St. Albans Fire

by Mayor, Archer

  The Second Mouse

  “WATCH OUT FOR THE CAT.”

  Joe Gunther froze by the door, his hand on the knob, as if expecting the creature to materialize from thin air.

  The young Vermont state trooper stationed on the porch looked apologetic. “I don’t know if we’re supposed to let it out.”

  Gunther pushed the door open a couple of inches, watching in vain for any movement by his feet.

  Encouraged, he crossed the threshold quickly and shut himself in, immediately encircled by the room’s strong odor of cat feces, wafting in the summer warmth.

  “I vote for letting it out,” he murmured softly.

  He was standing in one corner of a large, cavernous, multi-windowed room—almost the entire ground floor of a converted nineteenth century schoolhouse, some five miles south of Wilmington. Contesting the smell, sunlight poured in through a bank of open windows, nurturing a solid ranking of potted and hanging plants. Old but well-loved furniture, none of it expensive and most of it bulky, did a convincing job of filling the expanse with a selection of oasis-like islands—a grouping around the wood stove, another in a far corner flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a third before a blank TV set. The most distant wall was dominated by an awkwardly linear kitchen—an orderly parade of refrigerator, range, dishwasher, sink, and counter space. Gunther imagined any truly inspired cook here needing running shoes and patience, or a gift for organization. Giving the place a hint of old Africa—or what he knew of it from the movies—were several still ceiling fans with brass housings and long, dark wooden blades.

  The pine floor was covered with a hodge-podge of worn, non-descript rugs, which in turn bore several small gifts from the missing feline. That detail aside, the entire space looked homey, rambling, a little threadbare, and quietly welcoming.

  The house was also imbued with the silence that only death can visit upon a place—a sense of suspended animation, striking and odd, as when a stadium full of people simultaneously holds its breath.

  This absence was why Joe was there.

  At the far end of the row of windows, a shadow appeared in a narrow doorway.

  “Joe?”

  Gunther nodded. “Hey, Doug. Good to see you.” Watching where he placed his feet, he approached his state police counterpart, Doug Matthews, the detective assigned to this region. Younger by several years, but a veteran like Joe, Matthews was experienced, low-key, and easygoing. Unlike many cops, he kept his opinions to himself, did the job, and maintained a low profile. To Joe, in a state with only a thousand full-time officers—an oversized family compared with some places—such self-effacement was to be valued.

  He stuck his hand out as he drew near. “How’ve you been?”

  “Pretty good,” Doug replied, accepting the handshake with a smile, his eyes remaining watchful. “Better than some. Come on in. I’ll introduce you.”

  They entered a much smaller room, tacked onto the building later in life, and on the cheap. It didn’t have the bearing of its mother ship—the windows were cramped and few, the plywood floor covered with thin wall-to-wall carpeting. Low ceilinged and dim, it was paneled in fake oak, chipped and cracked.

  But the furniture, also battered and old, was the same ilk as its brethren, supplying a foundation of comforting familiarity. The dresser, the heavy desk, the solid four-poster bed were of dark hardwood, and the dents and scars appearing on them spoke not of neglect, but of simple domestic history, the passage of generations.

  This feeling of simmering life was echoed by the postcards and photographs adorning the walls and horizontal surfaces. Some inexpensively framed, others merely attached by tape or thumbtack, these pictures displayed vacation spots or loved ones, sun-drenched or laughing, and gave to the room, along with its furnishings, a warmth and intimacy it lacked utterly in its bare bones.

  Lying across the broad bed, as if she’d been sitting on its edge in a moment of contemplation before falling back in repose, was an attractive dead woman.

  Matthews kept to his word about the promised formalities. “Joe Gunther,” he said, “Michelle Fisher.”

  Joe nodded silently in her direction, and Matthews, knowing the older man’s habits, kept quiet, letting him get his bearings.

  Dead bodies don’t usually present themselves as they’re portrayed in the movies or on TV. In the older shows, they look like live actors with their eyes shut; in the modern, forensically-sensitive dramas, it’s just the reverse—corpses are covered with enough wounds or artificial pallor to make Frankenstein swoon.

  The truth is more elusive. And more poignant. In his decades as a police officer, Joe had gazed upon hundreds of bodies—the young, the old, the frail and the strong. What he’d discovered, blandly enough, was that the only common trait they shared was stillness. They displayed all the variety that they had in life, but in none of the same ways. In silent pantomime of their former selves, instead of quiet or talkative, gloomy or upbeat, they were now mottled or ghostly white, bloated or emaciated, transfixed into grimace or peaceful as if sleeping. Nevertheless, for those willing to watch and study, the dead, as if trying to slip free of their muted condition, still seemed capable of a kind of frozen, extraordinarily subtle form of sign language.

  That limited communication worked both ways. Everyone Joe knew, including himself, began their interviews with the deceased by simply staring at them searchingly, awaiting a signal. He asked himself sometimes how many of the dead might have struggled fruitlessly to be heard in life, only to be scrutinized too late by total strangers anxious to see or hear even the slightest twitch or murmur.

  So it was that Joe now watched Michelle Fisher, wondering who she’d been, and what she might be able to tell him.

