Fire Angel (14 page)

“It's like a perverted example of the riddle of the Sphinx and the stages of man. If that's the case, there will be at least one more fire, and it will involve someone resembling the elderly with their canes. Jake, you could be his next target.” Alexis grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. “The inn is a great objective; there are many people there; you said yourself that you're almost full. You need to get security there. I'm starting to believe that the amount of collateral damage is as important as the actual victims.”

“How does the inn fit? The only regulars there are the staff members, Minette, Mila, Frank, and me. What could he have against any of us?”

“What could he have had against all of those women and children?” she countered.

“Okay; you've made your point. I'll bring it up to Everett and have him post some undercover guys in the place. No one will notice a couple of extra guests, especially since I'm full up. Now, it'll be dark in half an hour or so. Do you want to check the roofs?”

“Yes, let's go. I want to do that one first;” she indicated the structure directly across from the fire. “I swear I felt someone up there when we arrived. I thought I saw movement too.”

They entered the building, a three-floor apartment unit, and took the elevator to the roof. She knew the door was kept unlocked because she had been told last night that one of the tenants kept racing pigeons up there in a secured winter cage where they would be safe from the weather, as well as from hawks looking for food in the cold winter months.

Alexis walked over to the front of the building, to the spot near the edge of the flat roof next to the heating and air conditioning system. This was the place. She pulled out a mini LED flashlight and examined the crushed stone roofing material. There, at her feet, were three filtered cigarette butts and what appeared to be the remains of a joint. She placed them in an evidence bag.

Jake walked over to her, holding out a plastic bag. Inside was a badly crushed cell phone. Despite its condition, she could see that the memory card had been removed.

“You were right; he was up here, and he probably used this to detonate the bombs.” Jake handed her the phone.

“He watched for a while too. He probably came back after we left; look at these.”

Jake examined the butts. “Let's get this stuff and what I found earlier to the lab. The sooner we have a match, the better.”

Frank was collecting the empty coffee urn when they arrived at the station. He and Jake spoke briefly and when Frank offered to give them a small twelve cup pot of decaf, Jake readily accepted, although he insisted on paying for it. It was kind enough of the man to offer; the canteen owner couldn't exactly be making a fortune at this job, so there was no point in taking advantage of his generosity. Alexis smiled her thanks when he threw in four of his delectable brownies.

“I do all of my own baking,” Frank added. “I took some courses at the community college in North Bay a few years ago; I don't have an exhaustive list of goodies, but date squares, brownies, and muffins are the norm. I make some mean oatmeal raisin cookies, but they're all gone today. I do have a couple of egg salad sandwiches left; I was going to have them for supper, but if you'd like them … do you think you'll be here that long?”

It was the longest speech she had heard him utter since they had been introduced. He seemed shy around her, rarely even looking at her. Before she could answer, Jake interrupted.

“We'll probably order pizza later, Frank. This is great; thanks.”

Jake held the door as Frank carried the large urn to his truck. He got in, waved at them, and pulled out of the lot.

“That was really kind of him,” said Alexis. “He's a little strange, and he never really looks at me, but he does make excellent brownies. Now, let's get to work.”

They proceeded to the crime lab where Alexis turned over her evidence and logged it. Jake did the same. Part of what they had found would be sent to Orillia where DNA testing would be done as soon as possible. The rest would be examined in house. Other than DNA, there was a lot the technicians could learn from what they had been given.

The residue in the gift box turned out to be colored, scented soy wax. Interestingly enough, similar residue had been found at the flophouse and on the poker table from the garage. No one had noticed anything at the cabin, but now that she knew about it, she would look for it specifically when she examined the scene herself.

Alexis went over each piece of evidence that had been logged from the garage. Three of the chairs and table had tested positive for super glue. The ashes from the table had revealed no residue of bank note material, leaving Alexis to believe that the killer had taken the money before setting the fire. Why not? Who would know?

It was hard to say how many had been playing cards, three or four, because the ashes had been in a pile in the center of the table. The only thing that made sense was that the killer had been part of the game; it would have given him a way in to sedate the others and set up his little scene. Somehow, that thought creeped her out; in the past, she had dealt with some sick individuals, but this stalking and targeting, posing and burning went beyond anything she had ever seen. She hesitated to sit on the fourth chair in case she somehow got a flash back; it had happened before, but she wasn't prepared to go into this man's mind yet.

She made a note to ask if there had been a regular at the card game who had been unable to play that night. No doubt the police had thought of that, so the information was probably already in Jake's files.

