by Susanne Beck
I smiled coolly. "I think we both know that’s not the truth." Then I tried another tactic. "If you didn’t start the fire, maybe you saw who did? After all, you had a front row seat over there, didn’t you?"
"I didn’t see nothin." His face was closed, walled off. That expression wasn’t exactly something I was unfamiliar with.
I sighed. "Fine." Then I moved off of him, coming to my feet and offering him a hand.
Swatting it away, he jumped to his own feet, smirking at me. "Bitch."
I allowed him to turn, and as he did so, I grabbed his wrist and wrenched it up high and hard behind his back. He came to his toes immediately, squeaking in pain. "What the fuck are ya doin?"
"You’re a witness to a crime. You didn’t think I was just gonna let you go, did you?"
"I told ya, bitch, I didn’t see nothin!"
"Yeah, I know. You didn’t see anything, you didn’t hear anything, you didn’t do anything. A regular Casper Milquetoast, you are."
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Just move."
And move we did, right back toward the still burning fire, with my reluctant captive struggling every step of the way. Though he was a good five inches taller and fifty or so pounds heavier than I was, I had little trouble marching him back the way we’d come. After all, it was I move I’d practiced on Ice more times than I cared to count, and if I could to it with her, I had no doubt that I could immobilize Mr. Universe if I had to.
For a second, anyway.
We passed the first line of helpers, most of whom gave us curious glances as we walked through the area of controlled chaos. They returned quickly to their tasks, though, and we moved forward pretty much unmolested.
When the smoke became too thick for breathing, I stopped, eyes darting around, trying to find my partner through the haze of oily smoke. Which was, of course, trying to find a needle in a mountain of haystacks.
"Ice!" I shouted, trying mightily to be heard over the din of the fire and the shouts of the helpers. When there was no answer, I tried again. "Ice!! I need to see you for a second, please!!"
After a long moment, the smoke seemed to coalesce and take on human form. Then my lover stepped through the fumes, her hair drenched with sweat, her face black with soot from which two icy sapphire chips sparkled, her clothes dirty and pasted to her body, and a large axe gripped surely in one hand.
If a Hollywood casting director had been there looking for someone to play a demon from hell, he would have hired her on the spot, no questions asked.
The young man standing in front of me stiffened, and I could feel his pulse-rate double beneath my hand. He renewed his efforts to break free, but I held him easily, watching as my partner approached, a no-nonsense look on what could be seen of her face. "What’s going on?" she asked, still holding the axe, her voice harsh from the smoke she’d inhaled.
"I found my friend here hiding in the bushes across the street," I replied, noticing out of the corner of my eye that Pop, almost equally soot-covered and sweating, moved out of the smoke to join us. "He seems to have been affected with a sudden case of stupidity, so I figured I’d bring him over here and let you wise him up."
Reaching out with her free hand, Ice grabbed the young man by the front of his T-shirt and jerked him forward until their faces were scarcely an inch apart. I quickly let his arm go, fearing that the sudden pressure would tear it free from its socket.
"Did you start this fire?" Ice growled, the harshness of her voice only magnifying the malevolent effect.
Stepping to one side, I looked up, noticing that the surly youngster’s eyes were now wide as saucers while his face paled to the color of curdled cream, unfortunate acne standing out in spots of high color on his cheeks, forehead and chin.
"Answer me!" Ice growled again, shaking him as a terrier might shake a chew toy.
I knew he was past the point of forming coherent words, and was just about to step in when Pop, apparently having the same idea, put a blackened hand on Ice’s arm and stepped closer to the pair, peering up into the face of the unfortunate boy. "You’re Duke Johnson’s boy from up-country, ain’t ya? I seen you around a few times when I’ve been up that way."
As if desperate to ingratiate himself to one who wasn’t about to rip his head off and chop up what was left into tiny pieces, the boy nodded frantically, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he gulped past the pressure Ice was putting on his throat.
Pop nodded. "Thought so. What you doin so far from home, boy? Ain’t you got school in the mornin?"
He nodded again, which, of course, didn’t come close to answering either question.
