Part 11 (2/2)
Ambrose stopped poking at something in the bed of the truck and craned his head to peer through the pa.s.senger side window.
”What do you think you're doing?”
”Just taking a look.”
My paranoia skyrocketed. What did he expect to find? A book of matches from the Pyro Club? A copy of Arson for Dummies on the front seat?
”I see you've been talking with Chief Blakely.”
He straightened. ”Hanover's place burning down right before I get in there to look around again? You bet I have.”
And I'd known he planned to go in Walter's house again. Great.
I started back to where Blakely sat at the picnic table. To my relief, Ambrose followed me.
Sun broke through a jagged hole in the clouds, and sudden warmth struck my face. Blakely perched at one end of the table. He wore a uniform, but Ambrose wore slacks with a sports coat again, this time with an olive green s.h.i.+rt and a copper bolo tie in the shape of a steer's head. I sneaked a look at his feet as I sat down opposite him. Uh huh-cowboy boots.
”We need to know how you left the Hanover place.” Ambrose asked the question before he'd even managed to slide his frame onto one of the picnic benches.
”You mean when Meghan and I were boxing things up?”
A curt nod.
”Well, everything was still pretty much a mess. We'd packed maybe ten boxes for the Salvation Army to pick up when Debby and Jacob came in. Debby wanted to help, so we decided to leave things until after the funeral.”
Blakely leaned forward. ”Can you remember where they were? How things were arranged?”
I closed my eyes, trying to remember. ”There were two or three boxes in front of the sofa, which sat under the front window. They contained various junk from the shelves. I was sorting through pictures and trying to find anything Tootie-Walter's mothermight want. Meghan had spent some time in his bedroom, sorting through clothes, and the rest of the boxes were in there.”
I opened my eyes. Blakely was taking notes. He looked up.
”Any piles of stuff in the living room?” he asked.
”No. Not really.”
The two men exchanged a look.
”No piles of old newspapers, magazines, that sort of thing?”
”There were some papers. Lots and lots of magazines,” I said. And three boxes worth of miscellaneous paperwork I should probably mention about now.
”Where were the magazines placed?” Blakely asked.
”Placed? Well, most of them were on the shelves and some on the coffee table, another pile on an end table. We were going to see if the library wanted them for one of their book sales.”
”Not all of them in one big pile in the middle of the livingroom floor, then.”
”Huh uh. Is that what started the fire?”
Blakely nodded. ”It looks like it. We'll test for accelerants to make sure, but my guess is someone piled the magazines all together, poured gasoline on them, and tossed a match on it.”
”Not that there's any evidence of a break-in left,” Ambrose said.
”They didn't have to break in,” I said. ”They had the key, remember?” And then I remembered: I had forgotten to tell Ambrose about the missing key. I explained about it now.
”If it was the same person you say you heard in Hanover's house,” Ambrose said.
”'Say I heard?”' I repeated.
He held out his palms. ”All right. The person you heard in Hanover's house.”
”Thank you. But you think the arsonist was someone different?”
Ambrose shrugged. ”Can't jump to conclusions.”
I stood up. ”If that's all, then, I have to get back to work”
Blakely said, ”Yeah, we're done.”
Ambrose studied me like a particularly th.o.r.n.y algebra problem, then abruptly rose and followed Chief Blakely around to where they'd parked on the street in front of the house.
Kyla went back to labeling the lip balms, and I finished taking inventory. Or tried to. Halfway through counting something, I'd find myself speculating about what nasty surprises might be in store for me in the near future if someone was really trying to frame me. I wracked my brain for anyone who might hate me that much. It didn't take long to decide the idea bordered on ridiculous. I just wasn't that important in the scheme of things.
Enough with the persecution complex.
After a while, I gave up and went to find Meghan. I found her at the kitchen table, paying bills. She didn't look pleased.
”What's wrong?”
She just shook her head.
”Where's Erin?”
”She went over to Zoe's to play.”
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