Penny had draped herself protectively over Marilyn's sleeping form, pulling her tight. She loved the smell of the older woman's flesh, the feel of the warm body next to her. She would softly wake, from time to time and smell the delicate scent of Marilyn's perfume. Marilyn's sleep was hard, and Penny envied her, she always slept poorly when she was in an unfamiliar bed.
Softly, they dozed together, until the early hours in the morning. In late July, the dawn would break in Orchards about four or so in the morning, providing a slow, gentle, soft light.
A little after four, the telephone rang.
Marilyn's eyes snapped open, she felt Penny's hand pulling her tight. She leaned down, and kissed the forearm softly.
The phone rang again.
Penny groggily muttered, "what, who?"
"Phone," Marilyn said. She struggled to one side of the bed and felt around for her cane. The early morning was difficult for her, the leg with the pins in it painful, and slow to move.
"I'll get it," Penny said. She rolled quickly off the bed, buck-naked. Marilyn saw the perfect half moons of her ass as they danced out of the doorway, and down the hall.
Penny looked first in Marilyn's small, tidy office, and finding only her cellular phone charging but not ringing, went into the kitchen. There, on the wall was an avocado green phone with a dial on it. Penny picked it up and spoke grumpily into it.
"Hello," she said.
"Ma, this is Will," he said, exasperated. "I just got a phone call from the Orchards Fire department, they..."
Penny interrupted him, "This isn't Marilyn. Let me go get her."
"Who the fuck are you?" Will roared into the phone.
Penny became irritated with him and snapped, "It's Penny. Gimmie a damn minute and let me go get her."
Will was in shock, and couldn't believe what he had heard, until he heard his mother's caustic voice on the phone. "Will? What's going on?"
Marilyn woke up immediately as he related what the fire chief had told her, "a what? A fire? When? Right, right, we'll get over there right away. Okay, okay. I'll call you later. Thanks, Will, I appreciate it."
Penny cocked an eyebrow.
"They called Will as he's the emergency listing for the business. The bookstore's in flames, along with the whole strip mall." She said.
Penny gaped, and shook.
Marilyn took a deep breath, and exhaled.
Penny wrapped her arms around her, expected an onrush of emotions from Marilyn, and was somewhat puzzled when they didn't come.
"Aren't you upset?"
"I've got insurance, and my personal collection of books is safe, so I don't feel real bad," Marilyn admitted. "I'm more worried about the other businesses. That was Henry's sole source of income. I'm sure the law firm is paid up, and I know the Laundromat is a chain."
Penny gaped at her.
"Always remember girl, there are a lot of people worse off than you. I'm fortunate to have a business; most people have to work for someone else. Besides, we don't know the extent of the damage. A fire can mean any number of things. I," she paused, "want to look on the bright side."
Penny swallowed.
"Yeah, I know. I'm one of those people that has to work for someone else..."
Marilyn looked aghast, having put her foot squarely in her mouth.
"I'm sorry," she said plainly. "I'm still tired. Let's quit standing around here naked and go and see what all the fuss is about, shall we?"
Penny looked at her, and smiled, "but I like seeing you naked."
"I like seeing you over my lap with your ass beet red too, girl, but I don't think you can take the cane yet," Marilyn threatened, lightly snapping the cane on the counter. She was smiling, so Penny didn't take her very seriously.
"Yes ma'am," she saluted playfully.
"Rapscallion," Marilyn said, and swatted her on the rump as Penny led the way back into the bathroom. Penny winced just a touch, for there were a couple of hard, red lines where the mark of the spatula strike had left a small welt.
Quickly they dressed, Marilyn in her stockings, garters and slip, and Penny just her skirt and top, much to Marilyn's consternation. She watched Marilyn take some heavy-duty painkillers to deal with her hip injury.
"I'm going to ask you to drive, Penny. Do take it easy on me, I'm just a little old lady you know."
"Uh, huh." Penny said.
They piled into Marilyn's Cadillac and the engine started instantly. Penny felt the power of the larger car, the throb of the powerful V8 and was unused to the automatic transmission.
Marilyn said nothing, even as the strip mall came into view, she could tell the entire mall was a total loss. She sighed deeply, remembering the children yesterday. How their little shining faces lit the storefront up.
Penny pulled outside the cordoned off police line, and Marilyn got out of the passenger's side. She turned to Penny and said with a smirk, "You know, I always wanted a driver."
Penny rolled her eyes at her and gave her a scathing glance.
