Blue Smoke

he’s metsomebody. He thinks he’s in love. He’s standing there, looking pitiful and telling me—his wife—that he’s sorry, but he thinks he’s in love with somebody else. Didn’t want to cheat on me, so he figures we need to get a divorce.”
    “Hard hit.”
    “Yeah, it was.” She picked up her coffee, and the wide silver band she wore on her left thumb winked in the sunlight. “Naturally, I got pissed off. Big scene, big fight. I ended up crying all over Bo then, too. But what am I going to do? Jerk doesn’t want me anymore. Then yesterday I find out he’s marrying her, and it hits all over again.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Yeah, well, screw it. And them. But the thing is, I don’t want to mess things up for Bo because I needed a shoulder. I’m an old pal. But you’re Dream Girl.”
    Reena winced. “Do you know how hard it is to live up to that title?”
    Mandy grinned. “Never been anybody’s Dream Girl, but I can imagine. Still, you’re stuck with it. Brad and I would rag on him about you sometimes.”
    “What are friends for?”
    “You got it. But it’s wild, isn’t it? You moving in right next door. Now he’s got little hearts in his eyes . . . and I’m making it worse.”
    “Just a little.”
    “Let me change the subject real quick.” Mandy motioned the waiter for a top off on her cup. “De Wanna Johnson.”
    “How do you know about her?”
    “I work for The Sun .”
    “You’re a reporter?”
    “Photographer. You gave a statement on the case yesterday, and I know they’ll want a follow-up. I thought if I could get a photo—”
    “Jamal Earl Gregg has been charged with murder in the second in the matter of the death of DeWanna Johnson. If you want a follow-up, you’ll need to talk to the DA’s office.”
    “You’re a local girl, strong local ties. And being a girl, whether we like it or not, gives the story a meaty angle.”

    “My partner’s not a girl, and we apprehended the suspect together. You’re going to want to go through the press rep, Mandy. It’s cleared, I’ve got no problem with a photo. And actually, I asked you to meet me because I wanted to talk to you about another fire. Josh.”
    “Okay.” Mandy looked down at her coffee, which Reena noted she drank black—and like water. “I was pretty wrecked over that. We all were. Reporter came to talk to me after. I was interning for The Sun back then. Went to New York for about six months after I graduated and found out I’m a small-town girl. Came back to Baltimore. I talked to his mother once after he died, when they came to get his stuff. It was dark.”
    “The investigators talked to you? The fire investigator, the police?”
    “Sure. They talked to everyone in the building as far as I know, some of the kids he had classes with, his friends. They must’ve talked to you, too.”
    “Yes, they talked to me. I was probably the last to see him alive. I was with him that evening.”
    “Oh.” Sympathy raced over her face as she shoved the sunglasses on top of her head. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’d been out, blind date with Bo—our first. Doubled with Brad and this friend of mine he was stuck on back then.”
    “You got home between ten-thirty and eleven.”
    Mandy lifted her eyebrows as she drank more coffee. “Did I?”
    “That’s what you said in your statement.”
    “That’s about right, best I can remember. Bo dropped me off at the door. I thought about asking him in, figured I’d play it cool, see what happened. My roommate was gone for the weekend, so I had the place to myself. I turned on some music, and I had a joint. Something I left out of my statement, and indulged in, occasionally, during my college days. I watched SNL until about midnight, went to bed. Next thing I knew, alarms are going off, people are running in the hall, shouting.”
    “You knew most of the kids in the building.”
    “Sure. By face if not name.”
    “Did Josh have a problem with any of them?”
    “No. You know how he was, Reena. Sweet guy.”

    “Yeah, but even sweet guys have problems with some people. Maybe a girl.” Bedroom fires, she thought. A more typical female method. More personal, more emotional. I’ll get you where you sleep, you bastard.
    As she thought back, Mandy twiddled with one of several silver necklaces she wore. “He dated, he hung out. Off-campus buildings like that were little hives of drama and sex and excessive partying. And abject fear around finals. But