Firetrap

by Earl Emerson

“I worked with Fish for two years, and his superior attitude toward people less fortunate than him always rubbed me the wrong way. Did you catch his snide comment about the Z Club not being a primo place for a wedding reception?”

  “Not having seen the Z Club when it was standing, I don’t have any idea what sort of place it was.”

  “Think firetrap. It had siding that was different colors and foundation problems, and nobody’d bothered to paint it in thirty years. Those people were there because they didn’t have the money to go anywhere else. Fish knows that.”

  “Is that why you jumped him about the promotion?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Earlier in the day at the Mount Zion Baptist Church, Miriam Beckmann pulled me aside and indicated she had collated a list of rumors that had been circulating about the fire. One rumor was that they’d been “pushing” victims out the windows. I still needed to talk to Trey about his part in the rescues, because he seemed to be the one doing the pushing or dropping or whatever it was—but he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. And then of course there was the phone call to the dispatcher from the man who claimed to have been bypassed by firefighters inside the burning building when he pleaded with them for help.

  I pulled out my copy of the Z Club report the Seattle Fire Department had commissioned, a binder notebook with a black plastic spine and bold black lettering splashed across the front: Seattle Fire Department Report on the Z Club Fire of September 3, 2005. “You might want to study this in your spare time.”

  Taking it out of my hands, Trey said, “You’ve had this all along?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you show it to me earlier?”

  “I didn’t think of it.”

  “I could have been going over this while we were driving around.”

  “Well, I didn’t think of it.”

  “You realize the people who did this report were conscientious and that most likely we’re on a wild-goose chase here?”

  “What about that nine-one-one call?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “There are a lot of people with questions. If we do nothing more than verify the department’s report, we’ll be doing them a favor. But it needs to be verified.”

  “Or refuted.”

  “Right.”

  “You know what’s really going on, don’t you?” he said.

  “You mean the rioting and all that?”

  “All of it. You got a brother sets fire to a hip-hop club, kills a bunch of black people. Now we’ve got a community that wants to find a white guy responsible.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “Is it?”

  “You’re a cynic. Did anybody ever tell you that?”

  “What do you think’s going to happen if our report is identical to this?”

  “If it’s the same, we turn it in that way. By the way, I’m going to be busy all day tomorrow, and I have a wedding on Sunday. One of my best friends is getting married to her girlhood sweetheart. I’m flying to Spokane on Sunday morning, but I’ll be back that night.”

  “I don’t suppose it would do any good for me to do some digging on my own over the weekend?”

  “Not unless you want me to replicate your work when I come back. I’m going to talk to everybody, and I want you there while I do it.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “By the way, are you planning to attend the party Miriam Beckmann invited us to? The Get Out the Readers Project Ball.”

  “I don’t believe I am.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “That’s cute. What’s the real reason?”

  “I don’t like to dress up. I always feel like a penguin stuffed into a shirt and tie. It makes me itchy.” Trey moved to the door and put his hand on the knob. “So we’re done until Monday?”

  “I think it’s a good idea for us to go. If the community leaders have seen our faces and met us, it will help establish the integrity of our report. Trust me on this. There’s a lot of indignation floating around, and having some political alliances isn’t going to hurt either of us.”

  “You go. Talk me up to everyone you meet. That’ll make it a win-win for us both.”

  “Is there another reason you don’t want to go?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Maybe you’re afraid you’ll run into some of the family you’ve been estranged from all these years? It’s not good to keep this stuff buried for so long.”

  “Is that right?”

  “That’s absolutely right.”

  “When did you get your degree in psychology?”

  “Any fool can see this is eating at you.”

  “If you knew anything about me or the family or why I got kicked out, you wouldn’t be saying this.”

  “I’m sorry, but I want you there with me.”

  “So it really isn’t for me, then? It’s for you?”

  “It’s for both of us.”

  He opened the door, took a couple of steps into the corridor, spotted Marvin Douglas across the hallway, then turned back to me. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  15. SPYING FOR THE ENEMY

  JAMIE ESTEVEZ>

  We’d left Station 28 in separate vehicles, and even though the weather was supposed to hold for the next couple of days and I could see traces of sunshine off to the west, it began raining on Rainier Avenue. I wondered if I’d made a mistake arranging to go to the ball the next night with Trey. We’d gotten off to a bad start as soon as he discovered I’d selected him for this investigation without asking him prior and then lied to him about it. Then his encounter with his estranged brother—the lily-white mayor, of all things; who could have guessed—only put him in a worse funk. In addition to his brother, there was a good chance the ball would resurrect other ghosts from his past. The Carmichael family was well known in the area for their philanthropy and community service. It might prove to be an unpleasant evening for Trey. And it might prove interesting.

  Alone for the first time all day, I put on some Luther Vandross to mellow me out and tried not to think about the ball. At a stoplight I picked up my cell phone and punched in a number written in my address book. From the background sounds, I guessed his car stereo was on and that he was also driving home in Friday-night traffic. “Stone Carmichael,” he said.

  “Mayor, this is Jamie Estevez.”

