CHAPTER SIX!
Rampart General Hospital
JOHNNY and Roy couldn't stay long with Dana Caldwell once she was admitted to the hospital. At once upon their arrival, Dr. Brackett and Dr. Morton rushed her off to a treatment room where they realised she needed immediate surgery after a quick examination. The paramedics left the doctors to their duties, wandering out to the nursing station where Dixie was just ending a call to a different squad.
"...administer an IV of D5W, and transport as soon as possible." She ended the call and looked up to Johnny and Roy with a weary look. "It's barely noon and I'm already exhausted," she said. "How is the woman you guys brought in?"
Johnny put his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "It doesn't look good."
"Dr. Brackett and Dr. Morton just rushed her off to the operating room," Roy added.
Dixie looked down sadly, her long lashes landing to rest on top of her high cheeks. "That's rough," she said. "Vince came in a few minutes ago and said it was probably her husband who beat her."
Roy sighed. "It really looks that way."
Dixie looked back up to both of them, pursing her lips. "You guys look like you're more beat than I am," she observed. "It's time for my lunch break. Why don't you both join me at the cafeteria?"
"Sounds like just the thing I need," Johnny replied, stretching his back. And he wasn't just talking about the chance to eat. Talking with Dixie for a while was therapy in itself. She always knew the right thing to say to make you feel better. And she always listened to what you had to say, never being dismissive of your feelings.
Midway through his stretch, however, the handie-talkie he carried in his back pocket startled him back into an upright position. He fumbled to get it as the dispatcher droned. "Squad 51?"
"Squad 51 available," Johnny replied, somewhat disappointed.
"Respond to incident with Engine 51. Structure fire, possible injuries. 1725 Vanderlip Drive, cross street: Narcissa. Time out: 12:25."
Johnny quickly wrote down the address and then stuffed his pad back in his shirt pocket, all the while frowning deeply. "10-4, LA," he responded. He then gave Dixie a haggard look. "Sorry, Dix. Rain check?"
She shrugged. "Duty calls, but I'll hold you guys to it. Next time you stop by, food awaits."
"See ya later, Dix." They both mumbled it in unison as they walked off.
"See ya later."
Rancho Palos Verdes, CA
The fire was up in the hills of Palos Verdes, in an area with houses so grand just looking at them made you sick to your stomach. One of these houses was surrounded by engine 51 and the Palos Verdes engine, 53. It was smaller compared to its neighbouring houses, albeit still made anything in Carson look insignificant by comparison. Johnny at once thought of his friend, Jake Mercer, who'd just bought a house up here. The successful young lawyer's house was probably no more than a mile away from here.
Johnny and Roy parked the squad along the sprawling gravel driveway that led up to the front of the house. Once they were out and had gathered their gear, they trotted over to Captain Stanley. The captain stood talking with a blonde woman wearing a blue dress. She was coughing between breaths, and she appeared to have some minor burns on her hands.
"Were you the only one home?" Stanley was asking her.
The woman nodded and coughed more. "My husband is at work and the kids are at school."
"Do you know how the fire started?"
"You wouldn't believe it!" The woman shook her head. "I was out getting water for the dogs when this psycho in a pick-up drives up and chucks something on the front porch! Next thing I know, there's smoke everywhere. I had to run to my neighbour's house down the road to call you guys. Before that, I tried to get in, but only ended burning my hands." She looked her hands over. They were blistered and shaking, but nothing too serious.
Captain Stanley slightly turned. "Gage, DeSoto," he stated, noticing them. "You're here. These fellas are paramedics," Stanley went on, looking back to the woman. "They'll treat your injuries and make sure you're taken care of."
The woman turned to Johnny and Roy, her brown eyes large and glassy. She presented her hands to them. "It was probably really stupid of me to try to get back in the house," she said.
"Here." Roy helped her to sit down on a garden wall made of ruddy cinder blocks without taking the opportunity to pass any judgment on her. "Let's take a look at these hands."
Johnny kneeled with Roy and they both looked them over.
"Looks mostly superficial to me," Johnny said. "You think we should call the hospital, Roy?"
"The hospital?" The woman looked dismissive of that. "Oh, I don't need to go to any hospital. It just hurts, that's all. Superficial, like you said."
"Well." Roy looked up at her seriously. "You should still have a doctor look at this as soon as possible."
She nodded. "Okay. I'll just take myself, then. No need to call an ambulance, or anything. I'd hate to trouble anyone over something like this."
"Fair enough," Roy said as he helped her up. "We'll treat it for you, and then you can have your doctor look at it. Do you have a faucet or hose anywhere around here? We need to run your hands under cool water for a little bit."
"Over here." The woman led them both to a long green garden hose coiled up beneath a faucet near the rim of the garden.
The paramedics ran the woman's hands under the fresh water for about fifteen minutes. All the while, they watched the progression of the fire fighters' struggle to put out the flames. Chet and Marco worked on the front part, while men from Engine 53 worked on the area of the garage where the flames had spread. Luckily, the fire seemed to be under control now, and not much of the house had been affected.