  About the Author

  Over the years, Archer Mayor has been photographer, teacher, historian, scholarly editor, feature writer, travel writer, lab technician, political advance man, medical illustrator, newspaper writer, history researcher, publications consultant, constable, and EMT/firefighter. He is also half Argentine, speaks two languages, and has lived in several countries on two continents.

  All of which makes makes him restless, curious, unemployable, or all three. Whatever he is, it’s clearly not cured, since he’s currently a novelist, a death investigator for Vermont’s medical examiner, and a police officer.

  Mayor has been producing the Joe Gunther novels since 1988, some of which have made the TEN BEST or MOST NOTABLE lists of the Los Angeles and the New York Times. Mayor has also received the New England Booksellers Association book award for fiction.

  Find him online at www.ArcherMayor.com

  Also by Archer Mayor

  The Joe Gunther Mysteries

  Open Season

  Borderlines

  Scent of Evil

  The Skeleton’s Knee

  Fruits of the Poisonous Tree

  The Dark Root

  The Ragman’s Memory

  Bellows Falls

  The Disposable Man

  Occam’s Razor

  The Marble Mask

  Tucker Peak

  The Sniper’s Wife

  Gatekeeper

  The Surrogate Thief

  St. Albans Fire

  The Second Mouse

  Chat

  The Catch

  The Price of Malice

  Red Herring

  Tag Man

  Paradise City

  …And Don’t Miss

  Paradise City

  A Joe Gunther Novel

  By New York Times Bestselling Author Archer Mayor

  Out in October 2012, from St. Martin’s Press

  Find Archer online at: www.ArcherMayor.com

  Preorder soon at www.us.macmillan.com

  Copyright

  This digital edition (v1.1) of St. Albans Fire was published by MarchMedia in 2013.

  If you downloaded this book from a filesharing network, either individually or as part of a larger torrent, the author has received no compensation. Please consi
der purchasing a legitimate copy—they are reasonably priced and available from all major outlets. Your author thanks you.

  Copyright © 2012 by Archer Mayor.

  ISBN: 978-1-939767-13-4

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Errata

  MarchMedia is committed to producing the highest quality e-books possible. If you encountered any obvious errors, typos or formatting issues in this text, we would appreciate your bringing them to our attention, so that the next edition can be improved for future readers.

  Please email Margot@archermayor.com, stating the name of the e-book, the type of device you are reading it on, the version (see copyright page) and the details of the error.

  If you are experiencing difficulty with the display or function of the book, we suggest you first contact the vendor from whom you purchased it, to ensure that you received a complete, uncorrupted file.

  Also by Archer Mayor

  Lt. Joe Gunther of the Brattleboro, Vermont police force has a serious problem: in a community where a decade could pass without a single murder, the body count is suddenly mounting. Innocent citizens are being killed—and others set-up—seemingly orchestrated by a mysterious ski-masked man. Signs suggest that a three year-old murder trial might lie at the heart of things, but it’s a case that many in the department would prefer remained closed. A man of quiet integrity, Lt. Gunther knows that he must pursue the case to its conclusion, wherever it leads.

  Also by Archer Mayor

  Seconded to the State’s Attorney’s office, Lt. Joe Gunther is in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom investigating a minor embezzling case. It’s a pleasant distraction, and a chance to reconnect with old friends, but when a house fire reveals itself to be arson, compounded by murder, Gunther can’t help but investigate. Suddenly, he finds himself enmeshed in a web of animosity between put-upon townspeople, the state police, angry parents and members of a reclusive sect. Murder follows murder, yet no one seems to be telling Gunther the whole truth—not even his childhood friends—and truth is what he desperately needs if he’s to stop the killings.

  Also by Archer Mayor

  When the body of a fast-living young stockbroker is found in a shallow grave, suspicion first falls on a cuckolded policeman. Lt. Joe Gunther investigates the increasingly bizarre details of the crime, but finds that he’s too far behind events to prevent a second murder. Indeed, whoever is responsible always seems to be a few steps ahead, as if there’s a leak on the force. Sweltering August heat does nothing to calm the increasingly agitated town selectmen, who demand results.

  Also by Archer Mayor

  When a reclusive market gardener’s death proves to stem from a 20 year-old bullet wound, Lt. Joe Gunther is presented with a very cold homicide to solve. But who was the victim exactly? A deeply private man eking out an ascetic existence from a hardscrabble mountain field, Abraham Fuller was virtually unknown to his neighbors, in the manner of someone pursuing more than mere solitude. The discovery of a duffle of unmarked bills and a body buried in the garden patch suggests that Fuller had motives beyond misanthropy. Nor is it such a cold case either, as someone seems willing to kill to ensure that old secrets remain buried.

  Also by Archer Mayor

  Gail Zigman, town selectwoman and Joe Gunther’s companion of many years, is raped, and the detective finds himself caught between the media, local politicians, and a network of well-meaning victims’ rights advocates as he tries to put his own feelings aside and follow the trail of evidence.

