After the Fire

by Meredith Rae Morgan

  Chapter 14

  Paul called early in the day to tell Bev that he'd arranged for her to talk to Claudia Mazzoli in the early afternoon. She asked if she could use his conference room for a meeting with Rittenhaus. He agreed, and added, “I have kind of committed the conference room to Pariente's team for the long haul, but I actually have a very small office I don't use. There's a desk and a guest chair. It's not hooked up for Internet use, but I'd be glad to let you use it as your temporary office instead of having to work out of your house.”

  “That is very kind of you. I may take you up on that. I'm not thrilled about meeting with the investigators at my house, especially not when Emily is home.”

  “I understand.”

  “Speaking of which. Have the Mazzoli's received any threats?”

  “Not that they've mentioned to me. Do you know something?”

  “Only that Emily tells me it's getting very ugly out there.”

  “Have you received threats?”

  “A couple that I'm not taking seriously.”

  “You should never discount a threat.”

  “I know. It is something you should discuss with the Mazzoli's. If we need to get them out of town, let's do it.”

  “What about your daughter.”

  “We're considering options. I think she's inclined to want to tough it out.”

  “She takes after her mother.”

  “You mean a stubborn bitch?”

  “No. I mean a woman of amazing strength.”

  Bev ignored that. “I'm meeting Rittenhaus at 10:00. I'll be there by 9:30.”

  “Sounds good. I'll give you a set of keys. Feel free to use the space whenever you need it.”

  When Bev arrived, Paul showed her to the office which was little bigger than a closet, tucked away at the end of the hall next to the bathroom. “It's not the Oval Office, but it's yours whenever you need it.”

  Bev put her laptop on the desk and said, “I'm in business!”

  “You need me to get the cable people to hook you up for access?”

  “No. I have wireless access through my cell phone service.”

  “Cool.”

  “Oh you have no idea!”

  She worked at the desk until Rittenhaus arrived. They met in the conference room, and he filled her in on what he had learned about the staff who were on duty the night of the fire. There were a couple of them who disliked Sonderland for various reasons, mostly having to do with car problems. She already knew about the bartender. None of the locals seemed to have any connection with Prescott or anyone in his party.

  Bev said, “We're back to the mystery waiter. Who is he?”

  Rittenhaus said, “As I understand it, there's still one unidentified body. Until recently I thought that the unidentified body must be him.”

  “What the hell is the problem with identifying that body?”

  “As I understand it, the body was the person sitting closest to where the fire started. Based on the seating chart and the family's headcount, we believe it was Sonderland's daughter, the groom's sister. The lab has not definitively identified the body because it was so badly burned there's little to work with.”

  “Wait a minute. I thought the unidentified body was probably the mystery waiter.”

  “That's what we all thought until we realized that Sonderland's family all says that Donna Sonderland was sitting where that body was found. Donna Sonderland has not been identified as a victim, but she didn't make it out of that building. The family is adamant the only unidentified body is hers. I will tell you that the Sonderland's attorney is raising holy hell over the fact that they can't get a death certificate so they can add her to their lawsuit.”

  “Are you telling me that the mystery waiter got out alive?”

  “So it would appear.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Don't know.”

  Bev studied her notes and bounced her pencil on the table. She looked at Paul. “Do you have the original personnel files from the restaurant?”

  “Yes. I had Ron give me all his original files for safekeeping. I had them scanned and provided copies to the cops and to your investigator.”

  She looked at Rittenhaus, “What's the chance of finding a fingerprint on the pages of his personnel file?”

  “It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. So many people may have handled those pages.”

  Bev shook her head, refusing to take no for an answer. “Who did the scanning?”

  “The print shop next door.”

  “Okay. Get the prints of the person who did the scanning. We can eliminate that person. The only other prints in the file should be whichever Mazzoli hired the guy and his.” She looked at Paul, “Have the Mazzoli's been finger printed?”

  “Yes. The cops took their fingerprints early on.” Paul nodded and said, “I think it's worth a shot to try to get prints. I'll see the print shop people later today. You want to give the original to Casey when he's here this afternoon?”

  “Yeah.”

  Paul left the room. Bev looked at Rittenhaus and asked, “What's your gut telling you?”

  “My gut is telling me that your insured definitely did not set that fire. I think that the person who identified himself as Ryan Denworth did it. Unfortunately, my gut has no idea who the hell he is or why he might have done it.”

  “Find him. Preferably before the cops do.”

  “Yes, ma'am. What are you going to do?”