"Ease up on him a little, Morgan. Boy looks like he’s gonna pass out and piss himself all at the same time. Let’s see what he’s got ta say."
Ice relaxed her grip just slightly, allowing the boy to stand comfortably on both feet once again, but didn’t release him entirely, in case he thought about doing something stupid. Like running, for instance.
The way she was staring at him, I thought breathing might be another example in the ‘doing something stupid’ department, unless she got the answers she was looking for.
Pop’s eyes were compassionate. "Who put you up to this, boy? Just gimme a name, and you’re free to go."
"I didn’t do nothin!" Instead of surliness, the young man’s tone had changed to one of petulance, with a dose of good, old fashioned fright thrown in for good measure.
"I know your father, boy. He’s a good man. Don’t think he’s got it in him to raise stupid sons. Just tell me who set you up for this and he won’t have ta visit you in the jail."
At the mention of jail, the boy’s lip trembled slightly, but he remained stubbornly silent.
Pop took off his cap, slapping it against his thigh. "God damn it, boy! Don’t you realize just what a shitpile you got yourself into? If I hadn’t been nearby when you threw your damn cocktail in there, you wouldn’t just be lookin at arson. You’d be lookin at murder, a dozen times over."
"What are you talkin about?"
"I was wrong. Your old man did manage ta raise a stupid kid. Can’t you see how close you came to explodin my gas tanks?!? This whole town coulda gone up, and most of the people too! Yourself included, ya shit-fer-brains idiot!"
The boy’s legs buckled at that, and the only thing that kept him on his feet was Ice’s firm grip to his shirt. Pop brought his face up close, much as Ice had done the moment prior. "Who done this, boy. Who put you up to it. A name’s all I need. You gimme that and you’re free to go."
There was a long moment of silence, punctuated only by the shouts of the people still fighting the slowly diminishing fire. Then the boy looked up, his eyes bright with tears I knew weren’t caused by the smoke. "I didn’t do nothin. I didn’t see nothin. I told ya that already. Can I please go home now?"
Pop sighed, then placed his cap back on his head. "Let ‘im go, Morgan." He nodded at her look to him. "It’s alright. Let ‘im go. I think he’s learned his lesson for the night. Ain’t that right, boy."
The boy nodded, then turned to leave as Ice released her grip on his shirt. Pop stopped him with one hand on his arm. "One more thing, son. If, when yer walkin home, yer good sense does return to ya, I’d suggest going up to the coward who put ya up to this and tellin’ him next time not ta send a boy to do a man’s work. Tell him next time he wants ta fight, do it himself. Got that?"
"Yeah. I got it."
"Good. Now get yer ass outta here before I change my mind and let my big friend with the axe here chop ya up fer firewood."
As if shot from a cannon, he took off, not pausing even once to look back, and disappeared quickly into the woods, leaving only the stench of his fear behind.
Snorting in disgust, Ice hefted her axe and, without a word to either of us, went back to fighting the fire.
"Why’d you let him go like that?" I asked Pop, disbelief plain in the tone of my voice.
"Wasn’t worth the hassle of keepin’ him around, Angel. He’s just a
little fish in an even littler pond."
"Yeah, but that little fish almost destroyed this entire town."
"And he knows it, too." He turned to me, his eyes wise even beyond their advanced years. "He had the fear o’ God scared into him tonight, Angel. Somethin’ a whole lifetime in prison wouldn’t do. And when he comes ta realize just how close he came ta endin’ it all, he’ll go right up to the idiot that set him up and give him my message. Killin two birds with one stone, and all that."
"Screw the two birds, Pop. You know who set him up as much as I do," I replied, gritting my teeth in anger.
His eyes went wide for a second, then narrowed. "So, ya heard about that, huh?"
"Yeah. I heard. And I’m not gonna let her get away with it."
"Don’t go doin’ nothin rash, Tyler. Don’t wanna go visitin you in the pen any more than I wanted ta put that boy in there."
"Oh, I’m not planning on doing anything rash. Unless you count ripping her fat little head off and shoving it up her ass as being rash."
