Page 60 of Fire and Bones

In Foggy Bottom.

“Is it still burning?”

“Oh yeah. But not quite as hot as before.”

“Where?” Doyle gestured that I should take down the info.

The caller, clearly a smoker, probably male, reeled off an address. I entered it into the Notes app on my phone.

“How close is that to the previous fire?”

“I could maybe spit.’cept I’d—”

“Is it another illegal Airbnb?”

“Negatory. Single-family rental, outa my range by a zillion—”

“Is anyone inside?”

“Word is the happy couple is doing the season in Vienna.”

“Do you have their names?”

“Phil and Devira Aaronson. The assholes left their parakeet behind.” Before Doyle could query how her CI knew that, he added, “The whole goddam brigade had barely landed when a kid showed up claiming to be the house sitter.”

“Who is he?” Jiggling a finger at me.

“Chippy Bennett. With two n’s, two t’s. Who the hell goes by—”

“Did Bennett call it in?”

“Yeah. The little capitalist lives two doors down. Spotted smoke.”

“Engine Company 23 responded?”

“Yeah. Guy running the scene’s the size of a SpaceX.”

“Hickey?”

“Rocket Man wasn’t in the mood to chat.”

“So they’ve got the flames contained?”

“Yup. Show’s pretty much over. I’m about to haul ass. You want I should send pics?”

“Yes.”

“I snapped a few, but they’ll cost extra.”

“No problem.”

“Coming atcha. And whoever’s listening there in the wings, you never hearda me.”

I assumed that comment was for my benefit.

“You picked up the alert on your scanner?” Doyle asked.

“Affirmative. By the by, he made it.”