“There wouldn’t be any remnants, Benny. That fire turned their bones to ash.”
“There was still fragments of bones left.”
“How’d it get so hot?”
“That I don’t know. I traced the fire to an electrical wire behind the dishwasher in the kitchen. Fire spread to the living room and the bedrooms next. They were all in the living room when the fire cut off their escape. They probably just cuddled together. That’s what people sometimes do in a fire.”
“There were windows in the living room, they would’ve jumped.”
“People don’t think clearly in fire. They do things they wouldn’t normally do. Who knows what they were thinking?”
“You don’t have kids. You don’t know what you think. He would have thrown his kids out the window, I promise you he would’ve.”
“It’s all conjecture, Detective. You got my report. You got a problem with it, hire your professor like you did last time.”
Stanton was silent a moment. “You son of a bitch. That’s what this is about? Your ego? What are you, six years old? Are your feelings hurt that I consulted someone else?”
“Fuck you, Jon.”
The phone clicked and the call ended. Stanton dialed again but it went to voicemail. He put his phone away. The way the family was gathered in the living room was not chance. It wasn’t a protective instinct to block themselves momentarily from the fire; they were forced into that position. Stanton knew it. He just knew it.
“Who was that?” Emma asked as she sat back down.
“Benny. That case I asked for your help on, he thinks it wasn’t arson.”
She didn’t respond but instead took a sip of water and then waited for him to continue.
“Emma, he doesn’t think it was arson.”
“I heard you.”
“You don’t care?”
“Why would I care?”
“Because it clearly was. Someone’s going to stay out there because Benny determined this was an accident.”
“No system’s perfect.”
“You really don’t care?”
“Not one bit.”
“This guy probably killed an entire family. You’re okay with that?”
“Of course I’m not okay with that but I’m also not a superhero.”
“Help me on this, Emma. There’s no way this was an accident.”
“I told you, I don’t work for law enforcement. That was one time just because an innocent kid was going to get railroaded.”
“What about this family? They don’t deserve your work because a cop happens to be investigating their case?”
“You’re making me uncomfortable, Jon. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Well too bad,” Stanton said loudly. “A family gets burned to death and you’re going to play politics with me?”
She folded her napkin and placed it on the table before rising. “Call me when you’ve calmed down.”
She left the restaurant, leaving Stanton sitting there, staring at her as she walked across the street, the cell phone to her ear as she called someone to pick her up. The waiter came over and asked if he needed anything. He said no and stood, placed some cash down, and went to his car and sat in the parking lot. He thought about chasing her down but it wouldn’t do any good. He was thrown off kilter, as if someone had replaced his guts with lead weights and they bogged him down. He felt confused and angry and knew he wasn’t in any shape to speak to anybody.
Stanton sat in his car and watched her until the cab pulled to the curb and picked her up. Then he started the car, and headed home.
CHAPTER 25
There was a knock on Stanton’s door and he grabbed his firearm and sat up in bed. The pounding would stop for ten or twenty seconds and then start again. Stanton rose and went to the door. He looked out and saw Gunn standing with a pizza in his hand. Stanton opened the door, placing his gun on a side table by the door.
“What are you doing here? It’s ten.”
“Not yet it’s not. You eaten?”
“Yes.”
Gunn pushed his way in, placing the pizza box on the kitchen table. “Have a slice with me anyway. I haven’t had dinner.”
Stanton got out two plates and two cans of soda and sat down across from Gunn as he furiously shoved a molten-hot slice of pizza in his mouth. It burned his tongue and he swore and popped open the soda, gulping half of it.
“My fucking bowels,” Gunn said. “I told you this undercover shit messes with me.”
“How long were you there?”
“Since this morning.” Gunn took out his iPhone and pulled up a document. “Guy’s name is Henry Wenchowski. Polish, immigrated here ‘bout thirty years ago. Married sixteen years ago, two kids. Not so much as a fucking parking ticket on his record.”
“You wouldn’t have come over here if you didn’t have anything,” Stanton said, taking a slice of pizza and placing it on his plate.
“You know me well.”
“What’d you find?”
“Got ahold of his credit card statement. Had to sift through the fucker’s garbage. See, he came out like two hours before the rest of the family was even up and threw away a little plastic sack so I checked it out. It was full of condom wrappers, cigarette packages, beer cans, and this receipt.”
He pulled it out of his pocket and put it on the table. Stanton picked it up with a napkin and placed it on the back of the pizza box. It was to the Playland bar.
“He’s our fucking guy,” Gunn said with a mouthful of pizza.
“Who do you have on him now?”
“What’d ya mean who do I have on him? No one, it was just me.”
“You left him alone on a Saturday night?”
Gunn chewed his pizza and shrugged. “Yeah, so?”
“Stephen, he’s a predator. These guys are on cycles. If his cycle’s up and he’s out hunting…”
“Now? No way. What are the odds of that happening?”
“We need to go to the house and arrest him now.”
“With a fucking receipt?”
“I can get an ID from the manager too. That’ll give us enough for a warrant. Guys like him will always have little trophies in their house. One of Cisneros’ rings or some photos.”
Gunn finished his soda, wiped his hands with a napkin and let out a large belch. “If you say so. It’s your call, but if we blow our wad too early and he walks, you’re gettin’ the shit from Childs not me.”
“Let me get dressed.”
Stanton was dressed and they were out the door in less than five minutes. They took Gunn’s car, as it was parked illegally at the curb. The night air was cool and Stanton rolled down his window and stared at the lights passing by outside. They were in the heart of the city now, the part that few outsiders ever saw. Men were on some corners and scantily dressed women on others. Many of the women were nearly nude, some of them with little more than lingerie. At a stoplight, one of the girls approached the car from the passenger side.
“You lookin’ for a party, baby?”
Stanton held up his badge. The girl glanced around, as if confused, and then went back to the corner.
“Why you gotta do that?” Gunn said as the light turned and he raced through it.
“Do what?”
“They’re just working girls. Why you gotta scare the shit outta them like that? Just say no thank you and move on.”
“It’s easier just to show the badge.”
“You never worked Vice. See I worked Vice a long time. Them girls, most of ‘em are victims. They got some pimp somewhere beating their asses every night, rapin’ ‘em, threatening their kids. They got hard enough lives without us bein’ assholes too.”
“I think that’s the only time I’ve ever heard you actually have compassion. I’m impressed.”
“Don’t get all queer on me, just be nicer to the street girls.”
The home was dark and quiet. One light was on upstairs as Gunn parked the car at the curb on the opposite side of the street. Stanton kept his eyes on the lighted room. The blinds were left open. He could see a young girl getting dressed and her mother brushing her hair.
“She’s a little young to be up this late,” Stanton said.