“Any idea how it started, Tavis?” Junior asked him.
“You should probably get the investigators from Hickory out here, but I’d guess it was arson again.”
I stiffened, and Richard put his arm around me. I didn’t dare look at Linwood for fear I’d jump him right in front of Junior.
“Same as the others?” Junior said.
Tavis shook his head. “A little different this time. In the other cases, the accelerant was poured on the building and then set on fire. This time, it looks as if a flaming projectile was thrown through the window.”
“A flaming projectile?” Junior said. “Are you talking about a Molotov cocktail?”
“That’s what they call them.”
Junior looked thoughtful, and I thought I knew why. Most criminals stick with a particular method for their crimes—surely arsonists were the same. She turned to Linwood. “I don’t suppose you saw anybody prowling around the house when you got here.”
“Don’t you think I’d have told you if I had?” he said.
Just then, we heard a loud voice saying, “Lord love a duck!”
Aunt Maggie had arrived, and over the next few minutes, she was followed by all the available aunts, uncles, and cousins. Even Vasti showed up, complaining about her swollen feet the whole time. Somewhere in the midst of all the questions, hugs, and tears, Junior realized that she wasn’t going to be able to get any useful information out of anybody. Just before she slipped away, she gave me a funny look that I guiltily attributed to her knowing that I was up to something. Later on, I realized she was probably trying to figure out why I was dressed the way I was. I was just grateful the family was so agitated that nobody else noticed.
We must have milled around for an hour or more, drinking coffee supplied by the neighbors as we waited for the arson investigator to arrive, go through the house, and take a passel of pictures. Finally, we were given permission to go inside and see the damage for ourselves. I think we were all afraid of what the glare of our flashlights would reveal.
The Molotov cocktail had landed in the living room, so that room had sustained most of the damage. All of the furniture and the carpet were ruined, and the aunts started crying when they saw the remains of their mama’s china cabinet and the figurines she’d loved so much. Then everybody cheered when Aunt Maggie rummaged around and triumphantly produced a geisha girl and Scottie dog that had somehow escaped destruction. We cheered again when Willis, who knew about carpentry, announced that the house itself was structurally intact, and that most of the damage was only cosmetic.
The general opinion was that it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Planks and tools appeared from somewhere, and the broken window was neatly boarded up. Mops and rags showed up just as mysteriously, and everybody went to work sopping up water and wiping off soot. Somebody even produced cans of air spray and we roamed through the house spraying. The awful smoky smell pervaded everything, but at least there was an overlay of pine trees and spring flowers.
The fear I’d felt when I saw the smoke seeping from the home place had shaken me, making me realize how much that ridiculous collection of boards and nails meant to me. When Burt had come to see Richard and me in Boston, he’d told us that passing Walters Mill on to his nephew was important to him. Now I thought I knew how he felt. Maybe the Burnette home place wasn’t as impressive a legacy as the mill, but I still wanted it to be there for the next generation.
Of course, the most important thing was that nobody had been hurt. No house, even the home place, was as important as my family. The rest of the Burnettes must have realized that, too, because at some point in all the commotion, I noticed that nobody was feuding anymore. Aunt Maggie was talking to the triplets, and Uncle Buddy was speaking to Uncle Ruben, and everybody was speaking to Linwood. In fact, Linwood got so many pats on the back for nearly putting out the fire single-handedly that he must have been sore the next day. I know Richard was, and he didn’t get nearly as much attention as Linwood did.
Odd that it had taken the near loss of the family home to glue the family back together again.
Chapter 33
I think the only thing that kept us from starting on more serious repairs to the house right then and there was the fact that the power had been turned off, and had to remain that way until the electric department checked things out. As it was, it was well into the wee hours of the morning before people started drifting away. Aunt Nora and Aunt Daphine were among the last to go.
Aunt Nora asked, “Aunt Maggie, are you feeling up to driving yourself to my house or do you want to ride with me?”
“Nora, I was thinking Aunt Maggie could come stay at my place,” Aunt Daphine said. “And Laura and Richard, too, of course.”
“Now Daphine, my house is bigger than yours.”
“But with Augustus back home, you don’t have as much space. You let them come stay with me—as late as it is, I don’t want you up at the crack of dawn fixing them a big breakfast.”
“What about the shop? You’ve got to be there early to open up.”
“I’m not going in tomorrow. Gladys can open up for me.”
I don’t know what Aunt Nora’s counter-argument would have been, because Aunt Maggie said, “What are you two fussing about? The fire was in the living room, not the bedroom. I’m not going anywhere.”
“But Aunt Maggie,” Aunt Nora said, “it’s not safe here tonight.”
“That’s why I’m staying. The last thing I need is a bunch of looters coming around while the place is empty.” I’d never heard of looters in Byerly, and Aunt Maggie probably hadn’t either, because she added, “It’s bad enough that somebody tried to burn my house down—I’m not about to let him chase me out of it.”
“There’s no lights,” Aunt Daphine pointed out.
