Combustible (A Boone Childress Novel) (27 page)

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.

H
e 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.

T
he 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.”

“D
a-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?”