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  “No. Her ring finger has a white band of flesh where a wedding ring would go.”

  “She have pets?” Charles asked, as only he would.

  Trula grinned. “Does a son count as a pet?”

  “So, no pets?” Charles said.

  Trula sighed. “None I’m aware of.”

  The fire appeared under control. Two James Island fire vehicles weaved their way out of the lot in front of the cremated building before pulling back on Ashley Avenue. Cindy, her sister, and Luke were moving out of the trucks’ way when Cindy spotted us. She rolled her eyes, put her arm around her sister, then escorted her relatives our way.

  “Chief,” Trula said, “I caught these vagrants hanging around. Figured they were up to no good. Want me to arrest them?”

  Cindy smiled. “Good police work, Officer Bishop. Tell you what, why don’t you help Officer Spencer herd that line of traffic off Ashley. I’ll take care of these troublemakers.”

  Cindy watched Trula leave, then turned toward Charles and me. “Guys, let me introduce you to Rosalynn Wheeler and her son Luke.”

  Rosalynn was two inches taller than Cindy. She shared Cindy’s endearing smile, when she said, “Please call me Rose. It’s nice to meet you. Cindy tells me you’re a couple of her friends.”

  I said, “I’m honored to say that’s true.”

  “We’re a couple of her favorite citizens,” Charles said, not to be left out.

  Cindy tapped his arm. “That’s compared to criminals, slimeballs, other assorted deviants I deal with.”

  Time to move along. “Rosalynn, umm, Rose, Officer Bishop told us you lived there.” I nodded toward the smoldering pile of wood.

  “Yes, we moved here three weeks ago and found an apartment there until we decide if we want to buy or rent.”

  Charles asked, “Where’d you move from?”

  “Morristown, Tennessee. It’s a small town northeast of Knoxville.”

  “What brings you to Folly?” Charles asked, never fearing to tread on personal ground.

  Cindy stepped between Charles and Rose. “Guys, as you can see, no one will be returning to that building anytime soon, correction, anytime at all. They’ll stay with Larry and me until they make other arrangements.” She pointed to a row of vehicles in the parking lot. “That’s Rose’s Ford Explorer blocked by our fire apparatus, so it’ll probably be a couple of hours before it can leave. Got a favor to ask. Could you walk Rose and Luke to my house so they can start settling in?”

  “Cindy,” Rose said, “I can find my way. I don’t need an escort.”

  “Rose, I’d feel more comfortable if you’d let them go with you.”

  “It’s no problem,” I said. “I’d be glad to walk you and Luke. Cindy, does Larry know they’re coming?”

  Larry and Cindy had been married eight years and lived in a house on East Indian Avenue. While only six or so blocks from here, it’s not a straight shot.

  “Chris, you know hubby keeps himself handcuffed to the cash register this time of year. It’s his big season. He’s the only person I know who gets excited about someone buying a plunger to unclog a toilet. I’ll be home long before he gets there and realizes we have boarders.”

  In addition to being married to Cindy, Larry owns Pewter Hardware, Folly’s tiny hardware store.

  I turned to Rose, “Ready to go?”

  “Let me grab something out of my vehicle.”

  I nodded.

  She walked to the Explorer with Luke matching her step for step.

  Cindy watched them step over the firehoses snaked across the parking area, then said, “Chris, she’s ten years younger than me, so I missed out on much of her life. I was already out of the house, moved out of our tiny hometown of Kodak, Tennessee, was working at various dead-end jobs in Knoxville during her junior-high and high-school years. The main thing I know is that she’s by far the smarter chick of the two of us.”

  “Cindy, that’s going some. You’re as smart as most people I know.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but look who you’re comparing me to.” She pointed to Charles.

  I laughed.

  Charles said, “Chief, that makes you a genius.”

  That got a chuckle out of Cindy before she turned serious. “Don’t know all the circumstances why she surprised me by showing up. I know she’s fragile. Don’t think it’d take much to break her from holding it together. I’d guess the only thing holding her together now is knowing she has to for Luke.”

