Romeo Fails (22 page)

“Goodman! Dorsey!” Gargoyle yelled at them urgently. “Your house is on fire!”

* * *

Dorsey sprinted the five blocks to her house. Both her truck and Goodman’s were blocked in the alley behind the store by another merchant’s vehicle. The overflow crowds for Moonlight Madness meant that all the legal parking spaces, and most of the illegal ones too, were full that night as the entire town and much of the surrounding countryside converged on Romeo Falls for the festivities. Officer Gargoyle was on foot patrol in the square, but got the call on her radio from Luke to alert the Larues.

Dorsey and Goodman had gaped at each other for a frozen second after Gargoyle’s proclamation. Fear lurched in Dorsey’s stomach as she realized she didn’t know where Shaw was—was he safe? Was he home?

“Shaw…” she said in a faltering voice as she looked over at Goodman.

“Go,” he told her. “I’ll lock up and be right behind you. Go, Dorsey—now!”

She ran out the door and down the street toward their house—the home that had been in their family for three generations. The night sky was eerily lit up with red and orange in that direction. The town’s only fire engine passed her as she reached the corner of Main and Scott, the street they lived on. Other people were running now too, drawn by the smoke and commotion. She passed at least one middle-aged volunteer fireman who was huffing and puffing as she raced down the sidewalk. A small group of people was already gathered in the street near their house and in the yard of the home next door. Neighbors. Luke, with his back turned to her. Some kids on their bikes.

And Shaw! He was talking to Luke, partially screened by the large frame of the police chief. They both saw her coming and put out their arms to stop her as if she might run right on past them and straight into the blaze.

“Shaw,” she gasped, skidding to a halt and grabbing one of his arms and one of Luke’s as well. She bent over, about ready to pass out from lack of oxygen.

“Dorsey! Where’s Good?”

Too out of breath to speak, she somehow mimed to the two of them that Goodman was on his way. With her breath returning and her mind vastly relieved to find her younger brother alive and unharmed, Dorsey turned her attention to the house. Which actually did not appear to be on fire upon closer inspection. Thick black smoke was rolling off the workshop, however, and flames were visibly dancing within. A window shattered as they watched. The firemen were pumping water on the blaze, but the small building was clearly fully engaged. The fire crackled and roared furiously, despite the efforts of the firefighters.

“Oh, no,” Dorsey said in a voice not much above a whisper. “Oh, Shaw…”

Her brother put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close as they watched the destruction from the street. They both knew the workshop was full of combustible materials—not only the wood for Dorsey’s projects, but turpentine, cans of paint, gasoline for the lawn mower… Dorsey knew she should be glad the house wasn’t burning, but the loss of the workshop—on top of everything else—was almost more than she could bear. Her eyes filled with tears, but she couldn’t let herself cry in front of all those people. Although why she should care about their opinions, she didn’t know. A patrol car screeched to a halt behind the fire engine. Goodman and Officer Gargoyle jumped out and ran over to them.

Luke held out a handkerchief to Dorsey, which she gratefully accepted.

Seeing both his siblings there, Goodman said calmly, “You all right, Shaw?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“How…?”

“I was getting ready for my date,” he told all of them. “I smelled smoke and looked out the back window. Looked like the flames were already six feet high, at least. I called 911, then came out here to hose down the back of the house and the roof.”

“You may have saved the house, Shaw,” Luke told him, clapping him on the back. “Good work, buddy.”

Shaw shrugged and turned back to his sister. “I’m sorry, Dorse,” he told her. “I couldn’t save the workshop. I tried.”

“Oh, Shaw,” she said through her tears. She hugged him tightly, then let him go. “As long as you’re safe, that’s all I care about.”

More people were gathering in the street as the word spread. It looked like half the town was there. People had migrated over from the square as this new excitement eclipsed the planned entertainment for the evening. Dorsey spotted Mariah Reinhardt and her teenage friends looking avid as they oohed and ahhed over the flames. The Sizzle Sisters were there too—they gave Dorsey sympathetic grimaces. Tanya Hartwell and Courtney Flugelmeyer were there, as was Justin Argyle, all three of them smoking, which seemed like a bizarre thing to do at a fire. There was a ripple in the crowd as someone forced his or her way through from the back. Dr. Melba popped out of the assemblage like a cork from a bottle and ran straight for Shaw, practically tackling him as she wrapped herself around him in a fierce embrace. It seemed incredible, but she appeared to be crying.

