. He felt another rip as he rolled back against the banister.

  The brakes of the fire truck filled the air with metallic smoke as it jerked to a stop, inches from where Boone’s head had been.

  Before he could stop to thank his lucky stars, he heard Chigger growl again and Cedar scream Luigi’s name.

  Ronnie and Donnie had Luigi. One was pulling his head. The other was trying to pull down his pants, while Luigi kicked as hard as he could, yelling something in Japanese.

  Eugene held Cedar by the front of the shirt, holding her at arm’s length, and Chigger was trying to rip the pants leg off Loach’s turnouts.

  Eugene was laughing.

  “You think that’s funny?” Boone grabbed a chair from the patio and was deciding which moron to hit first when a man yelled out the window of the engine.

  “What the Hell is going on here?”

  Boone recognized that voice. “Lamar?”

  Lamar hopped down from the truck. He had Boone’s
hooligan tool, and he carried it like a club. “I said, what the Hell is going on here? Loach! Tell your boys to lay off before me and this stick teach them the new meaning of asshole.”

  “Lamar, stand down,” Boone said, “I can handle these guys.”

  Surprised by the command, Lamar complied. So did Ronnie and Donnie, without any word from Eugene. They set Luigi down on the concrete and backed away.

  That left only Eugene.

  “You ain’t my daddy,” Eugene growled at Lamar. “You ain’t my boss. You ain’t the law. Where you get off filing a complaint against me, huh?”

  Boone took the hooligan from Lamar and moved closer. He held the tool lightly in his hands, ready for anything. “Get your filthy hands off my girlfriend, Loach, or I’m going to kick your ass.”

  “You want her?” Eugene pushed Cedar toward Boone, who caught her in one arm and held onto her. “You can have her.”

  “You okay?” Boone asked Cedar as he let her go, and she stepped away.

  “I'm okay,” she said.

  “Like I said,” Eugene said. “We done here?’

  Not even close, Boone thought. “You let a human being die in a fire.”

  “Oh, hell, she was dead for sure the minute the house blew.”

  “You knew the house blew," Boone said, "which means you got there early. But you didn’t try a rescue. Admit it.”

  Eugene shrugged. “What of it?”

  “You and your boys heard her screaming,” Boone said.

  “Yeah, so what? I'm tired of working my ass off to pay taxes so the government can spend it all on foreigners.” Eugene spat on the ground. “You expect me to risk the lives of three white men for one old Mexican?”

  Boone swung the blunt end of the tool up in an arc, connecting with the tip of Loach’s mandible. The force of the blow traveled to the edge of the mandible, striking the cerebral nerve. He was out cold before his carcass fell backwards onto a metal table, rolled, and landed face first on the concrete.

  Cedar plopped into her chair. She was covered in sweat, as if she had just finished an overtime match. Chigger never lost his grip. He continued trying to shred the turnout pants.

  Boone whirled, bringing the lance tip of the hooligan to bear, and pointed it at Ronnie, who looked like he had swallowed a cow patty. “It’s a different ballgame when you’re victim can fight back, isn’t it?”

  “Now don’t do something you’ll regret,” Donnie said.

  “I won’t regret it,” Boone snarled.

  Lamar grabbed the shaft of the hooligan. “Yes, son, you will.”

  What Boone really wanted to do was punish the twins. But Lamar’s hand was strong, and his voice steady. Boone’s hands began to shake, and he let Lamar take the hooligan away.

  “Ronnie and Donnie, get the hell out of here.” Lamar said.

  He didn’t have to say it twice. One look at Boone and Lamar standing together, breathing fire, with a sharp stick between them, convinced them to make a run for it. They left Eugene were he lay as they high-tailed it across the green.

  Lamar radioed Julia to send the EMTs over. “We’ve got a Caucasian male, late twenties, possible head injuries.”

  As Lamar checked on Eugene—he was coming to—and completed the call, Boone helped Luigi get himself together, and they checked on Cedar, who was holding Chigger in her lap, scratching his ears. The dog had given up on Eugene’s pants, but he wore the look of a David who had just taken down Goliath.

  A flock of customers surrounded Cedar now, patting her hand, offering her sips of drinks, which she gladly accepted.

  Through the mass of bodies, Boone caught her eye. You okay? he mouthed.

  Thanks, she answered as someone put the straw of a chai latte to her lips. Cedar may have been a dog lover, but she had recovery ability of a cat.

  Lamar stayed at Eugene’s side until the EMTs arrived. They got there two minutes before Sheriff Hoyt and Deputy Mercer pulled up in their prowlers.

  Mercer was first on the scene, his siren blasting, all lights on the car blinking and flashing. He parked in the street inches from the patio and bolted from his car, leaving the door open, hand on his firearm.

  Hoyt parked on the opposite side of the street. His roll lights were on when he arrived. He turned them off before he left the car.

  “Pete,” Hoyt said as he joined the scene. “Turn those lights off. You’re messing up the parade. All that flashing’s bound to give a man a headache.” He saw Lamar in the crowd. “Who called this in?”

