Page 68 of The Homewreckers
Rice ripped the citation from the pad and handed it to Hattie, who threw it to the porch floor and stomped on it.
“Super fun way to start the day,” said Cass, who’d been leaning against the porch railing, watching Hattie’s interaction with Inspector Gadget.
“My head already feels like it’s going to explode.”
She called the cell number Makarowicz had given her, but it went directly to voicemail.
“Detective Mak? It’s Hattie Kavanaugh. Call me, please. It’s important.”
She disconnected and looked over at Mo Lopez. “How bad is it?”
He opened the front door and gestured for her to enter. “See for yourself.”
The front of the house was untouched by the fire.
“The firemen cut power to the house last night,” Hattie said.
“I found the main breaker and turned it back on when I got here,” Mo said.
She heard voices coming from the kitchen. “The painters,” Cass said. “Jorge and his guys feel awful. They heard about the fire on the radio and got here about the same time I did.”
“But we don’t know that it was their fault,” Hattie cautioned.
“One thing we do know. It’s a mess,” Mo said.
Hattie’s heart sank when she saw the pool of water seeping into the hallway.
Jorge and his son Tomas were inside the kitchen, using push brooms to sweep an inch of standing water toward the propped-open back door. A huge industrial fan was set up on the makeshift sawhorse worktable, and Jorge’s nephew Eddie was dragging in a wet-dry shop vacuum. The whole back wall of the kitchen was coated with a fine, greasy black film, and all the cabinets, which had not yet been installed, were coated in the same soot.
Jorge looked up at her with mournful eyes.
“So sorry,” he said. “We were careful, Hattie. Tomas says he had all the paint rags in a ten-gallon sealed bucket. It was on the back porch, but it’s gone now.”
Tomas nodded. “The can of mineral spirits we were using to clean brushes is gone too.”
“Holy shit,” Hattie whispered. “Someone reallydidset that fire on purpose.”
“What happens now?” Hattie asked. “Will we have to shut down? Will the network give us more time to finish the house?”
They were standing on the front porch, sipping coffee, while the camera crews were busy documenting the fire damage for the insurance company.
“No, and no,” Mo said calmly. “Rebecca called me as soon as I got off the phone with you. She was adamant. Nothing changes. We make the fire drama part of the story. Who doesn’t love a good catastrophe—as long as it happens to someone else. Right?”
“That’s crazy,” Hattie objected. “That water in the kitchen was standing all night. There’s a good chance those old wooden floors will have warped. And the back porch is a mess. I’m worried those columns might have more than just smoke damage.”
“We’ll have to figure a work-around. Trae can design something that looks close to or better. Where is he, by the way? It’s almost nine.”
“I don’t know,” Hattie said. “He texted me early this morning, but I haven’t had time to text him back or call.”
“Ooh, girl,” Leetha said. “After I saw those photos of you two on TMZ I figured maybe the two of you would be strolling in here together this morning, looking all afterglowy.”
Hattie let out a long, exasperated sigh. “How many times do I have to say it—it wasn’t like that. We are not a couple. Okay? Are we clear?”
“Whatever you say,” Leetha murmured.
Cass walked up, holding a paper plate loaded with fruit and muffins from craft services.
“Mom called the insurance company, and an adjuster should be here today.”