  “I'm going to meet with my people tomorrow and tell them that I have at least enough evidence to confuse the issue of causation. I have good evidence that no one in the Mazzoli family actually set the fire. I'm going to recommend we proceed as though this is a covered loss.”

  “How long will it be between then and when you tender your limits and walk away?”

  Bev didn't answer for a long time, rolling her pencil back and forth between her palm and the table. She looked up at him and said, very quietly, “Not very long.”

  He inclined his head to one side, “Long enough for us to find the guy who set the fire in order to have someone for the claimants to go after other than Mazzoli?”

  “Only if you move very fast.”

  “I guess I know what I have to do, then.”

  “Make some friends in law enforcement and find the guy that did this.”

  Bev and Paul ordered sandwiches for lunch, delivered from the deli across the street. Casey arrived while they were still eating. Bev shared her sandwich with him. Ron and Claudia Mazzoli arrived a few minutes before 1:00 PM. At first Bev wanted to talk to Claudia alone, but that scared Claudia. Bev needed Claudia to be calm, so she agreed to let Ron stay in the room during the interview. Bev said, “Okay, I'm going to take you through the last few minutes before the fire started. I know it will be hard. As I understand it, you delivered drinks from the bar to the wedding party. Tell me everything you remember from the time you left the bar until you got into the kitchen.”

  Claudia closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Her hands were lying on the table in front of her; they trembled but she laced her fingers together and held on tight. Ron put his hand over hers. She started speaking slowly, “When I left the bar, I was laughing because the bartender made a crack about how I should dump a drink on Mr. Sonderland because he was such an ass. That conversation started because I had complained about how drunk and rude Mr. Sonderland was that night (he was a regular customer, and that behavior was not unusual for him). I came into the dining room from the service door behind the bar. I was carrying a tray with drinks. Dr. Prescott and his wife were drinking pretty heavily, too. I was waiting on the Prescott side of the table. Ryan Denworth was waiting on the other side of the table, where the Sonderlands were sitting.

  “I put down the drinks in front of Dr. Prescott, Mrs. Prescott and their daughter.”

  Bev asked, “What were they drinking?”

  “The parents were drinking bourbon. The bride was drinking white wine.
”

  “Did you have any other drinks on the tray?”

  “I had two glasses of bourbon and a bottle of wine. I dropped off the drinks to the Prescott's and then filled their daughter's glass. I topped off a few other wine glasses, until the bottle was empty. There were a bunch of dishes on the table, so I picked them up and headed for the kitchen.”

  Bev asked, “Was anybody else waiting on the wedding party besides yourself and Denworth?”

  “No.”

  Paul and Ed Casey both leaned forward, knowing what Bev's next question was going to be. She swallowed and asked, “Where was Denworth when you were serving the drinks?”

  “I don't remember.”

  “Think. Close your eyes. Go through it again. You came out of the bar. You delivered bourbons to the Prescotts and poured wine for their daughter. Who else did you serve? What was Denworth doing?”

  Claudia closed her eyes and was quiet for a long time, “I poured wine for Miss Prescott, then I poured wine for a couple of the bridesmaids. I noticed there were a bunch of plates on the Sonderland side of the table. That kind of made me mad because Ryan was supposed to be handling that side of the table. I started picking up the plates.” She squeezed her eyes closed and scrunched up her brow as though it would help her inner vision. “Wait a minute! I picked up the dishes and looked around to see where he was. He was serving a tray of drinks to Mr. Sonderland and his immediate family. They were drinking very heavily and Mr. Sonderland was always a very demanding customer. I sort of calmed down about the plates when I realized they were probably keeping Ryan running back and forth to the bar. Then I went into the kitchen.”

  Bev leaned forward and laid her hands flat on the table, keeping her voice as soft and even as she could make it, “Where was Ryan standing as he served those drinks?”

  “He was in back of the table. There wasn't much room between the seats and the wall back in that corner, so I usually served from the inside of the U of the tables. Ryan was serving in the correct manner, from behind the people.”

  Bev was glad that Claudia's eyes were still closed. She closed her own to calm herself, “Do you remember where he was and who he was serving?”

  “He was back in the corner. He was serving drinks to Mr. and Mrs. Sonderland.”

  “What were they drinking?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Close your eyes again and see if you can remember what was on the tray he was holding.”

  Claudia closed her eyes and was quiet for a long time. Everybody else in the room was holding their breath. “There were several glasses of beer. A wine bottle. A couple of other glasses.”

  “Where was he just before you turned away from the table?”