  “I did,” Lamar said, and they shook hands. Lamar gave him a quick and factual account of the situation. “The EMTs think he’s fine. They’re taking him to the emergency room for head X-rays. Don’t expect they’ll find anything.”

  Hoyt laughed and slapped Lamar’s back. “I expect you’re right. This sounds like a mess of paperwork, and I’ve got the pleasure of crowning Little Miss Bragg this year, so I’m going to hand this off to Deputy Mercer.”

  Boone groaned inside. Cedar didn’t bother to keep it inside, and Luigi calmly sat at the table, checking his watch. “The Olympiad begins any minute now.”

  “We’ll take care of y’all.” Hoyt pointed at Mercer, who had reappeared with his little book in hand, “Pete, just get names and addresses. Don’t bother with statements. They can come by the office tomorrow. Meet me over at the bandstand when you’re through here.”

  “What about the victim?” Mercer said, pointing out the gurney rolling Eugene toward the awaiting ambulance.

  “I don’t know that victim is the right word,” Hoyt said, “but if you’re set on getting his statement, feel free to head over to the hospital once they’ve taken pictures.” He nodded to the customers still milling around the patio, then he rubbed his face. "Enjoy the rest of the festival folks. Y’all take care.”

  With a wave, he was back to the prowler. He made a three point turn, stuck a hand out the window, and waved goodbye.

  “Don’t anyone try to leave,” Mercer told the crowd, lifting his high voice as loud as it would go, “I need information from every witness. Let’s start with the girl and the dog.”

  Boone checked his watch. “We have to be present at the judging,” he said quietly to Lamar, after sidling up to him. “This could take forever.”

  Lamar nodded. He took a business card out of his wallet and scribbled something on the back. “Excuse me, deputy,” he said when Mercer was finished with Cedar. “We’ve got to go. Here’s my card with all my contact info. I wrote Boone’s on the back.”

  Mercer took the card. “You can’t leave until I give you permission.”

  “Actually, I can. And I’m going to. Cedar and Luigi have got to get to the Olympiad, and it’s almost time for the Frisco VFD’s turn to march the parade.”

  “I’m marching, too?” Boone said, his voice cracking.

  Lamar pinched the back of his neck and gave him a shake. “Of course you are. You’re one of us.”

  Boone pumped his fist. “Come on, Cedar. Luigi.”

  “Hold on,” Mercer said, holding a hand up to Luigi as he tried to exit. “I don’t have your info, and unless you’ve got a business card, have a seat. It’s going to be awhile.”

  “Da-Ta!” Luigi pulled out a business card. “My pleasure.”

  Mercer snatched the card. “This is Japanese writing. Are you trying to make a fool of me, boy?”

  He’s doing a good enough job of that himself, Boone thought. “The other side—" Boone turned it over for him “—is in English”

  Cedar set Chigger on the ground, and they all headed for the exit before Mercer could think of another reason to delay them. Boone was the last one out, and he almost didn’t make it. His foot caught on Chigger’s leash, which had turned into a trip wire, because Chigger, who usually stuck to Cedar like pine sap, suddenly sat down on the patio and would not budge.

  “Come on, pup.” Boone picked him up without a second thought, his mind filled with the feeling of Cedar falling into his arms and the l
ook of trust and relief when he caught her.

  At the Olympiad ceremony, Dr. K stood on a temporary stage in the small courtyard adjacent to the public library. It was an outdoor reading room, but today, the chairs were replaced by long tables, and the tables were filled with dozens of research projects. Dr. K looked frazzled. There were dark circles under her eyes that makeup couldn't completely mask, and her fingernails were trimmed to the quick.

  She's been chewing them, Boone thought.

  Boone, Luigi, and Cedar stood anxiously at the edge of the last row of tables, as far away from the stage was they could get so that Cedar could keep an eye on Chigger, who wasn’t allowed in the fair. Instead, he was tied up to a maple sapling on the lawn with a chew toy and a full water bowl, which Boone had fashioned out of duct tape using Luigi’s head as a mold.

  “That,” Dr. K said into her wireless mic, “is the last of the high school division awards. Next, we move to the senior division of Science Olympiad, which includes undergraduate research project with a ten thousand dollar scholarship for the winner. Before we announce the awards, however, I would like to commend all of the students in this year’s competition. I must say that the quality of the work is nothing short of astonishing. Our unbiased judges were impressed, as well. It is a tad cliché, but truly, you are all winners today.”

  “Just get on with it,” Cedar said, tapping a foot as she crossed her arms.

  Boone nudged her. “Patience, young Skywalker.”

  “It’s easy to relax when you can fire a yellow ball one hundred mph at your opponent’s head. Judging, that kills me.”

  “And you thought ice skaters had it easy.” Boone turned his attention to Luigi. “How’s the breathing exercises, Zen master?”

  Luigi exhaled. “Americans talk too much. I do not understand why she must apologize for the competitive nature of the fair when this is a competition.”

  “Good point,” Boone said.