“We were playing Parcheesi in the social hall,” one of the men said. “To help keep awake.”

“And we took a break every hour and patrolled,” the plump woman said. “Inside, of course—what a beastly night!”

“And just a little while ago, we smelled smoke coming from the undercroft,” the man went on. “Hank and I went down to check things out, and there was a fire in the furnace room!”

“We emptied the fire extinguishers on it without doing much good,” said another man—Hank, I supposed. “So we called 911.”

“And evacuated,” the plump woman said. “And would to goodness we’d taken the time to grab our coats.”

“Good thing we didn’t,” the first man said.

“Wouldn’t have hurt,” the woman said. “Church hasn’t burned down yet.”

“You didn’t see that fire,” Hank countered. “Meg, can you pull a little closer to the church so we can see what’s going on?”

I started the car again, and carefully crept through the parking lot until I found a spot with a better view of what was going on. Some of the firefighters—including Michael; I recognized him by his height—were dashing in through the front door, dragging hoses behind them while others had gone down into the basement stairwell. But they appeared to have halted there. I could see several of them standing at ground level, holding the hose or their axes, peering down. Then I heard a smashing noise, and the firefighters set up a cheer, and they all disappeared into the basement.

We watched in silence for a few moments.

“Looks a bit more serious than ducks and skunks,” one man finally said.

More smoke billowed out of the basement door, and a little out of the front door of the church. Was that a bad thing? A sign that the fire was spreading? More likely it meant the firefighters were pouring water on the blaze.

I noticed two of Chief Burke’s deputies working their way around the left side of the church, giving the clouds of smoke a wide berth. The chief himself was standing in the parking lot, well out of the firefighters’ way, but visibly impatient for them to finish their job so he could start his.

After a while he spotted my car and strolled over. I rolled down my window.

“Evening, Chief,” I said.

“Morning, I think,” he said. “One of these days you’re going to have to let Michael and Rob go to a fire all by themselves. Are these the folks who called in the alarm?”

My passengers poured out their story, interrupting each other in their haste. The chief heard them out, then took their names and numbers.

“I hate to ask it, but would you good people mind staying here until the fire’s out and I can get into the church?” he asked. “I’d like to take your detailed individual statements as soon as possible.”