by Kathi Daley
Rick and Quinten glanced at each other. I think they were catching on as to where I was going with this.
“What if,” I continued, “Pop did burn his boat for the very reason you suspected he did in the first place, to collect the insurance money? I know he was out of town, but he could have set everything up and then used a timer to ignite the blaze, or maybe he hired someone to do it for him. Meanwhile, Captain Oliver was looking at personnel cuts and realized the fire was a godsend, providing him with the perfect argument he needed to maintain his workforce at the present level. The people in charge considered the boat to be an isolated incident, so Captain Oliver got the idea to set a second fire and then a third.”
“Why would Oliver do something like that?” Rick asked. “He must have had to deal with layoffs in the past.”
“He did,” I confirmed. “I found an article about a fire in Georgia in which two men died. The deaths were not only tragic but controversial, because the men worked for a large fire department that used four-man teams to handle structures with multiple stories. As a cost-cutting measure, the teams had been reduced to three men each, and it was demonstrated that the probable cause of the death of the two firefighters was the fact that there weren’t enough men to effectively tackle the blaze.” I looked at each man in the room. “The third man on the three-man team, the one who survived, was Captain Oliver, before he was a captain and before he moved to the island.”
“So Captain Oliver suffered the loss of his teammates in a horrible incident in his past, which he possibly believed could have been prevented if the teams hadn’t been cut,” Rick began. “When talk of cuts to his own teams came down the pike, he remembered his past experience and maybe went a little over the edge.”
“Possibly,” I agreed.
“So what does the list from the cleaning service and Bobby Boston’s death have to do with any of this?” Rick asked.
“The arsonist chose well insured and completely vacant properties where the owner was out of town. The question as to how the arsonist knew who was going to be out of town has been brought up in previous discussions. When the woman with the art studio mentioned the cleaning service, and then the man with the barn said he used the same service, it occurred to me the service could be the key. As it turns out, the local Merry Maids franchise is owned by Melissa Petrie.”
“Why does that name sound familiar?” Quinten asked.
“Sam Petrie is the second firefighter who would have been laid off. My theory is that Captain Oliver went to the two men who had the most to lose if the layoffs occurred and asked for their help with the fires. Sam’s wife had access not only to the comings and goings of property owners on the island but, in many cases, to the homes themselves. It wouldn’t be hard for a maid with a key to a house to snoop around in private files while the owner was away.”
“Files such as insurance policies,” Quinten said.
“Exactly.”
Rick leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, then he rocked gently back and forth as he appeared to be taking a minute to process things. “Okay, so far I follow,” he said. “Pop burns down his boat for the insurance money, giving Captain Oliver the idea of creating future business for his crew as some sort of an insurance policy against layoffs, which he’d had a bad experience with in the past. He brought Sam and Bobby into his confidence, because he figured he’d need help and they had the most to lose. Sam’s wife got the information relating to insurance policies and out-of-town trips that helped them to pick their targets. Everything was going according to plan until a house that was supposed to be vacant was actually occupied, and a man died. Bobby is guilt ridden at the death of this man, so he kills himself?”
“I think you have it up to the end,” I responded. “It does seem Bobby had a motive to commit suicide, but after taking a close look at things, I don’t think that’s what happened.”
Rick leaned forward and placed his forearms on his desk. “Okay. What do you think happened?”
“I think that after the man died in the fire, Bobby was riddled with guilt. I think he went to Captain Oliver and Sam and told them that because a man had died, they needed to go to the authorities and tell them what they’d done. At that point, Bobby became a liability in the eyes of his partners in crime. A plan was hatched to get Bobby and what he knew out of the way.” I took a breath. “On the day he was murdered, Bobby was at work. He was tasked with working in a small office by himself, filing incident reports. He came down with a headache, a headache I believe may have been intentionally caused by a leaky heater or some other mode of putting a low level of carbon monoxide into the air. Bobby complained to his teammates about the headache and Sam offered to come in early so Bobby could go home. I’m not sure how Oliver knew Abby wasn’t home; maybe Bobby mentioned it at some point.
“Anyway, Bobby drove home and pulled into the garage, where he was met by Oliver. He rolled down his window to ask why the captain was there, and Oliver forced a mask over his face that was filled not with oxygen but with a concentrated form of carbon monoxide. Bobby was dead within minutes. Oliver closed the garage door so enough exhaust would leak into the enclosed space to create the illusion of suicide. Then he put the note in the car, turned off the engine, and left. Abby came home and found Bobby, and called 911, and Oliver, who had been waiting nearby, showed up first so he could control the situation. Oliver told Abby he’d been in the neighborhood due to a medical emergency call, which was how he was able to show up so fast. I checked; there were no medical emergency calls on the day Bobby died. Furthermore, Abby remembered seeing green paint around the dent on her mailbox, and Captain Oliver drives a green SUV.”
“Wow; that’s quite a theory,” Quinten said with a tone of admiration in his voice.
Rick didn’t answer right away.