  “In the corner serving Mr. Sonderland's daughter.”

  “What was she drinking?”

  “White wine, I think.”

  “Can you remember exactly what he was doing?”

  “He was leaning forward pouring wine. He was smiling and talking to her.”

  “What was she doing?”

  “I don't know. His arm was kind of in front of her face.”

  “Then what did he do?”

  “He finished pouring the wine and turned around. I think the bottle was empty. Yes, he turned around and I had the impression he was going to go back to the bar. I think he must have turned in that direction.”

  “Which direction?”

  “Back towards the corner to go around the table to the bar.”

  “What was he doing the last thing before you turned to go to the kitchen.”

  “He had his back to me walking toward the corner.”

  “Did he have anything in his hands?”

  “I assume the tray and the empty wine bottle, but his hands were in front of him.”

  “Where was he?”

  “In the corner.” Her eyes flew open in horror and gasped. “He was in the corner where you said the fire started.”

  Bev didn't follow up on that. She shifted in her chair and asked in an almost conversational tone, “Do you know if Ryan Denworth was a smoker?”

  “Yes. He and I had just been outside for a smoke break a few minutes before.”

  “What kind of a lighter did he use?”

  “He used matches, but he was out. I gave him my .... Oh, my God in heaven. I gave him my cigarette lighter.”

  She put her head down on the table and sobbed. Ron put his arms around her and looked up at Bev, asking, “Can we go home?”

  “Yes, and thank you for your cooperation.”

  Nobody said anything as the Mazzolis left the room. Claudia continued to cry and Ron talked softly to her. After they were gone, Paul looked at Bev and said, “Jesus, Bev, you should have been a lawyer.”

  Casey added, “Or a cop!”

  Bev's hands were shaking. “Did anybody record that?”

  Casey said. “I did.”

  “Play it back. I want to transcribe it.”

  Casey played the tape and Bev typed, occasionally requesting him to back up the recording. In less time than anyone would have expected, she had the transcript done. She printed three copies and they all read through it together, looking for typos and checking to make sure she had understood everything correctly. Casey said to Paul, “And she can type!”

  Paul winked, “But can she cook?”

  Casey said, “Actually she's an excellent cook.”

  “The perfect woman.”

  Bev stuck her tongue out at him, “Unfortunately for you, Counselor, I am not a cougar. You are way too young for me.”

  Paul winked at Casey and said, “I defer to your age and wisdom.”

  Bev snorted, “Shut up. Both of you.”

  She stared at Casey for a long time. He held up his hands in a stop sign and said, “You know I know this very important information and I am obligated to share it with the FBI and with the crime lab folks, but I have a very busy schedule today. I'm thinking that I want to give this to my law enforcement buddies in person. I will drive down to Cincinnati tomorrow and pass it along.”

  Bev stood up and said, “Well, since you have such a busy schedule, we will leave you to your work. I have some correspondence to attend to and a meeting to prepare for. If you gentlemen will excuse me.” She whirled around at the door and snapped her fingers. “Paul, don't forget to give that personnel file to Ed.” She looked at Ed and said, “Denworth's original personnel file. For fingerprinting.”

  Casey grinned and gave her the thumbs up.

  She went into her cubby-hole/office and sent an email to Rita Wentzel and Russ McGavin:

  Attached is a transcript of a supplemental statement we just took from Claudia Mazzoli today. I will fill in some details on our investigation tomorrow, but I wanted to get this in your hands soonest. Ed Casey is providing this and “Denworth's” original personnel file (for fingerprinting) to the FBI et al tomorrow.

  It appears Denworth survived the fire. The one remaining unidentified body that we thought was the mystery waiter is now believed to be Sonderland's daughter -- she was sitting closest to the ignition point. We have no other unidentified bodies. Denworth must have made it out of the building.

  On top of all our other problems we now have a manhunt on our hands.

  See you tomorrow.

  Next she phoned Rittenhaus and filled him in one the high spots. He said, “Okay so we know now who set the fire. We just have to find out why.”

  “We also don't know where he is or his actual identity. That's kind of a problem. I'm sending the original personnel file to the crime lab for prints. If you have any friends in that department I suggest you reach out to them.”

  “Sucking up to the crime lab boys is Cici's department. They're all hot for her.”

  “Tell her to wear her tightest sweater the next time she visits.”

  “I will not!” He laughed, “I will suggest that she make some friendly calls in a day or so.”

