by Nancy CoCo
“But it wasn’t just anyone,” I said. “Let’s rule out the partner idea for a moment. Remember, things are not usually as complicated as they seem. Do we know if there is any way that Henry could have started the shed fire before Rex arrested him? I mean, didn’t you say the tire trash fire was experimenting with slow burns?”
“Yes,” Liz said as she studied the map. She turned to me. “Did you see a pile of trash or a tire or anything when you called in the shed fire?”
I shook my head. “No, I saw smoke, but the fire was started inside the shed. The smoke I saw was thick and black and came through the gaps around the window.”
“We need to find out what started the shed fire,” Mom said.
“The official report was that the fire was set with an accelerant. The gas cans inside the shed along with a couple lawnmowers caused the explosion.”
“So it could have been a slow burn,” I said. “The smoke was quite thick and black. Not like paper fire or even wood.”
“I’ll double-check with my sources inside the fire department and see if the fire was a slow burn. If it was, we can’t rule out Henry. In fact, he may have set the fire knowing Rex was close to arresting him. That way, he would seem innocent in the whole thing.”
“Do you think Henry Schulte is that smart? I asked. “He didn’t exactly come across as a criminal mastermind. The man has blue-tipped, spiked hair for goodness sakes.”
“Desperate men can do desperate things,” Dad observed.
“He would have to be pretty darn desperate,” I said.
“He may have gotten the same death threats that Rodney did. Or worse,” Liz said. “Rodney could have discovered that Henry did something that caused the death threats. Perhaps Henry was cooking the books and not paying the bills, for example. In that case, Rodney may have threatened to go to the police.”
“There has to be a good amount of evidence that Henry killed Rodney or Rex would not have arrested him,” I said. “Do we have any details?”
“No.” Liz shook her head. “Rex is playing it close to the vest. What I do know is that Henry hired a lawyer who got him out on a hundred thousand dollar bail.”
“Only a hundred thousand dollars?” I said. “For murder?”
“There is no evidence of flight risk as Henry didn’t leave the island.”
“When does the trial start?” Dad asked.
“They go to the grand jury in two weeks,” Liz said. “Meanwhile, Henry is staying with his aunt on the island.”
“One hundred thousand is pretty cheap when you have a ten million dollar payday coming,” I said.
“That’s the thing,” Liz said. “The insurance company won’t pay as long as Henry is under suspicion for Rodney’s murder. They’re waiting to see what the outcome is in the murder trial.”
“Well, that’s enough to make a mad man even angrier,” Dad said.
“So Henry is still our main suspect.” Mom studied the board. “Let’s look at them all individually. “Frances, you know Mr. and Mrs. Castor. Can you find out if they know anything about the fires?”
“Sure. I’ll check in with them and see what they have to say. At the bare minimum, they might have seen or heard something on their trips back and forth to the island.”
“I’ll check with Cyndy about her son Oliver,” I said. “I haven’t really gotten to know her yet.”
“I can talk to Bruce and Penny,” Liz said. “With Bruce being the fire chief, it’s not very likely they are involved, but I want to rule them out, anyway.”
“If the arsonist is Bruce’s son, he has grown up around fires and knows about how they are set and grow and such,” Dad said. “He might just be an angry kid in trouble.”
“True,” Liz said.
“I can talk to Luke and Sherman,” Jenn said. “I got to know them pretty well when we were putting out the ashes from the fireworks explosion.”
“Great. Let’s reconvene tomorrow morning before the picnic,” Liz said. “How does that sound?”
“Sounds great.” Dad glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly noon. What say we go get some lunch?” He held out his hand to Mom.
She smiled, stood, and took his hand, then looked at me. “Come with us. We know you’re going to spend tomorrow with Trent. We didn’t come all this way to not have a good visit.”
“But the McMurphy,” I protested.
“Is in good hands with Frances and Sandy and Jenn,” Mom said.
