by Elaine Viets
“What are they using to start them?” Mo asked.
“Shortening smeared on the walls, toilet paper, potato chips, and gasoline. The fire investigator and the police think Kendra and her father set the fires to get revenge. I think they’re set by teenagers.”
Laurie jumped in. “Those fires sound more like teen work to me, but I haven’t seen the reports. Usually, teen arsonists are between fourteen and seventeen, and the fires are not set at their homes. The kids are stressed, angry, anxious, or have some other emotional problem. They often come from broken homes or a poor social environment, or act out with disruptive behavior.”
“That’s half the teens in the Forest,” Angela said, “if a poor social environment means neglect.”
“Where are these fires?” Laurie asked. “Any in vacant buildings?”
“One fire was in a historic barn, another at an empty mansion, and one at a pool house. The pool house wasn’t abandoned, but no one stayed there full-time.”
“Adolescent fire starters like vacant buildings and empty lots,” Laurie said. “They also go after schools and churches.”
“No churches or schools,” Angela said.
“Yet,” Laurie said. “This is serious. Here’s my card. Call if I can help.”
“And here’s mine.” Mo produced her card. “Keep in touch. Looks like I won’t be back for the trial, but I’ll see a game at Busch Stadium sooner or later.”
CHAPTER 32
Day twelve
Lin waved good-bye and left. The three defense experts gulped down a final cup of coffee, then wheeled their suitcases toward the door. Angela gathered her things and had almost made it out of the room when Monty stepped in front of her. He was so close she could smell his spicy aftershave.
“Angela, I need a favor. Would you go to the Chouteau County Jail this morning?” His voice was light but commanding.
“Sure. What do you need?”
They were near the huge windows, but both ignored the million-dollar view.
“I want you to see Kendra. I think Judge Boareman may split the decision—dismiss the murder case but deny the motion to dismiss the arson cases. If that happens, I’m worried about Jose. He says he has an alibi for the Gravois estate fire, but he refuses to tell me where he was. I’ve begged him. He’s looking at three life sentences if we can’t establish where he was that night.”
“Aren’t life sentences rare―and given out only when someone dies in the fire?”
“Freveletti will play up the Mexican angle,” Monty said. “He always has. They’ll throw the book at Jose. He says if his wife finds out about his alibi, she’ll divorce him. Gracie hates this person.”
“A woman? Is Jose having an affair?”
“He says no, but Gracie made him promise that he’d never see the person again.”
“Is Jose gay?” Angela asked.
“He denies it. He’ll go to prison before he tells anyone where he was. Personally, I think he’d rather be convicted of arson so Kendra can go free. Jose would sacrifice his life for his daughter.”
Angela felt a flash of anger. “That’s noble, but useless. The Forest arsonists are still free, and they’ll start more fires. What happens if they hit a church next—or a school? You know Zander wasn’t acting alone. That boy’s body was dumped in his car trunk, then he was staged to look like he OD’d in his car. That’s cold. It would take at least two people to pull that off.”
“That’s why I need you. We can’t waste time. Talk to Kendra as soon as you get back.”
“Should I tell her what the experts said?”
“No, I don’t want to raise false hope. I’ll tell her as soon as I know if we’ll get a hearing.”
“Can I take her anything in jail?” Angela asked. “Chocolate? Lunch? A cake with a file inside?”
Monty laughed. The morning sun gilded his strong features and the crow’s-feet stamped at the corners of his eyes. Why did crow’s-feet look good on men? It wasn’t fair.
“You’re not allowed to bring prisoners anything. Just find out what her father is afraid to tell me.”
Once Angela got out of downtown Saint Louis and back on the highway, traffic was light. She was home by nine thirty. She stopped by her home and checked her messages. She had a text from Monty. Hearing set for three today.
She texted back: Good luck. Text me when you want to meet @ your office. On my way to see Kendra.
Next she texted Katie: Are you okay?
Katie texted back: Survived. Fearless Leader covering his ass like a nun in a hospital gown.
