"Just so we can do research on the ashes?" Teresa gave me a look that was part sad, part disappointed, mostly angry.
"It beats your plan, which is to wait around forever," Carson blurted.
"What are you talking about?" Teresa asked him.
"You guys may have all the time in the world, but that's not what I signed up for." Carson unleashed his frustration in a loud blast of words, then stretched his arms out on the table and put his head down.
Stan took his seat again. He put his hand on Carson's arm and shook it. "What's this about? Is everything okay?"
"Nothing's okay. Nothing will ever be okay again," Carson said, his voice soft.
"Carson? You did this? You set the fires?" Teresa's face had fallen, making her seem almost as old as Stan.
"I'd do it again," he said. "Except for Danielle."
Peter put his head in his hands; Stan looked up at the ceiling, an uncomprehending look on his face.
"What about Danielle?" Teresa's voice was high pitched, her tone worried.
Carson closed his mouth, folding his lips inward. "It was an accident."
Teresa looked at the photo in front of her. "You killed Danielle?"
"I didn't mean to." Carson raised his voice to match Teresa's. "She wanted to stop the project."
Stan slumped over. For a minute I feared the revelation had given him a heart attack. Peter reached over and rubbed Stan's shoulder seeming to console him.
"What project are you talking about?" Teresa was nearly screaming now.
"'Big Boy,'" Stan said. "We called it Big Boy. Danielle was fine with it for a while, but she didn't want to use the nursing home. She came down there to stop me. We fought and I pushed her away." Carson's voice grew more and more shaky. "She fell … and … I … she hit her head."
"And you left her there?" Teresa had assumed Matt's role of interrogator. I was sure that was fine with him.
Carson threw up his hands. "I had to get out of there. The fire was coming at me. I couldn't help her. I knew she was dead."
Stan and Peter, who'd remained silent through Carson and Teresa's shouting match, now stood together and, as if they'd planned it, lunged toward Carson with faces and arms ready for battle.
Matt jumped up, handcuffs at the ready.
Carson continued to babble through the four-man struggle. "The fire was blazing. I couldn't breathe. I panicked." I might have felt sympathy for Carson, except for his last words: "And I had to test the compound."
I buried my head in my hands and resigned myself to the fact of a scientist gone bad.
****
A lot had happened between two Sunday brunches at the Galiganis'.
"It was all there in the emails," Matt told us during the omelet course the following week. We listened attentively as he recounted how Carson had talked Danielle into helping with Big Boy, convincing her that it would be good for the environment in the long run. He'd assured her that no one would be hurt.
I swallowed hard at the outcome: only Danielle ended up being hurt.
"It was a different kind of motive for arson. We've got to give him that," Frank said. "Nothing ordinary, like vandalism, or insurance scamming, or a guy getting his kicks from seeing the flames."
"Or someone making a political statement, like a terrorist," Rose said.
"In a way it was a statement," I said. "About how researchers have to struggle for funding." I put my hand up in a STOP gesture to stem any backlash, and to protect my right to a cannoli. "Not that I'm excusing Carson or Danielle," I said. "Not a bit." I looked at my husband. "I'm a big fan of law and order."
"Wonderful news," Rose said. "Now let's plan that anniversary party."
"I won't stall anymore, I promise. But I have just one favor to ask."
"Anything, as long as we can set a date," Rose said.
I smiled a thank you at my best friend. "No candles, please.