“Are they going to dig up the dirt?”
“No. They're wasted. Mooch is lucky he hasn't jackham-mered his foot.”
“I need a bathroom break.”
“No activity?”
“None. It looks to me like no one's even in the bottom half of the house.”
“I'd take your place, but I'm afraid to leave Mooch alone with the kids.”
“Afraid he'll plant them in the cellar?”
“No. I'm afraid he'll share my remaining beer with them.”
So I had a dilemma. I had to tinkle. Bad. And I had no one to relieve me. I could drive around and look for a gas station or convenience store with a bathroom, but that could take time. Or I could run across the street and use Jelly's bathroom. If I used Jelly's bathroom, I ran the risk of getting trapped again. Not to mention contracting a disease.
I did a mental coin toss, and Jelly's bathroom won. I pulled the key out of the ignition, shoved it into my pocket, and crossed the street. I let myself into the apartment, went straight to the bathroom, and lined the seat with toilet paper. Even with the toilet paper, I tried to be careful not to touch anything. This wasn't a bathroom that inspired confidence, and better safe than sorry. I was about to squat when I heard a crash and a sizzle, and an explosion rocked the building. I yanked my pants up and ran out of the bathroom. I got to the hall and saw a wall of flames race around Jelly's living room, creating an instant inferno. No way to get to the stairs. I ran back to the bedroom and slammed the door shut. I shoved the window up and crawled out. I hung by my hands, took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and let go. My feet hit first and then I was flat on my back with the wind knocked out of me.
I dragged myself to my feet and took a couple deep breaths. This wasn't good.
I didn't want to be found here.
I limped through the houses little backyard and half climbed, half fell over the split-rail wood fence, into his neighbor's yard. I crept between houses and came out on the street behind Jelly's.
A big black glob of smoke rose above the housetops, into the sky. Two police cruisers raced past me, and I could see the flashing lights of a fire truck farther down the street. I walked around the block and stood by Morelli's SUV, across the street and two houses down. My face felt flushed from the heat of the fire, and the realization that I could have died on the toilet.
My back ached and my arm was scratched and bleeding. I was having a hard time breathing, and I could feel tears collecting in my throat and behind my eyes.
I managed to get into the SUV, but I was paralyzed by the horror and unable to drive. Jelly's house was completely engulfed in flames. Firemen were spraying water on neighboring houses and the fire didn't seem to be spreading. Thank goodness for that.
Emergency vehicles clogged the street. Fire trucks, cop cars, EMS trucks. Even if I was capable, I couldn't leave. One by one, the surplus trucks began moving out. I waited for my opportunity, and then I left, too.
Morelli, Mooch, and Tiny were in the kitchen, drinking coffee and eating sandwiches, when I walked in.
“We need to talk,” I said to Morelli.
Morelli looked at my scraped arm. “Are you okay?”
“Marginally. Somebody blew up Jelly's house while I was in his bathroom.”
Everyone went slack-jawed and stared at me.
“I was staking it out, and I had to go,” I told them.
“Jeez,” Mooch said. “Blowing up a house is serious stuff. Not in Trenton, but in most places.”
Morelli paled. “You couldn't find a gas station? You actually broke into his house to use his bathroom?”
“It seemed easier. Until the house blew up.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“I don't think so. I think the downstairs apartment was unoccupied. And I was alone upstairs. It must have been a firebomb shot into the front window. I heard the glass shatter, and then the explosion, and then everything was in flames. I was able to escape by dropping from the bedroom window.”
“Why were you watching Jelly?” Mooch asked.
“I was watching for Dom,” I told him. “It's possible Dom's been bunking with Jelly.”