Killing the Blues - Michael Brandman [26]
Once at the harbor, Rollo made his way to one of the boardwalk refreshment stands. Each of them offered a different kind of fare. One had tacos. One had ice cream and cakes. One had burgers and fries. He had chosen the one that offered the burgers and fries.
Benny’s Burgers. A shack, really. Wooden. The front end had a service window, which was boarded up at night.
The back end contained the grills and the fryers and a storage area.
The front end faced the boardwalk. The back opened onto the ocean.
There was no one on the boardwalk at two a.m. Just Rollo, standing behind the burger shack.
A fair amount of detritus had been collected and deposited behind the shack. Large plastic bags filled with garbage were awaiting early-morning pickup. Empty bottles and cans had been collected and stored in recycling bins.
The shack’s back door did not close properly. It wasn’t flush with the baseboard. Not only was there a gap at the bottom, but the door itself had warped and bowed at the top. It was a suitable target for Rollo.
First he withdrew two rolls of toilet paper from his bag. Then he took out two large cans of lighter fluid. Placing the nozzle of the first can through the gap at the bottom of the door, he sprayed nearly its entire contents inside the shack.
Then he unraveled the first roll of toilet paper and shoved as much of it as he could through the gap and into the shack. He then sprayed the remainder of the fluid on the paper and onto the door itself.
He unraveled the second roll of toilet paper, placing it in strips at the top of the door and also through a small opening that the bowed door provided. Whatever paper remained he placed on top of and below the garbage bags.
Using the second can of lighter fluid, he sprayed the door and then created a line of fluid trailing from underneath the door to a spot perhaps five feet away from it.
Satisfied, he wiped the two cans with Kleenex, thereby either smudging or removing any fingerprints. He placed the cans on top of the garbage bags.
He then pulled out a fireplace lighter. He tested it. It worked. He knelt down and ignited the line.
The fluid caught, and the fire raced along the line toward the shack. Once it reached the doused toilet paper, it roared into flame.
Rollo stepped back and watched the flames grow in intensity as they were fed by the fluid and the paper. The fire jumped to the garbage bags. The shack became an inferno.
Rollo retired to the shadows and quickly left the area. Once away from the harbor but within sight of it, he turned back to see what he had wrought. Benny’s Burgers was ablaze. The fire had burned its way through the rear of the shack and was now furiously heading forward.
When it reached the deep fryers, the fire began to roar with a greater intensity. Then it appeared to die down.
All of a sudden an earsplitting explosion occurred. Fire and debris filled the night sky. Burning embers flew about, some landing on one of the nearby shacks, igniting it.
As Rollo hurried into the darkness, he could see the illumination in the night sky caused by the flaming harbor. The sound of sirens filled the air as the first engines raced toward the scene.
Rollo was certain that the voices had guided him correctly.
Fury. Destruction.
And this was still the beginning.
“It’s only a matter of time, Jesse Stone,” he said.
29
Jesse had recruited Molly to accompany him. The reservation was for eight o’clock. She arrived conservatively dressed in a nicely tailored suit, carrying a practical handbag and wearing sensible shoes. Jesse wore his blue suit.
They parked half a block away and walked to Il Capriccio. The maître d’ showed them to a corner table that offered a view of the room.
When the waiter appeared with the menus, they each ordered a glass of Chianti. Jesse took in the restaurant.
He guessed it was nearly two-thirds full, not bad for a weeknight during tough economic times. A faint hint of music served as the background for the conversation and laughter that filled the room.
The center table