Penult by A. Sparrow Page A

were no outbuildings any longer,
just heaps of ash and charred timbers. Apart from one small storage
shed that Renfrew had used to keep odd bits of hardware and lumber,
every structure on the farm had burned to the ground. Karla
squeezed my arm and buried her face in my chest.
    The fire was recent. The embers no
longer smoldered, but the ashes were still warm. Two guys with
rakes combed through the debris while a supervisor watched from the
cab of a lorry bearing the logo of the South Wales Fire and Rescue
Service.
    “ What the hell happened?” I
asked.
    “ Friends of Mr. Boyle, are
you?” said the man in the lorry, cocking an eyebrow.
    “ Is he … is everybody
okay?”
    “ Nobody’s died … yet. But
Mr. Boyle and one of the ladies hospitalized for smoke
inhalation.”
    “ Who? Miss
Helen?”
    “ No. It was the younger
gal. Jessica, I believe. They’re still in the hospital, if you care
like to visit.”
    “ Jesus Christ. How did it
happen?”
    “ That’s what we’re here to
find out. You two wouldn’t know of anyone who might have bear a
grudge against Mr. Boyle?”
    “ Heck no,” I said. “I mean.
He can be a crotchety old dude. But he makes friends with
everybody. People seem to like him.”
    The detective lowered his voice. “To
be frank, we’re a little bit stumped right now about all this. This
doesn’t look like arson. We’ve found no trace of accelerants.
Everything’s in order with the electrical. It’s not a kitchen
accident. And it can’t be lightning. We’ve had no thunder, just a
gentle rain. So what else is left? Spontaneous
combustion?”
    We stood there, Karla in my arms and
stared at him, while he eyed us like we were a pair of prime
suspects returning to the scene of the crime.
    “ So how long have you two
been in town?” said the man, who I assumed was an arson
investigator.
    “ We just arrived this
afternoon by train … from Inverness. We came down for the
funeral.”
    “ Ah, of course. My
condolences. Mates of Sturgie are you … were you?”
    “ Yeah. Well, Karla
especially. I just … I used to work on the farm.”
    “ Work? Wait a minute. You
wouldn’t happen to be that American lad who was deported, are
you?”
    A stab of dread lanced through my
heart.
    “ Me. Nah. I’m … I’m … uh …
Canadian.”
    “ What’s your
name?”
    “ David,” I said, but I
couldn’t remember what my new last name was supposed to
be.
    I turned and walked away briskly
before he could ask me any more questions. Karla caught up with me
and we made our in silence way down the dirt track and through the
ruined gate. A goat ran up to us and bleated, as if it were
pleading for some human to turn things back the way they
were.
    ***
    At the hospital we learned that
Jessica had already been released and was staying with friends in
town. We found Helen sitting up with Renfrew. The old man had tubes
stuck up his nostrils and taped to his beard.
    “ Can you believe these
people? They wanted to shave off all my whiskers.” Ren’s voice was
hoarse and weak.
    “ Good thing we talked them
out of it,” said Helen. “They would have ruined a good pair of
scissors.”
    “ Oh, come Helen. It’s not
that bad.”
    “ You guys are gonna rebuild
the farm, right?” I said.
    “ With what?” said Helen.
She glowered at Ren. “I tried to warn him at the time, but Ren
bought junk insurance. The bare minimum. Maybe we could rebuild an
outbuilding or two. But the main house, the cottage and the cheese
house. They’re all gone for good.”
    My stomach sank at the thought of the
farm being gone forever. I wondered how much money I could extract
from that new ivory card if I withdrew the max every
day.
    “ Ach, it was time I bloody
retired anyhow,” said Ren. “It’s not like Sturgie was ever going to
take over the place.” Ren’s eyes lost their focus. “Even if … even
if he had lived. The boy didn’t want nothing to do with the
place.”
    “ That’s not entirely true,
Ren,” said