  Every lead seems to point to a single, obvious suspect, but is the evidence too perfect? Risking his friendship with Gail, the respect of his peers, and his own life, Lt. Gunther keeps digging, hoping to find out if the man they have in jail is rightly there, or if the evidence against him is tainted—"fruits of the poisonous tree."

  Also by Archer Mayor

  A brutal home invasion shocks Brattleboro’s small Asian community, but no one’s talking. Undeterred, Joe Gunther digs deeper and discovers a cross-border smuggling route carrying drugs, contraband, and illegal aliens into and out of Canada. Operating below the radar for years, competition between underworld rivals is bringing it into the light with deadly consequences. International jurisdiction is a complicated thing, and Gunther will have to collaborate with the FBI, the Border Patrol and the Mounties in the pursuit of justice.

  Also by Archer Mayor

  A small girl brings Joe Gunther a bird’s nest—made partially of human hair. In the search to put a body, and an identity, to the hair’s owner, Joe comes upon an unexplained death, a grisly murder, and a sudden disappearance. All seem to be entangled in a puzzling web of municipal corruption, blackmail, and industrial espionage. A shell-shocked World War II vet nicknamed “The Ragman” may hold the key to it all, if Joe can get him to talk before the murderer strikes again.

  Also by Archer Mayor

  Joe Gunther is seconded to the neighboring town of Bellows Falls to investigate harassment allegations against a fellow officer. What begins as a seemingly open-and-shut case comes to look more and more like a frame job as Gunther doggedly pursues the truth, and soon he finds himself feeling around the edges of a statewide drug distribution network. As always, Vermont itself is a major character in Mayor’s writing, with Bellows Falls standing in for any number of slowly decaying once-proud mill towns.

  Also by Archer Mayor

  When a local quarry yields up a garroted body with bad dental work and toes tattooed in Cyrillic, Joe Gunther figures it for a Russian mafia killing, rare as that might be in Vermont. But it’s so very… tidy. So very… professional. Then the CIA calls, inviting Gunther down to Washington for some friendly “assistance” with his case. Suddenly he’s caught up a shadowy game of cross and double-cross—manipulated by cynical cold warriors who seem not to have gotten the memo—and Gunther soon realizes that he’s a pawn that both sides are willing to sacrifice.

  Also by Archer Mayor

  The body was positioned so that the train neatly obliterated its head and hands. Dressed in a homeless man’s clothes with empty pockets, it might easily be passed-off as an unfortunate John Doe. And yet… Joe Gunther has a knack for knowing when things don’t quite add up, and the math in this case is all kinds of wrong. Add a toxic waste dumping scheme, a stabbing, and a whole lot of state politics… if Occam’s razor were applied to Gunther’s caseload, how many incisions would it make?

  Also by Archer Mayor

  There are old cases and there are cold cases, and then there are old, cold cases… Special Agent Joe Gunther, of the newly-formed Vermont Bureau of Investigation, didn’t expect the VBI’s first case to be a fifty year-old murder. Then again, the victim probably didn’t expect to get an icepick in the heart, spend half a century in a chest freezer, and be unceremoniously dumped on the slopes of a ski resort with his feet sawed-off. He was, after all, a man who commanded some respect.

  Stirring up the past can be a dangerous business, and Gunther soon finds himself in a cross-border partnership with the Sûreté du Québec, investigating a Canadian mob family whose crimes date back to World War II, but who remain just as deadly as ever.

  Also by Archer Mayor

  The tony ski town of Tucker Peak, Vermont is experiencing a rash of condo burglaries. Normally this wouldn’t be a case for Joe Gunther and the newly-formed VBI, but when high-profile people have their high-value possessions stolen, names get dropped and strings get pulled. Turns out it’s just as well they called in Joe, since once they begin investigating the case suddenly develops a body count. Between drug-dealing, burglary, financial shenanigans, ecoterrorism, sabotage and murder, there’s something deathly serious going on behind the resort’s pristine veneer.

  Also by Archer Mayor

  The heroin trade is making serious inroads into Vermont, spilling across the border from Massachusetts, destroying families and ruining lives. Governor Rey
nolds, with one eye on re-election, decides that the VBI should be waging its own War On Drugs. Of course, it falls to Joe Gunther to draw up the battle plans. Not everyone wants to follow Gunther’s lead, though — particularly detective Sammie Martens, who launches her own undercover operation and quickly finds herself enmeshed a very unpleasant underworld. Gatekeeper takes a sober look at the problems of drug crimes and enforcement efforts.

  Also by Archer Mayor

  A barn fire is the kind of mishap that can spell doom for a struggling family farm. Just one of them in a community would be a small tragedy. A series of three, though—one of which kills a teenager and a herd of dairy cows—starts to look very, very suspicious. Which makes it a job for Special Agent Gunther and the Vermont Bureau of Investigation.

  While other members of the VBI run-down the local leads, Joe and Willy embark on a road-trip. The federal database of unsolved crimes turns up a connection between the MO of their arsonist and similar fires in New Jersey, where organized crime is still very much a force to be reckoned with. But why would a mafioso from the Garden State be torching barns in the green mountains of Vermont? And can Joe and Willy bring their quarry to justice before he lashes out again?