by Parnell Hall
“Billy Wilson.”
“Who?”
“You don’t know Billy Wilson? Of course, you’re not a volunteer.” Kevin raised his head, looked around. “Ah. See the man over there, far side of the street? The guy watching the fire, seems to be enjoying it a little too much? Billy the Bug.”
At Cora’s puzzled look Kevin said, “Firebug. Busted three or four times. He’s had jail, parole, community service, psychiatric counseling. Finally took. Hasn’t torched a place in ten years. But if you asked me who’d have done it, that’s what I’d have said.”
“Ten years?”
“Give or take. Not that we haven’t had fires since then. They just weren’t arson.”
“Interesting,” Cora said.
Kevin threw his coffee cup in the garbage, went back to work another shift.
Cora worked her way through the crowd to a position from which she could better assess Billy Wilson. She studied him through the smoke and the flickering flames. He’d certainly gotten as close as he could go, was actually pushing against the crime scene ribbon. Billy was a chubby little man with a round face but tiny nose. He wore a red parka, open at the front with the hood down, probably because he was so close to the fire. The coat had lots of deep pockets, useful in concealing lighters and accelerants.
What Kevin had said opened up interesting possibilities. There’d been no cases of arson in the last ten years. From that Kevin concluded that Billy’d reformed.
It occurred to Cora there was another possibility.
Maybe he’d just gotten better at it.
Chapter
30
Chief Harper found Cora in the crowd, fixed her with an evil eye. “I suppose this is your doing.”
“Oh, hi, Chief. What’s my doing?”
“I just tried to interview Brittany Wells. But I couldn’t do it, because Barney Nathan gave her some sort of horse tranquilizer. I’d be surprised if she wakes up by Wednesday.”
“Good idea. She seemed upset.”
“As if I didn’t know whose idea.”
“Wednesday was your idea, Chief.” Cora raised her eyebrows. “So. You question him yet?”
“Who?”
“Billy the Bug. I hear you busted him quite a few times in the past.”
Harper waved it away. “This wasn’t Billy Wilson.”
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Why is that silly? If it were a rape, would you be looking at sex offenders?”
“That’s different.”
“In what way?”
Chief Harper flushed. “He burned houses, not cars.”
“He couldn’t have diversified?”
“You shouldn’t be doing this, Cora.”
“Doing what?”
“It’s a red flag. You’re afraid I’ll pick on the wife, so you’re throwing me a red herring.”
“Not at all. One of the firemen told me you had a local firebug, so I thought I’d pass it on. But if you’re telling me it means nothing…”
“Absolutely nothing. Zero. Zilch. You’re on the wrong track.”
“Good to know.” Cora pointed. “Oh, look. Rick Reed’s here.”
Harper muttered something under his breath.
“Nice quote, Chief. I’m sure Rick will love it.”
Rick Reed of Channel Eight News was holding forth in front of the blazing wreck. Even with the crime scene cordoned off, the news team had managed to find an angle in the street that put the flames in the background.
“Car bomb in Bakerhaven!” Rick boldly proclaimed, though no one had determined that was what it was. “The quiet streets of Bakerhaven were rocked just an hour ago when a car parked outside the library suddenly exploded and burst into flames, killing the driver, who had just started the car,” he continued, possibly establishing a record for the number of assumptions stated as fact in a single sentence. Whether or not the explosion was the result of a car bomb, there was no evidence as to whether the car was running, whether the driver had started the car, whether the ignition had triggered the bomb, or whether the ensuing blast had killed the man or woman in the front seat, if there indeed was a person in the inferno. The charred corpse, if that’s what it was, had not been moved, let along examined. The EMS unit stood by the ambulance, waiting for the Bakerhaven volunteer fire department to put out the fire. Till then, no one was eager to go close to the vehicle.
Cora moved through the crowd and wandered injudiciously close to Rick Reed, who had paused for a commercial. He spotted her and pounced.
“Cora! Glad I caught you. Can I get you on camera?”
“Sorry, Rick. Don’t have time. But I don’t know anything yet, anyway.”
“Nothing at all?”
“No. Oh, well, I understand Chief Harper ruled out the local firebug.”
“The local firebug?”
“So I hear.”
“Who’s the local firebug?”
“Oh, was that before your time? I hear it’s a while ago. I think it’s before mine. At least I never knew. And it’s the sort of thing you’d think you’d hear.”
“Who are we talking about?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Doesn’t mean anything, anyway. The chief says there’s nothing to it.”
Cora moved off before Rick could ask a follow-up. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him scanning the crowd for Chief Harper.
Cora went back to Becky’s office, where the young attorney was riding herd over her client. Brittany was sitting in a chair. She wasn’t sleeping, but she wasn’t responsive, either. Her eyes were glazed.
“I understand Chief Harper was up here.”
“Yeah. He wasn’t happy.”
“I’m not surprised. Looks like Barney did a nice job.”
“I suppose I have you to thank for that.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Absolutely. She’s a lot more fun to be with. Except she might fall over. Listen, you want to babysit for a while? It’s my first car bomb.”
