Victor Methos - Arsonist

“My fucking bowels,” Gunn said. “I told you this undercover shit messes with me.”

“How long were you there?”

“Since this morning.” Gunn took out his iPhone and pulled up a document. “Guy’s name is Henry Wenchowski. Polish, immigrated here ‘bout thirty years ago. Married sixteen years ago, two kids. Not so much as a fucking parking ticket on his record.”

“You wouldn’t have come over here if you didn’t have anything,” Stanton said, taking a slice of pizza and placing it on his plate.

“You know me well.”

“What’d you find?”

“Got ahold of his credit card statement. Had to sift through the fucker’s garbage. See, he came out like two hours before the rest of the family was even up and threw away a little plastic sack so I checked it out. It was full of condom wrappers, cigarette packages, beer cans, and this receipt.”

He pulled it out of his pocket and put it on the table. Stanton picked it up with a napkin and placed it on the back of the pizza box. It was to the Playland bar.

“He’s our fucking guy,” Gunn said with a mouthful of pizza.

“Who do you have on him now?”

“What’d ya mean who do I have on him? No one, it was just me.”

“You left him alone on a Saturday night?”

Gunn chewed his pizza and shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“Stephen, he’s a predator. These guys are on cycles. If his cycle’s up and he’s out hunting…”

“Now? No way. What are the odds of that happening?”

“We need to go to the house and arrest him now.”

“With a fucking receipt?”

“I can get an ID from the manager too. That’ll give us enough for a warrant. Guys like him will always have little trophies in their house. One of Cisneros’ rings or some photos.”

Gunn finished his soda, wiped his hands with a napkin and let out a large belch. “If you say so. It’s your call, but if we blow our wad too early and he walks, you’re gettin’ the shit from Childs not me.”

“Let me get dressed.”

Stanton was dressed and they were out the door in less than five minutes. They took Gunn’s car, as it was parked illegally at the curb. The night air was cool and Stanton rolled down his window and stared at the lights passing by outside. They were in the heart of the city now, the part that few outsiders ever saw. Men were on some corners and scantily dressed women on others. Many of the women were nearly nude, some of them with little more than lingerie. At a stoplight, one of the girls approached the car from the passenger side.

“You lookin’ for a party, baby?”

Stanton held up his badge. The girl glanced around, as if confused, and then went back to the corner.

“Why you gotta do that?” Gunn said as the light turned and he raced through it.

“Do what?”

“They’re just working girls. Why you gotta scare the shit outta them like that? Just say no thank you and move on.”

“It’s easier just to show the badge.”

“You never worked Vice. See I worked Vice a long time. Them girls, most of ‘em are victims. They got some pimp somewhere beating their asses every night, rapin’ ‘em, threatening their kids. They got hard enough lives without us bein’ assholes too.”

“I think that’s the only time I’ve ever heard you actually have compassion. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t get all queer on me, just be nicer to the street girls.”

The home was dark and quiet. One light was on upstairs as Gunn parked the car at the curb on the opposite side of the street. Stanton kept his eyes on the lighted room. The blinds were left open. He could see a young girl getting dressed and her mother brushing her hair.

“She’s a little young to be up this late,” Stanton said.

“Every family’s different. My folks didn’t give a shit when I went to bed.”

Just then a man in a button-down plaid shirt and slacks came into the girl’s room. He spoke to the mother a long while and then tucked the girl into bed and kissed her goodnight. The adults left the room together and turned off the lights.

“All’s good here,” Gunn said. “Can we go now?”

“Henry had his hair done. Let’s wait a minute.”

Gunn sighed but didn’t say anything. He ruffled through some papers and magazines in the backseat and came out with a Sports Illustrated . He read silently by the light of the streetlamps while Stanton kept his eyes on the house. A few lights went on and off minutes later. He saw the wife in a bathrobe go into a bathroom. The man came to the door and said a few things before grabbing his keys in the kitchen and disappearing from view around a corner.

“You ever smoked weed, Jon? I mean as like a kid ‘cause I know you got the Bible up your ass right now.”

“No.”

“I think you would really like weed. It would mellow you out. Hey, so I’m going skydivin’ tomorrow. You in?”

“I’ve never been.”

“What better time to go? I know you love surfin’ but wait until you get up in the air. I got my instructor’s certificate so you can just tandem with me. Come on, I’m not takin’ no for an answer.”

“Do we have to spend money?”

“What the fuck kinda question is that? Why do you have to be so weird all the time?”

“It’s the Sabbath. I’m not spending money on the Sabbath.”

“Holy shit. All right, Jon Stanton, I swear to you that you will not have to spend any money tomorrow on a Sunday. Ever. I however am going to get drunk after the jump and get into some pussy.”

“You’re a true gentleman. Hey, there he is.”

Henry’s garage opened and his car turned on, the brake lights lighting up the dark a deep red. The car, a Subaru, pulled out of the driveway and onto the street. Stanton instinctively ducked down as Gunn did the same, bringing up the magazine over his face as if that would help.

Gunn turned the car on a few moments later and they flipped around. Stanton could see the Subaru up ahead. It turned right at an intersection after coming to a complete stop. Gunn sped up and kept close, running lights and stop signs to keep up.

The Subaru stopped at a gas station and Gunn parked across the street. Henry leaned against the door of his car as he filled his tank with gas.

“Weird lookin’ fucker,” Gunn said.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, just looks weird.”

“You’re just sayin’ that now ‘cause of what you know. Otherwise you wouldn’t notice him if you walked past him.”

“He doesn’t look gay.”

“What does someone gay look like?”

“I don’t know. Skinny, dressed well, not fat. This guy looks like a fucking lumberjack.”

Henry got back into his car and pulled out of the gas station and continued down the road. Gunn followed. Stanton kept his eyes glued to the car, trying to see if Henry was glancing into his rearview or side mirrors. It was too dark and they had put a lot of distance between them. It was impossible to see.

“So what’d your girlfriend think of Benny’s report?”

“She won’t look at it.”

“Why not?”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t think she likes cops.”

“Oh, good. I’m sure you guys will be happy together.”

“What about you? I heard you were-Stephen.”

“I see it.”

Henry had gunned it through a red light, forcing them to blare their horn when they went through as a truck had to slam on its brakes and swerve to avoid a collision. Gunn went into the opposite lane and oncoming traffic was scattering like insects at his approach. He tapped his brakes and twisted into the right lane and floored the accelerator.

“What the fuck!” Gunn shouted.

“He made us. Don’t lose him.”

“I won’t.”