Stillwater

by Mary Jo Hazard

  “Mr. O’Malley,” Maggie screamed, pointing at the burning building. “Please, Jimmy’s inside. Under the shuffleboard table.”

  “Mrs. Teaford, too,” Denny shouted. “She’s hurt bad.”

  “I knew it was a cat,” Louanne said. “Where is she?”

  “If that was Mrs. Teaford,” I said, “she’s okay. I saw her jump out the window.”

  “Shuffleboard table?” O’Malley shouted back. “There’s no way to get through those flames.”

  “Shuffleboard table,” Maggie mouthed, but no sound came out.

  I closed my eyes, leaned against Denny, and prayed.

  Mr. Nunnalley and his assistant immobilized my arm and tucked thick blankets around us. They checked our blood pressure, listened to our chests, and gave us water. Mr. Nunnalley squirted something in our eyes to stop the burning, but they still hurt, and I couldn’t stop blinking.

  A roar went up from all of the firemen as O’Malley walked out of the front door with Jimmy in his arms.

  “Tony got the kid and handed him over to me. He’s the luckiest little son of a bitch I’ve ever seen,” he said, dropping him on Maggie’s lap. “The kid was right there under the shuffleboard table curled up against the wall—low enough to protect him from the smoke. What the hell were you kids doing in there?”

  The chief ran out of the building. “Out! Roof’s gonna give. Stand back.”

  Mr. Howe and the other fireman scrambled down the ladder.

  “Where’s Dodd?” O’Malley raced toward the front door. “Quick, he’s inside.”

  Uncle Tony appeared in the doorway with someone flung over his shoulder. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground. The building collapsed with a loud roar, covering both men with piles of burning debris.

  “Shovels! Train the hoses there,” Captain Steele yelled, pointing at the place where Uncle Tony went down. “Hurry!”

  Firemen rushed over with shovels and pried the burning beams off the two men as fast as they could. When the beams were pushed to the side, O’Malley knelt down beside the men for a minute or two, and then he pushed himself to his feet and quickly motioned for Mr. Nunnalley.

  Mr. Nunnalley and his assistant raced over with the stretcher and picked up one of the men, who was screaming and thrashing around. They loaded him on the stretcher while Mr. Howe ran around to the back of the ambulance and grabbed a white blanket. The firemen stepped aside and watched Mr. Howe cover the other man. They dropped their heads and stepped back when he pulled the blanket all the way up.

  “Somebody get Mortie over here ASAP,” O’Malley shouted. “Tony Dodd just went to his last fire.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Dr. Whalen invited us to his house that night; it was easier for him than making house calls at three different places, and we all wanted to be together.

  Mrs. Whalen brought coffee, cold drinks, and a tray of cookies into the parlor. She passed them around and left the rest on one side of her long mahogany sideboard so we could help ourselves to more. My mother, Doc, and Denny were there, along with O’Malley the cop, the Millers, Aunt Michelle, Louanne, and Vinnie the butcher.

  “My mother will never get over this,” Aunt Michelle said quietly to Vinnie. “Tony was her baby.” Her shoulders slumped, and she covered her face with her hands. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket, handed it to her, and draped an arm over her shoulder.

  O’Malley the cop sat at a small desk at the end of the room talking on the phone in a low monotone. He shook his head several times and frowned.

  I looked around the room. Preposterous as it sounded, none of us were badly hurt. It was a miracle. We were stunned, of course, but physically fine. I was hurt the worst. Dr. Whalen had just finished stitching my cuts, setting my arm, and casting it. He gave me something that tasted like cough syrup for the pain, and I felt sleepy and a little woozy. I had to wear the cast for eight weeks because it was a bad break, but the doctor said it would heal just fine.

  We all suffered from smoke inhalation, but Dr. Whalen had given us oxygen and told us we’d be hoarse and coughing for a few days, but as long as we weren’t spitting up blood or having trouble breathing, there wasn’t a problem.

  O’Malley ended his phone call and walked over to the middle of the room. “Bring a few more chairs in here so everyone can sit,” he said, gesturing to Vinnie.

  “I’ll sit on the floor,” I said, dropping down slowly on the rug. “I don’t need a chair.”

