Page 22 of Playing With Fire

The Acting Editor’s hair was pulled back in a smooth chignon today, and she looked every inch the confident professional.

A New Yorker would have loosened the top button on her blouse, maybe even two buttons, and then dared anyone to stare at her bosom. Not in Temple Mountain, though. Especially not when your grandpa was a preacher.

“Couldn’t resist that second cup?” Her eyes were cool. “I can just see my headline: Citizen Douses Fire While Council Employee Finishes Coffee Break. It’s only a working headline of course. I haven’t looked up the flammability of hamburger sauce and pizza boxes yet, so I might have to upgrade to Town Saved by Quick-Thinking Editor.”

Ricky laughed. For some reason that he didn’t want to think too much about, his day had just improved out of sight.

Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

“Here to serve, ma’am.”

Waving her to one side, Ricky inspected the smoking, pungent mess in the trash can. There was indeed a corner of pizza box. He frowned.

“First thing, never approach a fire without taking proper precautions, and only if it is clear that the proper authorities aren’t going to arrive in time to stop further harm to someone.”

“Gosh, didn’t think of that.” Jodi rolled her eyes. “Thank goodness you’re here, officer.”

Ricky ignored her. He sniffed at the ashes. “And yes, pizza boxes are combustible, though it generally takes a temperature over 400 degrees without some sort of fire starter or accelerant. Fire loves all those oils. And then there’s the chemical coating on the cardboard.”

He poked a gloved finger at the mess.

“Of course, pizza boxes are an arsonist’s best friend. Huh. Definitely an accelerant,” he continued before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be sharing any information with the press. And with Ms. Jodi Ruskin in particular.

“Acting Editor Jodi Ruskin with a breaking story.”

Confused, Ricky looked up. Jodi threw him a coy smile. She continued.

“I’m at the scene of the most recent in a series of terrifying fires which have shocked residents in the small town of Temple Mountain. In fact, I stumbled across the fire myself, and alerted our brave town firefighters in time to avoid serious injury or damage.”

Her cell was pointed in his direction, the video function rolling. Ricky scowled. He heard a faint snicker.

“So officer, is this the work of the Temple Mountain Firebug? Another piece of valuable public property destroyed in a crazed rampage?” Her tone was bright, cozy, inviting confidences.

“I am not able to comment at this time,” he said flatly. “Please address all media enquiries to the public relations department of the town council.”

She giggled. Clicked off the phone. “So pompous. Aww, come on Ricky. The so-called media spokesperson is Sally Lett, and she wouldn’t tell her own grandmother her birthday if she could get out of it. People are starting to gossip that someone is going around the town starting fires. Folks are worried about putting their everyday trash in the bins and getting incinerated.”

Ricky gritted his teeth. “No one is going to go up in flames tossing...” His brain searched for domestic possibilities. “Um...burger wrappers, or diapers, in the trash!”

His eyes opened wide. He had fallen into a trap, and not a particularly good one.

“You can’t quote that. Or any of the stuff I said before,” he said sternly. “I was speaking—” he searched for the right term, “—off the record.”

Jodi edged closer and snapped a close-up of the charred trash. “And what about the homeless guys who go through the trash for someone’s discarded lunch or a couple of butts?”

Ricky felt his official mask crack. Jodi was right. This was a public safety issue, and folks needed to know what was happening. Whatever Chief Browning thought.

“Okay.”

Jodi’s widened. “That was quick. Aren’t you supposed to argue some more, so the canny reporter can wear you down with her irrefutable arguments or her clever snares?”

Ricky bit back a smile. He took a last look in the bin to satisfy himself that the fire was well and truly out. He stopped, frowned, and pulled out the heat-proof gloves and an insulated evidence bag from the commodious cargo pockets of his pants. With careful movements he retrieved several blackened pieces and sealed them.

He glanced sideways at the tall, impossibly elegant figure watching him expectantly. Maybe this wasn’t a tenement building in New York or a skyscraper in Manhattan. But it was a mystery, a potentially dangerous one, and it was his to solve.

Jodi pulled out her phone again, and Ricky obligingly rattled off some information and warnings for the public until at last she was satisfied.

She tucked her cell back in her bag and threw him a dazzling smile.

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