I glanced at my friends who all nodded in turn. I sighed. I did trust them. I simply felt guilty not doing my share of the work.
“Go enjoy lunch with your parents,” Frances said. “The work will be here when you get back.”
“Fine. Thanks.”
“Let’s go out the back way,” Dad suggested and put his free arm around my shoulders careful not to bump my stitches. “Main Street is already filled with tourists.”
“Are you going to sit with us for the fireworks?” Mom asked as I bent to put Mal’s leash and halter on her.
“Sure,” I said. “Since I put so much work into the shows, I really want to make sure they go off well and that people are happy.”
“Are you still worried about the Star Spangled Fourth committee?” Dad asked.
“It’s Mrs. Amerson,” I said and straightened. “Wouldn’t you be worried?”
Dad laughed. “Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, I most certainly would be worried. That woman is a barracuda.”
Chapter 19
After lunch, I left my parents at the bike rentals. Mom had decided it would be fun to bike the road that went around the island. It was an easy eight mile track that showcased the shoreline.
Before I went back to work, I figured it was a good time to pop in to my neighbor’s shop and ask about Oliver. He was fifteen and I kind of hoped he’d be looking for part-time work next summer. At sixteen, he could do more than porter. I would like to see if he might work the front desk to relieve Frances a few hours a week.
The Old Tyme Photo Shop had red, white, and blue bunting draped across the front. In the windows was an ever changing kaleidoscope of tin-type pictures of smiling Fudgies in period dress from the revolutionary war to the World War II era. The glass doors were held open with a brick and the sound of laughter and music greeted me.
The set up was simple. A front counter with a cash register and blown up poster-size pictures was positioned to the right of the door. To the left was a seating area currently occupied by a family of six. Mom and Dad wore 1900s costumes—full suit for dad and mutton sleeve blue jacket, white shirt, and floor length skirt for Mom. A set of twins, blond boys who looked to be about eight years old, wore short pants and sailor tops. A girl of about thirteen had draped herself in the chair in the most bored manner while she flipped through her cell phone. She wore a calf length white dress with a drop waist set off with a pale blue sash. Her blond hair was pulled back into a braid that ran down her back. The little girl who looked to be three years old was in a cute pink and white striped dress with pantaloons. The family was adorable.
Beyond the waiting area was a small hallway. I made my way down it to see two rooms to the right. One held a variety of backdrops and photography equipment. The one behind held racks and racks of costumes. To the right were restrooms marked BOYS and GIRLS.
“Hello?” I called.
“I’ll be right out.” Cyndy Crumbley popped her head out of a tiny office in the back of the building. “Oh, hi, Allie. How are you?”
Cyndy was a gorgeous blonde. At age thirty-eight she still could pass for a woman in her twenties. She had big blue eyes that she’d lined with blue eyeliner and black mascara. She wore her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. Cyndy was five foot four and wore a white peasant blouse with violets embroidered across the top and a long loose skirt in purple. Her perfectly manicured toes peeked out of open-toed wedges.
“I’m good. You look busy.” I pointed toward the waiting family.
“Being busy is good.” In her hand
was an envelope clearly filled with proof pictures. “How’s business?”
“It’s going well. Except for the thumb, I’m enjoying every minute of it.” I held up my splint.
“Oh, that’s right. I heard you were in an accident.” She winced at my thumb. “How are you making fudge?”
“Sandy has to do it for a few weeks. I supervise, but it’s not the same.”
“I bet.”
“Listen, I stopped by to see how Oliver is doing.”
She paused and looked at me earnestly. “Why? Did you hear something?”
“I didn’t see him around for awhile. I hear he recently came back from some sort of trip?”
She scowled. “His father is angry because Oliver hasn’t been taking any of his calls. The divorce didn’t go that well and Oliver is a teen and mad at his dad. I tried to explain that, but there’s no talking to the man.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is that why Oliver was gone for a while?”