  “Good idea, kids on the floor.”

  “I’m staying here,” Louanne said, sitting on the arm of the couch beside Aunt Michelle. It was hard seeing everyone so sad—especially Lou. She was the one who always said funny things and made everyone laugh, but there wasn’t anything to laugh about tonight.

  Dr. Whalen walked into the room. “Michelle, I couldn’t be sorrier about your brother. I just got off the phone with Mortie. He offered to come over, but I told him you’d make the funeral arrangements in the morning. Not much he can do tonight.”

  “Thank you,” she said, looking up at him. “You’re very kind.”

  O’Malley said, “Christ, we’re all sorry, Michelle. Make yourself comfortable, Doctor. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  The doctor sat down beside my mother and rested his chin on his hand.

  “Everyone settled?” O’Malley paused and rubbed his forehead. “Here’s what I’ve pieced together: Kutter set the fire.”

  “Who?” I asked, looking around the room at the stunned looks on all of the faces. “Mr. Kutter the janitor?”

  “Kutter’s the arsonist—the person who set all the fires this summer.”

  Mr. Kutter wasn’t even on our list.

  Doc got up and crossed the room to the window. He turned around and looked back at O’Malley. “Well, I’ll be damned. Kutter,” he said, shaking his head. “I should have known.”

  “That bastard,” Vinnie said through clenched teeth.

  “Wait—Uncle Tony grabbed Denny,” I said, wrinkling my forehead. I looked over at Jimmy. “You saw him. Right, Jimmy?”

  Jimmy’s head bobbed up and down.

  “Tony took Denny all right, but not to hurt him. To protect him.” O’Malley frowned and looked at Jimmy. “He wanted to get you boys out of Whitman’s.”

  “What are you saying, O’Malley?” Doc asked, glancing at Dr. Whalen. “Any ashtrays here? I need a cigarette.”

  “Right here,” Vinnie said, passing over an ashtray from the end table.

  Doc pulled his Camels out of his pocket, lit up, and inhaled deeply.

  “Here’s what happened,” O’Malley continued. “Tony rode his bike to Whitman’s earlier that afternoon. When the storm blew in, he started for home but stopped when he noticed Kutter’s car hidden behind the bar. He watched Kutter carrying gasoline, Cut-Rite wax paper, and Mrs. Teaford into the place.”

  “Mrs. Teaford?” Louanne said. “Why?”

  “Tony didn’t know why either, but he figured Kutter was gonna set the place on fire. Tony had patience; he waited and watched. While he waited, he scrawled warnings on the dock and doors to scare people away. ‘Danger,’ ‘Keep away’—that sort of stuff. Everybody with me?”

  Louanne nodded and rested her head on Aunt Michelle’s shoulder.

  “So far,” my mother said, leaning forward.

  “Kutter snatched Mrs. Teaford from Miss Doris’s yard earlier in the day. He knew everyone in town would be looking for that cat—especially the kids. He waited until the boys were by themselves and told them that Mrs. Teaford was at the marina and that she was hurt. Of course, the boys jumped up and went after her,” O’Malley continued. “Kutter beat them to the marina and hid his car again.”

  “We thought the cat was down by the docks,” Jimmy interrupted O’Malley. “But she wasn’t.”

  “Kutter snuck out on the porch with the cat and twisted her leg so she’d cry out. The boys ran into the bar to find her, but before the janitor could set the place on fire, Tony grabbed Denny, and
the boys screamed.”

  “I thought Uncle Tony was the bad guy,” Jimmy said, shaking his head.

  “Nope,” O’Malley went on. “Then the girls went in looking for the boys. Kutter trapped them too and set the bar on fire.”

  “Why?” Mrs. Miller gasped.

  “To get revenge on Doc for getting him fired from Saint Mark’s.”

  Doc pulled back a little and looked O’Malley in the eye. “I never thought he’d go so far as to hurt the kids.”

  “He’s a piece of work,” O’Malley said. “But getting back to what happened: Tony sent Denny to Vinnie’s for help.”

  “Denny?” I said in disbelief. “He sent Denny?”