“Actually, no one’s calling it that yet. Except Rick Reed.”
“He’s here?”
“Yeah. You feel like being interviewed?”
“Why not? I look good on TV.”
“What you gonna say?”
“‘No comment.’”
“Not exactly enlightening.”
“No, but I look good saying it.”
“Yes, you do.”
“So will you babysit?’
Cora sized Brittany up. “I should probably drive her home.”
“She’s certainly in no shape to do it.”
“Yeah, but that’s not why.”
“Oh? Why?”
“She hasn’t got a car.”
Chapter
31
Cora took Brittany home, put her to sleep in the upstairs bedroom. Brittany offered little resistance. Dr. Nathan had done a good job. Cora tucked her in, turned out the light, and closed the door.
Then she went downstairs and ransacked the study.
There was an old oak desk with many drawers. Some had keyholes, but none were locked, which was disappointing. A locked drawer would be much more promising.
Cora went through all the papers as if she had every right to do so. She figured in a way, she did. Cora was Becky’s representative. Becky was Brittany’s attorney. Brittany’s husband was dead, and Brittany was his beneficiary. It was therefore necessary to inventory his property in order to conserve the estate.
And if Chief Harper bought that one she should probably try her luck at the state lottery.
Cora finished up her search of the desk having found nothing even remotely interesting except some magazines of a rather suggestive nature. The suggestion was not subtle. It was, however, the type of thing that would have appealed to Melvin. It occurred to Cora she needed to apprise Melvin of the latest development before he did anything foolish. It also occurred to her it would be prudent not to call from Brittan
y’s phone.
The file cabinet next to the desk looked promising and did indeed hold several family-related documents, such as the rental agreement and the electric, gas, cable, and phone bills.
There were also statements from the local bank. According to the latest, Hank Wells had expired with approximately sixteen thousand dollars in his account. Not princely, but a useful sum for a young widow with mounting attorney’s fees.
One drawer was locked. Cora wondered if she should wake Brittany up and get the keys. Assuming Brittany had the keys. Which seemed a long shot, all things considered. Most likely, the only one with keys to the file cabinet was Hank.
In which case, they probably just blew up.
Chapter
32
Sherry met Cora at the door with Jennifer on her hip. “A car blew up and you’re involved.”
“Not exactly how I’d have phrased it.” Cora pushed by Sherry and went in. “You ever use your end of the house?’
“This is more homey.”
“You noticed.” Cora went into the kitchen.
“Where you going?”
“I need some coffee.”
“Want me to make it?”
“Thought you’d never ask. Here, give me the troublemaker.”
“She’s not a troublemaker,” Sherry said.
Jennifer squealed. “Troublemaker!” It sounded more like “bubblebaker.”
“Now see what you’ve done,” Sherry said. “Jennifer, you’re not a troublemaker; you’re a good girl.”
“A good girl who makes trouble,” Cora said. “Come on, Jennifer. Auntie Cora’s going to spoil you while Mommy makes coffee.”
Cora scooped Jennifer up, whisked her into the living room, and dropped her on the couch. Jennifer squealed in delight.
“Heard that!” Sherry yelled from the kitchen. “If I come in there and find out you’re having fun…”
“Oh, tough mommy,” Cora said. “I’m s-o-o-o scared.”
Jennifer giggled.
“Why don’t you stop mommy bashing and do something useful.”
“Sure. Jennifer, we’re going to learn something useful. What do I know that’s useful? Ah! Marrying a loser. Jennifer, want to learn how to marry a loser?”
“Wooser!” Jennifer cried.
“I stand corrected,” Sherry said, bringing in a steaming cup of coffee. “Don’t try to teach her anything useful. Just try not to break her before Aaron gets home.”
The poodle came yipping in from Cora’s bedroom.
“Hi, Buddy,” Cora said. “You didn’t come greet me. You’re not feeling well?”
“He’s fine,” Sherry said. “I think Jennifer wore him out.”
“I know how he feels.” Cora took the cup of coffee, flopped down on the couch. “I’m glad my shift is over.”
“It was five minutes,” Sherry said.
“Maybe for you. It seemed like an eternity. I’m cranky; I’m irritable.”
“You’re doing great.”
“Yeah, well, I’m done doing it. Now Buddy can do great.”
On cue, Jennifer took off after the dog.
Sherry sat down on the couch. “Okay, tell me about the car bomb.”
“A car blew up and no one’s happy about it.”
“I was hoping for a little more than that.”
Cora filled her niece in on the situation.
Sherry wasn’t impressed. “You don’t know any more than Aaron did.”
“There’s a ringing endorsement. I’ll tell him you said so. He may want to blurb it in his bio.”
“You are cranky, aren’t you?”
“Well, I’m less than pleased. Things could hardly be worse.”
“At least there’s no crossword puzzle.”
Cora stood up so fast she spilled her coffee. “Bite your tongue! You don’t jinx it when a pitcher’s throwing a perfect game. You know when you comment on it? When the last man is out. I got a dead guy in a car and a suspect in a drugged stupor, who better not be guilty, because I’m on her side. That I can handle. I’m climbing the walls, but I can handle it. Throw a crossword puzzle at me and I’m going to freak out.”
