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opened doors, or stuck their head out a window to call out to Gib. At the Pastorelli house, the curtains stayed closed.
    There was a small crowd gathered on the sidewalk near the restaurant, so John stopped while they were still out of earshot. “Your neighbors are going to want to talk to you, ask questions. Be best if you didn’t mention what we’ve talked about.”
    â€œI won’t.” He let out a long breath. “Well, I’ve been thinking about doing some redecorating. Guess this would be the time.”
    â€œWhen the scene’s cleared, you’re going to see a lot of damage, a lot that was done during suppression. But the bones of your place, they held strong. Give us a few days, and when it’s cleared I’ll come back and take you through myself. You’ve got a nice family, Gib.”
    â€œThanks. You haven’t met all of them, but I do.”
    â€œI saw all of you last night.” John took out his keys, jingled them in his hand. “Saw how your kids set up food and sandwiches for the firefighters. People who think of doing something positive in their hard times, they’ve got good bones, too. There’s Arson now.” He inclined his head as a car pulled up. “I’m going to have a word with them. We’ll be in touch,” he said and offered his hand.
    John walked to the car as the detectives got out of either side, and he gave them a steely grin.
    â€œYo, Minger.”
    â€œYo back,” he said. “Well, looks like I’ve done about all your work for you.” He took out a cigarette, lit it. “Let me bring you up-to-date.”

3
    It didn’t take a few days. The police came the following afternoon and took Mr. Pastorelli away. Reena saw it happen with her own eyes as she walked home with her best friend since second grade, Gina Rivero.
    They stopped when they reached the corner where Sirico’s stood. Both the police and the fire department had put up tape and warnings and barricades.
    â€œIt looks lonely,” Reena murmured.
    Gina put a hand on her shoulder, expressing support. “My mom said we’ll all light candles before Mass on Sunday for you and your family.”
    â€œThat’s nice. Father Bastillo came to see us, at the house. He said stuff about strength in adversity and God working in mysterious ways.”
    â€œHe does,” Gina said piously, and touched a hand to the crucifix she wore.
    â€œI think it’s okay to light candles and pray and all that, but it’s better to do something. Like investigate, and find out why, and make sure somebody gets punished. If you just sit around praying, nothing gets done.”
    â€œI think that’s blasphemy,” Gina whispered, and looked around quickly in case an Angel of God was about to strike.
    Reena just shrugged. She didn’t see how it could be blasphemy to say what you thought about something, but there was a reason Gina’s older brother Frank called her Sister Mary these days.
    â€œInspector Minger and the two detectives do stuff. They ask questions and look for evidence, then you know. It’s better to know. It’s better to do something. I wish I’d done something when Joey Pastorelli knocked me down and hit me. But I was so scared, I could barely fight.”
    â€œHe’s bigger than you.” Gina’s free arm linked around Reena’s waist. “And he’s mean. Frank says he’s nothing but a little punk who needs his a-s-s kicked.”
    â€œYou can say ass, Gina. Donkeys are asses, and it’s even in the Bible. Look, it’s the arson detectives.”
    She recognized them, and the car. They wore suit coats and ties like businessmen today. But she’d seen them in the coveralls and helmets when they’d worked inside Sirico’s.
    They’d come to the house and talked to her just like Inspector Minger. And a spurt of excitement hit her belly when they got out of