Groff said, watching two people die, "Why's he racing it around town?"
"Oh, that wasn't Ed," the man told him. "Ed got killed in his garage hours ago. Water undermined the sills and footing, he was in there trying to straighten up and then the floor gave way and his air-compressor storage tank rolled over him. That wasn't Ed. That must of been some crazy kid that's been hanging around thinking about the little sports car ever since he got it in, and he thought this was his chance for a free ride. I guess that was his girl with him."
The quick, fierce gasoline flame was burning itself out; now the blaze had passed to the clothes on display, the fixtures, the shelves. The building was a long brick row, not battered by the worst of the current but horribly soiled. The clothing store was the central one of seven shops; there were apartments upstairs.
"Let's get the burning stuff out before it spreads," Groff said grimly. He walked into the smoke and, holding his breath, came out with a smoldering armful of suits off a rack. He dumped them in the gutter, where they charred and stank.
"Axes," a man sighed. "Hardware store around the corner."
"I'll get 'em," shouted Mrs. Goudeket, trotting off. "Save the man's stock. Don't let the fire spread."
The next half hour was a nightmare of chopping and prying at burning wood, dashing out for smokefree air when you had got a little ahead of the flames. Groff burned his left forearm when he brushed once against the still-blistering frame of the car. Midway through the job somebody covered the two charred figures from the car with a pair of topcoats each and they carried them out and laid them on the curb. Later they were gone; somebody, Groff never knew who, had taken them to the temporary morgue in the M.E. church basement.
He woke once from his daze of chopping and prying to find Polly Chesbro pulling on him. "They're stealing everything, Mickey," she said insistently. "Can't you stop them?"
Groff looked around. The store was gutted, the fire only an evil smoulder here and there. He coughed and walked out, sidling around the twisted, blackened little car with the bashed-in tail. He breathed fresh air outside; to his surprise it was late afternoon.
The pile of clothes from the store was dwindling before his eyes. People were picking it over and grabbing; Mrs. Goudeket was screaming at them: "Leave the man's stock alone! I'll—I'll—" She took an axe and made a feeble pass at a man in mechanic's coveralls. He shoved her hard and sent her sprawling. Polly Chesbro began to curse the man fluently; he ignored her as if she were a buzzing fly. Groff went and picked up the gasping old woman. "You hurt?" he asked.