“Sepia!” I blurt out when the landlord appears again.
He stops and shoots me a dirty look. “Excuse me?”
Confused, I just point at the picture. I didn’t mean to say it. I just remembered what the word for that brown-and-white photography was. It popped out of my mouth.
“Yeah… Okay,” he grumbles. “Last two apartments are at the top of the stairs.”
“Go on up with him, Trigger,” Pete says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Yeah, check out the upstairs apartments,” Stephan agrees, smirking.
“Jesus,” I hear the guy mutter under his breath.
He takes the stairs two at a time and I just follow behind, kind of bored but also kind of interested. It’s a really pretty house.
He knocks on the first door, then leans in to listen for a while. When nobody answers, he flips through his large key ring until he finds one and opens the door, pushing it inside and holding his hand out as an invitation.
“Okay, thanks,” I say as I walk past him.
It’s a nice place. Looks like an old lady lives here. The sofa is covered in flowers. The walls are covered in different flowers. Even the pillows have flowers on them. Mostly it is purple and yellow, which is not a combination I would have thought of. It’s really pretty.
I look around for a couple of seconds before I remember I am actually supposed to be doing something here. Scanning the ceiling, I see that there is a smoke alarm in the middle of the room and I reach overhead and press the test button.
“Looking good,” I announce officially as it chirps really loud.
The guy rolls his eyes. He scratches the back of his head. I bet he doesn’t even realize he has a bald spot yet. A lot of people don’t know until it’s already pretty far along. They just don’t see the tops of their heads very often I guess.
There is another detector in the bedroom, and another outside the bathroom. The stove has an overhead exhaust, and I flip it on, then off when I hear the fan engage.
“You done?” he snaps at me.
He wants me to leave so much. Part of me wants to leave, and part of me wants to lie down on the sofa just to aggravate him.
“You smell that?” I answer, sniffing the air.
I think he is growling. This guy is really focused on moving me along.
“I don’t smell anything!” he objects, like it is a joke I am playing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! Can we please move this along?”
But I do smell something. It is smoke. I’m sure of it. But not here.
“Hey, Pete!” I call out as I cross the apartment, following the smoky smell as it gets stronger and stronger. “Stephan! Up here!”
Just then, an alarm starts blaring from behind the other door in the hallway.
I bang on the door with the side of my fist. The guy starts fumbling for keys.
“Hello!” I yell out as I bang. “St. Charles Fire Department! Open the door!”
I can feel Pete and Stephan behind me. I know they’re there. I don’t even need to turn around. All my senses get turned up all the way. It smells like smoke, but I don’t feel the big heat of a big fire…
“Hello! St. Charles Fire Department! Open the door!”
Suddenly the door swings inward and a woman stands there, her eyes wide with fright. She closes her flimsy nightgown over her chest and backs away in her bare feet.
“Cookies!” she yells out.
Smoke fills one corner of the room, probably the kitchen. Pete pushes past me and runs over, flinging open the cabinet doors under the sink.
“Fire extinguisher!” he barks out.
The woman gasps helplessly. “What are you talking about? I don’t have one of those!”
The smoke intensifies. Now I can see it’s the oven. Pete flings the door open and bitter black clouds pour out. He covers his nose with the crook of his arm and snatches a pan from the depths of the oven, dropping it on top of the cooktop.
Blackened lumps of something lie in the middle of the pan, sizzling and popping dangerously.
“You’re supposed to have a fire extinguisher!” Stephan barks at the woman.
She gasps and backs up toward the wall, instantly pissing me off. Why does Stephan have to yell at everybody?
“Are you all right?” I ask her, stepping between her and Stephan, shielding her with my body.
She takes a deep breath and presses her lips together, raising her eyelashes to me slowly. Though she is clearly frightened, she is also very brave.
“I… I think so,” she murmurs quickly. “It’s not a fire! It’s just… How did you even know? Who called the fire department?”
“I’m just glad you’re okay, ma’am,” I reassure her, reaching out to pat her shoulders.
Poor thing. She is just trembling. Her hair is fluffy and damp and she breathes fast through her mouth like a frightened animal.