  “Jamie. I was hoping to hear from you earlier this afternoon, but this is terrific.”

  “We just now finished for the day. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “Not at all. I’m taking my boys out to dinner and a movie. Their mother’s busy with last-minute preparations for tomorrow night’s shindig. I’d help, but she claims the best thing I can do is stay out of her hair. I’m more of a concept guy, anyway. You coming tomorrow night?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Arrive early and leave late. Save a dance for me. I hope I told you how pleased I was the committee took me up on my suggestion and selected you. I was reviewing your résumé again this afternoon and I’m impressed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So. How is the investigation proceeding?”

  I told him whom we’d spoken to and gave him a brief overview of what I’d learned, providing the broad outlines of the fire and the confusion, the harassment from the crowd, and the mixed signals as to whether everybody was out.

  “I don’t know Chief Fish well, but he seems conscientious,” Stone said. “What was your impression?”

  “Conscientious is a word I would use.”

  “And how are you and Captain Brown getting along?”

  It was hard to know how Trey and I were getting along. He certainly wasn’t pulling any punches when it came to letting me know how much I annoyed him, and so far he hadn’t missed an opportunity to purposely nettle me in retaliation. I was willing to chalk it up to his being in a foul mood over the circumstances under which we
were thrown together, and sensed that he was secretly enjoying the bantering between us, but I couldn’t be sure of anything with him. By the middle of next week we might be getting along famously or we might not be speaking, though I wasn’t going to volunteer any of this to the mayor. “To tell you the truth, I believe he was taken by surprise when we asked him to participate, but so far he’s been invaluable. He certainly knows this fire department inside out.”

  “Yes. I suppose he would.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence while I tried to think of additional positives to put forth concerning Trey, as if I were his proxy and it was my job to patch up the family rift. It had always been my inclination to smooth things over, but you couldn’t smooth over conflicts if you didn’t know what they were about or how they originated. I said, “Yes. He’s great.”

  “I would prefer it if Captain Brown didn’t know you and I were in touch.”

  “I don’t think I should keep secrets from him.”

  “I understand, but there are a lot of lives riding on the decisions I make downtown. You’re my confidential informant on this, Jamie, and I’d appreciate it if we kept it that way. So far the civil unrest hasn’t resulted in any fatalities, but I already have one police officer with a fractured shoulder, and last night somebody took a shot at a couple of paramedics.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “People don’t realize it yet, but we’re close to a state of siege here. I would hate to think something might happen to one of our city employees or a civilian when I was missing an essential piece of information because Trey felt intimidated that you were talking to me and failed to tell you something crucial. I know it goes against your grain as a journalist to be checking in daily, but this isn’t journalism: This is a city investigation into an event that has already cost too many lives. Do you think you can work with me on this?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “And call me Stone, would you?”

  “Sure, Stone.”

  “So where are you heading next?”

  “I’m on my way to a meeting with Pastor Morgan and Miriam Beckmann.”

  “Good people. Are you hearing anything that’s going to dispute…I guess what I’m asking is, have you heard anything that’s going to lead you down a track the SFD report didn’t specifically travel?”

  “Not yet.”

  “If you do, be sure and give me a buzz. To tell the truth, Jamie, this has been the most challenging three weeks of my term. And the vice president running into those protesters, and then having the videotape played over and over again on the networks…it’s turning into a public relations disaster. By the way, the vice president’s an interesting man. We met with a trade delegation from China. Some fascinating developments coming out of it. When this project is finished and you’re doing television again, I’ll give you an exclusive. How would that be?”

  “I might take you up on that.”

  “I’ll insist. One more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m wondering if Brown said anything about me after we met this morning?”

  “Not that I recall.” For some reason I found myself telling more lies in one day than I had in the entire past year.

  “If he does, I’d take it as a personal favor if you would fill me in. I guess it’s only fair to tell you Trey was adopted into our family. When he was in high school, he managed to get himself in some trouble with the law. We haven’t really been in touch since. To tell you the truth, I’m not particularly thrilled that he’s part of this inquiry. The last thing we need around here is a loose cannon, but I’m sure you’ll keep an eye on him.”

  “Of course I will.”

  I would call him with updates, but I wasn’t about to spy on his brother. Whatever was going on between them, I didn’t need to get in the middle of it. The two of them clearly despised each other, and the more I thought about the restraint they’d both shown that morning at what was undoubtedly their first meeting in almost two decades, the more remarkable I judged it to be. I had a feeling whatever was going on made my nuclear family with its minor quibbles look like a sewing club.

  16. THE SURPRISE PARTY

  STONE CARMICHAEL, NINETEEN YEARS EARLIER>

  It’s after midnight, and we’re stumping along in the dark, with only the spotty moonlight illuminating our path. It’s a secret, she says, leading me out into the darkness. I have a vague feeling, mostly because I haven’t seen India in over two hours, that the girls have hatched some sort of grand surprise for me. India’s little sister, Echo, is leading me out here in the darkness. Fifteen years old. Just a kid.

