Heaven's Fire (10 page)

Martha Malone had arrived. Or made her entrance, more precisely.

*****

Martha slid out of the car and strode toward the three men, leaving her camera man behind to unload his equipment.

She
'd
already
met Pat Firenze and Tudy Guida. B
ut even if she hadn't, she would have been able to pick out the ATF agent, and not just from the glimpse she'd had of him when she interviewed the sheriff.

She stuck out her hand to the ATF agent when she reached the three men.
"
Martha Malone, TV8 News. I’m sorry I missed you yesterday, but I’d like to talk with you later.
"

Without waiting for a reply, she turned to Pat.
"
I’m terribly sorry about your father, Pat.
"

Stepping neatly between Pat and Tudy, she walked them away from Simon and down the drive to the office, one hand resting lightly on each of their backs.
"
I feel awful bothering you at a time like this, but I think it’s important that we get your side of things as soon as possible.
"

She turned her best sympathetic smile back toward Aamot, who was trailing.
"
Don’t you agree, Mr. Aamot?
"
She pronounced the name as Jake had told her, but waited for a correction in case her producer got it wrong.

None was forthcoming, at least of the name.
"
Me?" Aamot said, with a twang she suspected was a put-on, "I like to have all the facts first. Just funny that way."

Martha turned to face him as her camera man caught up with them.
"
But you’re the lead investigator on the case, you already know more than the rest of us.
"

Dave brought the camera up and trained it on Aamot as she continued.
"
One person is dead and one is missing.
Do you truly have nothing to
tell us?
"

Aamot
waited half a beat before answering, making her wait for it. He'd
undoubtedly
h
ad television experience
and from the way he was reacting, it hadn't been pleasant. That could work to Martha's advantage. People often say more than they intend when they're angry.

"
I’m afraid that until I have something conclusive to report, Ms. Malone,
"
the agent
said evenly, twang gone,
"
it would be a disservice to the public and to the people personally involved in this tragedy to speculate. Don’t you agree?
"

Damn. The quote was unusable unless Martha wanted to make herself look like a jackass.

But as good as Aamot might be, she was better.
"
People are already speculating," she pointed out. "Especially in light of the accident on Pat Firenze’s barge last night and the fact that there was an earlier fatality here at the factory, one that was ruled an accident."

She waited that
same
half beat and then added, "By
you
, coincidentally.
"

Direct hit. Aamot's eyes narrowed.
"
We’re looking at everything, Ms. Malone, and now I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse us.
"
He
had
Pat and Tudy
precede him
into the squat red fireworks office
as he held the door.
And his position.

You had to give the ATF agent points for a quick recovery. Martha signaled her camera man to lower the camera.
"
Listen,
"
she said, purposely getting closer to Aamot than most people found comfortable.
"
I don’t want to play games with you. We've reported that a shell landed in a box filled with unexploded fireworks last night. We even have tape of it. We also have information on the earlier explosion. People are saying there may have been carelessness involved in all the...accidents.
"
She put the emphasis on the last word.

"
People are saying? Or TV8?
"
Aamot asked, not giving ground.

Martha wasn't going to back down either.
"
Both. And if it’s
not
true, then someone had better say so. Otherwise, we have no choice but to go with what we have.
"

She widened her eyes and Aamot held her gaze for one more second, then lifted his eyebrows.
"
Really? Well, then I
think you'd best just...go.
"

He stepped inside and let the screen door bang closed behind him. At its sound, two German shepherds bounded out from behind the barn
and
Martha
retreated to her car.
A
s the animals circled the Miata, A
amot opened the door and whistled for the dogs.

Big of him.

Leaving Dave to stash the equipment in this van, Martha
started the Miata, slammed it into reverse and stepped on the gas
. She'd intended to make a big exit, but
the parking brake
foiled her
. Having learned to drive on the hilly streets of San Francisco, she still set the hand brake out of habit when she parked. Even if it was in a fucking farmer's field.

As Martha reached down to release the brake, she caught sight of her new red Sergio Rossi pumps covered with fine gray dust from the driveway. Which, come to think of it, meant they went perfectly with her formerly red car.

Damn dusty gravel. Damn smug ATF agent. Damn rutted road.

And did one of those dogs have just two legs?

It was
nearly
noon when Simon arrived at Lake Days. The festival grounds proper were just north of the area where the fireworks crowd sat
the
night
before
. Now empty of the quarter of a million spectators, that part of Shore Park was being used for parking at ten bucks a pop.

The TV8 truck was still where it had been last night--on the bluff to the south, overlooking the grounds. The barges were gone, though, towed back to the commercial docks for inspection.