  “Denny?” echoed Louanne, shaking her head.

  Denny nodded. “Gabriel went with me; I wasn’t afraid.”

  O’Malley smiled at Denny, who buried his face in my mother’s lap. “That kid’s a pistol. Tony wasn’t sure which part of the building the kids were in. The place went up fast. He was running around trying to figure out how to save them when Grace broke the window and screamed. He got her out and went back in for the other two.”

  I remembered strong arms grabbing me and a man’s voice telling me I was okay, but nothing else.

  O’Malley went on. “Tony found Jimmy hiding under the shuffleboard table.”

  “Uncle Tony’s a hero,” Louanne said, sighing. Her eyes were red and watery from the smoke, and she rubbed them with her fingers.

  “Then damned if Tony didn’t go back for Kutter,” O’Malley blew air out of his mouth and looked around the room. “Gave his life trying to save the goddamned arsonist who tried to kill the kids.”

  “How did you find this out, O’Malley?” Doc asked.

  “Kutter confessed, and Tony had told Denny a lot of the story so he’d go get help. I pieced the stories together. I know exactly what happened.”

  No one said anything; over on the desk, Doc Whalen’s clock ticked off the seconds, reminding me that things change every day—every minute.

  “It’s not fair. I wish Uncle Tony had lived and…” I said, breaking the silence.

  “You ain’t alone, Grace,” O’Malley said sadly. “None of us like the way this went down. I should’ve realized it was Kutter. I never connected the dots.”

  Aunt Michelle cleared her throat.

  O’Malley looked down and rubbed his jaws with his fingers.

  “Was there a reason he burned those places?” Doc asked, sitting down.

  “Each place that burned had a connection to Saint Mark’s—where Kutter used to work.”

  I remembered the day he came into Vinnie’s store and yelled at Doc. I was worried he might do something to Doc; I never thought he might try to kill Denny.

  “So he set fires at places tied to the school. Remember the Nelsons’ barn? Nelson sold janitorial supplies to Saint Mark’s. The Bailey farmhouse burned: Eleanor Bailey made muffins for the school on First Fridays. Sulley bartended at the old hotel that burned: he coached the school’s baseball team. And Mrs. Phillips gave the school pizza.”

  “But Kutter worked at those places—helped clean up after those fires,” Mr. Miller said. “They hired him.”

  “And nobody suspected him,” O’Malley said.

  “What about Whitman’s?” Doc said, taking a puff on his cigarette. “I don’t see that connection.”

  “No connection. Kutter hung out there,” O’Malley said. “I guess you could say he was a squatter. He stored his arson supplies in the kitchen.”

  “Are you absolutely sure?” Mr. Miller asked.

  “Ab-so-lute-ly! Kutter signed a confession before he went into surgery,” O’Malley said, raising his eyebrows and scratching his head. “Damn fool doesn’t want to burn in hell if he dies.”

  CHAPTER 32

  I didn’t want to go to the wake, but my mother and Doc made me. Uncle Tony would still be alive if I’d watched Denny and Jimmy better. Doc had told me over and over that they would never have left the sidewalk if Mr. Kutter hadn’t tricked them, but I still felt guilty.

  “You don’t have to go inside the house, Grace,” Doc had told me when we were walking over to the Dodds’. “You can sit on the porch, but Tony gave his life to save you kids, and the least you can do is to be there today and show him proper respect.”

  I flinched and dropped back to walk with my mother. She looked nice; her hair was pulled back in a bun, and she wasn’t wearing much makeup. We’d gone shopping the day before in Troy for funeral clothes, and she had on the black dress that she’d bought at Frears Department Store. She saw me looking at her and smiled.

  “You’ll be glad you went,” my mother said, trying to encourage me. “I know it’s hard, Grace, but someday you’ll thank us for making you go.” She smoothed the back of my new navy-blue dress. “I’m glad you chose this color. I don’t like black on girls your age.”

  “I know.” I stiffened my back, wishing my mother would stop talking about the dress. I’d picked the one she liked so we could get out of the store and go home, but I hated it. I hated my new patent leather shoes too; they were stiff, and they hurt my feet. There wasn’t much I liked about anything today—I just wanted it to be over. I watched the back of Doc’s head, hoping he’d change his mind, but he looked straight ahead and kept walking. He didn’t know that Uncle Tony’s death had brought back my father’s suicide, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get either one of them out of my mind.