He laughed. "Morgan’s rubbin off on ya, I see."
"No. I come by this naturally, Pop." I crossed my arms over my chest. "I’m mad as hell at that witch for what she’s doing to you. Why do I seem to be the only one?"
He smiled, the tender expression at odds with the definite blaze of anger in his eyes. "You’re not the only one, sweetheart, though I gotta say you win the prize for originality."
"Then why don’t you do something about her? Why just let her get off scot free? Does someone have to die before justice is served here?"
"Naw. No one’s gonna die, Tyler. She’ll get what’s comin’ to her alright. We all just gotta wait a little." His eyes glittered. "Ya know what they say about revenge, right?"
I sighed. "Yeah. It likes to be refrigerated."
He grinned. "Somethin like that, yeah." Then he threw a companionable arm around my shoulders. "C’mon, then. Let’s get back to fightin this fire before Morgan there gets all the glory fer puttin it out single-handed, eh?"
Sighing again for effect, I caved in to his gentle entreaty. There wasn’t much else I could do about it, after all. But as I walked back toward the fire, I entertained myself with visions of my fingers wrapping around Millicent’s bejeweled and fleshy neck as her beady brown eyes popped out like a couple of over-ripe grapes.
Oh yes, revenge might be a dish best served cold, but even the best ice cream in the world didn’t have so sweet a taste.
* * *
Dawn began to lighten the sky to the east when the last of the fire was finally laid to rest. Only those overcome by the heat and smoke had left. The rest stayed and fought side by side until finally the battle was won.
Beyond exhausted, I gratefully dropped the last water-filled bucket to the ground at my feet, wiping sweaty, blistered and raw hands uselessly against an equally sweaty, not to mention black with soot, shirt. I took in a deep breath before realizing my mistake, then almost collapsed when spasms of coughing shook my already weakened body. Spots flashed before my eyes and I fought to regain my breathing before I passed out on the muddy ground.
Feeling a cool hand to the back of my sweat-sticky neck, I looked up into the concerned eyes of Corinne. Coughing a few more times, then gratefully feeling my lungs begin to accept the gift of fresh air, I slowly straightened, every muscle in my body tight and aching. Smiling, she handed me a tall glass which was filled to the brim with her special sweet tea that I adored.
I held the glass up to my brow for a moment, relishing the chill against my flesh. Then I gulped down the entire offering, almost moaning in pleasure as it hit my belly and cooled me instantly. "You’re a goddess, Corinne. Thanks."
Rescuing the glass from my hand, she poured another tall drink from her thermos and handed it back to me. "Think nothing of it, Angel. Drink up, now. You’re about to fall right over."
"You don’t know the half of it," I replied, gulping down the second drink as quickly as I had the first and feeling the icy needles of too much cold too quickly spiking into my brain. "Owww."
Laughing gently, Corinne took back her glass as I rubbed at my forehead, willing the sharp pain to recede.
It calmed gradually, disappearing completely just as a warm, and very welcome presence made itself known at my side. Feeling a grin surface, I looked up at a soot-covered partner who looked nearly as exhausted as I felt, her eyes red rimmed and puffy. "Hey, stranger," I said, bumping her thigh with my hip.
"Hey." She cocked a questioning eyebrow at me. "You alright?"
"Nothing a year’s worth of sleep won’t cure. You?"
She shrugged. "I’m fine."
I looked at her, assessing the truth of her words. She bore several fresh scrapes to the left side of her face, and peeking beneath the ruins of a once pristine T-shirt, an ugly red burn stood out angrily on the smooth skin of her muscled belly. "What happened?"
She looked down as if noticing the burn for the first time. "Got a little too close to the fire, I guess. Doesn’t hurt."
"It will."
"Maybe."
Corinne pressed the glass of tea into her hand and she quaffed it quickly, then handed the glass back and lifted the half-filled bucket laying at my feet and dumping its contents over her head. Groaning, she shook her head, spraying us all with the droplets that flew out from her hair.
As my skin greedily took in the precious moisture offered, I turned to look at the charred remains of Pop’s automobile graveyard. There wasn’t much left. "At least we kept the tanks from going up."
