Vertical Burn - Earl Emerson [90]
“He had a horrible crush on me. Not that I gave him any encouragement. As far as I knew, we were just friends who both happened to like films. One night after this Brazilian comedy he started coming on to me. I told him no, and then we had a wrestling match that ended with him on his back on the floor. I ever tell you I had four years of judo?”
“No, but thanks for the warning.”
“That’s when he started driving through my neighborhood on Capitol Hill at all hours. I thought I was rid of him until the other night.”
“Gary’s a jerk.”
“Now he claims he’s trying to bring me to Jesus.” The phone began ringing. When Finney didn’t budge, she said, “You should answer it.”
He didn’t. He didn’t want anything to spoil these minutes with her. It was his brother, Tony, speaking on the answering machine. “John? Pick up if you’re there. I’ve been callin’ all night. I left a message. Damn it, John, where are you? I hope you’re out gettin’ some tail, ’cause it might be your last. There are all sorts of rumors. You need to stop asking people about Leary Way. You were lookin’ nuts before, but now with this rumor that you’ll be arrested . . . Damn it, you’re my brother. I know you didn’t do this. There’s even talk that you’ve been committing arson for years and the old man was covering for you. John, take my advice and stop askin’ questions. Give me a call when you get this message. I love you, guy.”
Finney collapsed into the recliner he’d spent the night in. The sudden movement frightened Dimitri, who scampered out of the room.
“What’s going on?” Diana said. “What’s changed since Friday?”
“You don’t want any part of this.”
“Yes, I do. I want to help.” She knelt on the floor in front of him and took one of his hands between hers. “I mean that.”
Reluctantly, Finney told her about his excavations at Leary Way, about the gasoline odors he’d detected, his belief that it was an arson, not an accidental fire, about his inability to explain Reese and Kub’s failure to find Bill Cordifis. Before he knew it, he was showing her Cordifis’s note.
“I guess I don’t get it,” she said.
“Look at the number at the top of the page.” She looked again at the note and her brow furrowed. “Forty-four hundred. Isn’t that the street number that came in for Leary Way? This was written before . . . well, obviously it was written before the fire. Are you sure this is Bill’s handwriting?”
“Yes.”
“So Bill knew something about Leary Way before it happened?”
“He must have.”
“But surely he didn’t think it was going to burn down? He would have told somebody.”
“Not if he didn’t really believe it. Think about it. You have some friends who you trust implicitly, and somehow you come up with the idea they’re going to set a fire. Would you believe it?”
“You mean those names are the friends?”
“That’s my guess.”
“Your name’s on the list.”
“I know it.”
“I wouldn’t believe it. You’re right. He probably didn’t believe it until it happened. So . . . was it a coincidence he died there? Do you think? You don’t think somebody pushed that wall over on you guys, do you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Did they know he knew?”
“He got in a screaming match with Oscar Stillman right before we went back in the second time.”
“Stillman’s name is on the list.”
“Yes.”
“Let’s tell somebody.”
“Who’s going to believe us? No. Don’t answer that. I know who. Nobody. Besides, the minute I mention any of this out loud, G. A. will arrest me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He’s on the list.”
She came around the chair and began massaging Finney’s shoulders at the base of his neck, working her thumbs and fingers deep into his trapezius. “Buddy, you are tight as a banjo string. Why don’t we go do something? Take our minds off this for a little while. Take me out in a kayak? I’ve been dying to try it.”
“Are you kidding? They’re probably on their