Angela laughed, then called Butch Chetkin. “I’ve got news, but it’s not public yet. Luther died of a heart attack, and he started the fire when his cigar fell on the mattress. He was already dead by then. Monty filed a motion to dismiss both cases, the murder and the felony arson charges.”
“Well, well. I wondered why Greiman’s been in Mick’s office for so long. This should be interesting.”
After Butch hung up, Angela left to see Kendra. The Chouteau County Jail looked almost like a junior college, if you overlooked the tall fence topped with razor wire. Inside, the genteel appearance gave way to institutional grunge: cinder-block walls and scuffed tile.
At ten that morning, the line for the metal detector was surprisingly long. Angela saw a half dozen tired older women, a white-haired man, and four or five women in their twenties, some with energetic toddlers and others holding crying babies. Many of the young women violated the Jail Visitors Dress Code posted on the wall: “Visitors wearing suggestive clothing, transparent fabric, short shorts, or miniskirts will not be permitted to visit.”
Angela was behind a large young woman whose wobbling tube top threatened to roll down her substantial chest. In front of her, a scrawny woman in a skirt not much bigger than a belt wore a fur jacket that looked like it was made from cocker spaniels. Her toddler clung to her knee-high boots and practiced earsplitting shrieks.
At last, Angela put her purse on the conveyor belt, walked through the metal detector, and was cleared.
At eleven o’clock, Kendra was seated at a booth behind a Plexiglas barrier. She looked younger and prettier without makeup, though Angela could see dark circles under her eyes. Her hands had healed from the burns, and her nails were short and polish-free.
She picked up the phone and managed a worried smile. “Angela! So glad you came to see me.”
“I’ve been worried about you,” Angela said. “You must be so frightened.”
“I am. And I feel so guilty that I couldn’t save Luther. I tried, Angela. I really tried.”
“I know you did.” Angela wished she could tell Kendra about the experts’ findings and relieve her mind. But that was Monty’s job. “Monty’s on the case. Soon you’ll be back working at Killer Cuts.”
“I don’t think so. I haven’t told anyone, not even my parents, Aunt Connie, or Monty—but I was planning to leave Luther, and that night at Gringo Daze was the last straw. I was sick of the drinking and groping. When I first started dating him, I was too dumb to realize he was an alcoholic. When I get out of here, I’m moving to Austin.”
When, Angela thought, not if. Kendra is looking forward to the future. “You need a fresh start.”
“Exactly.” Kendra’s sad smile made her seem suddenly older. “Even if I’m acquitted, I will always be the Mexican bitch who killed Luther.”
“Kendra! That isn’t true.”
“I know those people, Angela!” Suddenly, she sounded angry. “I was never Luther’s fiancée. To them, I’m a slutty husband stealer. Austin is young and fun, with an amazing music scene. It’s okay to be Mexican American there. I have cousins in Austin, and my parents can visit me.”
Angela saw this as the perfect opening. “Kendra, I’m glad you’re making plans for the future, but your father can’t visit you if he’s still in jail.”
“He’s a good man. He knew Mrs. Gravois didn’t have any money. He didn’t even turn that debt over to a collection
agency. He didn’t burn down her house.”
“He needs an alibi for the Gravois fire. He won’t tell Monty where he was that night. Please, Kendra, tell me.”
Kendra was silent for a long time. She stared at the shelf in front of her, tracing her fingers over the words scratched in the scarred wood. Karim 4 Ever. Tiffany luvs Jerrod. Denise is a hoor.
“Kendra? Please. Who was your father with?”
A long sigh. “He met Maria, an ex-girlfriend from a long time ago before I was born. She’s nothing but trouble. Maria wanted to marry my father. She said she was pregnant and tried to blackmail him, but he married Mama instead.”
“Is she trying to get money for the child?”
