by Gail Bowen
Zack moved his chair close to her. “How’s it going?”
She shrugged. “Come see for yourself.” We followed Georgie into the living room. The blinds on the window overlooking College Avenue had been pulled up, and Nick was standing in front of the window, watching firefighters battle a wall of flames that appeared to be at least twenty metres high.
Zack wheeled over to him. “Are they getting it under control?”
“Everybody’s doing the right thing,” Nick said. “We called 911 as soon as Georgie saw smoke coming out of the building. The trucks were here within minutes, and the firefighters hit the ground running, but the fire moved so fast. The flames were like a wave that just kept gathering force and pressing on.”
“I hope no one was hurt,” I said.
“The ambulances arrived at the same time as the fire trucks, and none of them has moved,” Nick said. “That has to be a good sign.”
“It is,” I said. “Where’s Ainsley?”
“Upstairs in her apartment,” Georgie said. “She told me there was nothing she could do about the fire, and she needed to figure out the next steps for the production if the worst happens.” Her smile was wry. “She’s probably spending her time more wisely than we are.”
“I agree,” Zack said. “We need to do what Ainsley is doing — figure out our next steps if the worst happens, although I suspect Ainsley’s ‘worst’ is different from mine.”
“Arson,” Nick said grimly. “Arson would be the worst.”
“For many reasons,” Zack said. “But the most immediate is financial. Replacing what’s destroyed will be costly. Until the insurers are convinced the fire was accidental, they drag their feet about paying out, and Jo tells me this production is on a tight schedule. If arson is a possibility, identifying the culprit fast is to our advantage. The police will be asking questions about whether we know of anyone who had a motive for doing this, so we’ll need answers.”
“I can’t get the phone call that came during the party out of my mind,” Nick said. “The call was from Bernie Farron, a member of our lighting crew. He’d had a nasty encounter with a coworker yesterday morning, and the other guy didn’t show up for work in the afternoon. Bernie’s been trying to get in touch with him to apologize but no luck. The other guy, Danny Kerrigan, is a grown man, and normally this wouldn’t be a cause for concern. But Danny has worked for me since he graduated from the Polytechnic. He’s Mister Reliable — never late, never takes a sick day, always ready to work overtime or on weekends if I need him.”
Earlier, when I looked at the hands on Taylor’s wall clock and realized we had not yet emerged unscathed from Friday the 13th, I’d felt a twinge of unease, but Zack had been confident that all was well, so I’d dismissed my doubts. When Nick said that Danny Kerrigan had dropped out of sight, my twinge of unease escalated into full-blown alarm, and my imagination ran amok. In Georgie’s words, the Sisters and Strangers production was suddenly dealing with “a traitor in our midst and an enemy at the gates.” For Danny Kerrigan the concepts of right and wrong were clearly defined. If he learned that Roy’s fatal heart attack had been induced by a hallucinogen that someone dropped into his water bottle, Danny would feel morally obligated to report what he knew to his employer, MediaNation. If the person who had dropped the drug into Roy’s water bottle had discovered that Danny knew the truth about Roy’s death, Danny would have been in danger.
As I watched the firefighters’ futile efforts to battle the wall of flames, my thoughts were as out of control as the fire. My husband’s sane and sensible observation drew me back to the situation at hand — he was right that if Danny was as reliable as Nick believed him to be, he would have made certain someone knew how he could be reached. Once again, I was a woman standing behind a window, watching from a safe distance as an inferno raged.
Nick turned from the window to Zack. “You’re right,” he said. “But we can’t seem to discover who Danny confided in. Bernie says he texted and phoned Danny repeatedly — no response. Finally he was concerned enough to go to Danny’s apartment. Danny wasn’t there, but a member of Danny’s church group was there and she was worried too. Apparently, there was a farewell party for the leader of their young adults’ group last evening, and Danny was supposed to present the gift and make the speech. He never showed up. I checked my phone just before you came. There were three more texts from Bernie — the last came just after midnight, and Danny was still not responding to his calls or texts. Bernie said they fought over a comment he made about Vale. He didn’t elaborate and I didn’t ask, but whatever it was, Bernie thinks he might have pushed Danny over the edge.”