  Bev left for home about 3:30 and pu
lled in the driveway as Emily arrived from the bus stop. She said, “Where have you been, Mom? I've been calling the house for hours.”

  “I have been at Paul Morehouse's office. Actually he has provided me with office space. I'll probably work from there quite a bit. Beats working from my bedroom.”

  “That's cool. You want to go for a walk before I start my homework?”

  “Yeah. Let's do that.”

  They walked and talked for an hour or so. When they got home, they ate an early dinner. Emily went into her room to work on homework and Bev went into her room to prepare for her meeting the next day.

  Somewhat to Bev's surprise, the meeting did not last long. McGavin and Wentzel both agreed that they had enough evidence to proceed with defending Mazzoli. Bev said, “We can't just tender limits and walk.”

  McGavin leaned forward and said, “Why not?”

  “Two reasons. One, the FBI could still turn the matter over for prosecution. If we tender limits and then it turns out that Mazzoli is guilty of arson, we will have paid a million dollars of the company's money unnecessarily. I don't want to have to explain that to upper management, and I doubt you do either. I think we have to hold open the possibility that this could still be fraud.

  “Second, I believe we owe it to our insured to hang in there long enough to find out why the waiter set the fire. Maybe we can point the claimants at some other source of money besides Mazzoli.”

  Wentzel closed one eye and tilted her head. “You mean like some rich patient of Prescott's?”

  “If that's who is responsible for setting the fire.”

  McGavin nodded. “I understand, and you're probably right. How many lawyers are involved at this point.”

  Bev pushed printout of a spreadsheet towards each of the lawyers. “That's a list of the people who were in the building the night of the fire showing their status and their representation.”

  Wentzel studied the list and said, “Peters has about 60% of them. A few local lawyers, a couple of whom I can tell you will give us trouble. There are still a dozen or so unrepresented claimants. Negotiating a settlement is going to be tough, particularly in view of the fact that there are some survivors who are going to have horrendous medical bills.”

  McGavin asked Wentzel if her damages experts had returned any figures. She nodded and said, “You're not going to like it.”

  “How bad is it.”

  “Looks like the total amount of the potential claim could be somewhere in the neighborhood of $27 million.”

  “We have $1.9 million to work with.”

  Bev added, “Or $4.5 if the insured throws in the money for the building.”

  McGavin said, “Bev, you're a good negotiator, but I don't think even you can pull this off.”

  Wentzel said, “I actually think that if Peters was the only attorney we had to deal with, we might have a chance. The fact that there are unrepresented claimants and a few local lawyers who will want to use this as their springboard into the big time may be an impediment.”

  McGavin asked Bev what her course of action was. She told him that Frank Rittenhaus was looking for “Denworth”, Casey was going to the FBI with the information about the waiter and turning over the original personnel file for prints and Cici was still digging into Prescott's patients.

  Wentzel asked, “You got any likely candidates?”

  “Actually, there are several. Prescott was evidently not exactly Michaelangelo with a scalpel. Cici Rittenhaus has done a great job of getting information. Prescott was apparently a second or third tier surgeon. He left unhappy patients in his wake whenever he cut on somebody's face. He has had several malpractice claims and there are two pending lawsuits right now. Rumor is that his malpractice carrier had informed him of its intention to exclude facial surgery at his next renewal.”

  Wentzel looked confused, “What?”

  Bev explained, “Evidently he did okay on boob jobs and tummy tucks, but had a problem with face lifts and nose jobs.”

  McGavin shook his head and said, “The most likely kind of thing to make a person go crazy.”

  “That's my thought, but then I'm not the kind of person who would even consider plastic surgery, so I don't get the mind set of those people.”

  Wentzel said, “Okay, I think what we need to do right now is to continue our investigation, focusing on cooperating with law enforcement in trying to find Denworth. Bev, you make nice with Peters and the lawyers and start gathering damages information. I'll work with my experts to see if we can come up with some kind of miracle, Does the insured have any other sources of money?”

  Bev shook her head, “No. He's tapped all his resources. Owes money to everybody in town and Claudia's relatives in Cleveland.”

  McGavin asked, “What are the chances the local claimants might give him a break?”

  Bev made a face and shook her head, “Maybe a few would do that if there weren't outsiders involved, but now that there are lawyers involved and the Prescott family is going to ask for the moon. I think the locals will be in there rooting at the trough just as vigorously as the rest of them.”

  McGavin sighed. “Okay, then. I guess we're done. Good work, Bev.”

  She laughed, “Thanks, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. In a way, I'm a bit afraid our troubles are just starting.”