Manny shrugs. “Some women are just afraid of being loved.”
Dennis raises his eyebrows. “By loved you mean banged once and then ghosted for a month, before getting drunk-dialed at 3 am?”
Manny looks wounded, like a child who’s been told the world’s run out of ice cream.
Marcus laughs and shakes his head. “I see not much has changed around here.”
At this point, Joey appears at the top of the stairs, wrapped in a towel. “What’s this—Chicago’s finest investigator in our house? To what do we owe this honor?”
Marcus’s expression turns stern. “Why don’t you put some clothes on first, Casanova. I actually have a serious matter to discuss with you boys, and I’d rather not do it with your diseased scrotum in my face.”
The probie laughs at this. Joey glares at him. The probie stops laughing immediately.
Dennis tells the probie to put on a fresh pot of coffee.
A few minutes later, Joey is dressed in blue uniform pants and a Chicago Fire Department t-shirt, and we’re all sitting in the common area anticipating what Marcus has to say.
The detective settles into the bulk of the W.O.C. (World’s Oldest Couch) and rests his ankle on his knee. “Say,” Marcus says, “how’s Harper doing? I heard about his accident. Sounds like he had himself a pretty bad day.”
“He’s a little banged up,” Dennis says, “but he’ll be fine. He’s a trooper.”
My stomach gets a queasy feeling. I still haven’t told the guys about the alcohol problem.
“He might not be,” Joey says.
Dennis narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Joey keeps staring at the coffee table. “He almost died. That can really mess you up and make it hard to get back out there and risk your life.”
A heavy silence descends upon us. No one says a word. We all know what a traumatic experience does to a man in uniform.
Marcus sighs. “I’ve got something to tell you boys.”
Everyone shifts a little in anticipation.
“The fire at the building where Harper fell. We have reason to believe it was the work of an arsonist.”
“Is that the same guy who’s been on the news recently?” Manny says, sitting forward and planting his forearms on his thighs.
“We think so,” Marcus says. “Based on the frequency of the fires, he’s getting bolder and hungrier. The time between each fire he sets is shrinking. So we expect him to strike again soon.”
“So what you’re saying,” Joey says, “is that we should sleep in our turnout gear.”
“What I’m saying, Joey, is that you should exercise extreme caution. We’re working with an arson investigator and a structural engineer. She’s been comparing the buildings this wacko sets on fire, and they all have one thing in common. They’re old and structurally unsound, which makes them particularly dangerous for firefighters to enter.”
No one says anything. Dennis clenches his jaw.
“I know you fellas are professionals,” Marcus continues, “and that you don’t need some detective in an Armani suit telling you how to do your job. So this is more for me and my conscience then it is for you, but be careful out there. Watch your every step and be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. What happened to Harper can happen to any of you. We’re not sure what the arsonist’s motive is.”
The probie is listening to every word the detective says, and he looks a little scared.
I don’t blame the kid. The last thing we need after Harper’s accident is another building collapsing under our feet. Looks like our job just got a lot harder.
Marcus stands. “Well boys, it’s time for me to make like a bakery truck and haul buns,” he says, pointing his thumbs at his glutes.
And there’s your exit comment. Where does he come up with this stuff?
7
