Son of Destruction - By Kit Reed Page 0,76

you know, the paramedics took Cal Simmons away on a stretcher. Heart failure.’

‘Good thing they found him in time.’

‘Good thing,’ everybody said. Good thing this. Good thing that.

‘Thank God nobody was hurt.’ Good thing.

‘That we know of. Boyd was into people we don’t know about.’

‘What do you mean?

‘What if one of Boyd’s scuzzy bikers . . .’

‘You don’t know that they’re bikers.’

‘They sure as hell aren’t regulars at the Fort Jude Club.’

‘Whatever they are. Shit, so, what, he gave one a key to the house?’

‘Like, it was a grudge fire? Like, because Boyd pissed off someone?’

‘What makes you think it was arson?’

‘It had to be arson. Look how fast it went up.’ Buck is on the City Council, so he’s in tight with the police and fire chiefs, who were buzzing around in yellow-taped slickers like hornets looking for somebody to sting. ‘I’ll find out.’ he said, and trotted across the street to ask.

‘These things don’t just happen.’

Sallie was maybe too quick to reassure us. ‘Sometimes they do. Could have been the furnace.’

‘In April?’

‘Or their wiring!’

Somebody snapped, ‘Or their grandmother blew up,’ and everybody laughed.

Old stories never lose their power. Tribute to maturity: only one of us brought it up. Testimony that even accidental fires make us nervous? We had to turn it into a joke, although it was nervous laughter.

Mariel said, ‘Well, it’s not like there haven’t been a lot of little fires.’

‘You mean the Warrens’ trellis.’

‘And the Boyles’ garage.’

‘Plus, our cabana at the beach!’

‘That was nothing like this. Those were all nuisance fires.’

‘Little things. Things kids do. Hell, we set a few in our time.’

‘This is different.’

‘Kids,’ Chape said stiffly, and God only knows why he scowled the way he did. ‘What makes you think it was kids?’

At that very moment Sallie clapped her hands to her face. ‘Oh my God,’ she said, loud enough to distract us. ‘Poor Carole! What’ll she do when she hears?’

Naturally Betsy already knew. ‘It’s insured. The adjuster’s on his way.’

‘Who says?’

‘Carole, of course.’ We had to forgive Betsy for being just a little smug. She’s the only one of us with Carole’s Paris hotel on speed dial. ‘After all, somebody had to break the news.’

‘How did she take it? Did she scream when you told her? Did she cry?’

‘It’s morning in Paris. She was very calm.’

‘Poor Carole! Is she OK?’

‘I’m worried about her, if you want to know the truth. She was too calm. Everything burned to a cinder and all she said was, “You know, Betsy, it might be just as well.”’

‘What might be just as well?’

If it had been one of us asking we would have ragged on her, what are you, clueless? But it wasn’t any of us, standing here in our jammies, it was Nenna, showing up late in high heels and full makeup, a living reproach.

‘I came as soon as I heard.’

After an hour in front of the mirror. We could tell.

‘Too late, you missed it. It’s nothing but cinders now.’

We love Sallie, she’s so forgiving. ‘Come on up here, girl.’

‘Miss Lillian made coffee.’

We gathered around, hot to fill her in. Kara said, ‘Look! I’ve got pictures on my phone.’

Then our voices went from warm to cold. ‘Oh, Davis.’

‘Hello, Davis.’

We all said hello although we aren’t speaking to him after what he did to her.

Ironic, in a way, that the group’s known philanderer was the only man out here fully dressed. He and Nenna didn’t look too happy, really. They looked like they were fighting when the phone rang and on the long car ride over they fixed their faces so we wouldn’t know.

It’s interesting. We were all furious at Davis for how he did Nenna, but even though we’d always thought he was not nearly good enough for her, now that we knew about his secret lover, he almost looked good to us.

Where our men were running around looking like they’d been slept in, Davis looked cool in an oxford cloth shirt and ironed jeans, new topsiders, no socks. He had his collar open and the cuffs rolled back, and something about standing out here in our night-things talking to Nenna’s soon-to-be-ex husband made us over-conscious of bodies: his, ours.

Davis did a pretend salute with the smile he’d probably been using on girls behind Nenna’s back for years. ‘Ladies . . .’

Then something better came along and we forgot.

Whoever he was, this new man looked good, exciting, and only partly because he was new. Young. Very much himself out here in the dark with us. Tall,

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