Johnny turned the hose off. "That should do it," he said. He opened the drug box and pulled out some dressings. "We'll patch this up for you now."
Once the woman's hands were padded dry, Johnny wrapped both of them up carefully.
"Thanks!" The woman flashed them both a bright smile. "You guys are wonderful." She turned and considered her house for a moment. "Well, I suppose I better walk back down to the neighbour's and see if I can't get a hold of my husband. And some aspirin."
"You want a ride?" Roy asked.
The woman shook her head. "No thanks. But that's awful kind of you to offer." She smiled again and turned away for them. Johnny and Roy watched as she walked away.
As she was disappearing down the road, a sheriff's car appeared and drove up, parking right by the squad. Two helmeted sheriff's deputies exited the car. They walked over, their burnished aviator glasses glistening in the sun. Johnny recognised them as officers Saucedo and Burns from the Lomita sheriff station.
"Captain Stanley," Saucedo called.
The captain stuffed his handie-talkie in his fire-jacket and walked up to the officers. "Hey."
"We'd like a statement from the owner of the property," Burns said. He took off his aviators to squint at the scene, rubbing his dark moustache as he mulled over the situation.
"Gage, DeSoto," Captain Stanley called. "Where is Mrs. Humphries?"
The paramedics walked up too, looking around as they did.
Johnny scratched his head. "The lady of the house? She wandered down to the neighbours to make a call to her husband."
Officer Saucedo nodded to Burns.
"I'll go get her statement," Burns said. He put his sunglasses back on as he walked back to the car.
"This look like arson to you?" Saucedo asked Captain Stanley.
Stanley shrugged. "We won't know that for sure until the investigators get here. Since the fire is pretty much contained, I already called them up. They should be here soon. Mrs. Humphries sure described what sounded like arson to me."
Johnny gulped as he recalled Cap's statement from earlier that morning.
"The Battalion Chief wants us all to be on high alert just in case this wasn't an isolated incident and there's some lunatic going around."
Was it possible that this incident could be related to the apartment fire last Thursday? The logical part of Johnny's mind wanted to believe that it was nothing more than coincidence. But then again, how many arsonists could there possibly be in a five mile radius? A majority of the fires he personally saw were accidents, and the ones that were deemed arson were usually some moron burning down a structure to collect insurance money. But some freak driving up in a pick-up and chucking a flaming object onto someone's porch? That was a malicious act that Johnny knew didn't happen every day.
Just as the last bit of smoke on the house was being doused, the County Fire Investigators arrived at the scene. They pulled up in a bright red Fire Department Gran Torino, and parked just behind the sheriffs' vehicle. They stepped out of the car—four of them—wearing helmets branded with the emblem of Battalion 14.
The senior investigator—Johnny could tell he was the senior investigator because of the way he carried himself—walked up to Captain Stanley, the paramedics, and the two sheriff's deputies. He was a lanky man with a perfect moustache and when he took off his helmet, he displayed an impeccably kept head of blond hair.
"You must be Captain Hank Stanley," the investigator said, speaking with a clipped, obviously British accent. "I'm Nigel Cunningham, chief fire investigator of Battalion 14."
"A pleasure to meet you," Cap replied, shaking Cunningham's hand with a broad smile.
"The fire is all out, it seems," Cunningham observed curtly as he walked across the lawn and up to the house. Captain Stanley and the sheriff's deputies accompanied him, and Johnny and Roy followed out of curiosity. Marco and Chet, after putting all the length of hose away, joined the two paramedics.
After looking the scene over, Cunningham turned to face officer Saucedo and Officer Burns. "The woman who lives here said someone threw a flaming object onto her porch?" he questioned, his stern expression deepening. It occurred to Johnny that this was a man who didn't know how to smile.
The sheriff's deputies hesitated to answer, regarding one and other furtively through their aviators.
"That's what we heard," Chet suddenly spoke up for them, receiving and immediate look of disapproval from Nigel Cunningham.
"I was not talking to you," the chief fire investigator said.
Chet frowned, sinking back between Roy and Marco.
"The woman—" Officer Burns cleared his throat "—told me in her statement that a black pick-up, probably a Chevy, pulled up her driveway, threw a flaming object at her porch, and then quickly backed up and sped away. I've already put out an APB on the vehicle."
"Interesting." Cunningham raised a brow, putting thick gloves on. Carefully, he walked onto what was left of the front porch and began sifting through debris.
The men of 51 watched him curiously as he went about his business. Eventually, he called the three junior investigators over and they helped him to rummage.
"Aha!"
The apparent announcement that Cunningham had found something sent a tangible ripple of excitement through all the on-looking firemen.
Cunningham stood from where he had been previously crouched. In his hand he held up the shattered neck of a beer bottle. The glass was still intact despite the burn stains covering it. Cunningham sniffed the glass and then nodded.
"Molotov cocktail, anyone?" he asked.
And it was the first time Johnny saw this man smile.