“I’m going to bed—I don’t need any lights. If I do, I’ve got a flashlight. And before you say anything else, I don’t need heat or air-conditioning, either. If I get too hot, I’ll open a window, and if I get cold, I’ll put on a blanket.” Her tone made it plain that she’d made up her mind, and there wasn’t anything that was going to change it.
Aunt Nora must have known that, but she couldn’t resist making one more attempt. “What about Laurie Anne and Richard? You don’t expect them to stay here, do you?”
“They can suit themselves.”
“Then you two can come to my house,” Aunt Daphine said.
I was sorely tempted. Even though I’d just realized how much the house meant to me, right about then a well-lit room that didn’t smell of smoke sounded like the height of luxury. I wasn’t worried about looters, and I knew Junior would be keeping an eye on the place, so I wasn’t even concerned that the arsonist would try again. But I just couldn’t leave a seventysomething-year-old woman in that house by herself after the night we’d had.
Of course, there was no reason Richard had to put up with the primitive conditions. I looked up at his face, as smudged and streaked with sweat as my own was, and started to say, “Richard, why don’t you—?”
“Laura and I are staying, too,” Richard said, using the same tone that Aunt Maggie had.
I stood on my toes to kiss his dirty cheek. It tasted like soot, but he deserved it.
Of course, Aunt Nora and Aunt Daphine tried to change our minds, but eventually they conceded defeat.
After everybody else had gone, Aunt Maggie said, “You could have gone to Daphine’s. It wouldn’t have hurt my feelings any.”
“I just didn’t want to have to pack up my stuff,” I said as if it were no big deal.
“Uh-huh,” she said, meaning that she didn’t believe me. “Well, I can’t offer you anything to eat or drink, and we can’t watch TV, so we might as well go to bed.”
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all night,” I said. With the help of flashlights, we stumbled our way upstairs, and darned if habit didn’t push me to flip the light switch as Richard and I went into our bedroom.
“I don’t
think that’s going to help, Laurie Anne,” Aunt Maggie said, and I didn’t have to see her face to know she was grinning.
“You’d have done the same thing if I hadn’t messed up first,” I retorted.
She just chuckled and closed her door behind her.
Richard had already thrown himself across our bed, sooty clothes and all.
“Oh no, you don’t,” I said. “No sleep until you tell me what happened tonight. What you told Junior sure as heck wasn’t the whole story. I want a report!”
He moaned and groaned a few times for effect, but knew better than to argue with me. So as we stripped off our clothes and tried unsuccessfully to find something to sleep in that didn’t smell of smoke, he started.
“Using the same methods as last time, I set up the stakeout outside the subject’s dwelling well before his usual time for returning home, disguising myself with a newspaper to avoid his notice when he arrived. After three-quarters of an hour inside his domicile, during which time I deduced that the subject was eating dinner, he returned to his car and—”
“Richard, what are you doing?”
“You wanted a report,” he said far too innocently.
“You know, it’s not so dark in this house that I can’t find you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Yes.”
“I find that positive reinforcement is more effective than threats.”
“Okay, if you’ll quit talking like Joe Friday, I will give you a back rub while you tell me what happened.”
“Now that’s positive reinforcement.” He sat near the edge of the bed so I could work on him while he went on. “The first part of the night was a repeat performance of last night. I think I’ve now seen more of Byerly than most natives.”
“Then what?” I asked.
“Then I lost him,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “A woman cut me off, and while she was between us, Linwood turned off without my seeing it. When I couldn’t find him again, I thought I might as well come back here, and that’s when I saw the fire. From that point on, what I told Junior was true. I knocked on somebody’s door and asked to use the phone, then ran to the house.”
“That reminds me—I never told you how proud I am of you.” I hugged him tightly.
“I didn’t do very much,” he said. “Linwood was already spraying down the front of the house, and he told me what to do to help. Which I did until the fire brigade arrived.”
“You were wonderful,” I insisted. I expressed my admiration for a few minutes, and even though I hadn’t done anything to put out the fire, he kindly returned the favor. I would like to have kindled a different kind of blaze, but I was too distracted. “Richard, how long was Linwood out of your sight?”
“You mean, was it long enough for him to have started the fire?”
I nodded, knowing he could feel the gesture even if he couldn’t see it.
He didn’t try to sugarcoat his answer. “I’m afraid it was. I looked for him for twenty minutes or so, and then spent about ten minutes driving here. From the point Linwood got away from me, he could have driven directly here in less than five minutes.”
“Damn.”
“Setting the family home on fire does fit the pattern,” Richard said gently. “Linwood could be sure to be the first one here, and by putting it out, he’s made himself a hero again. Especially with the other Burnettes.”
“I know,” I said, thinking of how everybody had been hugging onto him, just the kind of attention a firebug craved. Linwood’s saving the family home place wasn’t something any of them were ever going to forget. The house wasn’t just important to me—it was important to all of us. The way we’d all come running and worked so hard to make repairs proved it. That’s what made me say, “He didn’t do it, Richard.”
“I know you want to believe that, but how can you be sure?”
As I explained it to Richard, it made more and more sense to me. “Look at the kind of person Linwood is. His father Loman died, and nobody in the family but Linwood was sad to see him go.”
