Vertical Burn - Earl Emerson [95]
When Sadler pulled up to the house on lower Delridge Way, the old man was out in the driveway monkeying around with the Pathfinder Sadler knew belonged to his son. Somebody or something had knocked the hell out of it.
“How you doin’, Chief?” Sadler said, startling the old man, who’d been kneeling beside the Pathfinder with a pair of pliers. Sadler was shocked at how much weight the chief had lost, at how drawn and shaky he was.
“Oh . . . hello, young fella.”
“Sadler. Gary Sadler. I worked at Thirty-six’s when you were in the Seventh.”
“You’re the one had that girlfriend broke a pie plate over your head.”
“It was a turkey platter. And I deserved it. I was a terrible drinker in those days.”
“What brings you to this neck of the woods?”
“I was talking to your son the other day, and I thought I’d drop by and see how you were doing.”
“Right now, I’m happier than a dead pig in the sun. My grandfather used to say that. It won’t be long, I will be a dead pig in the sun.” The old man laughed, which set him on a coughing jag.
“I doubt they’ll leave you out in the sun,” Sadler said.
The old man laughed harder at this. Gary could only conjure up a smile. “I guess there’s some of us don’t figure out how to live until we’re about done doin’ it. Don’t mind telling you, I’m one of them. Family and friends. That’s what it’s all about, Gary. Don’t let anybody tell you any different.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Goddamn lung cancer. Spread to my bones.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Too many fires without a mask. You stay out of the smoke.”
Sadler produced a pack of cigarettes and lit one. “Too late for that.”
“It’s never too late.” As if by mutual agreement, they both stood back and surveyed the Pathfinder, sharing cigarettes from Sadler’s pack. “It’s Johnny’s car,” Chief Finney said, running his fingers over the dents.
Sadler inhaled and blew smoke out his nostrils. “What happened?”
“A fire engine hit him. He didn’t tell you about it?”
“No.”
“You work with him. You two ain’t getting along?”
“He’s not exactly first in line to be best man at my wedding.”
“Sorry to hear that. He’s a good kid. How’s he taking not getting promoted?”
“You knew that?”
“Word gets around. He doesn’t want to talk about it with me, so we don’t talk about it.”
“He’s got worse problems than not getting promoted.”
“You mean that house fire?”
“That’s one reason I’m here. I’ve got my own suspicions on that. There’s another guy on my crew showed some unnatural interest in that house before it burned.”
“Who would that be?”
“Jerry Monahan.”
“That old corn dog ain’t retired? You woulda thought what happened to Cordifis would have been a wake-up call to all those old dinosaurs. Fighting fire is a young man’s game. Soon as I made chief and couldn’t go inside anymore I realized I’d been going in way too long.” He coughed, the phlegm rattling in his lungs. “That’s what happens when you fight fire all those years. Hell, in Denmark they only leave you on the pipe for five years. After that, you get a job that keeps you out of the building. So you think Monahan might have set that fire?”
“He’s just crazy enough.”
“I remember once when we were both firefighters Jerry asked to borrow three thousand bucks. Hell, I didn’t have a dime to spare, was working down at the steel mill off shift, but a guy named Shimkus did, and when he still hadn’t gotten a nickel back after eight months, he took Jerry out behind old Station Nineteen and knocked three of his teeth out. Jerry gave him the pink slip to his car and took the bus to the dentist the next morning. That was how Jerry got interested in karate.”
They chatted for another half hour, recounting good times and bad. As he listened, Sadler wondered how such a spindly man had ever carried his reputation as a fire-breathing, door-busting, get-out-of-my-way smoke eater. He’d worked on Engine 14 and then Engine 7, and they always said nobody could take more smoke or stay in a fire longer. When Gary entered the department twenty years ago, all the older chiefs talked about Finney, a