In their place, sailboats dotted the lake. In fact, if it weren't for the Coast Guard boats still searching inside the breakwater, it would be easy to pretend that nothing unusual had happened yesterday. That Pasquale and Ray were back at the Firenze factory, happily concocting more missiles.

Simon pulled down the street past a giant inflatable beaver billowing in the wind, and parked next to the TV8 truck. As he got out of the car, he could hear music from the main stage and could smell the mingled salty/sweet scent of corn dogs and cotton candy. It reminded him of church festivals when he was a kid, and summer weekend
s spent hanging around the carnie
games, eating trash and trying to win giant teddy bears to impress the girls.

Also reminded him he was hungry.

*****

Jake
had
a videotape
on the screen
when
Simon
Aamot tapped on the door of the production truck. It was one she’d seen before. In fact, she’d produced it. Watching it this time, though, she had a whole lot more respect
for
, if not understanding
of, the content
.

Pasquale Firenze was talking.
"
We roll the dough in the black powder, so it don’t stick, just like you use flour when you bake. Then you cut ‘em.
"
As he spoke he sliced through the black dough like he was making slice & bake cookies.

Aamot stuck his head in the door.
"
That the tape from the factory?
"

Jake nodded, pausing it.
"
It’s amazing how they handle this stuff. I mean, how can they just cut explosives?
"

Aamot folded himself into the tech director’s chair next to her.
"
Special non-sparking knives--and they’re not considered explosives until they’re dry. At this point,
"
he pointed at the screen,
"
the stars are ‘in process.’
"

"
Yeah,
"
Jake muttered, pushing stop and then rewind,
"
in the process of killing you.
"
She realized what she had said, and how it
must have
sounded.
"
I’m sorry, that was a lousy way to put it.
"

Aamot shrugged.
"
It’s a dangerous business. No one expects to get hurt, but all the same, they know it can happen. You have to respect the powder, Pasquale used to say.
"

"
So
you knew him." Jake turned awkwardly to stack the tapes she’d copied earlier in a box.

She was hitting a wall, fatigue-wise, probably because after the late night, early swim, and tense morning at the station, she finally had
time
for a let-down. Or maybe a breakdown.
"
We’d have these meetings, production meetings, you know? And everyone would be arguing--Bryan Williams, the mayor, Martha, Pasquale--and I’d just sit there, waiting for them to make up their minds so I could do my job.
"

She swiveled back to
Aamot
with the box of tapes.
"
And after every meeting, Pasquale would come up to me and say real low, ‘Don’t you worry, Wendy.’ He called me Wendy, nobody’s called me that for years. Anyway he’d say, ‘Don’t you worry, Wendy, I’ll give you a show like nothing you’ve ever seen. I’ll do it for you. You’ll see.’ Like I was his daughter or something."

Her eyes were starting to tear up, and she swiped at them. What a stooge she was being.
"
Sorry, I guess I could use some sleep. Here are the tapes you wanted.
"
She handed him the box.

"
What about--
"

"
Oh.
"
Anticipating his question, she hastily searched through the papers on the console and pulled out an envelope.
"
You wanted the crew list, too. I put in their assignments and a diagram showing exactly where they were.
"

He took the envelope and looked her up and down.
"
Have you eaten lunch?
"

"
No," she said, surprised. "Why? Am I acting like I need food?
"

He grinned and unexpected laugh lines appeared in his face.
"
You’re acting the way I feel. Let’s go grab us a hot dog.
"

Aamot stepped down out of the truck, keeping his head low so he wouldn’t crack it on the door.
He turned to help Jake, but she'd already hopped out.

"
Just how tall are you?
"
she
asked
.

"
Six-four. You have to tell anybody you’re going?
"

"
Nah. Everybody has already taken off,
"
she said as they set off across the parking lot.
"
There’s no Noon News today, because it’s Satu
rday, so I’m just handling the N
ews Breaks with Neal. The next one is scheduled for 3:30, during the baseball game.
"

Aamot put his arm out like a crossing guard to stop her as a car rolled by. "Why are you working on a Saturday?"

Jake looked sideways at him. "Someone said he needed tapes this morning. He was pretty pushy about it."

Aamot dropped his arm, and they continued down the road that led from the bluff to the festival grounds. "Pushy is what I do best. So how long were you on the air last night?
"

She shrugged.
"
We
wrapped it up about two
.
"

"
That’s almost two hours after the Coast Guard found Pasquale’s body. What did you find to talk about after the search was called off for the night?
"

"
Recap, recap, recap. Chicago-style dogs or gyros?
"
she asked, pointing in opposite directions.

Aamot, having baited her with hot dogs, switched to gyros. They veered left.

"
It would have been a whole lot easier if we’d been able to interview you,
"
Jake said, as they got in line behind a gaggle of teenage girls in tank tops.