  Charles kept an eye on Rose, yet said to Cindy, “You and Larry have a big house. How come they didn’t move in with you until they found somewhere to live?”

  “Excellent question, Charles. I asked the same thing. She said there was no way she was going to interrupt Larry and my way of life, whatever the hell that meant. Suppose that’s going to change now.”

  Rose and Luke returned. She carried a small box. From the logo on it, I’d guess it held a new cell phone.

  I didn’t have to guess, when she said, “Got a new phone yesterday. My old one does everything well except make phone calls. The guy at the store said it’d cost more to fix than to replace. Fortunately, I hadn’t gotten it out of the SUV. If I had, it’d be, well, you can see what it would’ve been.” She nodded toward the apartment.

  Cindy handed Rose a key to her house, then Charles said, “Chris, go on and escort Rose and Luke. I’ll stay to talk to some of the folks gawking at the smoldering rubble.”

  Translating Charles speak, that meant he wanted to nose into whatever happened; nose into things that were none of his business.

  Chapter Four

  We were a block from the apartment building before the air stopped smelling like burning wood, but we could still hear firefighters wrapping up.

  Luke kept looking back at the frightening scene, before saying, “Mom, everything we have is gone. What’re we going to do?”

  Rose reached for his hand. He yanked it back. I didn’t know if he was being a typical nine-year-old not wanting to show affection in front of a stranger, or something deeper.

  She smiled. “Luke, you’re right, our stuff is gone. Tell you what, let’s look at it like an adventure. We’ll get new things. Everything will be okay.”

  I was impressed with her attitude. I hoped she was sincere, not simply putting on a positive front for Luke.

  “Mom, that’s the same thing you said when we left home. Maybe we should go back to Tennessee where everything was okay.” His voice broke, he hesitated, then said, “We had a house, we had stuff, we had friends. Mom, we had dad.”

  Rose’s hand shook as she put it around Luke’s shoulder. This time he didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to intrude on their personal moment, so I took a couple of strides ahead of them, then continued to Cindy’s house.

  The festivities on Center Street must’ve ended. Several groups of people passed us going the other direction, most laughing and enjoying the day with exceptional December weather. Then I saw a familiar face.

  Dude Sloan was humming “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” while skipping, yes, skipping, down the middle of the street followed by his Australian Terrier Pluto hooked to a rhinestone-studded leash. Dude would’ve been hard to miss in his white T-shirt with a large DayGlo red and green peace symbol on the front. Dude, real first name James, was a longtime resident of Folly, owner of the surf shop, looked like a five-foot-seven version of a cross between Willie Nelson and Arlo Guthrie, was in his mid-sixties, and comfortable living like an aging hippie stuck in the 1960s. Pluto looked like a shorter version of Dude. I was privileged to count Dude as a friend.

  “Yo, Chrisster, Merry Christmas Parade. Got new family?”

  Did I fail to mention Dude’s vocabulary and speech pattern are challenging to say the least? That’s appropriate since Dude’s specialty is saying the least.

  The first spark of life I’d seen in Luke was when he left his mom’s side, then bent to rub Pluto’s chin.

  “What’s his name?” asked the young man w
ho appeared to have gotten over worrying about his future. He’d found a new friend.

  “Pluto,” Dude said. “Be named for dwarf planet. You be?”

  Luke stood, shook Dude’s hand, and said in a full, confident voice, “Luke Wheeler, pleased to meet you, Mr. Dude.”

  “No mister, just Dude.”

  “Dude,” I said, “Luke is Chief LaMond’s nephew. This is Rosalynn, Luke’s mom.”

  “Woe, Dude not great at family branches. That make you Chieftress’s sis?”

  “Yes. Please call me Rose.”

  “Your sis be great gal. Nephew Luke be polite. Rare in youngins. Be visitin’?”

  Rose smiled. “No, we’ve moved here from Tennessee.”

  “Cool. Rocky Top state,” Dude said as Luke turned all his attention back to Pluto. “Where be livin’?”