"True enough," Ice replied, gliding an arm around my shoulders and hugging me into her side.
Tearing my gaze away from the carnage, I looked toward the Inn. Once again, I could swear I saw the curtains twitch just a little, as if released by a hidden hand. I turned back to Ice. "She did this, you know. She might not have been the one to start the fire, but she’s just as guilty."
Ice nodded. "I know."
"Well, if you know, and I know, and Pop knows, and everybody in this whole damn town knows, why isn’t anybody doing anything about it?"
She squeezed me tighter for a minute. "You know why, Angel. This is Pop’s show. And as much as I want to rearrange the bitch’s arms and legs for her, we need to let Pop take the lead on this one."
"But for how much longer? Damnit, Ice, he’s already been beaten to a bloody pulp, had his shop trashed, and now this! I know he’s an adult and this is his life, but when is it going to end? When is that bitch going to stop getting away with it?"
She looked down at me, her eyes steel-gray in the light of a new dawn. "Pop or no Pop, Angel, she will not get away with this. That I promise you."
After a moment, I let go my anger and relaxed against her. After all, who knew better than I that when Morgan Steele made a promise, you went to the bank with it.
Released from the false energy of both my anger and Corinne’s caffeine-and-sugar laden tea, I slumped wearily against Ice’s side. "Can we go home now? I think I can hear the bed calling from here, and if I don’t get there quick, I’ll just fall asleep in this nice juicy mud-puddle instead."
She hugged me tight. "Sure. This mess will still be around to clean up later. Let’s go."
Saying our goodbyes to Pop and the other firefighters, we then collected Corinne, squeezed into the truck, and headed for home, weary to the bone.
And after three successive showers finally managed to clean the soot and smoke from my body, I climbed into my big, soft, clean and oh so wonderful bed and fell asleep before my head hit the pillow, leaving my angers and my worries to wait for another day, when I was more equipped, not to mention awake, to deal with them.
* * *
The next several days passed quietly, though not without activity. The fire had left behind huge clumps of twisted, charred metal only vaguely resembling the cars they once were. Shattered bits of safety glass lay glittering under the mid-day sun like a tiny galaxy being viewed from above by an omnipotent god. Charred upholstery, ti
res, and hundreds of other items rendered unidentifiable by the conflagration waited patiently to be cleared away.
I lobbied hard against such a clean up, reasoning—quite logically, I thought—that it would be just desserts of the highest order to have Millicent and her guests be forced to look down upon the true eyesore her efforts had wrought.
Pop, however, was a better person than I that day, and lobbied just as hard to clean the mess up. His reasoning that other people would have to look at it too couldn’t be argued with, and finally I put away my snit for the day and pitched in, though not without a few half-muttered curses that even had Corinne looking at me with newfound respect.
Then one morning, while coming downstairs after changing the sheets on our bed, I spied Corinne standing before the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, putting the finishing touches on the outfit she’d chosen for the day.
And a fine outfit it was. A simple black dress and matching shoes were complimented by tasteful—and obviously expensive—jewelry. Her hair and makeup were done to perfection, and when she turned to face me, I suddenly saw just what it was that attracted so many to her, both in the days of her youth, and now, when that youth was a far away thing, never to be seen again.
She was, in a word, beautiful.
"Wow!" I commented, giving her my best wolf whistle. "Don’t you clean up nice."
"One does one’s best with what one has," she replied, her twinkling eyes and smug grin belying the false modesty of her words.
"Who’s the lucky guy?" I grinned. "Or girl."
"Getting a bit nosey are we?"
"What can I say? I learned from the best," I replied, reaching out to straighten her collar.
"Well, if you must know, I’m about to pay Millicent a visit."
I could feel my nose wrinkling. "I thought your standards were higher than that, Corinne."
She laughed. "Oh, you can be sure that they most definitely are. I’m considering this a little fact finding mission. That stubborn mule of a gas station owner won’t let even the tiniest hair springing from Millicent’s moles be harmed. He wants irrefutable proof that she was behind the attacks against him. I intend to give him that proof."
