Page 75 of Playing With Fire

Jodi raised her eyebrows. “That’s not going to look good, Bonnie. Keeping out the media. People will think you’re hiding something. Readers love a good conspiracy.”

Bonnie glanced at Bob Ruskin, whom she knew still commanded considerable influence in the community. A couple of residents, possibly enroute to chair yoga now that the gardening club was temporarily suspended, had paused expectantly.

“We here at the village pride ourselves on our transparency,” Bonnie said frostily, shooing away the spectators with an imperious hand, “but if you so rudely insist, I need to accompany you to the site, just to protect the interests of the owners and these dear people who reside at Temple Mountain Retirement Village.”

She glared at an elderly lady still lingering on the path. “Maud, did I hear that you put your newspaper in the trash bin instead of the recycling bin?”

Maud scuttled away.

Jodi bit back an unprofessional snarl. Fortunately her grandfather was more than equal to the occasion.

“That’s just about the kindest thing ever, Bonnie,” he oozed in the trademark mellifluous voice which had secured his spot as Temple Mountain’s most charismatic preacher for several decades. He hooked his arm into Bonnie’s, wheezing a little (rather theatrically, in his granddaughter’s opinion).

“I know how worried folks here are about the fire...”

“Not a fire, Bob dear,” interjected Bonnie. “More of a smolder.”

“And might I tell you how very fine you look today? A sight to gladden an old man’s heart.”

Bonnie fell back to match Bob Ruskin’s slow pace.

“I was saying that precise thing only the other day when the woodworkers were worried about the place going up in smoke. ‘Calm down. Ms. Bonnie has got this,’ I said. That’s what I told those old doomsayers.”

Jodi rolled her eyes. Gramps was such a showman. And boy, was he enjoying this.

He stopped and rubbed his knee with an apologetic grin. “Old football injury.”

Bonnie shot Jodi an unreadable glance.

“You are such a charmer, Reverend Bob! The owners are of course keen that any publicity about this minor incident reflects well on the community. We have the highest safety standards at the village for our dear elderly folk. Sally Lett and I have prepared a press release with all the facts for Jodi, to save her from relying on that Dougie Moon. I can’t think why he still has a job after that dreadful story.”

“Ahhhhhh!” Bob staggered, letting out a cry as though felled by invisible snipers. Bonnie was forced to pull up.

“I was in Nam, you know,” he said conversationally. “1968. Never fully recovered ...”

Jodi had heard enough. Gramps had handed her and her young assistant five minutes. And they needed to use it well.

***

Jodi and Alma rounded the corner to see the small wooden shed standing forlornly in a sea of muddy grass, taped off from the curious. The green door hung crookedly on the remaining hinge, and there were scorch marks either side of the entry. Inside was pitch black and smelled strongly of soot and chemicals.

Jodi began snapping photos, working the perimeter, while Alma drifted around the ruined structure, astonished at the noxious devastation that fire could inflict on something as benign as a garden shed.

Jodi sidled up to the small window, trying to avoid the worst of the mud and leaning across the tape as far as she could without falling on her face. She took a few shots through the filthy glass but knew they would be rubbish.

She tried to see inside, but the inky interior was impenetrable.

“My God, what a smell!” said Bonnie. She appeared at Jodi’s shoulder, wrinkling her nose. “The whole shed will have to be demolished.”

“Such a shame,” said Jodi. “And it looks like a wasted trip for me, I’m afraid.” She made a show of looking through the digital files. “Can’t see a thing.”

She glanced at her grandfather, who threw her the faintest of winks. He linked his arm through Bonnie’s and steered her towards the tennis courts.

“While I have you here Bonnie, there are a couple of safety concerns I have about the tennis courts,” she heard him say gravely. “Doris, you know the gal I mean, big hair and a Southern accent?”

Jodi looked at Alma. She put a finger to her lips, and Alma nodded. Her eyes flashed mischievously, and Jodi had the rueful thought that, at the very least, she was providing entertainment to two of her favorite people in the world.

She snuck under the tape, taking a series of snaps from inside the doorway. With no other source of light, it was hard to make out anything inside apart from vague lumps.

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