“Yes. The courts made me send him to his father’s for a month as soon as school let out.” She shook her head. “Oliver was with him four days before my ex sent him off to summer camp.”
“What?” I blinked. “He made you send Oliver to stay with him and then he sent Oliver off? Was it a day camp?”
“No, it was an overnight camp,” she said and I noted that her hands curled into fists. “Oliver called me after the first night and asked if he had to stay if he didn’t want to be there so I sent him a plane ticket to come home. As far as I know, his father still thinks Oliver is at camp.”
“That’s so weird.”
Cyndy shrugged. “My ex was trying to get back at me by taking Oliver and the courts didn’t see it that way.”
“Poor Oliver. I bet he’s pretty angry right now.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” Cyndy asked.
“Yes, I would. One quick question. I know Oliver was back the night the pool house was set on fire.”
“Are you implying he did that?” Her blue eyes flashed. “Because he would never.”
“Oh, no.” I raised my hands. “I’m not implying anything. I was wondering if he might have seen something that night.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Cyndy’s shoulders dropped. She ran her free hand over her face. “I’m a little defensive when it comes to my boy. He’s a teenager and that means he’s no angel, but he’s a good kid. He wouldn’t do anything malicious.”
“I know”—I put my hand on her arm—“but he may have a better idea of who would do such a thing. I mean, he hangs out with the other island teens, right? Maybe they know something.”
She looked at me thoughtfully. “I’ll ask him.”
“Thanks. Let him know that I’m really hoping to bring him on part-time at the McMurphy next summer when he’s sixteen. That is, if he’s interested. I’ll need someone to give Frances a break at the receptionist desk.”
Cyndy smiled. “I’ll let him know.”
“Thanks,” I said again. “I’ll let you get to that nice looking family in the waiting area.”
“The Gunthersons. They are so cute, aren’t they? They come every year for their family portrait. Then put it on their Christmas card.”
“I love repeat customers. You get to know them and they become part of your friends and family.”
“I agree.” She patted me on the shoulder. “Thanks for thinking about Oliver. I’ll ask him if he saw or heard anything.”
“One last thing. Did you see the calico cat that’s been hanging around the back alley? If so, do you happen to know who it belongs to?”
“Oh, yes, I’ve seen it. I thought it was yours. I saw the food and water dishes on your fire escape.”
“It’s been hanging out and I couldn’t let it starve. I’m going to catch it and take it to the vet and ensure that it’s healthy.”
“And you’re keeping it, aren’t you?” She winked at me. “It’s a pretty cat. Let me know what you name her. Okay?”
“Are you sure you don’t want her? Maybe Oliver?”
She stopped and thought about it. “You know, maybe having a pet would be good for Oliver. But I can’t afford the vet and spay bills.” She bit her bottom lip. “Sorry.”
“I’ll pay the bills and if Oliver wants the cat, that would be great. I already have Mal and I am pretty certain the health inspector would frown about my having another pet in the fudge shop.”
“Sounds perfect,” Cyndy said her eyes lighting up. “Thanks!”
I left out the front as she placed the envelope on the reception desk and then called the Gunthersons back to the studio for their photos.
With Cyndy’s door always open, I wondered why the cat hadn’t gone inside the photo shop instead of the McMurphy in the first place. If Oliver took the cat, I would still get to see her. Cyndy and Oliver lived in the apartment above the photo shop—which meant the cat would be hanging out on their fire escape instead of mine.
“What did you find out?” Frances asked as I entered the McMurphy.
“Oliver left the island because his dad protested the custody situation and forced Cyndy to give Oliver up for the month after school let out. But after a week, Oliver was put into summer camp. He called Cyndy in tears and she brought him home. She’s expecting her ex to get wise and come storming back for Oliver any day.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath. That one was always all about himself.”
“Did you talk to Mr. and Mrs. Castor?”
Mal jumped up to greet me with a wagging stub tail and a little pirouette. I bent down and patted her on the head and scratched behind her ears.
