Vertical Burn - Earl Emerson [91]
She leaned over and looked upside down into his face, her gray eyes inches from his. “Come on. I bet you can launch a kayak right from the dock outside.”
“Closer than that.”
45. MAXIMIZATION AND MINIMIZATION
Diana sat in the rear cutout of the double kayak, paddling in perfect synchronization with Finney, who was in front working the rudder pedals. Other than explaining how to put on the splash apron and how to get in without capsizing the vessel, she hadn’t needed much instruction. “It’s so low in the water,” she said, like a child with a new toy. “Everything looks different from down here.”
He heard the familiar slap of the lake water on the thin hull, felt his muscles filling with blood and warmth as he wielded the double-bladed paddle in a steady rhythm on either side of the kayak, muscles made powerful from kayaking thousands of miles over the last ten years.
He’d selected one of his three kayaks, a double, and dragged it through the missing outer wall of his spare bedroom. As he plunked it into the water, he said, “Sort of like Ma and Pa Kettle’s houseboat, huh?”
“I like it.”
“You don’t really?”
“I do. But maybe you should get it buttoned up before winter.”
“I was thinking about that.”
“I bet kayaks are great for impressing women. I know I’m impressed. Who do you generally take out in this?”
“My mother.”
She laughed. “No, who? Really?”
“The usual. Michelle Pfeiffer. Courteney Cox. Jewel.”
“Okay, so you’re not going to tell me. Fair enough. I’m not going to tell you about the time Matthew Perry tried to pick me up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he really did.”
“I don’t blame him,” Finney said. The craft skittered across the mirrored lake water like a four-legged bug. When the light was at the right angle, they could see deep into the gray-green water. From time to time a sloppy stroke from behind would splash the back of Finney’s arm. He found the thrill of being out on the water with Diana a studied contrast to the rest of his life. He’d almost forgotten how much speed two people who were willing to work could generate; the feel of the wind, the sunshine on their backs was exhilarating. It was clear that Diana was one of the strongest kayakers he’d ever doubled with, male or female, and he wished this little excursion could last forever.
Hugging the shoreline, they traveled north past berthed ships, small marinas, and various businesses.
When he turned around to see how she was doing, she was looking at Gas Works Park, where a man was trying to fly a kite in the windless sky, a woman tagging along behind with a pair of toddlers and a dog on a leash, a plastic bag tied around the dog’s collar for his business.
She caught his eye and said, “Remember I told you I thought I’d read something recently about the Columbia Tower?”
“No.”
“I told you Friday night.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” But he didn’t remember. These days his short-term memory was a sieve. It was more than bothersome. It scared him. Could early Alzheimer’s be brought on by smoke inhalation? Or was it just all the tension in his life?
“I hate to mention this when you’re just starting to relax, but when I got home I looked it up on the Web. Get this. Apparently during a pretrial hearing for Patterson Cole’s divorce, his wife claimed he was mismanaging the Columbia Tower, said it was underinsured.”
“Underinsured by how much?”
“There’s some dispute over the worth of the building, but it seems to be short by somewhere between fifty and a hundred million.”
“So he’d lose his shirt if it burned down.”
“Right.”
“Then something else is going to burn down.”
“John, I’ve been thinking about your predicament. G. A. thinks you set the fire at Riverside Drive. You didn’t, but somebody did. They say there are seven reasons people set fires and almost any arson falls into one of those seven categories. Maybe it would help if we thought about it that way.”
“I can’t even remember all seven.”
“Well, let’s see. The first is revenge. And then two would be the sex-thrill thing. Along with vandalism.”
“Three I guess would be to cover