  A surprise party would not only explain India’s disappearance for the past couple of hours but might also be her way of making up for being miffed with me lately. Heck, I’ve been gone almost three weeks, and I know India is irked that I didn’t call more often. True, they get a new movie every night and have every toy known to man at the estate: boats, scuba gear, all-terrain vehicles, dirt bikes, the underground pool for lap swimming—but being stranded on the island has to get a little stifling for someone of India’s temperament. I wouldn’t put it past her to spring a surprise party for me out at the gardener’s cottage, where the old folks wouldn’t know about it. Too bad I’m too drunk to appreciate it.

  “Come on,” I urge Echo. “Tell me what this is all about.”

  “Can’t tell,” replies Echo. When the moon disappears, I can barely see her walking alongside me in the dark, but when it comes out, I see her pale hair float alongside her head like the sheet on a ghost.

  “This has something to do with India, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes. Maybe. You remember what I was saying the last time you were here?”

  “No. Echo, it’s been three weeks.”

  “I was saying the last time you were here that India and you aren’t really that well matched. Don’t you remember? We were in the pool. Your mother had just left, and we were alone.”

  “That’s silly. We’re a perfect match. All my friends say so. And you’re still trying to break us up, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not trying to break you up. I just sometimes think…”

  “What do you think, sweetie?”

  “Well…I just sometimes…Stone? Let me ask you this. And I’m not talking about anybody we know. How much of an age difference is too much? If a guy’s going to be older than his…girlfriend, how much of an age difference would you say is too much? I’m only asking out of curiosity.”

  I’m trying to do the math in my head, knowing the beer sloshing around in my stomach isn’t helping any, trying to figure out how to tease her even though she’s asked for a straight answer. I’m twenty-six and Echo is fifteen.

  “Let me see. The cutoff point would be ten years. Why do you ask?”

  “My mother and father are still very much in love, and they’ve been married almost twenty years. And my mother’s fourteen years younger than my father.”

  “Sure your mother’s telling the truth about her age?”

  “Oh, Stone. You are just so…” She pushes me playfully and I push her back; then we continue walking.

  “Where are we going?” I say.

  “The old cottage.”

  “What’s happening out there? You’re not going to try to seduce me, are you, Mrs. Robinson?”

  “Of course not. Don’t be gross.”

  She gets quiet and we keep walking. If it wasn’t dark, I would be able to see her blushing. It’s no secret that Echo has a childish crush on me, just as it’s no secret her sister India and I will someday be married. While we haven’t made it official, everybody knows we’re destined to tie the knot. And now here I am walking across the island with her little sister in the middle of the night. It’s August and warm, though a breeze is coming up over the bluffs from Puget Sound to discourage the mosquitoes and lift my spirits. It is only when I stumble and fall to my hands and knees that I realize how truly drunk I must be. And why not? I’m on the isla
nd with friends. At the family summer estate. Why can’t I get a little tanked?

  “Are you all right? Stone? Are you hurt?” She’s helping me to my feet, touching me a little longer than necessary, just as she always does when she gets the chance. I begin to get the feeling she really is trying to seduce me, that the surprise we’re headed for doesn’t involve anybody but her and me. If so, it will not be good.

  India and Echo. Exotic, rare, almost goofy names, though I’ve come to love the name India. Daughters of entrepreneur Harlan Axelrod Overby, who got more than a handful when he married that Nordic model ex-hippie, who ended up nearly bankrupting him. Not that Harlan couldn’t bankrupt himself with his own bad investments and lack of business sense. He’s done it twice that I know of, Father bailing him out both times just because they’ve been best chums ever since their school days, which both of them go on about ad nauseam—as if we haven’t heard all their ancient tales of glory a million times. I know he comes from good stock, and maybe he was a big shot back in the dark ages when they were in school, but Overby’s been playing out of his league ever since. I wonder if he’d have any money left at all if it weren’t for the opportunities Father throws his way.

  Mother once told me Elaine Overby called herself Freedom until she decided to go for the big money by marrying Harlan. She’d raised India and Echo with all sorts of bizarre notions. Playing eight musical instruments each. Caring for the poor in Bangladesh. Can you imagine, exposing her daughters to all that disease in the third world?

  India and Echo, both clones of their mother. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Pale skin. Echo, more coltish; India, a little taller and more graceful. But different from each other, too. Echo, the chatterbox you can read like a grade-school primer; India, the silent one, full of mystery.

  I excuse myself, leaving Echo alone on the path while I blunder through the tall Scotch broom to a place where I can relieve myself. I’ve had too much beer tonight by anybody’s standards. What I need to do now is go back to the big house and hit the rack. It’s been a rough night. First India pretends to be sick, which is her way of avoiding me, and then I get into that fevered political discussion with Renfrow, the aide-de-camp Father and Overby keep around to take care of all the most unpleasant chores. And the whole thing is, Why is he even here? Father knows none of us like him. And we like that girlfriend of his even less. Both of them riffraff. Renfrow so uncouth he doesn’t even have the good grace to take his flatulence outside—or maybe she’s the one filling the room with farts that smell like something dead that washed up on the beach.