Alex Bledsoe - Burn Me Deadly

I opened my mouth to yell after them. A fresh fit of coughing seized me and little white specks danced in my vision. I made a sound like a bleating goat as the cough took over, and when I looked again, Liz and the old man had vanished.

Something inside the barn crashed behind us, and the remaining crowd collectively gasped. Some young wags from a casino began cheering. I turned in time to see the last of the hayloft and roof collapse down into the first floor. Like a wave on the ocean, light and heat surged out and then up, driving us all back before settling into a single column of flame.

Then Liz appeared at my side, so abruptly that I yelped with surprise. This made me cough again, and her arm snaked around my waist. She cocked her hip so she could take some of my weight, which she’d had plenty of practice doing lately. “Two seconds,” she said. “That’s all it takes for you to get in trouble when my back is turned.”

I tried to ask, What did the old man say? but only managed the words “old man.”

She shook her head. “Didn’t find him. Come on; let’s get you back home.” To Argoset she said, “Did someone have to drag him out? He really doesn’t have the sense to leave a burning building.”

“Marion rescued them,” Argoset said with a nod to his subordinate.

Liz turned to the big man. “Thanks, then.” He grunted a response.

“Glad we were around to help,” Argoset added. “And glad no one else was in there.”

As Liz pulled me away, I grabbed Gary’s arm and dragged him after us. Argoset raised his hand as if about to stop me, but changed his mind in mid-motion and turned it into a fake-jaunty wave. He locked eyes for a moment with Gary, then resumed watching the fire.

Pete and Russell started to stop us, then looked from Argoset to Gary, uncertain who they worked for at the moment. Gary waved at them to stay put, and they nodded. Pete glanced uncertainly at Marion.

People stepped aside as we staggered through the crowd. The night’s implications whirled in my head, and there was no way I could just go home. Once we turned the corner and were out of sight, I said, “I want a drink. A big one.”

“First smart thing you’ve suggested,” Gary agreed.

Liz was about to protest, then wearily changed her mind. Just because “drink” and “think” rhyme, she once told me, doesn’t mean they always have to go together. We cut behind the buildings and down the alleys that separated the main street from the few smaller, residential dwellings that backed up to it. These were dangerous passageways at night, but since most everyone was at the fire and I knew Liz and I could handle any bandits we might encounter, I wasn’t worried. We gave a wide berth to one body sprawled in the mud; I couldn’t tell if the guy was drunk, beaten or dead, but if he’d wandered back here, he probably deserved what he got.

We emerged at Angelina’s. She stood outside, a pipe in her hand, watching the orange glow in the sky. A few patrons lounged against the wall with their tankards. She looked tired, and her blouse was sweaty above her corset. When she saw us she smiled at Liz, then frowned at me and Gary.

“First you’re cut to pieces; now you’re half burned up,” she said. With a “hmph” of disdain she added, “And you’re keeping this kind of company.”

“Kiss my ass, Angelina,” Gary said, leaning wearily against the wall.

“What burned down?” she asked Liz and me.

“Hank Pinster’s stable,” Liz said.

Angelina’s eyes opened wide, and her attitude vanished. “Doesn’t that mean your office, too?”

“Yeah,” she said wearily.

Angelina patted Liz’s arm sympathetically. Then her normal disdain returned. “Let me guess-these two geniuses went in to make sure everyone was out.”

“Somebody had to,” Gary said. He glanced at me; I shrugged. If he wanted to claim credit for something noble, I wasn’t going to contradict him.

“Think you can get these two heroes a drink?” Liz asked drily. “Then maybe I can get mine off the street for the night.”

“Oh, sure,” she replied acidly. “Heroes are our favorite patrons.”

We followed her inside. Except for Callie busily washing tankards and the two minstrels sharing a pipe, the place was empty. Tables and booths were still cluttered with signs of occupancy, though, and the crowd would return as soon as the excitement ended.

Gary and I dropped heavily onto bar stools, still coughing and wheezing. Callie did a double take at us and said, “Wow, Mr. LaCrosse. You look worse than you did before.” I couldn’t argue.

Angelina placed two tankards in front of us, and a cup of wine before Liz. I drank mine gratefully, coughed some more, then turned to Gary and said, “Argoset lied to us.”

He nodded. He tried to speak, but choked on the ale.

“About what?” Liz asked.

“Hank was in there,” I said, low so only she and Angelina heard.

“He was?” Liz gasped. “Why didn’t you bring him out?”

“He was already dead. Somebody thought he was a hay bale and stuck a pitchfork through him.”

Angelina shook her head. “Poor Hank. With all those kids, too. And he still owed me money.”

“Argoset said no one was in there,” Liz said.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe that big lummox didn’t see him?”

“He was pinned to the wall like a royal decree. Kind of hard to miss.”

“Who was hard to miss?” Callie said as she elbowed in beside Angelina.

“Your new boyfriend,” I said.

She glanced over at him. Whatever he and his friend had in their pipe, it clearly made them happy, as both were laughing like toddlers. “Yeah, just wish he’d lay off the giggleweed. Makes their second set pretty sloppy.”

“This audience probably doesn’t notice,” I said.

Callie gave me a lopsided smile that, for the first time since I’d known her, carried a hint of shrewdness. “I hope they won’t always be playing to audiences like this. There’s something else on the horizon, a real big-time gig. But I don’t want to jinx it by talking about it.” Then she took a basket out to the floor and began collecting more discarded tankards so she could wash them before the patrons returned.

We all fell silent and nursed our drinks. In all honesty, though, despite the fact that a nice guy had died, I was far more concerned that Liz told me she hadn’t found the old man, even though I’d seen her do it. Bathed in amber light from the tavern’s lamps, she looked younger and lovelier than ever. I’d first met her in this tavern, in fact, two bar stools away from where she sat now. Maybe, I reasoned, she was just waiting to tell me once we were off the street. I leaned close and softly asked, “So you didn’t find any sign of the old guy with the gloves?”

“Nope,” she repeated, straight-faced, no hint of guile. I think my heart broke a little.

“So what are you crusaders going to do next?” Angelina said.

“Nothing,” Gary croaked.

I said, “First thing tomorrow, I’m going to-”

Gary grabbed my arm. I’d never seen him look so certain, and at the same time so terrified. “ No, Eddie. You’re not going to do anything. Whatever’s going on, whoever’s behind this, you’re already in further than you should be. So am I, and it’s going to take all my smarts to get me out.” Then he coughed some more and put his head down on the bar.

I waited until he got his breath before asking softly, “What do you know about it, Gary?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to know. These decisions come from far over my head, and my orders were to smile, nod and look the other way. So I’m looking.”

“Even though Hank’s dead,” I said.

“Yes,” he said with no hesitation. “Because whatever’s going on is that big, and I’m content to be little.” He slapped a coin on the bar, then went coughing into the night.