“Rick?” I asked.
“I agree your theory is a good one that makes sense, but how do we prove it?”
“We’ll need physical proof or a confession,” Quinten added.
“I think I have a really bad idea,” I said.
Chapter 11
The first thing I did after explaining my idea to Rick and Quinten was to call Brit. “How’s Abby doing?”
“I think she’s going to be okay. Her blood pressure is high, so they want to keep her overnight. I was just going to call you so we could work out something for the kids.”
“They’re doing fine at the resort. There are a ton of empty guest rooms on the second floor, so they can stay with me. I’ll call George to let him know what we’re doing and stop by to pick up some jammies for the kids. Before I do that, though, I need you to do something for me.”
“Sure; anything.”
“Is Abby’s phone nearby?”
“Yes,” Brit answered. “She was assigned to a room, where I’m waiting for her. She’s having some tests done right now, but the phone is sitting on the table next to the bed.”
“I need you to send a text from Abby’s phone to a number I’ll give you. I’ll explain everything later, but I need you to word the text exactly as I say.”
Brit did as I asked. A few minutes later, she replied, “It’s all set.”
“Great. Keep me updated on Abby’s condition. I’ll call you when it’s done.”
I clicked off my phone, then looked at Rick. “It looks like we’re on.”
I called George to let him know the kids were going to be spending the night, and then Quinten, Rick, and I got into my car and headed to Abby’s house to put my plan into action.
I’d had Brit text Captain Oliver from Abby’s phone, telling him she knew about the fires he’d set because Bobby had told her what was going on before his death. She hadn’t said anything to anyone yet because Bobby had asked her not to, but she was desperate to pay her mortgage so she and the kids wouldn’t be thrown out on the street, and she figured her silence must be worth something. She added that Bobby had left a file locked in his desk at the house that she knew contained the
proof he’d been gathering. She was willing to give Oliver the file in exchange for ten thousand dollars. Captain Oliver texted back agreeing to the meeting. I planned to show up as Abby’s representative, at which time I hoped to squeeze a confession out of him. Rick and Quinten would be listening in.
The closer we got to Abby’s house, the harder my heart pounded. By the time we pulled into her driveway, my hands were sweating so badly I could barely get my seat belt off. Quinten dropped Rick and me off, then went off to listen from a safe distance. He was our safety net, in case things didn’t go according to plan.
The first thing we did was go into Bobby’s office. We used photos from police reports, along with props like thumb drives to create a file, which I had to convince Captain Oliver contained enough evidence to blow his arson spree wide open. Rick placed a listening device in my ear and a wire under my sweater to record our conversation. Hopefully, Oliver wouldn’t show up with a gun, intending to shoot first and ask questions later.
We weren’t sure if Sam Petrie knew Oliver had killed Bobby. We knew he’d come in to cover Bobby’s shift when he left, so he wasn’t the one to do the deed, but he may very well have been in on the plan. We hoped Oliver would provide the missing pieces to put this mystery to bed.
I left the front door of the house open, with a note telling him to come in. Rick wanted Oliver in the office where he was waiting, just on the other side of the wall in the bedroom, so the note also said Captain Oliver should come back to the office when he arrived. I took a seat behind the desk and waited. My heart was pounding so loudly by the time I heard the front door open that I wondered if Rick and Quinten could hear it through the listening pieces.
“Take a deep breath and try to relax,” Rick whispered in my ear after someone—we assumed Oliver—entered through the front door. “Confidence is key. Don’t let him see you sweat.”
I wanted to assure Rick I had this and he could relax, but in that moment, I was too scared to speak. I nodded, which was ridiculous because Rick could hear but not see me.
“What are you doing here?” Captain Oliver asked when he stood in the office doorway.
“Abby’s very pregnant, and the stress of everything was getting to her, so I agreed to fill in.”
Captain Oliver took a step into the doorway. “Do you have the envelope?”
I nodded. “I do. Do you have the money?”
“I have it. I’m going to need to see the envelope first. For all I know, Abby is lying about having any sort of proof I set those fires.”
I held up the envelope, which was filled with random items that looked a lot like they might be proof but in actuality were nothing of the kind. “The proof is real. I think in some part of his mind, Bobby never did trust you. He knew the plan you concocted was a risk, and he wanted to be sure that she had something to negotiate with should she need it.”
“Can I see the file?” Oliver held out his hand.
“Not until you show me the money.”
Oliver hesitated. I could see he wasn’t completely buying the whole thing, but he was uncertain enough not to walk away.
“You know, if you’d figured out some way to get rid of Bobby that didn’t look like a suicide, you could have prevented this,” I said. “Abby would have gotten the insurance money she needed to raise the kids and she wouldn’t need to use the file as leverage to get the money to pay her mortgage.”
Captain Oliver took a step toward me. He held out his hand. “I think I’ve had enough of this little charade. Hand over the file before I have to hurt you too.”
“Hand over the money first,” I insisted, in a tone of voice that sounded a lot more confident than I was feeling.
