Borrowing Death Read Free

tank hose to the pump. Others connected the fire hose to the other end of the pump and unrolled the rubberized canvas toward Fiske’s.
    Three men donned hard leather masks that covered their heads, the eyepieces giving them an insect-like appearance. Hopefully the air canisters attached to the back of the mask would sustain them long enough to extinguish the flames. When their equipment was secure, they hurried to the hose.
    â€œReady!” came the muffled cry of the man at the front as he waved an arm. He pointed the nozzle toward the open door. Four men operated the pump mechanism, two to a side. After a few pumps, water shot out of the nozzle. The man in the front slowly walked forward, the others behind keeping step.
    James came around from the back of the building, and Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. He strode directly to Chief Parker, who wore a black, hardened leather helmet with a metal crest on the front, and began talking and gesturing. Charlotte couldn’t hear what they were saying over the rush of water, the roar of flames, and the chatter of the men near her.
    â€œCharlotte, are you all right?”
    She turned toward her brother. Like some of the other men, Michael wore his mackinaw over a stripped pajama shirt and hastily donned trousers.
    â€œI’m fine. Did you get a call? Is someone hurt?” Charlotte hadn’t seen anyone come out of Fiske’s with an injury. Maybe he’d been contacted as a precaution.
    â€œNo, I heard the commotion. But I have my bag, just in case.” He held up his leather satchel, then turned his gaze to the building. “I pray I won’t need it.”
    James nodded at something the chief said, then walked over to them. Melted snow plastered his hair to his head, but he didn’t seem to be feeling the effects of the wet or cold. “Doc,” he said, greeting Michael. “Shouldn’t have been anyone inside, but if you’ll stick around to make sure the firemen are okay, I’d be obliged.”
    â€œOf course,” Michael replied. “Has anyone gotten word to Fiske?”
    â€œOne of Parker’s sons was sent to the house. He’s not back yet.”
    The men manning the hose hadn’t gone far beyond the front door. One inside shouted something. The men stepped back several steps as a loud crash sounded within the building. Black smoke billowed out of the windows and over their heads.
    The onlookers startled and stepped back. Though they were far enough away to be safe from the flames, the chemical smell burned Charlotte’s nose and eyes. Several men wiped sleeves across their faces.
    â€œThere’s the chief’s son,” James said, nodding toward a lanky youth jogging down the road as fast as the slick surface allowed. He joined Parker and his son. The young man was shaking his head as he spoke. James returned to Charlotte and Michael, his brow deeply furrowed. “Fiske wasn’t at home. No one but the housekeeper was there.”
    â€œCaroline’s out of town,” Charlotte said. She recalled placing the travel announcement and Caroline Fiske’s promise of a holiday party upon her return on the social page of the paper. “She gets back any day now.”
    â€œThat’s what the housekeeper told the kid. Helluva homecoming,” James said.
    All of them looked back at the building. Dread solidified in the pit of Charlotte’s stomach.
    â€œMaybe he’s at one of the clubs or something,” Michael suggested.
    â€œI’ll check around.” James raked his fingers through his wet hair. “I need to catch that damn arsonist. This has gone too far.”
    It seemed like hours before the firemen trudged out of the building, smudged with soot and dripping water. The outer walls of the hardware store had scorched, but remained intact from what Charlotte could see. Thank goodness they lived in such a wet environment. The interior, however, was likely a total