“Sorry. On a cheerier note, how’s the corpse? Was he alive when he burned?”
Cora smiled. “That’s my girl. A good question, and one I’m sure Barney Nathan will be answering as soon as he can get close enough to tell. I’ve never seen a flaming one before. Unless you count my ex-husband Henry.”
“Henry’s dead?”
“No.” Cora sat back down and sipped her coffee. “Anyway, the whole investigation’s pretty much on hold because the corpse is inaccessible and the suspect’s doped up.”
“Where is she?”
“I took her home, put her to sleep.”
“Think she’ll stay put?”
“She has to. She has no car.”
Cora went into her office, logged on to the Internet, began playing Spider Solitaire. She dialed the phone with the other hand.
A gruff voice growled, “Crowley.”
Cora growled, “Cora.”
“Hey, kid. Whaddya up to?”
“You getting updates from Bakerhaven?”
“No. Should I?”
“Well, probably not, because nobody knows your connection to the case.”
A pause. “What case?”
“The car bombing.”
“What?”
Cora went through the whole thing again for Crowley. She was getting quite good at it.
“And just how am I involved in all this?” Crowley said.
“Clearly, you aren’t,” Cora said, “and that’s how I’ll describe it in my official report.”
“Leave me out of your official report.”
“That will leave some holes in the story.”
“What holes? What story?”
“Exactly,” Cora said. “Without Hubby’s lover, whose identity you so neatly traced for me, I’d have nothing to go on. Though, actually it was Perkins who traced it for me. That’s good. Two witnesses are always better than one.”
There was another pause. “Are you kidding, or what?”
“Well, if this guy turns out to be a straying husband who accidently did himself in while attempting to bump off his heavily insured wife, then the mistress will go a long way toward establishing that fact. Anyway, the odds are Becky will be sending me to Manhattan to check things out, so I’ll give you a call.”
“I may be busy.”
“You’re not very welcoming,” Cora said.
“Well, you’re threatening to involve me in a murder. I should be jumping up and down?”
“Murder is your business.”
“Solving them is my business. Taking part in them is not in the job description. The powers that be get very cranky when policemen participate in them.”
“The powers that be? That’s not just some boogeyman they scare young policemen with?”
“It’s exhausting talking to you. I gotta get back to the real world. If you crack the case, let me know.”
Crowley hung up the phone.
Cora sat and seethed. Not only had the conversation been unsatisfactory, but she was losing at Spider Solitaire.
Cora was angry with herself. Snap out of it, she thought. Pull yourself together. You’re not thinking straight. If you were thinking straight, what would you do?
Well, she wouldn’t sit around home playing solitaire while someone else solved the case. She’d go out and beat them to it. And how would she do that? Well, it would help to know what they were doing. Though what Chief Harper was doing in this instance was hard to imagine.
Cora got up to go. Assessed the situation. Okay, before she left the house, was there anything she forgot? Oh, yes.
She dug in her drawstring purse, pulled out an address book, flipped it open, and dialed the number.
He answered on the fourth ring. “Yeah?”
“Melvin? It’s Cora.”
“Oh? Hi, Cora.”
; “Listen. About the blackmail.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m afraid I have bad news.”
Chapter
33
The street in front of the library was still smoldering, but the fire had been put out and the car towed away. Dan Finley’s cruiser was also gone. The crime scene ribbon was now supported by four small stanchions, though what it was meant to protect Cora had no idea. There was nothing left but ash.
Cora pushed up the steps into the police station.
Dan Finley was at his desk. His eyes widened, and he shook his head and waved his hands in a warning gesture.
“I take it the chief’s in his office.”
“Good guess. You might wanna come back later.”
Cora smiled, went on in.
Chief Harper was on the phone. He said, “Call you back,” slammed it down, and lunged to his feet. He seemed to be fighting to control his temper.
“What’s up, Chief? You don’t look happy.”
“I was just interviewed by Rick Reed,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Oh,” Cora said. “And you had nothing to tell him because you couldn’t question the widow.”
“That’s not it and you know it.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t ‘oh’ me. I already bawled you out for getting Barney to drug your client.”
“Actually, she’s Becky’s client.”
“Don’t do that. I’m not in the mood.”
“What’s the matter, Chief?”
“You know damn well what’s the matter. Rick Reed just shoved a microphone in my face. And you know what he wants to talk about?”
“Knowing Rick, it could be anything.”
“Billy Wilson, that’s what. He wants to know how I’m so sure this isn’t the work of Billy the Bug.”
“And is it?”
Harper’s eyes blazed. “You know it isn’t; I know it isn’t; the whole world knows it isn’t. But somehow Rick Reed got the idea I’d been looking into it. You wouldn’t know how that happened?”
“Like you say, Chief, who knows why Rick Reed does anything?”
“I do,” Harper said. “In this case I do. I know why he does it. I know exactly why he does it. Seeing as how you asked me the identical question just this afternoon.”
“Gee, Chief, if everyone’s talking about it, maybe there’s something to it.”