Excerpt of Boiled Over by Barbara Ross

At the Claminator, Sonny conferred with Cabe, his expression serious. As the band hammered its way to a big finish with the “The Stars and Stripes Forever,” Bunnie climbed the single step to the stage and stood behind the podium. I scanned the crowd for Stevie, but didn’t see him. Evidently, Bunnie was done waiting.

From my perch on the curb, I glanced over at the Claminator. Sonny and Cabe’s conversation grew more intense. Even from thirty feet away, I could tell Sonny was unhappy about the fire. Livvie scooted over to speak to him, then walked away, looking concerned. Sonny lifted the mesh skirting of the Claminator and aimed the hose he’d been using to spray the canvas at the fire to dampen it. He jumped back as the flames surged outward, like a grease fire. But there was no grease in a clambake meal that could drip into the fire. I’d worked at the clambake for years and never seen anything like it. But then we’d never cooked on the pier before. This was the maiden voyage of the Claminator.

Sonny said something urgently to Cabe, who jogged toward the fire truck parked on the street beside pier. Sonny bent down and lifted the metal skirting again, a poker in hand. The crowd surged around him, blocking my view. Sonny swore loudly.

I shoved forward. “Please! Let me through!”

The crowd parted just in time for me to see something that looked like a charred human foot and part of a leg fall out of the fire onto the pier.