“What child? She may have had a miscarriage, or maybe she wasn’t even pregnant. She hasn’t done as well in the United States as my father. She shows up from time to time and asks for money, and he gives it to her, which pisses off Mama, who says she’s a mooch. Last time, he gave her five hundred dollars, and Mama made him promise he’d never see her again. But two days before the Gravois fire, Maria called my cell phone when she couldn’t find my father. I was in jail then and she couldn’t reach me, but she left a message. Then she called my Aunt Connie. Maria said it was an emergency. That’s the only reason Connie would talk to her―she has no use for the woman. Maria said she needed rent money or she’d be evicted. Her landlord sent her a five-day notice for failure to pay rent, and she needed two hundred dollars. She threatened to call my mother next, and that’s the only reason why Connie told my father. He went up to give it to her.”
“Up where?” Angela asked.
“North. Chicago. He told Mama he had to look at a used commercial mower at a dealer in Chicago. He could have bought the same thing in Saint Louis, but he needed an excuse to leave town. My mother watches the money like a hawk. He drove to Chicago, gave Maria two hundred dollars in cash, and drove home. He can prove he took the trip—he bought gas and stayed at a hotel. But there is no Chicago dealer. He’s terrified Mama will find out and leave him.”
“What’s Maria’s last name?”
“Garcia.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, the Latino Smith. Chicago is the fifth-largest Hispanic community in the United States.”
“What’s her address?”
Kendra’s burst of optimism vanished. “I don’t know, and my father won’t say. All I know is this woman with the anonymous name lives three hundred miles away in a city with nearly two million Hispanics.”
CHAPTER 33
Day twelve
Angela left the Chouteau County Jail feeling like she’d escaped. How did Kendra stand being shut up in that grim place? She was a remarkably strong woman. It was noon. Angela had been there only two hours, but she felt like she’d spent a week.
Her cell phone chimed, and she checked the display. Ann Burris, one of the few Forest dwellers who believed that teenagers were behind the arson fires, was calling.
“Angela, any news about Kendra and Jose?”
“Nothing.” Angela wished she could tell Ann the experts’ findings. She hated keeping this secret from the woman who wanted to help.
“That poor family,” Ann said. “Gracie must be beside herself.”
Gracie? Angela hadn’t given Kendra’s mother a thought. She didn’t even ask about her when she talked to Kendra at the jail. “We have to find the Forest arsonists, Ann, or Kendra and Jose will be locked up for good. Kendra’s only twenty years old.”
“Then what I have to tell you is even more important. So much is happening lately. Bryan and I heard about that poor boy’s death—the one they’re saying was a drug dealer. We’ve heard through the grapevine that police found materials to start a fire in his car trunk, but they aren’t saying he’s the arsonist.”
“No, they’re not. They’re keeping that information quiet. The dead boy is Zander. Alexander Soran. Seventeen years old.”
“That’s the one. Listen, he wasn’t acting alone.”
“We know that.”
“Did you know that two other Forest teenagers were with him?”
“No.” Angela felt her heart beating faster. “Do you know their names?”
“No. But a young man who goes to school with Zander told me.”
“What’s his name?”
“I’m not sure,” Ann said. “I can picture what he looks like—big guy, taller than me. Brown hair. Nice face. Where did I talk with him? Was it at the hardware store? A restaurant? I can’t remember. But I talked with him for quite a while, and I think he could help.”
“Oh.” Damn, for a moment it sounded like a real lead. “I’ll check with Monty, but we need his name, or at least the place where this young man works. It’s not like you to be so distracted.”
“I’m going crazy at work. I’ll find him, Angela. I promise. Bryan will help me. I wish I could remember his name and where he worked.”
“Me, too.” Angela hoped her annoyance didn’t show. Ann must really be under pressure. “Please keep trying. Your information could set Kendra and her father free.”
Ann’s tantalizing phone call left Angela restless and disappointed. At home, she forced herself to eat a peanut-butter sandwich, then threw in a load of laundry. The kitchen clock’s hands refused to move. They seemed stuck at three o’clock. What was happening? Would Judge Boareman defy the Forest powers and grant both motions to dismiss? Or would he go the way Monty predicted and dismiss the murder charges? That would get Kendra and her father off death row. Or would he play it safe and subject the Salvatos to two trials?
