Mahu Fire by Neil Plakcy

and it was very bright, from the fire, but also kind of dark, because of the smoke.”
    I looked over at the Doc, who was listening intently. “It was like a picture in a Sunday school textbook of what hell was like.” I started to shiver a little.
    “It’s all right, Kimo,” Riccardi said, and he put a hand on my shoulder. “We’re almost done.”
    I took a deep breath. “I made it around to Sandra and I felt for a pulse. She had one, but it was weak. I wrapped her in my jacket and put her over my shoulder—I guess you know what the fireman’s carry is—and I headed back for the door. Harry had already gotten the baby and gone out. The footing was harder going out because the floor was hotter, and every time I took a step I thought I was going to slip and go into that pit.”
    My throat was dry and my lips were parched. Damn, reliving those moments was tough. This must be what victims felt like when I interviewed them.
    I licked my lips, took a deep breath, and coughed. Riccardi waited patiently while I got my breath back. “I made it out to the stairway, but by then the walls were broiling hot and I was afraid the stairs were going to collapse under me. I wanted to go fast but I was afraid to put too much stress on the steps and it was hard to move with Sandra over my shoulder. By the time I got downstairs there were flames everywhere. I saw the door ahead of me and I just bulled my way through.”
    I looked up at him and smiled. “The last thing I remember is bursting through the door, and my brother was right there, and I knew that he’d take care of things from there. Kind of silly, isn’t it?” I shrugged.
    “I don’t think it’s silly at all,” Riccardi said. He turned to Doc. “Okay, that tallies with what I’ve seen so far. A single blast concentrated in the area of the rest room. Probably some kind of plastic explosive, one with a simple timer. Once we can go through the debris I’ll know more. Now, we know Shira was upstairs in the office. If the bomb had blown out the floor directly under him, he would have gone through the roof and he’d be in little bitsy pieces. My guess is that he and the woman were far enough away from the hole that they didn’t get blown up right away. He probably got knocked out, though, and then slid or fell downstairs.”
    He looked over at me. “We recovered the body on the first floor, not on the second.”
    “That would explain the pattern of the burns,” Doc said. “If he fell feet-first into the fire.”
    “Do you think he burned to death?” I asked.
    “I have to examine his lungs—or what’s left of them. Whatever I can. My guess is that he was knocked out by the blast and then the fire finished him off. I’ll get you the results as soon as possible.”
    “Thanks. You know this is going to be a nasty one.”
    “The folks at City Hall do tend to look up when one of their own gets killed,” Doc said. “So, you guys finished with me now? Can I take the body?”
    I looked at Mike. “Fine with me,” he said, and I nodded along. “Thanks for your help, Kimo. It looks like things have cooled down a little, so I’m going to take a walk through the ashes. I’ll let you know what I find.”
    “I’d like to come with you.”
    He smiled. “You aren’t exactly dressed for it. I think you might be missing your smoking jacket.” There was that condescension again.
    “This tux is beyond repair. I don’t care if it gets a little smokier.”
    “It’s not that. You need special gear to walk around after a fire.” He looked at me. “You sure you’re up to this?”
    “I’ve got a job to do. I’ll be up to it.”
    He nodded. “All right. I’ve got an extra fire suit in my truck.”
    “I heard that the Queen of England was touring Disneyland with Prince Charles when he was a little boy,” I said, as we walked together. “And he told his mother that he wanted a Mickey Mouse costume. So she bought him a fire suit.”
    “Very funny,” Mike