NOTE:If you haven’t been following this from the beginning, and if you want to know the full sequence of events, start with the introduction. Click on Archives on the right.
Ossian barks at the flashing blue lights and the hideous pitch of sirens. An ambulance has stopped on the opposite side of the road, ahead of us towards the top of Oval Street, near the intersection of Wicket. Ossian seems unfazed by the occasional lightning and thunder. It is dusk and dark as night under the post oaks and hickories where I stand with bel across the street from the site of the old Dumpty house. Now the new McMansion is a tower of flame. Ossian rears up on his hind legs against his harness, trying to get over to the action.
“What started this conflagration?”
“A lightning strike, perhaps, bel?”
“It hasn’t rained for a month.”
“Look at all these fallen leaves!”
Bel moves her foot scattering dry leaf litter on the road.
“It isn’t Fall yet either.”
Thunder vibrates in the humid air. Smoke rises vertically until it moves off to the left with a current at treetop level where the last of the sun’s illumination picks out the black and gray tones.
“It’s the drought.”
“We might hope for some rain now.”
“We might, that seems kind of muffled.”
Ossian turns and barks into the dark behind us.
Bel tightens her hold on the black plastic handle of Ossian’s retractable leash.
“There’s another dog coming.”
“It’s Diddlie, and that looks like a dachshund.”
“Hank James must be out of town.”
“Is that his dachshund?”
“Diddlie always takes Maximillian.”
She approaches walking along the roadside in and out of the tree shadow as Max runs in a pattern of his own on and off the road.
“Well, Well, folks, that place didn’t last long.”
She pulls in the leash. The handle clicks with every new restriction on Max’s freedom.
“Who lives there Did.?”
A fire truck pulls up blocking our view. Max and Ossian bark at it while the firemen dismount and unspool hose.
“The Moreaboutchas, Dimbleby and Hermione.”
“I hope they aren’t in there.”
“Probably not, bel.”
“Why?”
“They are busy getting divorced.”
“But they have only been here a year!”
“I know.”
“That place must have cost over a $ million!”
“Oh, sure Fred, $1.2 million. I looked it up.”
“You think anyone was working from home?”
“Hermione moved out.”
“What about the husband or pets?”
“Hermione took their two ferrets with her.”
Max and Ossian sniff noses and then Ossian puts his paws up on Max’s head.
and he growls.
“How do you know all this Did.?”
“I got to know Dimbleby, a little when I took them a welcome-to-the-neighborhood package.”
“You mean he answered the door.”
“Right, she was gone. I guess he was lonesome or something. So, we talked.”
“Anything memorable?”
“He said their jobs killed their marriage.”
Bel is shaking her head.
“What does he do?”
“He is a TV presenter.”
“No wonder, they probably never had time to relate.”
“What channel is he on?”
“I don’t know, Fred.”
Bel pulls Ossian back close to her feet.
“I have never heard of Dimbleby Moreaboutcha.”
“He works for BBC.”
“What does she do?”
“Hermione used to write for Buzz Feed, but he said she was laid off.”
The dogs are pulling toward the excitement, and we walk up past the fire truck, with Ossian and bel in the lead, to see if the flames are going out. Hoses stretch down the street and out of sight. More people are gathering.
“Stand back Folks! Stand back, please!
Bel looks into the glow across the street.
“Who’s that shouting?”
“Sounds like Bill Ruytenburch.”
“He’s got an accent.”
“Yeah, he’s Dutch.”
“Is he a cop?”
“No, Urban Safety Solutions.”
“The Night Watch!”
“They are here day and night, Fred.”
“You mean Jake is still paying them?”
“I guess so. They aren’t here for free.”
“I thought he went bankrupt!”
Bel laughs.
“It’s a technicality for people in his sphere.”
Bill approaches from the crest of the hill. His orange vest and yellow hard hat reflecting the flickering light of the flames.
“Hi, folks. Keep back please.”
Ossian runs over to him rearing up for attention.
Bill reaches down.
“What’s happening pouch?”
Bel steps away for a better view at the sound of an explosion and the light beyond the fire truck brightens.
“This fire seems immune from the hoses.”
“Yeah, it’s all that oil.”
Diddlie picks up Max to quiet him. His long body squirms in her arms. Paws working hard against her hip.
“Yeah, they have, ‘Forever Flowers’ in that yard.”
“That’s right and they grow on oil.”
“What do you mean, Fred?”
“The fake stems grow longer as more oil is pumped into them.”
“What?”
“Yeah, they telescope.”
“I thought it was supposed to be inflammable.”
“Not if it gets hot enough.”
“What kind of plant runs on oil?”
“Plastic ones, bel.”
“Oh okay, I remember now. Plastic may be forever but flowers they are not!”
Diddlie, turns to bel.
“Well, could you call flames a kind of flower?”
Bill pulls out his phone.
“What? Hey, I need some help. Cornelissen? No, he’s not here.”
He puts his phone away.
“Yeah, the system uses electric pumps.”
“Okay.”
Bill points towards the beds in front of the porch.
“One of those pumps probably overheated and started it.”
Diddlie puts Max down and his barking subsides into growls. Bel has given Ossian more leash and he growls back and gets pulled away.
Another fire truck approaches from Wicket Street and Bill walks towards it silhouetted against the glow.
We all walk along the verge towards the top of the hill, cutting through a front yard, to get off the road and past a dumpster.
“Look at that Fred!”
“What is that white stuff?”
“I guess it is foam.”
Foam is directed along the ground in front of the house.
“Seems to be working.”
“Yeah, on the ground but look at that gable!”
“Right, all the plastic was planted along there.”
“Planted?”
“Okay Did., buried, I watched some of it going in.”
“When was that?”
“Last year, I think. I was up here with Max Plank.”
“Oh! I can smell burning plastic now.”
“Yeah, some of that smoke is coming our way.”
“Did Plank build the place?”
“He is retired, I think.”
Diddlie is trying to get something out of Max’s mouth.
Max, open up! open up, Max!”
She tries to get her fingers between his clenched teeth.
He pulls away but she keeps hold of his collar, dropping the handle of his leash.
“Max, don’t you swallow that!”
“What’s he got, Did?”
“I don’t know Fred, but it is crunchy like chicken bone.”
“There wouldn’t be any up here.”
“Oh, no? Those roofers who were filling the dumpster last week, ate chicken for lunch all the time.”
“How do you know?”
“I walked by with Max and he sniffed it out, clamoring!”
The flames in front have died down.
Max wrenches himself free and runs towards Ossian.
“I got him Did.”
Bel has her foot on the trailing leash.
The burning gable collapses partly into the yard and partly into the ruins.