When the mail carrier arrived, Angela rushed out like she’d been expecting a check. The mail was the usual dull collection of medical bills and a circular for a shoe sale. When her text chime sounded, she leaped on her phone as if it might run away. Monty had texted: J granted one motion. Murder charges dropped. Gave Kendra the news. Meet me at my office @ 5 p.m.
Angela’s heart leaped. Kendra and her father were no longer facing death. The arson charges seemed a small hurdle after the threat of lethal injection. She wondered how Katie was but didn’t dare call her friend. Their boss would be furious at this news. She hoped she wouldn’t have to go into the office until Evarts cooled down.
By the time she was driving to Monty’s office, the spin had started. The Forest powers had skillfully smoothed over Dr. Evarts Evans’s slipshod autopsy. The medical examiner’s careless errors that could have sent two innocent people to death row—including a young woman—were never mentioned. They would be quietly forgotten.
Angela was stunned by how quickly the cover-up was completed. She flipped on her car radio at four thirty and heard the announcer say, “Chouteau County prosecuting attorney Mick Freveletti called a press conference at four o’clock today to discuss the death of business leader Luther Ridley Delor. The county prosecutor held the conference outside the Chouteau County Courthouse.”
Angela heard the crush of reporters, the mob’s confusion, the motorized cameras snapping like popcorn. The prosecutor’s pronouncement rose above the noise. Mick had a politician’s voice: steady, sincere, and calming. The kind of voice that made voters want to believe the most outrageous lies. Mick could say them without hesitation.
“Good morning.” He gave the unruly media a moment to settle down. When there was silence he said, “Recently, charges for murder in the first degree were filed against Mexican American Kendra Salvato and her father, Jose Salvato, a naturalized citizen, in the burning death of Mr. Luther Ridley Delor, a prominent Chouteau Forest financier.”
No mention that Jose was also a successful businessman, or of the name of Luther’s sleazy business. The lines were clearly drawn: Luther was a powerful insider. Kendra and her father were Mexicans—foreigners. Only Luther had the respectful title. He was “Mister.”
Mick’s words smoothly rolled on. “New evidence has come to light that reveals Mr. Delor was deceased at the time of the fire that destroyed his home in Olympia Forest Estates. The deceased
had died of natural causes. He had been smoking in bed, and his cigar set fire to the mattress. The fire that we believed had been set by Mr. Delor’s fiancée, Kendra Salvato, and her father, Jose Salvato, was accidentally set by the late Mr. Delor. Therefore, in the interests of justice, the charges of murder in the first degree against Kendra and her father, Jose Salvato, have been dismissed.” No mention of Judge Boareman or Monty’s motion to dismiss.
The media erupted into frenzied questions: “Does this mean Kendra Salvato goes free?” “Will she sue the county for wrongful arrest?” “Where did you get the new evidence?” “Why did you change your mind?”
Mick ignored the questions and pushed on. “Neither Kendra nor her father, Jose, will be released at this time. We are not dropping the charges against them for the three counts of felony arson. The historic Du Pres barn was destroyed, as was the Gravois family mansion and the Hobart pool house. These fires were a substantial danger to the lives and property of the people of this county, and the Salvatos will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Drug-dealing Mexicans have spread to Saint Louis, and now we have more in Chouteau County. They must be stopped. They have damaged not only our property but our peace of mind―the reason we live in Chouteau County. We cannot and will not show mercy to this Mexican menace. Upon their conviction for these crimes, we will request the maximum penalty: three life sentences.”
Mick paused dramatically. He was reassuring the Forest’s first families that the interlopers would never see the light of day—and Kendra would never enjoy Luther’s $2 million.
Angela felt sick. Kendra and Jose had escaped death row for a living death. Mick was asking for a “pine box sentence”—Kendra and her father would leave prison in pine boxes.
Mick ended with this dramatic statement: “I pledge that these two dangerous criminals will spend the rest of their lives behind bars, and I will continue to protect the property, peace, and safety of Chouteau County.”