Vertical Burn - Earl Emerson [56]
“I have a lot on my mind these days. My Elevator-in-a-Can is almost finished. I have a deadline—My wife says I’d forget my suspenders if they weren’t attached to my belt.” He smiled, striving to be cordial.
Was it possible he actually thought he’d added it to the list? Finney didn’t think so. There was something else, too. Last Tuesday, Monahan had been far too excited about the department becoming tied up with all those alarms. It was as if he had known about it in advance.
“Jerry, you’re screwing with me.”
Monahan shoveled his hands into his trousers pockets and said, “What are you talking about?”
“You made that call Sunday night. You told me to meet you.”
“What on earth are you—”
“You know where I was that morning, and you know why.”
Like a crime victim trying to flee a robbery attempt, Monahan turned and began walking quickly up the street.
Finney followed and grabbed his arm. “Talk to me, Jerry.”
“Geez-Louise, what do you want?”
“You took my coat out of my locker, didn’t you?”
“Your coat? Now it’s your coat? I thought you were talking about the dangerous buildings list?”
“You took my coat, didn’t you?”
“Go get some help,” Monahan said flatly. “Everybody said you were going to crack up after Leary Way, and now you have.”
“There’s a conspiracy, Jerry. You’re involved. That house was involved.”
Monahan looked at him intensely and said, “Don’t try to tell me about conspiracies. I’m an expert on conspiracies. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought there were conspiracies against me, when I found out later there weren’t. Always when things go wrong, it feels better to believe people made it that way. It feels better to think you’re not small and insignificant and wandering around an aimless universe like a bug that can have a big shoe snuff out its life at any moment. If there’s a conspiracy and it’s centered on you, then you’re not insignificant. Somebody’s watching. Somebody’s paying attention. It’s the conspiracy syndrome. I grew out of it. You will, too, John. And don’t accuse me again, understand? I hear this once more, I’m going to the department, and after that I’m going to court to get a restraining order.”
Monahan gave him one last mournful look, and walked to the corner, where he turned back. “They say, ‘Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ That’s not true. When trials come along, they make you weaker. The next trial comes along, it kills you. Listen to me. Get help.”
PART THREE
29. TWO MEN NOT FIGHTING OVER THE REMOTE CONTROL
His night at Station 26 had been bad enough that Finney was numbing himself with Katie Couric on the NBC morning show. He had tossed and turned until four A.M., when a heroin addict from one of the local biker gangs OD’ed in a cramped one-story apartment directly across the street from the station. By the time Engine 26’s crew walked through the door, his pals had, adhering to street legend, stripped him and packed him in a bathtub filled with cold water and ice cubes. Finding a slow pulse but no respirations, Finney and Lieutenant Sadler fished him out of the tub and bag-masked him in a puddle of water on the floor. When the medics came, they tied him to a stretcher and shot Narcan into his veins. As usual with Narcan, he bounced back in seconds, cursing all involved for “fucking up” his high.
Finney wished he had somebody to talk this over with. He knew he had been surly and self-pitying in those weeks following Leary Way, growling at people who wanted to console him, going so far as to denounce God and the church to the department chaplain when he visited, making certain everyone knew he wanted to be alone.
For five months he had been alone.
What he’d known all along but seemed powerless to change was how Leary Way had turned him into the supreme egoist. He’d become a self-centered jerk, and what was worse, he didn’t know how to change.
After making a few phone calls, he realized he couldn’t confide in those he didn’t trust, and he didn’t trust the few he could confide in. Thomas Baxter,