Page 146 of Under Construction

It sticks with him. Makes him consider any kindness twice. Trusting eh? Hit the nail on the head. He won’t let that kind of thing happen again, so Dennis keeps his guard up.

"Let's check out the damage while we're here," Dennis tells Jason, nodding toward the burnt section. They shouldn't cross the police tape, but he needs to see it up close. Jason grabs his camera, following close behind.

The destruction hits different in person. So much moredestroyedthan any of the pictures could show.

"Huh, that's weird." Jason crouches near a black spot on the floor.

"What is?"

"Didn't the police report say electrical failure from construction negligence?"

"Yeah." Dennis joins him at ground level. "Why?"

"Well..." Jason points at the mark. "You know how my brothers and I used to play with fireworks? One time we were camping, and my mom kept saying 'stop that, you'll hurt yourselves'—" He grins, settling into storyteller mode. "So Jeremy tries lighting this jumping jack, but we'd used up all the matches—"

"Jason." Dennis cuts him off. "Your point?"

Jason pulls a face at being interrupted, then glances at his camera like it reminds him why they're here. "Oh! Right. We accidentally lit up this bottle with gasoline. It was almost empty so no big deal, plus we had the fire extinguisher. My dad always says—"

He catches Dennis's raised eyebrows. Rolls his eyes at a good story gone to waste.

"Anygays, next morning we saw these marks exactly like these. If it was electrical, the pattern would be concentrated. See?"

Jason gestures at something Dennis is clearly missing. Reading his blank expression, Jason asks, "You're not following, are you?"

"Uhh... not really, no."

"Okay, look." Jason sighs. "It's already suspicious they called it anelectricalfailure since there's no power running through the wall circuits yet. I figured maybe a short from the crew's power tools. But these splatter marks..."

He tugs at Dennis’s arm, shifting them both sideways in a duck walk.

“Here.” Jason points to a blackened spot on the floor. “This is where the fire was strongest—where it started. But you see how it’s splattered?"

"Like someone poured liquid?"

"Exactly! Probably not gasoline since there's no smell, but plenty of accelerants would work the same way."

Dennis frowns. He'd assumed the fire was intentional since his conversation with Mr. Lancaster, figuring Chris hadsabotaged the electrical work. But this suggests something else entirely.

"Got enough pictures?" Dennis pushes to his feet. Another janky piece to the shit-puzzle mess he needs to somehow jam together. "We should go."

"Just one more." At least ten camera clicks later, Jason pockets his camera. "Okay, let's go."

46Music Memory

Dennis stumbles through his front door, making a beeline for the liquor cabinet. The first drink goes down too fast. So does the second. And third.

By his sixth glass of scotch, he's sprawled on the couch, studying Jason's photos.

Something's off about the whole thing. If Chris wanted to frame him through electrical failure, it would've made sense—Dennis's name sits on every permit. Chris knows construction inside out, approaches everything with military precision. Yet these photos show amateur work, sloppy execution.

Maybe Chris hired someone. Someone who botched the job.

The photos blur as thoughts of Chris invade his mind. Not just the betrayal either—other memories keep sneaking in uninvited.

His apartment feels massive. Empty space that’s too quiet without Chris's constant noise. No horrible puns, no terrible jokes, no random humming.

Dennis drops his head back against the couch. Goddammit. He misses Chris.

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