Marilyn smirked and promptly walked up to a small white car with a single red light on it, magnetically attached. There was a man leaning up against it, watching the fire, the firefighters, and talking to a senior female police officer.
Penny stood behind her, and looked at the huge blaze, the entire strip mall was on fire.
"Arson," she said simply.
Marilyn turned her head, and Penny explained to her:
"There's no other answer. The buildings are burning evenly, the odds of multiple sites like that starting at once are incredible."
A dark, coarse voice addressed them.
"That's an interesting deduction."
Marilyn turned back, as the man, talking to the police officer opened addressed them. She walked forward another step and said, "Marilyn Marshall, the bookstore is, or was, mine. This is my personal secretary, Penny."
Penny had no idea she had such skills, and accepted the promotion in stride.
"Well, Penny, you've got a good eye," he said, shaking Marilyn, then Penny's hand. "It is indeed arson. Probably gasoline, it is one of the most common flammables used in the starting of fires. It's open and shut, we've already caught the perpetrator. My name is Carson Wallis, I'm Clark Counties Chief Fire Examiner."
"Oh? That's fast work," Marilyn then inquired, "Who?
"Henry Sparling." He said.
"Henry?" Both women gasped.
"We found him drunk, in the field behind the bar, across the street, unconscious. He had an empty can of gas next to him." He gestured with his cigarette toward a patrol car with a person in the back, pressed against the glass of the passenger's side. "I doubt if he's anything close to sober.
Marilyn's eyes were sad, and filled with shame. She felt awful, the way that she had treated him, and knew, deep inside, she was somehow responsible. She lurched on her cane, and slowly walked toward the panda car.
Henry's back pressed against the passenger's side door, his head was shaking, and she could see he was almost convulsing. He was bare-chested, and had a horizontal red mark a few inches wide about mid-back, below a long, old scar that stretched from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. She wondered if he was going go vomit, and went over to the driver's rear side window and crouched down, balancing on her cane.
"Henry?" She whispered.
He raised his head. His face was stained with mud, and dirt, and he had a small cut on his chin. His eyes saw nothing but the fire, and tears streamed down his face. He was a mere shadow of his arrogant self.
"Marilyn, is that you?" He whispered. She could smell the mix of bile and alcohol on his system, as well as the pungent smell of gasoline, presumably from his pants.
"I'm here Henry, it's going to be all right," She said.
"No! No, it's not, Marilyn. The restaurant was all I had, I have nothing now, nothing!" He screamed, "they think I did it, but I was drunk, Marilyn, I couldn't have done it, don't you understand, I, I..."
Henry started to cry, and shudder uncontrollably, his eyes not fixed on Marilyn, but on the fire itself. She smelled the rank smell of urine, and realized that Henry's bladder and bowels had loosened themselves in the back of the Police Car.
She stared at him for a few moments and then shook her head, and stood erect. Carson was talking with animated gestures to Penny, and the Policewoman was approaching her.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry, we can't have you talking to the suspect." She said politely.
"That's okay, officer," Marilyn looked down at her name badge, "Schantez. We're friends, I suspect he'll need an attorney." Marilyn said.
"His wife was called, she said she would call his attorney."
Marilyn looked at her and then asked in a quiet tone, "Where did you find him?"
"At the bar, across the street. Drunk, in the field, like Carson said. We found him pretty much by accident, really. One of the firefighters spotted him as they were cutting through the back roadway."
Dawn was breaking, and Marilyn finally took the scene in full. The strip mall was a complete, total loss. Flames became embers by this point, between the water damage, and the fire damage, everyone would have to start over. She bit at her lip for a moment, and then stared at the figure in the car.
To think that Henry, who always joked with her, always hit on her, always wanted to be opening doors for her did this, was unconscionable. She started to weep slowly, quietly, stoically.
When Penny turned back toward her and saw those tears, it was as if a knife stabbed into her. She rushed to Marilyn and hugged her tightly. Marilyn could only hug her with one arm, feeling very frail, and very old.
"Penny, take me home," she said, finally.
Penny nodded and eased her into the Caddy. Marilyn held in one hand, the business card of the officer, and as they pulled into the driveway, let loose with a long, hard cry.
Penny, too, sobbed, and managed to get them both into the house where they collapsed hard on the bed together, holding each other, and crying. Slowly when the tears faded, Marilyn realized something.
Penny was still there. She was still strong, still the same, bright shining Penny that she had come to rely upon. It was, in some ways a blow to Marilyn's ego, to need, or want help, yet Penny was there.
