Trick Or Treat Murder. Leslie Meier

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СКАЧАТЬ have you got any suspects?” There was a slight challenge in Ted’s tone.

      “No comment.” Crowley’s attention was on the dog, who had assumed a classic pointing position. “There?” he called.

      “Yup,” said Rogers, squatting down and opening a toolbox. As they watched he took a sample of the burned material and carefully placed it in a jar.

      Sparky indicated the presence of accelerant in three more locations along what had been the outside wall of the house. Once he began investigating the inside, however, he didn’t seem to find anything. The man and the dog worked slowly, stepping gingerly among the blackened boards and other charred remains. Ted had plenty of time to get some dramatic photos of Sparky in action.

      Rogers spoke softly to the dog, encouraging him and keeping his mind on his task. They had reached the far side of the house, behind the chimney, when the dog began whining and scratching frantically at the rubble.

      “What’s he found?” shouted Pulaski, hurrying over. “More accelerant?”

      “No.” Rogers shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ve got some human remains here.”

      “A body?” Crowley was doubtful. “This is just a summer place. Nobody’s here after Labor Day.”

      “He only does this when he finds a body,” said Rogers. He glanced at the dog who was standing rigid and shivering.

      “There is no body here,” insisted Crowley. “I don’t see a body. There’s nothing but ashes.”

      “It was a hot fire,” Rogers reminded him. “There’s probably teeth, bone fragments, maybe even jewelry. I’ll have to call in specialists from the medical examiner’s office. Meanwhile, let’s get this area secured and covered with a tarp.”

      “Winchell,” Crowley yelled to a young officer who was standing nearby. “Find Carter. Get on this right away.”

      “Okay, Chief,” he said, setting off across the yard at a trot.

      “I think we’re about done here,” said Rogers, gently tugging at Sparky’s leash and leading the trembling dog back to the van. “Good boy.” He stroked the animal behind his ears. Sparky gave him a look of doggy adoration and licked his hand.

      “What happens now?” Ted asked the chief. But before Crowley could tell Ted to mind his own business he was interrupted by Winchell.

      “Chief, Carter’s found a car behind that shed. A BMW.”

      “Damn,” said the chief. The last thing he wanted was a homicide.

      “You, Stillings.” He stabbed a fat finger at Ted’s chest. “I want you out of here.” He cocked his thumb. “Now.”

      “Okay, okay,” said Ted, holding his hands up. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

      He started off toward his car, and Pulaski joined him, walking companionably alongside. Unlike the police chief, Pulaski understood the value of a good working relationship with the local media.

      “Check at the station, Ted. We’ll be scheduling a press conference this afternoon, tomorrow morning at the latest.”

      “Thanks.”

      “No problem.” He paused. “I have something to say.” Ted got out his pad, and when he was ready, Pulaski continued. “I hate arson. Every time my men go out to fight a fire, they put themselves at risk. Every time. And now we’ve got a death. Somebody died in this fire.

      “This is my pledge to the people of Tinker’s Cove: I’m going to catch this bastard. But I need help. Anybody sees any suspicious activity, especially around a vacant building, call us. Call right away. Arson’s hard to prove, unless the perpetrator is caught in the act. Got that?”

      “Got it.”

      Humming softly to himself, Ted got behind the wheel of his car. He was already rearranging the front page in his mind. Scratch the photo of the jack-o’-lantern, put the “Healthy Holiday Treats” interview with the school dietitian on page five, move “Officer Culpepper’s Rules for a Safe Halloween” to page six. Arson, homicide, this was going to be one hell of a Halloween issue.

      CHAPTER THREE

      There was an annoying buzz in the room. If she didn’t stop it, it would wake up the baby.

      Lucy sat up in bed. She opened her eyes. Zoe was sleeping peacefully in her white wicker bassinet. She couldn’t find the hum.

      “Lucy, turn off the alarm.”

      “Unh.” She reached out and pressed the button. She flopped back on her pillow and felt herself slipping back in the warm cocoon of sleep. So easy to drift off, except for the tug of her conscience. She had to get the kids ready for school, and Bill off to work. She threw off the covers and sat up, groping for slippers and robe. Standing, she staggered slightly and caught her balance on the door frame.

      She crossed the hall to her eleven-year-old son’s room. Picking her way carefully across the dirty clothes and sports equipment that littered the floor, she gave his shoulder a shake. “Toby, it’s time to get up.”

      Next she stuck her head in Sara and Elizabeth’s room. “Good morning, girls,” she called. Elizabeth was nine, going on twenty-nine, and Sara was five.

      She went down the steep back stairs to the kitchen, made the coffee, and continued on into the downstairs bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face and looked in the mirror. Short black hair stuck out all over her head and there were bags under her eyes. She looked terrible. What did she expect? She’d been up most of the night with the baby. She brushed her teeth.

      Back in the kitchen, she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table, resting her head on her hands.

      “Mom, I need you to sign this.” Toby’s voice pulled her back to consciousness.

      “What is it?”

      “A pledge that you won’t abuse your body by taking any illegal drugs.”

      “No problem,” she mumbled, scribbling her name. “Got any speed, man?”

      “What?”

      “Nothing.” She took a long swallow of coffee.

      When she next opened her eyes, she saw Bill standing at the counter, dressed for work in a plaid flannel shirt and jeans, buttering a pile of toast.

      “Sara, that pink scrunchy is mine,” said Elizabeth.

      “No, it isn’t.” Sara’s voice started to climb the scale. “It’s mine!”

      “Let her wear it,” said Lucy.

      “That’s so unfair. You’re always siding with her.” Elizabeth stamped across the kitchen and plunked herself down on a chair.

      “What’s the matter with your eye?” asked Bill, setting a glass of orange juice in front of her.

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