The Dust of Death

Chapter 25

It was after midnight. The lights in the boys' rooms had been turned off hours ago. The city was still alive around him. Phalen heard the train's shrill call carried on the breeze that blew through his automobile's open window. The wind was surprisingly warm. On it, the smells of the city traveled. Sweat from a day's toil, home-cooked meals, fresh laundry air-dried on lines strung across the streets, fruits and meats and breads and flowers hawked from vendor carts, a hundred thousand aromas from a hundred thousand sources.

He liked the city, he decided. Oh, he enjoyed the country, but there was something about the city that made his heart race. The country was pure; the country was quiet; but nothing could replace that gritty sound of a jazz musician, a little high on locoweed. It had been too long, Phalen decided, too long. He might hit his favorite club tomorrow. Day after, for sure.

He thought about Carrie, Tom's aunt.

Must be weird, he thought, to have an 'auntie' as young as you. But all families were different, and it wasn't that long ago that many generations lived under one roof. Modern times. The fast pace of life. The desire of the young to fly from the nest and experience life on their own. Times were changing.

He wanted a cigarette, but he knew the tale-tale glow might alert some street panther who was looking for trouble and who was on the prowl. Instead, he reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of gum.

"You mind if I keep you company?" a voice from the opposite side of the car whispered in the darkness.

Phalen dropped the gum. It disappeared in the floorboard, lost in the darkness.

"Tom!" Phalen said, hoping the night hid the fact that he'd almost jumped out of his skin. "Door's open. Have a seat."

Tom opened the passenger's door and slid into the seat.

"What are you doing out here?" Phalen asked. "It's late? Don't you ever sleep?"

"I might ask you the same question," Tom said.

"I'm keeping an eye out for trouble," Phalen said.

"Same here," Tom said. "It's one of those nights when my brain won't shut off. Or maybe, I am guilty of gluttony. But it is so hard to resist when our cook keeps telling you to take a little more. She really is an excellent cook, and I'm lucky to have her, but I think the onions I had for dinner are protesting before the Almighty, tonight."

"I know that feeling," said Phalen, laughing.

"Anyway," said Tom, "I know you thought your words of warning were falling on deaf ears, but I didn't want to act shaken in front of the boys. They know when I pass gas! But, you said to be careful, so I decided to walk the area before calling it a night. I saw your car suspiciously parked here in the shadows and decided to investigate. I figured it had to be you. None of the other fellas I know drive a yellow Stutz."

"It does tend to stick out in a crowd," Phalen said, laughing.

"How do you hide a car like this," Tom said, "I mean if you're following somebody in your detective work?"

"Oh, that's easy," Phalen said. "I leave it at home and use my partner's black sedan."

"Makes sense," Tom said.

"Makes perfect sense. And he's even kind enough to foot the bill for the petrol."

"Nice guy," said Tom.

"You said it," Phalen agreed.

"You going to sit out here and watch us, all night?" Tom asked.

"I hadn't made my mind up, yet," Phalen said.

"Well, I think I'll call it a night. If my guardian angel is on duty, I got a feeling even the rowdy onions in my gut will rest easier!" Tom said. "Seems to be pretty dead around here."

"Yeah. Unusually quiet. But, I'm not complaining," Tom said.

"Oh, me neither."

The two sat talking for a few minutes more.

"Well, Phalen," Tom said, "I think I'll pack it in. I have a busy day, tomorrow, and if I don't try to get some shut-eye, I'll be groggier than London in a heavy fog."

"Good-night, Father," Phalen said.

"You're a good man, Phalen. God's gonna bless you," Tom said, disappearing into the shadows of the large house.

About an hour later, Phalen thought he heard a noise. Just one metallic 'bump' in the darkness. Then, all was quiet. At least for a few minutes. Then, all hell broke loose.

Phalen heard the sound of breaking glass. There were screams, and he grabbed his flashlight and raced from his car to the backside of the house.

"It's okay," said Father Tom. "It was just a small fire. Tossed through my bedroom window. I beat it out with a rug. Nobody's hurt. Bobby, start a head count. Be sure everyone's okay."

Father Tom was in his nightshirt. There were soot smears on his face. His hand was red.

"You're bleeding. Looks bad," Phalen said, handing Tom his handkerchief to wrap his palm.

"It's nothing," Tom said. "Is everyone alright?"

"Everyone's present, Father. A couple of the younger boys are crying, but nobody's hurt."

"Good," Tom said. "Round them up. Put them on pallets in the sitting room. We'll sleep together, tonight. That way, I can keep an eye on all of you."

"Yes, Father," Bobby said.

"I'll call the cops," Phalen said.

"No," Tom said. "No cops."

"Why not?"

"Look, Phalen, my boys are in and out of the precinct all the time. I am not at the top of their list for the Good Samaritan Award. They see me as more of a pain in their ass, I think. I try to do all I can for my boys, and that rubs some of the officers, who think my boys should be shipped off to the work farm, the wrong way. Besides, I'd probably get a bill for calling them out for nothing. The fire's out. There's no harm done. Go home. I appreciate your help, but I think that my little rabid firebug, as I like to think of him, has done all the damage he can, tonight. You'll never catch him. He's probably blocks away by now."

"You really should call the cops?" Phalen asked.

"No," Tom said.

"I think that's a mistake," Phalen said.

"Phalen, did you see anyone do this?"

"No," Phalen said. "It was too dark."

"No witnesses. No suspect. The fire's been put out. No damage, to speak of. Those guys would look at me and say I had no case," Tom said. "I think that's how the lawyers that hang around down at the precinct say it. Thanks for all you've tried to do. But, I think it's time for you to call it a night, too. He won't be back. Not tonight, anyway."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay until daylight?" Phalen asked.

"I'm sure," Tom said.

"What did he use to start the fire?" Phalen asked. "Maybe I could get some fingerprints off it."

"Don't waste your time," Tom said. "It was crude. A fuel soaked rag wrapped around a brick. Something like that. We'll clean it all up in the morning. I'll dispose of the mess. Go home. Get some sleep. Thanks for all you've done."

"I've done nothing. But is there anything else I could do for you?" Phalen asked.

"Just pray, my friend. Just pray."