Relentless

the harbor, hills rose to the Pacific CoastHighway. Beyond the highway, other hills ascended, and over all, the sky loomed dramatic, bruised and swollen and scarred, and full of threat.
    No one could know where we were, but prudence—and my paranoia—required that before twilight I would have to put down the motorized shades encapsulated in the first of the two air spaces in the triple-pane windows. After dark, the interior house lights would make clear targets of us to anyone on the seawall or aboard one of the boats in the harbor.
    Behind me, at the entertainment center, the cabinet doors thumped shut.
    When I looked back, Milo remained at his computer, but the dog was nowhere to be seen.

   In the study, which had no water view and which had been staged with furniture too contemporary for my taste, I sat in a steel-and-leather chair, at a steel-and-glass table that served as a desk.
    Earlier, I had activated the disposable phone. It came with prepaid minutes, so I didn’t have to give my name or a credit card.
    Now I took a deep breath and phoned Penny’s parents. Grimbald— formerly Larry—answered. “Boom.”
    “Hi, Grim, it’s me, Cubby.”
    Grimbald had a formidable voice with a resonant timbre that made him sound like I imagined a hearty Viking would have sounded. “Hey, Cupcake,” he called out to Clotilda, “it’s our fair-haired boy, the famous writer.”
    “I’m not that famous, Grim.”
    “You’re a damn sight more famous than me, in spite of the fact I’ve been blowing up stuff all my life.”
    “Listen, Grim, I wanted to get to you before you saw it on the news later today.”
    “You know we don’t watch news, Cub. Last time we watched news, Cupcake shot the TV. Too damn expensive, buying TVs all the time.”
    “Well, someone else might see it and call you. So I wanted you to know we’re all right. Penny, Milo, me, and Lassie—we all got out just fine, not a scratch.”
    “Got out of what?”
    “The house. Our house blew up, Grim.”
    “Cupcake, they’re all fine, but their house blew up.” I could hear Clotilda in the background, and then Grimbald said, “Cupcake says isn’t that ironic, considering your in-laws’ profession. What the hell were you doing that your house blew up?”
    “Nothing. They’ll probably decide it was a gas-line leak.”
    “Not terrible damn likely.”
    “Grim, I’d like you to call the fire department, tell them you just heard about the explosion and you want them to know we weren’t in the house, we’re traveling in Florida, by car, a long road trip.”
    “Where are you in Florida? I’ve blown up a bunch of things down there.”
    “We aren’t in Florida. That’s just what I want you to tell them—to explain why we aren’t there dealing with the aftermath.”
    After a hesitation, Grimbald said, “Cub, tell me you didn’t blow up your own house.”
    “Of course I didn’t. I’m not a criminal type, Grim. I don’t do insurance scams.”
    “I didn’t mean on purpose. I meant like maybe you were using the vacuum cleaner the wrong way or something.”
    “Even I can’t blow up a house with a vacuum cleaner.”
    “Like if you thought you could use it to clean the burner rings on the gas furnace, but you didn’t turn the furnace off—”
    “It would never cross my mind to clean the burner rings.”
    “That’s good. Because they don’t need to be cleaned. Or maybe you thought you could use the portable barbecue indoors.”
    Staring down at my reflection in the glass tabletop, I thought my faint smile was a remarkable testament to the affection that I had developed for my in-laws over the years.
    “Grim, I didn’t blow up the place. Someone else blew it up, and he knew what he was doing, so I suspect the fire has been so intense that no clues are left, it’ll look like a gas leak.”
    Astonished, he said, “You know people who’d want to blow up your house?”
    “I think I know one.”
    “Who?”
    “It’s a complex story, Grim, and it’s got a big you-must-be-pulling-my-chain factor, so I don’t want to get into it now. I don’t have time, I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”
    “Are you in danger, Cub? Is Penny, Milo?”
    “Yes, Grim, we are.”
    “Then you’ve got to go to the police.”
    “Not a good idea,” I said. “I don’t have a shred of proof. The cops couldn’t do anything. Anyway, they wouldn’t believe me. They might even suspect me of blowing up the house myself, like you