“He may be right,” I said. “Kyle Daly came to our place this afternoon.”
Both men turned to me, surprised.
“He told me about the fight,” I admitted. “It erupted when Kyle mentioned that Vale and Taylor would be sharing an apartment. Danny assumed they’d be roommates, and Bernie mocked him for being naïve. Danny couldn’t seem to grasp what Bernie was getting at, and Kyle tried to help by explaining that Vale and Taylor were a couple and they were in love. Apparently, Danny lost it. He called Kyle a liar, and said if Vale lay with a woman, she’d be a sinner who’d burn in hell, and she wasn’t a sinner, she was perfect. Then he punched Kyle in the eye and ran off crying.”
I could see from the set of Zack’s lips that he was furious, but years in a courtroom had taught him to keep his focus. “So Danny has some deeply entrenched religious beliefs and he’s infatuated with Vale. Why would he want to burn down the production studios?”
“Who knows?” I said. “Danny’s a fanatic, and fanatics have no difficulty justifying their extremism by saying they’re serving their god. Leviticus 20 is obviously a central tenet of the teachings of the Church of Bountiful Blessings. Danny could have believed that burning down the production studios was a small price to pay for saving Vale from eternal damnation.”
“What is Leviticus 20?” Georgie asked. “I must have skipped Mass the day we covered that one.”
“You didn’t miss anything,” I said. “That passage has caused a lot of pain. ‘If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination, they shall surely be put to death: their blood is upon them.’”
“So Danny torches the place where he works to keep the girl he worships from committing an abomination?” Georgie said. “That seems like a stretch to me.”
“Maybe,” Zack said. “But I think Danny Kerrigan’s worth keeping an eye on.” He squinted at the site of the fire. “Is it just wishful thinking on my part, or does it seem that they’ve got the fire under control?”
Georgie moved closer to the window. “I think you’re right,” she said. “The flames aren’t burning as intensely as they were a few minutes ago, and the fire doesn’t seem to be pressing forward the way it was.”
“It does look as if the worst is over,” Nick said.
Zack and I exchanged a glance. We knew the worst might have been over at the site of the fire, but Sisters and Strangers was still facing deeply troubling uncertainties. Zack shifted his wheelchair so he could face Nick. “There are some developments we need to talk about,” he said. “Joanne and Georgie are already aware of some of this, Nick, but the information has come our way in pieces, and I think the time has come to stitch it together.
“Our son-in-law Charlie D has been very interested in how quickly the financing for Sisters and Strangers came together. He’s heard disturbing rumours about Roy’s death, and now there’s a fire. Charlie D has come up with a fairly compelling argument that someone, in all likelihood someone connected with the series that Gabe Vickers elbowed aside to get the green light for Sisters and Strangers, is determined to make Sisters and Strangers tank.”
“Payback,” Nick said.
“Yeah,” Zack said, “but payback that got out of hand. Charlie D and his boss at MediaNation’s
New York office picked up on a rumour that Roy Brodnitz’s ‘incident’ was not an accident of fate, but a deliberate attempt to get him out of the picture. They also heard that when the person behind what happened to Roy learned that Sisters and Strangers continued to move forward despite Roy’s death, they made it known they would attack on another front.”
“The fire,” Nick said. “That theory does have weight, and it raises an ugly possibility. If the person behind this has inside information on the day-to-day workings of our production, one of our colleagues is not only feeding information to someone who wants us to fail but may be carrying out orders to ensure that we do.”
“That prospect makes me sick,” Georgie said. “I’m checking our employees’ CVs for people who worked with American production companies during the months when the series we knocked out of the way was being filmed, and Charlie D’s boss in New York is trying to track down the name of the production company that lost out to Living Skies for the green light. Anyway, the hunt is on.”
