Lie Down in Green Pastures. DEBBIE VIGUIE
rid of a lot of dead leaves, branches, and trees.We're going to be heading into summer with too much dead undergrowth. Better to burn it now than to risk a fire breaking out and burning out of control later."
"I assume you filed all the necessary paperwork, got permits, everything?"
"Of course. We advertised, even posted signs warning people to stay away."
"When did you realize someone ignored those warnings?"
"Helicopter pilot who was keeping an eye on the burn from up above spotted the car about a quarter of a mile off. We doused the fire as fast as we could, but it was too little, too late. It took us an hour to find him. We were hoping someone had just left the car, but then, well, I smelled burned hair and a minute later I found him. That's when we made the call to you boys."
"How did you know who he was?"
"The registration in his car. It made sense, too. He raised such a stink a couple years back when we were going to do the burn. He even managed to get a temporary restraining order, called for environmental impact studies, blah, blah."
"What happened?"
"While everyone was busy messing around some idiot set off a fire with a cigarette butt. Fire wiped out more than a dozen houses."
"I remember that," Mark said.
"Yeah, well, we hadn't heard much from Mr. Kelly since then. Figured he'd learned his lesson, just sorry others had to pay his tuition."
"More often than not that's what happens," Mark said. "So, I guess he forgot it and headed out here to try and do the same thing all over again."
The fire chief stroked his chin and stared toward the body."I'm not entirely convinced that's true."
"What makes you think that?" Mark asked sharply.
"You ever seen a rat caught in a trap?"
"Can't say as I have."
"They get desperate enough they'll gnaw their own leg off to get free."
"Randall Kelly wasn't a rat," Mark noted.
"No, but he was in a trap same enough. What would you do to save your life?"
Mark turned and looked at the skeleton. "You mean would I gnaw my own hand off?"
"No need. All you'd have to do is dislocate or break one of your thumbs."
"Spend much time running from the police when you were a kid?" Mark joked even as he stared at the body. Jim was right.All Randall would have needed to do to escape was free one hand. If he had struggled hard enough he could have broken his thumb even if he didn't mean to.
"Why weren't you struggling, Randall?" he whispered.
True to her word Geanie returned just before lunch, freeing Cindy up to head to her meeting at O'Connell's Pub. She arrived a couple of minutes early and settled into a booth.The pub was authentic Irish, at least as far as one could get in California. She had always liked the food and every once in a while she would come in and watch people talking and playing darts. She didn't participate even though she was a pretty good dart thrower. Cindy was always too shy to get up in front of people and perform like that.
"One day," she promised herself under her breath as she stared longingly at the dart board. Of course, it looked much different than the one she had on the back of her bedroom door at home. This one didn't have a picture of her brother on it. I wonder if I can even hit a board without using his face as a target? she thought, smiling to herself.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting," Gary O'Connell said as he slid into the booth and took up position across from her.The real estate agent was in his late thirties with light brown hair, hazel eyes, and the world's cheesiest smile. She always wondered who had the wider, whiter smiles—movie stars or real estate agents.
They shook hands. They had met once before, at the office of the lawyer who had handled the estate of Marge Johnson, a church member who had died the year before and left her possessions to various church staff and members. To Cindy she had left a house.
While Cindy appreciated the gesture enormously, the house was too large for her needs and she was afraid of what the upkeep costs were going to be. Gary O'Connell had been the Realtor recommended to her.
"How are you doing today, Cindy?"
"Not bad, you?"
"I'm still in business so I can't complain. At least not too loudly," he joked.
She smiled. "I've been meaning to ask you. Any relation to the pub here?"
He nodded. "My brother Chris owns this place."
"Well, tell your brother I'm a fan of his corned beef sandwiches."
"Let me guess. You have them once a year."
"More like once a month," she said with a smile. "I told you, I'm a fan."
"I will be sure to pass that along."
"Thanks."
He gave her that cheesy smile again, then pulled a folder out of his leather satchel. "So, Cindy, let's get started. I've brought some paperwork for you to sign and we'll talk about the process and what you can expect from it and from me."
"Thanks, I really appreciate it," she said, taking the papers."I've never sold a house before. I've never even owned a house before."
"I'll do everything I can to make the whole thing as painless as possible."
"What do you think the chances of even selling it right now are?"
"I'll be honest with you, not great. Still, we'll do all that we can."
"It must be a difficult time to be a real estate agent," she said as she started skimming the papers.
"What can I say? It's a killer market. Last agent standing and all that."
"Well, good luck," she said, glancing up.
"To both of us," he smiled.
The waiter came over and Cindy ordered a corned beef sandwich.
"The usual," Gary said, relinquishing his menu.
"That must be nice," she said as the waiter walked away.
"What?"
"To go somewhere often enough they know you and know what you want to eat."
"But on the other hand, it really throws people off if you're in the mood to mix it up a little and order something else."
They spent the next forty-five minutes talking and eating. Cindy listened as Gary outlined his plan for selling the house.
"How long have you been in real estate?" she asked when he took a breather.
"Fifteen years. I've mostly done commercial, but the last year and a half I've been forced to branch out and now I do residential as well."
"One-stop shopping."
"That's me. Hurry, hurry, hurry, step right up and satisfy all your real estate needs," he said, mimicking a midway barker.
She couldn't help but laugh. When they were finally finished she made her way back to the church feeling optimistic about her chances of selling the house.
Geanie was clearly relieved to see her and Cindy soon discovered that word of the accident had spread and she spent the rest of the afternoon fielding calls. Several times she wondered how much worse it was next door where Jeremiah's secretary, Marie, was probably having to explain to every member of the synagogue just what had happened to their rabbi. She felt sorry for them both.
By the time Cindy left work she was exhausted. When she got home, she walked into the kitchen, grabbed a marker from a