“Oh, Shaw, Shaw,” she sobbed. “Thank God you’re all right!”

Shaw looked a little embarrassed, but mostly pleased. He wrapped her in his arms, returning the embrace wholeheartedly.

Goodman and Dorsey exchanged a glance. Dr. Melba?
She
was the Mystery Woman? Well…why not? At least she could match him answer for answer on
Jeopardy
.

“My, uh, date,” Shaw told them, rather unnecessarily, then turned his attention back to the new woman in his life.

Goodman was hailed by the volunteer fire chief, who was old man Gustafson’s grandson Arlen. They walked over to the engine, talking.

Dorsey turned to find Luke right by her side.

“I’ll wash this and return it to you later, okay?” she said to him, meaning the handkerchief.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. They stood there for a moment, watching the firefighters hustle and yell, doing their best to put out the conflagration. As if to console her, Luke put his arm around her shoulder and casually walked the two of them a few more feet away from the onlookers. In a quiet voice, he said in her ear, “Shaw already told me there were plenty of accelerants in there.”

Accelerants? Dorsey guessed that was the right word for the way the flames were racing up the sides of the workshop. The roof looked ready to collapse any second. The heat was scorching, even from nearly one hundred feet away. The cans of turpentine, paint and gasoline must have gone off like bombs in the intense flames.

Luke spoke in her ear again. “So what started the fire, Dorse?”

Startled, she pulled away from him to face him squarely. “I don’t know, Luke! I haven’t even been in there for a few days. Maybe…maybe a short in the wiring? I mean, you know none of us smoke. So what could have started it?”

“Does anybody else go in there?”

“No,” she answered, not sure where he was going with this. “Who do you mean—like the cleaning lady? She doesn’t go in there. I keep it locked anyhow when I’m not in there. What with the flammable stuff and the power tools in there, I wouldn’t want any kids to get in, you know?”

She felt ill as she watched it burn. Her table, her chairs, all her wood and supplies, and most importantly, the tools…all gone. Just like that.

Luke put his arm around her shoulders again, which she didn’t much care for, but she could tell he was up to something. He was clearly in detective mode. He again turned her so they were facing away from the crowd and spoke quietly, but distinctly, into her ear, giving the appearance of a consoling friend, but in reality, doing his job.

“It’s too soon to say if it’s arson, but—”

“
Arson
?” Dorsey was shocked. “In Romeo Falls? You’ve got to be kidding, Luke! And why would anyone want to burn down our workshop? It’s got to be some kind of an accident, don’t you think? Arson…” She couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“There’s been a lot of strange things happening in this town lately, Dorsey. You know that as well as I do.”

She nodded as Luke continued. “The point is, Dorse, if the fire was set on purpose—well, sometimes arsonists like to watch their fires burn.”

His arm tightened around her as she started to swivel her head around to check out the crowd.

“Easy, easy. Let’s just casually turn around now and you take a look and see if you notice anybody in particular, okay?”

He released her and they slowly turned to walk back toward the street. Dorsey tried to look distraught, which wasn’t all that hard, and let her gaze wander over the crowd, which had grown even during the brief time she was talking with Luke. They were all people she knew, people she’d grown up with. Some looked concerned, some were enjoying the spectacle, some were both, but everyone’s expressions more or less matched their characters. Dorsey couldn’t imagine that any of these people—people she’d known all her life—would purposely cause such senseless pain and destruction. Sure, some of them were jerks, but they were her jerks, so to speak. She shook her head at Luke. He’d been checking out the crowd as well.

“All right,” he said to her. “Let’s try it a different way. Do you see anybody you don’t know?”

“No,” she replied. “I don’t know everyone by name—some of them are from out in the country or from GC, but the faces all look familiar. They’ve probably all come in the store at some point.”

Luke tried again. When it came to his job, he was tenacious as hell. “Anything surprising or different or out of place to you? Anybody missing?”

