03/03/01

How someone managed to incinerate my trailer without waking me, much less the dog, I just don’t know. Wouldn’t you know the first night in days that I sleep soundly, that’s the night I get attacked by a fucking firebug. Police won’t let Tommy New Yawka off the hook as yet, but I know it was only because of him that I lived. He was just getting home from the firehouse. It was in the middle of the night. He saw the fireball erupt, was right on the scene doing his rescue business immediately. He said he saw a man running off just as he arrived at the trailer. The pole the man used to drop a soda bottle full of gasoline down the woodstove pipe was left behind. It was one of those poles used for picking apples high on the tree. The police wanted to say Tommy was only saying all that about a man running off to make himself out to be a hero---that he was trying to make up for shooting the neighbor’s dog--- but I don‘t doubt what Tommy said to be the truth. Who that man was that Tommy saw in the darkness is anyone’s guess. I’m thinking there are at least 5 or 6 different men who might want me dead these days, not that I‘m bragging. It’s no easy mystery to solve for sure.

Dog was scared. Ran off. Hasn’t been seen since. I don’t blame him for once. He might have got burned worse than I did.

Like I said, the cops seemed most interested in Tommy at first, but then when they learned Phebe and I’ve been separated, they seemed to lock on to the theory maybe Phebe put someone up to try to take me out. When they heard about Phebe’s history with Stash Skimington---I guess I just couldn‘t help myself opening my mouth about that fucker--- that’s all they wanted to know about for awhile---Stash. Then they talked about the punk kid up the road. Then, of course, they hashed over Rocky’s testimony against the Umbria crime family, the attempt on Rocky’s life in jail.

Well, maybe it could be a mob hit.

And then--- I couldn’t believe it---there was this question: If I’m not mistaken you have a daughter you’re estranged from attending the state police academy right now, isn’t that right?

At some point last night after I got out of the hospital---after I spent all day getting burn treatments and talking to the police--- I got back to look for the dog with the police escorting me. I also managed to check the tool shed, found the computer disk and the Cumberland spearhead safe in their hiding spots, spared damage somehow from the heat of the nearby fire. I managed to slip them both into my coat without the cops seeing anything.

I’ve been staying at Percy’s duplex in Maybrook since then. No one seems to have any worries that Percy would torch my ass. He’s got that harmless kind of insanity everyone seems to love. No one tried to talk me out of taking up his offer for shelter like they did when Phebe and Tommy both offered.

I sure do appreciate Percy now. If I was home in bed with Phebe right now I might be scared to fall asleep for fear she’d crack my skull open with the nearby lamp.

I never brought up Hiram Palfrey’s name to police for some reason. Not sure why. Not til today anyway. That’s because so happens Porch Rot’s truck was found in Newburgh near the bridge. He’s missing. They think maybe he jumped into the Hudson or staged things to make it seem that way. Fucker.