Robert B. Parker's Slow Burn (Spenser, #44)(11)

He put his hands in his pockets, looked down at the wet pavement. He shook his head as he stroked his mustache in thought. His sidekick stood back, eyeing me and Jack McGee with a raised chin.

“But I heard other things, too,” Foley said.

I looked to Jack McGee. And he looked back at me, eyes widened.

“I know what you’re up to,” he said. “You been f*cking sneaking around. Asking questions at my firehouses without coming to me first.”

I nodded.

“You know these were good, honorable men?” Foley said. “And they died doing the right thing. They were helping people in this f*cking city.”

“I do.”

“Then quit sneaking around,” Foley said, putting a hand on my back. “You want to poke around? Fine. Then do it right. Come on down, I want you to see where they died.”

McGee looked at me and let out a long, steady breath.





9


We followed an alley beside the Gothic stone church to a burned-out doorway. Inside, portable lights shone in the dark space. New wooden beams and studs shared space with charred and blackened wood. Foley pointed to the crossbeams overhead and the stone walls.

“The flashback happened here,” he said. “This is where the mayday went out. We were pushing midlines down both steps. We had a company to the rear of the structure and out on Shawmut. I’ve never seen a fire burn so fast in my life.”

Water dripped from the crossbeams, pinging puddles on the floor. Sawhorses, table saws, and piles of sawdust and scrap wood littered the basement. He walked to the stairwell, where his driver handed him a small Maglite.

Commissioner Foley cast light on charred spots along the wall resembling an alligator’s back. “This is deep char,” he said. “This is where we believe the fire started.”

“But we don’t know how?”

“The first thing we do is try to rule out the obvious,” he said. “We know this wasn’t electrical. We can find no traces of an accelerant present. It kills you. But sometimes you never know. We know this is where the fire started and the spread just took over everything fast. All that was left was the stone. You think about something so small, a f*cking spark hitting this wood and eating everything in its path like a f*cking cancer.”

“What about a second source?” I said. “Another spot it may have originated.”

Foley stood. He looked to McGee and back at me, shaking his head. “I heard that shit, too. But it’s not true. There’s no evidence of multiple points of origin. Zip.”

“Most of the church burned up so freakin’ bad, how would we ever know?” McGee said.

Foley shrugged.

“Something burned up hot as hell at this very spot,” McGee said. “Place was abandoned like half the buildings we’re seeing right now. I don’t care if there’s a hundred points or just this one. No one does this shit and just stops cold.”

Foley ran a hand over his jaw. He stared at McGee but didn’t say a word.

“I’m sure you got your reasons,” McGee said. His fat face was turning a bright red. “But I don’t appreciate the way I been treated. Like I’m some kind of goofball for thinking the firebug did this. I loved Pat. He was my best friend. I was the one who had to call on his wife. Go get his kid at his goddamn soccer game. You know what it was like to hear that order to evacuate on the radio, knowing our guys were inside?”

Foley nodded. “Of course.”

“Yeah,” McGee said. His voice softening. “I know. I know.”

“Can we agree it’s suspicious?” I said.

“Of course it’s suspicious,” McGee said. “Arson’s got some kind of evidence. And they found more at all the other fires.”

Foley placed his hands inside his black rain slicker and shook his head. “Yeah?” he said. “Where’d you hear that, Jack?”

“Everyone in the department knows,” McGee said. “Jesus Christ. You don’t think firemen talk around the station? What else can we do but polish our engines.”

“We start talking about a firebug and people start to panic,” Foley said. “And then the crazies start joining in to copycat. You know how that shit goes.”

“But you found something,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Foley said. “We got something. But it’s not enough yet. If you know something, you better let us know.”

“Why don’t you broadcast every shred you got to every reporter in this city? Put out a reward?”

“Like I said, we have to be careful about everything we do,” Foley said. “This takes time.”

“It’s been a freakin’ year,” McGee said. “Give Spenser something to work off of. What can it hurt?”

“Look, if Spenser wants to poke around about this fire, I won’t get in his way. Just promise me you’ll share if you get something of use.”

“Can I meet with investigators?” I said.

“That’s up to them,” Foley said. “But I’ll ask.”

“Arson is doing jack shit,” McGee said. “They’ve had their thumb up their ass for the last year. I go down there to talk to them and they look like I just crapped in the sink. Why not let him talk to them?”