Captain Oliver pulled a gun out of his pocket. He pointed it at my chest before taking several steps forward and grabbing the envelope from me. “I’m sorry to have to do this.”
In the next moment, everything went black.
******
I wrinkled my nose at the god-awful smell.
“Come on, honey. Time to wake up.”
I slowly opened my eyes. Quinten was hovering over me with something in his hand that he had been waving under my nose. “What happened?”
“I’m afraid Oliver clocked you before Rick could respond.”
I put my hand to my head, where a huge bump was beginning to form. The bastard must have hit me with the gun. I suppose I should be glad he hadn’t shot me, but my head was pounding too loudly to be glad of much of anything. “Did he get away?”
“Rick caught up with him before he even got out of the house.” Quinten held out a hand and pulled me to my feet. I swayed a bit as a wave of dizziness gripped me. “I’m going to take you to the emergency room to have your head looked at. Rick will be tied up for a while.”
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to focus on something solid to make the room stop spinning.
Quinten put an arm around my waist. “You’ll probably be fine, but when it comes to head injuries it’s better safe than sorry.”
I could hear the sound of talking in the distance as Quinten led me through the house toward the back door. We’d left my car on the street behind Abby’s so Captain Oliver wouldn’t see it when he arrived. Quinten helped me into the passenger seat and then went around to the driver’s side. He opened the door and slipped inside.
“Did we get what we need to prove Bobby was murdered?” I asked.
“I think we did.” Quinten started the engine and pulled away from the curb. “It was a brave thing you did to help your friend.”
“I don’t know if it was brave or foolish, but I do hope we have enough evidence to get the insurance company to pay her the money she has coming to her. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to try to move forward with everything she has to deal with.”
“She has had more than her share of grief and worry to deal with, but I think with friends like you and Brit, she’ll come through this just fine.”
I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. I couldn’t remember ever having such a bad headache in my entire life.
After we arrived at the hospital, Quinten turned me over to the ER staff after promising to wait for me. As far as I was concerned, I’d let them check me out and then I planned to go home, and I’d need someone to drive me. Luckily, the ER wasn’t all that busy, so I got to see a doctor right away. He determined I had only a mild concussion and would be able to go home, as I’d hoped. I was waiting for the discharge paperwork when Brit poked her head in.
“Oh my God, what happened?” Brit asked.
“Apparently, Captain Oliver wasn’t all that thrilled at my blackmail attempt.” I put a hand to my head. “I’m fine, though, and I’m pretty sure we have what we need to prove he killed Bobby.”
Brit frowned. “I want to say that’s wonderful, but all I can really come up with is that’s terrible. I’m having a hard time with the fact that Bobby’s killer turned out to be a man he liked and respected.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty sad,” I agreed. “I guess the man came up with a really bad idea during a moment of desperation, and the deeper he got, the more convoluted it became. The thing is, if a man hadn’t died in that last fire, the spree would most likely have just ended, Bobby and Sam would have been able to keep their jobs, and Captain Oliver would have been able to retain his crew, and no one would be all that much worse off than they were when the arsons began. Even the owner of the home where the man died is getting a brand-new house to replace the money pit that burned to the ground.” I winced slightly as I tried to stand. I was going to need to take it easy for a few hours. “How’s Abby doing?”
“The nurse I spoke to seemed to think she’ll be fine,” Brit answered. “They want to keep her a day or two, but she should be able to come home if they can get her blood pressure down. She’s very grateful you’re watching after the kids.”
“Technically, it’s your uncle, Vikki, and Clara who are watching them now, but I know they’re happy to do it. Tell
Abby not to worry about a thing. They can stay with us as long as necessary.”
By the time Quinten dropped me off at home, the house was quiet. George and Vikki were sitting in the living room talking, but I didn’t see evidence of Garrett, Clara, or any of the children. “Where is everyone?” I asked.
“Sleeping,” Vikki said. “The kids were all pretty wiped out, so we put them to bed. Garrett and Clara went to their rooms shortly after that. If I had to guess, I’d say everyone will be out for the duration. I planned to sleep in my old room on the second floor, so I could listen for the kids should they wake up.”
“That’s very nice of you, but I can just move downstairs,” I offered.
“No,” Vikki said, rising to her feet. “You’ve had a head injury and need to get some rest. I’m going to run over to my cabin to grab a few things and then I’ll be back.”
My head was pounding, and I wanted to try to sleep it off, so I didn’t argue. Besides, Vikki seemed to have more color in her face and spunk in her step than I’d seen in weeks. I hoped that meant she was feeling better about the decision she had to make.
“I’ll wait for Vikki if you want to head on up,” George offered.
“Thanks. I guess I will.” I glanced around the room. “Where’s Kizzy?”
“Sleeping with the girls. I took her out before we put them all to bed, so I think she’ll be fine. The kids seem to love her and she seems to love them, so I didn’t think you’d mind if she slept in their room. I think her presence has brought a certain amount of comfort to all four children.”