  Rose shook her head. “We were living in the apartment building that had the fire. Now we’re heading to my sister’s house until we find somewhere to relocate.”

  “Woe,” Dude said for a second time. “You be in building that be giant weenie roast? You okay?”

  “We’re fine. Thanks for asking.”

  “Pluto plus me be at holiday parade, heard sirens like there be convention of fire folks. Someone said, Ashley Avenue apartment building gone. Glad you be okey dokey.”

  That was a long speech for Dude, so I told him we’d better be heading to Cindy’s house.

  “Cool. Be needin’ anything. Clothes, surfboards, pup to hug, I be at surf shop. Don’t be stranger.”

  Rose thanked him as he continued skipping to wherever.

  “Interesting man,” Rose said.

  That was like calling an octopus an interesting looking creature.

  “Mom, do we need a surfboard?”

  “Think we need to get to Aunt Cindy’s first, then get some clothes, food, then—”

  “Got it,” Luke said as he rolled his eyes.

  “Rose,” I said, “were you at the apartment when the fire started?”

  “No, I was in Bert’s Market yesterday when someone told me about the parade. Thought it’d be fun for Luke. We were standing by Snapper Jack’s watching the festivities when I heard sirens. I didn’t think much of it. I figured there’d be fire engines and police cars in the parade. They use their sirens when they’re in the parades I’ve attended. Then more sirens, so I looked down Ashley toward our apartment. That’s when I saw a fire truck heading toward the building. Luke pointed out the smoke. I didn’t know what was burning but could tell it was near our place. We headed home to see for sure. You know the rest.”

  “That had to be terrifying.”

  “Not nearly as bad as it would’ve been if we were in the apartment.”

  “What floor were you on?”

  “First, the unit nearest the street.”

  “Had you lived there long enough to meet other residents?”

  “Not really. The middle unit, the one next to ours, was vacant, had been for five months, I’d heard. A man lived in the far unit, but I never met him. Upstairs there were two women, or that’s what the landlord said, and a young man. He introduced himself to me the day I moved in. Think his name was Ty, didn’t catch his last name. Sorry, that’s all I know.”

  “Ty Striker?”

  “Could be. Who’s he?”

  “Works at Bert’s. He’s the only Ty I know. Describe him?”

  “Early twenties, tall, maybe six-foot-one, thin, face not yet out of the acne years. He was friendly, smiled a lot. Sorry, I don’t know anything else.”

  “That’s okay. I was curious.”

  “The landlord could give you the names.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Russell O’Leary. I can give you his number. I don’t think he lives on Folly.”

  Luke listened to our conversation, then interrupted. “Mr. Landrum, does that Dude man surf? He looks old for a surfer.”

  I laughed. “He was a championship-level surfer a while back. He still goes out, mainly to help people wanting to learn.”

  “Think I’d like to learn. At home, guess that’s our old home now, we’ve got this big, umm…What is it, mom?”

  “Cherokee Reservoir.”

  “Yeah, the Reservoir. It’s got a lot of water, but I don’t think you can surf it. Maybe he can teach me. Mom, what do you think?”

  “I think we need to get settled in your aunt’s house, get new clothes, then we can think about surfing lessons. Deal?”

  “If you say so.” He lowered his head, not showing enthusiasm over her answer. He then raised his head. “Did you know mom is a professor?”

  And I thought Charles could change subjects on the head of a pin. “I didn’t know that, Luke. What does she teach?”

  “English and books, umm….”

  “Literature,” Rose added. “Actually, I was only an associate professor at Walters State Community College in Morristown.”

  “How did you get there?” I asked.

  “Got my master’s in English from East Tennessee State University. After graduate school, I was fortunate to be offered the teaching job.”

  “That’s where she met dad. He’s a banker. They got married, had me, then didn’t live happily ever after.”

  “Luke, I’m sure Chris doesn’t want to hear all that.”

  The same couldn’t have been said if Charles had been with us.

  We’d made it to the front of Cindy’s house. It was larger than the typical Folly house, was modern by island standards.