Dorsey took another look as Goodman came up to her side, his consultation with the fire chief complete. They saw Maggie push her way to the front of the crowd, looking frantic, with Mrs. Bigelow slowly limping up behind her, her progress further hampered by her need to stop and gossip with just about everyone she saw. Maggie spotted her standing there with Luke and Goodman and made a beeline for them, looking mightily relieved.

Dorsey was still scanning the crowd. Luke watched her keenly, waiting patiently for her answer. The only one missing was…was…Sarah.

“Sarah!” Dorsey cried out desperately as Maggie ran up to her side. “Mags! Where’s Sarah?”

“I don’t know,” Maggie told her breathlessly. “Thank God y’all are all right!”

In typical Mags fashion, she looked around for someone to hug, to share her joy and relief. Seeing that Dorsey was distracted, still searching the faces of the crowd for the one she missed the most—and sensing, perhaps, that she was not quite back on hugging terms with her oldest and best friend—Maggie settled for hugging Goodman, who looked surprised, but not displeased at the attention. He gently patted Maggie’s back with one of his big paws while sharing a bemused look with Luke. Shaw wandered over to their patch of lawn, with Dr. Melba’s hand firmly in his.

Dorsey stopped scanning the crowd and focused back on Maggie.

“Mags, where is Sarah?” she asked again. “Is she downtown?”

“I’m sorry, Dorse, I really don’t know. She was supposed to come downtown with us for the concert, but she got a phone call at the house about an hour ago. Before I knew it, she’d thrown some stuff in her backpack and was taking off in her Bug. She wouldn’t tell me what was going on—just said she’d call me tomorrow or the day after. Although we still can’t find her cell phone—I don’t know where it’s gotten to…” Maggie added the last as an afterthought, her eyes getting big as she took in the full scale of the calamity raging in the Larue’s backyard.

“Is she coming back?” Dorsey couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“I don’t know,” Maggie said, shaking her head.

Luke said, “It could be important, Maggie. Do you have any idea where she went or when she’s coming back?”

“I’m sorry, Luke, I just don’t know. She took off so quickly, I hardly had time to say goodbye. But I’m sure she’ll call.”

Dorsey looked at Luke to gauge his reaction at the news that Sarah had taken off. Surely he didn’t think she could be responsible for the fire? Surely…Dorsey looked again at the flames and thought of Sarah with her grandfather’s silver lighter in her hand…and the look on her face when she had left Dorsey’s house the Saturday before…and her words—so cool, so sensible, so fatal—the last time they had spoken at the Bartholomews’ deck. Other words and phrases rang in her head: antidepressants…fragile…
strangers are trouble…nothing was happening before she got here…
She felt battered by her own confusion. Surely it was a coincidence that Sarah took off right before the fire started? Where had she gone in such a hurry? Without saying goodbye… Dorsey looked at the raging inferno that had once been her refuge and felt like she was going up in flames as well.

The volunteer firefighters had been gamely battling the blaze for close to half an hour. A major portion of the roof had fallen in, which was a good sign per a passing Arlen Gustafson—it helped to bring the fire under control. It was clear the firefighters now had the upper hand. A cheer went up from the crowd as the chief ordered first one, then another hose to be turned off. The steaming, smoking devastation that had once been a workshop looked like a mini war zone now. The firefighters continued to spray down hot spots and make sure the blaze didn’t flare up again. Arlen had been poking around in the trampled, muddy grass around the workshop, going in wider and wider circles. He stopped now, near the corner of the house, several yards from what had been the doorway to the workshop. He called Luke over for a quick conference, then Luke yelled for Officer Gargoyle who, at Luke’s direction, had been dividing her time between crowd control and taking pictures of the scene with the department’s digital camera. After a few words from her boss, she took some shots of whatever Arlen had found on the ground, then stood guard over it so no one would step on it.

Luke returned to the Larues. The crowd, which had started to break up when the fire was doused, seemed to re-coalesce as they sensed A Dramatic Development in the offing. Without the Gargoyle to keep them at bay, they were inching closer, forcing the people in the front to within a few feet of where Dorsey, her brothers and Maggie were standing.

“What did you find, Luke?” someone called out.

Keeping his voice down, Luke addressed his words to Dorsey, Goodman and Shaw.