"Why do you think it's a daft notion? I don't know much about the way the police work, but I've been told that the majority of homicides that aren't gang-related are committed by spouses. And since you've asked me to be sensitive, I suppose we should regard Paul as Ziggy's spouse. If I were a police officer, I would consider myself derelict in my duty not to consider the possibility."
"Fine. That's their job. But we're Ziggy's friends. Lynn and I spent plenty of time with the pair of them over the years. And take it from me, that was never a relationship that was heading toward murder. You should remember what it feels like to be suspected of something you haven't done. Imagine how much worse it must be if the person who's dead is the person you loved. Well, that's what Paul's going through. And it's him that deserves our support, not the police."
"OK, OK," Weird muttered uneasily, the fa-de slipping momentarily as memory kicked in and he remembered the primal fear that had driven him into the arms of the church in the first place. He held his peace for the remainder of the journey, turning his head to stare out at the passing landscape to avoid Alex's occasional glances in his direction.
Alex took the familiar exit off the freeway and headed west toward Ziggy and Paul's former home. His stomach tightened as he turned up the narrow metaled road that wound through the trees. His imagination had already run riot with images of the fire. But when he rounded the final bend and saw what remained of the house, he knew his powers of invention had been woefully inadequate. He'd expected a blackened and scarred shell. But this was almost total destruction.
Speechless, Alex let the car glide to a halt. He climbed out and took a few slow steps toward the ruin. To his surprise, the smell of burning still hung in the air, cloying in the throat and nostrils. He gazed at the charred mess before him, scarcely able to superimpose his memory of the house on this wreckage. A few heavy beams stuck up at crazy angles, but there was almost nothing else that was recognizable. The house must have gone up like a burning brand dipped in pitch. The trees nearest the house had also been engulfed by the fire, their twisted skeletons stark against the view of the sea and the islands beyond.
He barely registered Weird walking past him. Head bowed, the minister stopped right at the edge of the crime-scene tapes that ringed the burned-out debris. Then he threw his head back, his thick mane of silvered hair shimmering in the light. "Oh Lord," he began, his voice sonorous in the open air.
Alex fought the giggle rising in his chest. He knew it was partly a nervous reaction to the intensity of emotion the ruin had provoked in him. But he couldn't help it. No one who had seen Weird off his face on hallucinogenics, or throwing up in a gutter after closing time could take this performance seriously. He turned on his heel and walked back to the car, slamming the door to seal himself off from whatever claptrap Weird was spouting at the clouds. He was tempted to drive off and leave the preacher to the elements. But Ziggy had never abandoned Weird?or any of the rest of them, for that matter. And right now, the best Alex could do for Ziggy was to keep the faith. So he stayed put.
A series of vivid visual images projected themselves against his mind's eye. Ziggy asleep in bed; a sudden flare of fire; the tongues of flame licking at the wood; the drift of smoke through familiar rooms; Ziggy stirring vaguely as the insidious fumes crept into his respiratory tract; the blurred shape of the house wavering behind a haze of heat and smoke; and Ziggy, unconscious, at the heart of the blaze. It was almost unbearable, and Alex wanted desperately to disperse the pictures in his head. He tried to conjure up a vision of Lynn, but he couldn't hold onto it. All he wanted was to be out of there, anywhere his mind could focus on a different vista.
After about ten minutes, Weird returned to the car, bringing a blast of chill air with him. "Brrr," he said. "I've never been convinced that hell is hot. If it was up to me, I'd make it