  Rose patted my shoulder. “Thanks for walking us over. We could’ve found it on our own, but my big sis still looks after me like I’m a little kid. Suppose she always will.” She glanced at Luke who was paying more attention to a couple of women walking down the street than to us. “Cindy wanted us to move in with her. I didn’t want her hovering over us, big sister like, so that’s why we rented. We don’t have a choice now.”

  “Rose, I didn’t mind walking with you. Sorry about the rude welcome you received. Not every newcomer’s house burns.”

  “Thank you anyway. Could I get your number in case I think of anything else about the others in my building?”

  We exchanged numbers. She thanked me again for walking her to Cindy’s.

  “Mom,” Luke said, “can we get a dog like Mr. Dude’s?”

  “Maybe someday.”

  I left on that vague promise.

  Chapter Five

  After depositing Rose and Luke at Cindy’s, I called the Chief to let her know her relatives were safely at her house.

  “How are they?”

  “A little shook, as you can imagine, but overall I think they’re fine. We ran into Dude along the way. Pluto distracted Luke, which was good.”

  Cindy laughed. “I’d also wager Dude distracted my sister, the English professor.”

  “She said she taught literature, so I imagine she’s familiar with the strange versions of the English language throughout history.”

  “She didn’t study anything resembling Dudespeak.”

  “True. Anyway, they’re safe at your place. Know what started the fire?”

  “Nothing official until the experts say. I’d put money on arson.”

  “Why?”

  “It went up too fast. The fire spread faster than normal unless it was accelerant fed.”

  “Any idea who may’ve set it?”

  “Chris, give me a break. I’m standing here looking at what used to be a building. If the arsonist left a written confession, it’s part of the smoldering crap.”

  “Do you know who besides your sister lived there?”

  She gave an audible sigh. “Tell me again why I answered the damn phone.”

  “Cindy, you never told me the first time. I assumed it was to enjoy a conversation with one of your favorite residents.”

  “Yeah, but then it was you.”

  “Other residents?”

  “Five of the units were rented. Fortunately, we haven’t found any bodies. Unfor
tunately, none of the residents, other than Rose have come to claim their ashes. They’re either still milling around the events on Center Street, are on the beach, or off-island. I don’t know who they are. We’re running plates on the cars in the lot. With luck, that’ll give us some names.”

  “Rose told me she’d only met one resident. The guy in the second-floor center unit is named Ty. She didn’t know his last name. The only Ty I know is Ty Striker, a young man who works at Bert’s.”

  “Thank you, detective Chris.”

  “Just sharing what your sister said. What about the landlord? Rose told me his name is Russell O’Leary. She doesn’t think he lives on Folly.”

  “One of my guys tried to rent an apartment there a year ago. The units were full at the time, but he still had O’Leary’s number. I tried it, but with my luck, it’s disconnected.”

  “You can call your house to get the number Rose has. It’d be more recent.”

  “Thank you again, detective Chris.”

  I wasn’t anxious to go home, so I passed my cottage on my way to Bert’s, Folly’s iconic grocery that prides itself on never closing. Hurricanes are the only thing that’ve messed with that tradition. I cook about as often as I skydive, which is never, so having a grocery next door was one of the appealing features when I bought my retirement home. Besides never closing, Bert’s carries everything from bungee cords to beer, neither of which I have a need, but between the two, I could find snacks, breakfast items high on calories, an occasional sandwich, plus numerous items to meet my unhealthy penchant for sweets.

  Today, I wasn’t looking for food. Ty Striker was my focus. He was behind the register waiting on a lady tugging a sad-looking beagle behind her. Ty met the description of the man Rose said lived in her building. He was about six-foot-two-inches tall, thin, in his early twenties, with a narrow face with a long nose. He looked like he could play Ichabod Crane in a prequel to “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” His long black hair was pulled in a ponytail with a multi-colored scrunchie. A few wayward hairs sprang out the side.

  He gave his customer change while wishing her a pleasant day, then noticed me standing off to the side.