“I called Jessica. They went on a once-in-a-lifetime cruise to the Greek isles for their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.”
“Wow. How fun. Kind of funny, though, that they left our island for a series of Greek islands.”
“Once you’re an island person, you are always an island person,” Frances said.
“Do they know anything about the fires?” I went to the counter and got Mal a treat from the treat jar. I made her sit and twirl and shake her paw before I gave her the treat. It was always good to keep her well-practiced with her tricks. Not that she would ever forget. Sometimes she pulled out her tricks just to entertain the guests and try to get them to give her a treat.
“They told me to ask Luke Archibald,” Frances said.
“Why?”
“It seems that Luke was doing some exterior painting work for them near the site of the first fire at around the same time.”
“Really?” I glanced at the map Liz had drawn. “What is out by Eagle Point Cave?”
“The Castors have a guest house out that way. It’s really a one bedroom cabin that belonged to Jessica’s brother. When he died, it went to her. They wanted to fix it up and sell it to finance their cruise so they called Luke to come out and spruce things up a bit.”
“Interesting.” I picked up a blue marker and put a star by the sight of the first fire. “We know he was doing work at the Oakton when this fire occurred, as well.” I put a star by the pool house. “Then there is the fire in Luke’s trash barrel. Do you think he was working near any of the other sites?”
“I think he was working in Harrisonville around the time of the Great Turtle Park fire, but I can’t be positive. Let me call around and see what I can find out.”
“Sure.” I studied the map. If Luke was at four of the sites, we had a pattern. Enough of a pattern, anyway, to get Rex involved. I put the cap on the marker and put it away.
I had just been talking to Luke and he seemed like such a nice guy, always helpful. It didn’t make sense. There hadn’t been any anger in his eyes. Why would he set the fires? For insurance? No, the Castors would hold the insurance on their cottage and I know for sure Luke wouldn’t see a cent of insurance from burning the pool house. So where was the motive?
We were going to have to dig a little deeper.
Chapter 20
We closed the fudge shop at six PM so that everyone could go out to
see the fireworks. It was tradition to close it early. Papa Liam had loved fireworks and always insisted that we shut down for all three fireworks shows. It made good business sense. The streets emptied as people grabbed picnic baskets and headed out to their staked out tents and chairs and blankets on the shore or the schoolyard.
Mom had packed a huge picnic basket full of her homemade fried chicken, coleslaw, potato salad, vegetable platter and dip, biscuits, and fig cake for desert. Dad carried a cooler full of glass bottles with ice tea and sodas. I carried a Frisbee, a portable bocce ball set, and horseshoes. Mal carried her leash and followed beside me.
It felt like a mass exodus as everyone left for the part of the island with the best views of the fireworks. The fire department had parked a horse-drawn replica fire truck in the schoolyard where the fire chief had a gaggle of children enthralled as they tried on fire hats and climbed up on the vehicle, imagining chasing through the streets ready to start a bucket brigade to save the fort or any of the houses on the strip. His face was animated and his Irish storytelling was in full gear.
“Bruce makes a great storyteller,” I said to Mom.
“His dad was great at it as well.”
“That whole family could tell a fat tale and make you believe every word of it no matter how ridiculous it was,” Dad said.
Our mood was light as children squealed and ran around in front of us with red, white, and blue streamers and poppers. Once twilight set, they would have sparklers and screaming chickens and replica tankers who would move a few inches and then send out a pop of smoke and noise from their long noses. Mal was a little skittish around the kids as they tended to not look where they were going and run over little dogs carrying their own leash.
Dad had staked out a very good spot and we set down our things. I tied Mal’s leash to one of the poles of the overhead tarp and she was content to rest on the blanket Dad had put down to mark our spot.
Mom went to work setting out the food on the top of the basket, piling plates and cups and utensils on the blanket.
“Hey, can we join you?” Trent came up from behind with his sister Paige and her boyfriend in tow. Mal jumped up and Trent gave her hello pats.
