Torch Scene Read Free Page A

me. “Reed! What’s going on?” she said. “Let’s get this over with.”
    “Hold on.” I pulled her arm. “They look pretty busy. Let’s wait a minute.” I wanted a moment to think. And, before Willie talked to them, I wanted to know if they really had discovered a body in the rubble. If that were the case, it would completely change the complexion of the questions, especially if someone deliberately started the fire. If it was arson, the police would naturally look at Willie, wondering if she had a motive to burn the building down.
    Willie stared at me, then shrugged. We went back to the porch and sat down. The Darmodys next door were out, sitting in rocking chairs, sipping coffee and watching the investigation unfold.
    “Sure sorry about everything,” Mr. Darmody called out. As usual, his wife remained quiet.
    “Thanks,” Willie replied.
    Across the street, a reporter from one of the local news channels stood near the crime scene tape, and a cameraman filmed nearby. A fire inspector moved throughout the rubble on the perimeter of the house. He wore boots and gloves, and he carried some kind of electronic device. He occasionally stopped, jotted notes on a clipboard, then tucked the clipboard under his arm and moved on.
    Spillman walked around the side of the building, then paused. She shielded her eyes and gazed up at the burned attic apartment. Portions of two charred walls remained, but the entire roof had burned. Only a couple of black joists stood out like a partial skeleton. She continued on, stepping carefully over all the debris that lay on the lawn.
    I’d first met Spillman when we were both investigating the same homicide. She was a sharp detective with a hard-edged demeanor, and she usually looked more like a businesswoman than a cop. Not today, however. She had on jeans and a tee shirt smudged with soot, and her hair was disheveled. I wondered how long she’d been there. She waved an arm, talking to someone up above. I couldn’t imagine what a mess was in that attic, or what remained of it. Spillman gestured again, and I noticed the top of an aluminum ladder resting against the side of the house. She said something else, and a man in coveralls, long gloves that covered him up to his elbows, and heavy boots climbed down the ladder. They moved to the front porch, and the man disappeared inside. A few minutes later, he came back out with another man in similar attire. The group stood talking for a moment, then turned as two paramedics approached with a metal gurney that they carried onto the porch.
    This larger group all huddled and talked, then the paramedics stepped inside the building, bent down and picked up something. They backpedaled slowly, carrying a black body bag that they gently set on the gurney. Beside me, Willie gasped. The paramedics lifted the gurney off the porch, then rolled it down the sidewalk, stopping periodically as the wheels of the gurney caught on the uneven concrete. They made it to the ambulance, loaded the gurney into the back, and shut the doors. The fire inspectors joined them for one quick, final conversation. Then the paramedics left to deliver the body to the morgue for an autopsy.
    “What if it was Nick O’Rourke?” Willie asked.
    I didn’t say anything for a moment. Then I pushed myself up. “That woman over there?” I pointed at Spillman. “She’s a homicide detective.”
    Willie stared up at me. “But…homicide? That would mean they think the fire was intentionally started in order to kill someone.”
    “The police are going to treat this like a homicide until they know differently.” What I knew about arson investigations I’d mostly gleaned from reading detective novels, so I was guessing. But it didn’t take a genius to see how this would play out. Since a body was found, the police would have to treat it like a murder investigation, in order not to contaminate a potential crime scene. Since Willie owned the building, Spillman would have to rule