Shakespeare's Trollop by Charlaine Harris Page A

pickup while a couple of firefighters gave me oxygen, which felt sweet to my lungs. They checked me over; not a single burn. I reeked of smoke and didn’t think I would ever breathe easily again, but those were minor considerations right now. At least six firefighters told me how lucky I was. They also mentioned that I should have waited for their help in extricating Joe C. I just nodded; I think we all knew that if I’d waited, Joe C wouldn’t have had much of a chance.
    When they were sure I was going to be all right, the two men who’d been tending to me went to help with the more exciting activity across the street. I didn’t know if they’d be able to put out the fire before the first floor collapsed, but it was clear Joe C was not going to get his often-stated wish of dying in his own home.
    Gradually, though the hubbub around me continued, I was able to think about something other than how afraid I’d been. I was able to think about what I’d seen.
    â€œYou feeling better?” demanded a nasal voice.
    I nodded without looking up.
    â€œThen you want to tell me how you came to be here?”
    My questioner was Norman Farraclough, Claude’s second in command. He was called “Jump” Farraclough, the result of a story I’d never completely understood. I’d encountered Jump several times. He always seemed to be holding any judgment about me in reserve until he’d observed me a little longer. Actually, that was pretty much the same way I felt about him.
    Jump was a late-night weightlifter, when his shift permitted. He often arrived at Body Time just when I was leaving karate class. The assistant police chief had a sharp hooked nose, a tiny mustache, and a pumped body that looked awkward in his blue uniform.
    The fire chief, Frank Parrish, holding his helmet by one strap, came to stand by Jump, and they both looked down at me with expectant faces.
    I explained very slowly how I’d come to be passing Joe C’s house. Slowly, because not only was breathing still an act I wasn’t taking for granted, but also I wanted to be sure I didn’t make any error, any ambiguous statement, in what I was telling them. I told Jump and Frank about seeing someone in the yard, smelling the smoke, and finding the back door unlocked.
    Jump’s face remained expressionless, but Frank was openly troubled by my story.
    â€œWas it a man or a woman?” he asked when I’d come to the end.
    â€œCouldn’t tell.”
    â€œWhich direction did he go in?”
    â€œTowards the back of the yard, but there’s no fence back there. He could’ve gone anywhere after that.”
    â€œAnd that back door was unlocked?”
    I sighed, tried to keep it inaudible. “Yes.” It was the third time Frank had asked me.
    â€œYou work for Joe C, right?” Jump squatted down to my level to look me directly in the eyes. If this was supposed to be intimidating, it didn’t work.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou and him get along?”
    â€œHe’s a dirty old bastard,” I said.
    And that shocked them, me saying out loud what everyone on God’s green earth already knew.
    â€œBut you went in to the house to get him?”
    â€œObviously I did.” Though I was beginning to regret it.
    â€œThat lot is worth a right smart piece of change,” Frank observed to the night air.
    I had no response to that. I wanted to shower, to get the stink of smoke off me. I never wanted to smell it again.
    â€œI’m going home.” I stood and began walking.
    â€œWhoa, just a minute!” Jump got into step beside me. “Listen, lady, you ain’t got no privileges now, with your buddy gone.”
    â€œYou’re talking about your boss? The boss whose wedding I just attended? As his bride’s best friend? ” This behavior wasn’t typical of me, but I was going to pull every string I could to get away from this fire, away from the