“I sure as hell wasn’t,” Richard muttered.
“In fact, Thaddeous and I have been congratulated for what happened, which has got to hurt Linwood. And since this is Byerly, everybody in town knows the whole story. That’s why Linwood got into trouble at the mill. He was trying to defend his father’s memory.”
“True,” Richard said, and I knew he was wondering where I was going with all this.
“Now if this had been you, wouldn’t you have left town? I left Byerly, and I didn’t have nearly that good an excuse.”
“That was different,” Richard objected. “You weren’t running away—you were just looking for something different.”
“I know, but you see my point. Despite everything, Linwood stuck it out and stayed. Why? His house isn’t that great, and I feel sure Sue would go with him wherever he wanted to go. At one point, he didn’t even have a job. Why did he stay in Byerly?”
“Stubbornness?”
“Partially,” I conceded. “There’s a strong streak of ornery in all the Burnettes.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Richard said dryly.
“The only thing Linwood had going for him in Byerly was his family,” I said, ignoring his comment. “And he is devoted to this family. He comes to all the family gatherings—he even came to those right after his father died, knowing he was going to run into Thaddeous and me, the people he blamed for his father’s death.”
“Are you sure he doesn’t come just to make you two uncomfortable?”
“It’s been years. Don’t you think he’d have given up if that were his only motive? It’s more than that. Being a Burnette means a lot to Linwood.”
“So he’s devoted to the family. Those precious motives, those strong knots of love.’ Macbeth, Act IV, Scene 3. Why would this mean that he didn’t start the fire tonight? As we both noticed, this has made him popular in the family in a way he’s never been before. Doesn’t that make it more likely that he did it?”
“If the target had been any other house in town, yes, it would. But not this house. All of Aunt Maggie’s generation was born here, and all of the aunts. When my cousins and I were born, this is the first place our parents brought us after we left the hospital, and this is where most of the Christmases and Thanksgivings and birthdays have been celebrated. Not to mention funerals. It doesn’t matter where everybody lives now. Those are just houses and apartments. This is our home place—it’s Linwood’s home place. I think he’d sooner burn his own hand off as to set this house on fire.”
Richard was quiet for a while, and I wasn’t sure he understood what I was trying to tell him. His parents had a lovely house in Gloucester, but they’d only been there twenty years or so, and none of his grandparents lived where they’d been when he was growing up. His mother’s parents had a condo, and his father’s had bought a house on the Cape when they retired. Could he understand?
Finally, he said, “Okay, let’s look at the other suspects.”
I kissed him soundly. “We’ll look at them tomorrow. You’re worn-out, and so am I.”
He didn’t argue, and in fact, there wouldn’t have been time for even the most civilized argument before Richard fell asleep. I snuggled next to him, trying to follow suit, but my mind was working too hard. After what seemed like hours, I took my pillow, sneaked out of bed, and crept into the hall. Not wanting to go down into the ruined living room, I only went halfway down the stairs, to the point where the stairs end at a little landing before turning a corner to continue to the first floor.
I sat down in the corner and leaned against my pillow. Part of the reason I’d picked there to sit was the streetlamp right outside the landing’s tiny window that gave me a little light to see by, but the main reason was that it had been my favorite spot to sit when I was growing up. I’d read countless books there, planned more adventures than one person could ever survive, and even written love letters to Richard. It was a comforting place to be,
and with the uncomfortable thoughts I was thinking, I needed a fair amount of comforting.
First off, there was the rental car. To make sure neither Max nor Linwood would recognize what we were driving, we’d borrowed cars that night, leaving the rental car parked in Aunt Maggie’s driveway. Second, because we’d been in a hurry, we’d left lights on in the house, something Aunt Maggie never does. In other words, it had looked as if Richard and I were there when that Molotov cocktail came crashing through the front window.
Up until then, the arsonist had targeted abandoned buildings—this was the first time he’d gone for one where people actually lived, where somebody could have been hurt. I didn’t think that was a coincidence. Whoever it was knew Richard and I were after him, and he was trying to get to us first.
Had Linwood and Richard not shown up when they had, there’s no telling how much more of the house would have been destroyed. Aunt Maggie didn’t have smoke alarms, so if Richard and I had been asleep, we might not have woken up in time to get out of the house.
The question was, had he just meant to scare us off, or was he trying to kill us? Maybe he hadn’t even cared, which was even more frightening.
I couldn’t imagine a worse way to die than burning to death, and I should have been scared as I sat there in the dark, but mostly I was angry. It wasn’t just that somebody had tried to kill Richard and me, though that was part of it. I was livid that the bastard had nearly burned down my home! I decided right then and there that Richard and I were going to get that son of a bitch if it was the last thing we did.
Then I sighed. It was easy enough to make that declaration, like Scarlett O’Hara railing against poverty. The tough part was carrying through and finding the arsonist. Richard and I were so far away from being able to do that that I wondered why he’d even bothered to make a move.
That was encouraging, in a way. If we were that much of a threat to him, we had to be on the right track, even if we didn’t know it yet. So what did we know?
Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 06 - Death of a Damn Yankee Page 19