  The nights were the worst. I was afraid to go to sleep because I had the same nightmare over and over. The burning building was caving in on Uncle Tony, and my father was holding a gun to his own head. I’d scream “No, Daddy, no!,” and he’d look at me and pull the trigger. I’d yell “Run! Run!” to Uncle Tony, and he’d look at me, and the building would collapse. Everything in the dream turned red from my father’s blood and the flames. Mr. Kutter floated overhead on a cloud of black smoke, laughing and laughing. I’d wake up in a cold sweat screaming, and my mother and Denny would run into my room to see what was going on.

  My mind couldn’t even be trusted when I was awake. A couple of times, I was sure I saw Uncle Tony riding his bike down the street. Thoughts about the fire burst into my head with no warning. It was so real—as if it were happening again. I couldn’t save my father, and I couldn’t save Uncle Tony. It was always my fault.

  Doc stopped when we got to the Dodds’ to let my mother and me go up the steps first. Maggie and Louanne were sitting at the end of the porch on the railing.

  “Louanne, Maggie,” he said, nodding his head. “Don’t you girls look nice.”

  “Hi, Mr. Flynn,” Louanne said. “Thanks for coming.”

  My mother and Doc went inside. I walked over to Louanne and Maggie and carefully climbed up on the railing next to them.

  “My father’s here,” Louanne said, smiling a little. “He came last night. I’m going home with him tomorrow after the funeral.” She turned and looked at me. “He said that he and my mother are trying to work things out.”

  “Oh, that’s great,” I said, smiling back. “What happened?”

  “I guess when Uncle Tony died, he realized he could lose us forever too. He doesn’t want that.”

  I threw my good arm around her shoulders. We sat there quietly, watching people walk up to the house and file inside. Almost everyone in town came. Most of them dropped their eyes and nodded when they came up the steps; others looked straight ahead.

  Mrs. Earl and her nephew walked over when they noticed us. She had on a somber black dress and matching pillbox hat; her nephew had on a shiny blue suit and white shirt. He brushed his hair back and looked down at his feet.

  “I’m so sorry, Louanne,” Mrs. Earl said, throwing her arms around Louanne.

  Maggie stuck her finger under her nose and made a face.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Earl,” Lou said, pulling back a little.

  “It’s a sad day, dears,” Mrs. Earl continued as she steered her nephew toward the door. “We’ll
see you inside.”

  “She didn’t smell that bad,” Louanne said. “I think even Mrs. Earl cleans up for a wake.”

  Maggie murmured in agreement.

  Inside the house, Mrs. O’Malley was playing “Amazing Grace” on Aunt Michelle’s old upright piano. I closed my eyes for a moment and remembered my father singing that song to me. The music calmed me down, and I closed my eyes and tried to relax. It was one of the hottest days of the summer—or at least that’s what it felt like. I rested my cast on my knee and flexed my fingers a few times, trying to make them stop tingling.

  “Here come the Cannons,” Maggie whispered. “Brace yourselves.”

  I took a deep breath and sat up straight.

  “Afternoon, girls,” Mr. Cannon said, walking up the steps. He held the door open for his wife and son, Gary. They saw us and stopped.

  Mrs. Cannon pulled her black sweater tight across her chest and said, “We came to pay our respects—to say some prayers for our—I mean, Tony Dodd’s—soul.”

  Gary nodded and mouthed “Sorry” before he followed his mother into the house.

  Louanne rolled her eyes and sniffed.

  “Let it go, Lou.” I rubbed my cast and sighed. “Maybe they finally understand.”

  “I’m not sure,” Louanne said, swinging her feet back and forth. Her shiny blond hair was pushed back under a black headband, and she was wearing a white linen dress and white-strapped sandals. “Remember Gary calling my uncle crazy and blaming him for setting the fires—right in front of everybody? Remember?”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t let him get away with it,” I said.

  “You knocked the heck out of him,” Maggie said. “In front of everybody.”