“Anybody have anything else?” Nick said. When none of us spoke up, Nick shrugged. “Then I guess we call it a day.”
“Try and get some sleep,” Zack said. “Tomorrow’s going to be gruelling. As soon as the fire department says it’s safe, the police and Fire and Protective Services will go through the site: measuring, taking pictures and samples — doing whatever they need to do. When they give you the okay, it will be Living Skies’ turn to go through with your insurer and describe what’s been destroyed and take more pictures. I recommend strongly that whoever goes with the insurance agent takes along a lawyer. Ainsley owns the majority of stock in Living Skies, so she would be the logical person to go through the inspection, but as executive producer, Georgie, you might be able to take that duty off her hands. My firm Falconer Shreve represents Living Skies, so call us when you’re ready and someone from the firm will be there.”
Chapter Ten
Saturday morning, Zack and I slept in till nine o’clock — an unheard-of indulgence for us both. When we didn’t start our walk at the usual time, Pantera and Esme gave me a fourteen-minute grace period and then began nosing me, licking my face and whining. I got up, let them run around the backyard for ten minutes, fed them and went back to bed. A saw-off, but like me, the dogs were old enough to know that half a loaf is better than none. There was a Saturday morning yoga class Taylor liked, and she’d already left by the time Zack and I went into the kitchen to make breakfast. After he started the coffee, Zack turned to me. “So what’s the protocol here? Do we contact Georgie and Nick or wait for them to contact us?”
“Wait for them,” I said. “They were probably awake most of the night, but I think you should be on call for whenever they need you. I know we’d planned to pick Mieka, Charlie D and the girls up at the airport at noon, but Taylor and I can take her car and the station wagon — plenty of room for Mieka and Charlie’s family and their luggage.”
“I hate missing the girls’ triumphant return from the big city,” Zack said. “But Nick’s always been there for me.”
“That’s settled then,” I said. When Zack’s phone rang, he checked caller ID and mouthed Nick’s name.
I went to the fridge and took out juice, poured us both a glass, handed one to Zack and started slicing bread and cracking eggs.
When Zack’s call ended, he wheeled over to me. “Anything I can do?”
“Nope, scrambled eggs and toast is a one-person operation. So what did Nick have to say?”
“He said that it could have been worse. The fire’s out. There’s still a lot of smoke and smouldering. Fire protection services doesn’t want anybody on-site yet. They still have safety concerns. The real damage seems to have been limited to the area where the cameras and lighting equipment are stored. Replacing them will be expensive, but they can be replaced. There’s smoke damage, but the three sound stages are intact, as are the Courtyard and the Living Skies offices.” Zack had been watching my face as he relayed the latest news. “So what do you think?”
“I think that was a very considerate fire — just enough damage to cost money and eat up time, but not a total wipeout.”
Zack raised his eyebrows. “That’s what I think too,” he said. “Let’s eat.”
After we’d both showered and dressed for the day, Zack left for Georgie’s, and I went out to the backyard to see if any tulips were peeking through. When I came around the house to check the flower beds in front, Lizzie Ewing was standing on our front porch.
I called out to her, and she jumped. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Lizzie looked down at her feet, her black hair hiding her face slightly. “I need to talk to Taylor.”
“She’s at yoga, and she and some of the people in her class are going out for coffee afterwards, so she won’t be home till around noon. Lizzie, I haven’t seen you in ages. Let me make us some tea, and we can get caught up.”
Lizzie was still staring down at her feet.
I went to her. “I really would like to hear about your new life.”
She started to cry. “You and Zack were so nice to me.”
I put my arm around her shoulders. “What’s happened?” Lizzie shook her head numbly, but when I opened the front door and led her down the hall to the kitchen, she followed. She was still sobbing as I pulled out a chair for her. “Sit down,” I said. “I’ll get you a glass of water and some tissues.”
