Page 21 of Playing With Fire

“Don’t matter anyways. Get your butt out on the street, nose around. Someone has seen the little bastards. Nab ’em, read the riot act. And threaten to tell their mommas if they get caught again. Nice little story in The Monitor, and the department takes the win.”

Ricky looked unconvinced. The Chief placed both hands on Ricky’s desk and leaned forward. His faintly bloodshot eyes bored into his assistant.

“I keep telling you son. This is a small-town fire department. No fancy anti-terrorist training in case the Russians nuke us or the Chinese send over a rocket or damned Al Qaeda decide to blow up the public restrooms. It took me twelve months to get funding for your position. I got you for three lousy months. Three months, and I do not want to see you internet searching fire starters.”

Leroy caressed the smooth brim of his pale felt hat. “I had to choose between man hours and a couple new hose carts for the fire truck. And a coffee machine with one of them frothers. Don’t make me regret that decision.”

Ricky could feel his face burning. He clenched his fists in his lap. If he didn’t get out the door in thirty seconds, he would be on direct dial to the Far Rockaway fire chief, checking to see if they were still keeping his seat hot for him in Engine Company 264.

Sure, he was better, he would assure everyone. Better than new. Rarin’ to get back on the job.

Ricky closed the screen on his laptop and stood. He reached for the black baseball cap which had been deemed appropriate for his lowly role.

The chilly silence was broken by a loud ringtone. Not their cells, but the large black monster on the Chief’s desk inside his glass-enclosed office.

Browning strolled back inside, leaving the door ajar. He picked up the old-fashioned receiver.

“Yes ma’am. Is that so? Well thank you kindly for letting us know—and yes, we appreciate that you didn’t bother with 911 for such a small thing. You keep well back now—no, no need to get the extinguisher from your car. I’ll get our best man onto it right away.”

He looked up at Ricky, who could hear a female voice on the other end. Leroy winked.

“Of course we don’t discriminate against women at the Temple Mountain Fire Department. Each and every employee at Temple Mountain Town Council has completed the mandatory training to ensure we are an inclusive and diverse community.” His tone dropped into a soothing timbre. “Don’t you fret now, little lady, as soon as we get a suitable female applicant, we will certainly give her due consideration. You can quote me on that.”

The voice at the other end rose a couple of notches and the Chief leaned back. “Uh huh. You bet.”

Another fire.

Ricky felt the familiar buzz of adrenaline. His heartbeat accelerated. He drummed his fingers impatiently against his desk. If Smokey didn’t get off the phone soon, the nuisance fire could rapidly turn nasty.

“Ms. Ruskin.”

Ricky’s ears pricked up.

“Honey. I mean ma’am. I surely thank you for being a good citizen but no, I do not have any official comment for The Temple Mountain Monitor at this present time, except to say that we are investigating and will pursue all options in our commitment to public safety.”

Leroy finally lowered the phone into its cradle. “Damned woman wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He looked up at Ricky. “Why are you still here?”

Ricky raised his eyebrows, and the Chief’s face cleared. “Oh yeah. The fire is down near the new basketball courts near the school.”

Ricky’s mind was blank. What basketball courts?

“Behind the primary school,” said Leroy with exaggerated patience. “Been a while since you were home, clearly. This may not be Manhattan, but we got plenty of modern facilities.” His eyes narrowed. “And if that lady reporter is still hanging around, do not, under any circumstances, share any information with her!”

“Yes sir, no sir,” said Ricky automatically. His mind was whirring as he grabbed his kit and reached for his new black windbreaker featuring the town council logo of a leaping fish. (He had no idea why, unless the fish represented all the young people trying to get out of town.)

A mixture of excitement and professional calm surged inside him.

Finally, a chance to get to the scene while the fire was still burning!

Ricky caught one last mutter from behind him as he headed out the door.

“Knew I shoulda gone for the new hoses.”

***

A familiar figure was waiting next to the still-smoking trash can. Jodi was tapping into her phone, head down, and Ricky had the chance to briefly admire the way her loosely cut mid-calf skirt emphasized her long legs and the crispness of the white blouse under a matching short black jacket.

It was warmer today, the smoky air mixing with smell of damp and rotting leaves.

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