The water and the chance to take deep breaths and mop her eyes seemed to calm Lizzie. Vale and Taylor had commented on how well she looked, and as I sat opposite her, it was apparent Lizzie was healthy and well-cared for. Then I noticed something else. Lizzie smelled of smoke. When the silence between us lengthened, it occured to me that perhaps she was upset because of the fire.
“Were you over at the productions studios?” I said.
She tensed. “Did somebody see me there?”
“No.” I touched the sleeve of the pretty daisy-splashed cotton shirt she was wearing. “Smoke has a way of clinging to clothes. Lizzie. I’m not suggesting you did anything wrong. It’s human nature to be curious.”
“That wasn’t why I went there.”
“Then why were you there?” Whenever I’d been with her before, Lizzie’s eyes had been heavily made up: lashes clotted with mascara and eyelids ringed with liner. Now she was fresh-faced and her eyes were guileless.
“I needed to find out if . . .” She paused and then finished hurriedly. “I needed to find out if anybody got hurt.”
“Did you think Danny Kerrigan might have been somewhere close to the fire?”
My intent had been to prolong our conversation, but my words hit a vulnerability, and Lizzie was out of her chair and halfway across the room before I got to my feet. “There’s somewhere I have to be,” she said.
“Just stay for a minute . . . please?” I said. “It’s important. Lizzie, I know Danny disappeared last night, and you were looking for him. I also know that he ran off because he found out that Vale and Taylor were more than just friends.”
“What they do is a sin.” Lizzie sat back down. “If they don’t stop, they will burn in hell.”
“Did you come here this morning to tell Taylor to stop being with Vale?”
Lizzie’s words tumbled over one another. “Danny came to Bountiful Gifts yesterday looking for Pastor Kirk. Danny was the one who led me to the path of righteousness. I owe him everything. When he told me about Taylor and Vale, he was crying. He said it was up to us to save them.” She stopped to take in a ragged breath. “I would do anything to save Vale and Taylor. They cared about me when nobody else did. Vale gave me food and money, and she let me stay at her place when it was cold, and when I was afraid to talk to the police the night Mr. Vickers died, Taylor asked you and her dad to help me. And she gave me her beautiful red coat — do you remember that coat?”
“I do,”
I said. “Taylor loved it, and after she outgrew the red coat, it made her happy to see you wearing it.”
Lizzie’s eyes darted desperately around the room, searching for deliverance or rescue. When neither was forthcoming, she leapt again to her feet. “I have to leave.”
“Just give me one more minute,” I said. “Please, just look at me.” Lizzie slowly met my gaze. “Do you think Vale and Taylor are good people?” I said. When she nodded, I continued. “They’re kind. They don’t hurt people, and they helped you. Do you really think that because they love each other, they’ll go to hell?”
“Pastor Kirk says . . .”
“Let’s keep Pastor Kirk out of it for a minute,” I said. “Lizzie, I know belonging to your church has been a wonderful thing for you. Your church has given you a good life, and all of us are very happy about that. But churches are made up of people, and people make mistakes. I know that people in your church believe that by loving each other Vale and Taylor are committing a sin. Some people in my own church believe that too. But when I look at how happy Vale and Taylor make each other, I don’t see sin. I just see love. I’m not asking you not to believe what Pastor Kirk tells you. I’m just telling you not to worry about Taylor and Vale because like you and me and Danny and Pastor Kirk, they are God’s children, and they’ll be fine.”
She tried a smile. “I feel better.”
“So do I,” I said. “Lizzie, do you think you could pass along what I said to Danny? It might make him feel better too.”
“I’ll pray about it,” she said, “but first I have to pray that I find Danny.”
I went to the front door with Lizzie and watched as she walked down our front path. When she reached the sidewalk, she turned and waved to me, the way my kids and grandkids had waved when they were little. The gesture touched me, and I found myself hoping Lizzie’s prayer to find Danny would be answered, and that when she found him, Danny would be able to tell her that he’d been nowhere near the fire the night before.