She examined what was believed to have been the residue from a candle, and read over the lab report. The remains of a small refrigerator indicated that it had contained soda and beer, no doubt for the card players. The beer bottles were capped; therefore, if Rohypnol had been used, it hadn't been in those. She was about to pack it in when she noticed semi-melted aluminum cans and what could be a small bottle of liquor in the remnants of the trash can. From the size, six were beer, two soda of some sort. Three beer drinkers and one who preferred liquor? Could the drug have been placed in the cans? The fridge indicated a preference for bottles, but what if someone else had brought them? There were no beer cans in the fridge.

She left a requisition for the techs to check the bottle and cans for the drug. They were in bad shape, but you never knew. When she had finished, she joined Jake in his office where they studied the files and added more information to the white board.

• • •

Around eight, Jake called a break and ordered pizza from the Athena Pizzeria. When it arrived, they moved into the break room and sat side by side on the couch, pizza and pop on the low table in front of them.

“It's been years since I've eaten a traditional Greek-style pizza; these toppings are at least an inch thick,” she said finishing her second piece. “That was delicious; thank you for suggesting it.”

Jake nodded. “Marko took over from his dad about four years ago. You might remember him; he was one of James' cronies.”

“Not really. I've done my best to forget that crowd.” She pulled a note out of her pocket and handed it to him.

“It's a message from my uncle; he called the inn this morning. He wants me to call him. I don't know how he knew where I was, but I suppose his friend might have told him.”

“Probably; he and Allan Sinclair are both AA members, and friends. What are you going to do?” asked Jake, noticing how tense she'd become.

“I don't really know. I'm not ready to deal with this yet. I'll probably do nothing until the case is over. I guess I'll have to go and see him at some point. I don't want to, but I need to deal with this once and for all. I can't let it continue to affect my personal relationships.” She stopped talking and stared into her can of pop as if the answers might suddenly leap out at her.

“Tell me about my cousin's gang. I don't really remember any of them.”

Jake sat back and pulled her into his arms. He wished he could help her deal with her uncle, but unless she asked for his help, he was powerless.

“James was the ring leader of course, and there was Marko, Peter, Jeremiah, and Lumpy who were part of the main clique, and Frank and Neil who liked to hang around with them, but were barely tolerated by the others. Actually, most of them turned out okay. Jeremiah died in Afghanistan when I lost my leg; Peter is a firefighter; Marko has half-a-dozen kids and owns the pizzeria; Lumpy, better known as Glen now, is a paramedic; and Frank owns the mobile canteen. Neil moved out west and died in a car accident about ten years ago. After you left and James died, they all got smarter. Shall we get back to it?”

“Sure; I've looked over the evidence from Duffy's and I wondered if your people had looked into the regulars at that poker game. I'm not a big card player, but three seems like an odd number for poker.”

“You're right. Angus Carothers was their usual fourth. He'd died in the hospital earlier that week. He'd been doing some work on his son's roof and had fallen off. He broke a couple of bones in his neck; it was lucky he didn't die right away. He seemed to be doing alright, but a couple of days later he had an embolism and passed away. I know what you're thinking, but he died in his sleep — no foul play there.”

“None that you can prove, you mean,” she countered. “Was he on the roof alone?”

“I don't know; I suppose someone could have been there helping him, but no one saw anything. I get it; our ‘ghost' could have pushed him. His son came home and found him lying in the driveway.” He scratched his head.

“If there has been foul play, I don't know how we'll prove it. The body's been cremated, but Angus didn't work at the garage. He was a retired school teacher. He was an old friend of Duffy's. If the killer's gripe was against the garage and its mechanics, then Angus's fall was very fortuitous for him and really bad luck for Angus.”

“I don't believe in coincidence.” Alexis answered. “There are too many loose ends in this case — too many things that don't make sense. What did Angus teach?”

Jake felt the color drain from his face. “He was a chemistry teacher at the high school.”

“Then it's quite possible he didn't fall off that roof. When he didn't die, our killer went back to finish the job. I'm not a doctor, but injecting 300ccs of air into someone's I.V. tube might cause an embolism. This guy certainly makes sure there are no witnesses, no one to implicate him. This might put his number of victims at twenty-nine and rising.”

“God, Alexis, I hope you're wrong. Let's go finish this so we can get home.

Two hours later, he stood and stretched; his leg ached and he was worn out.

“Are you ready to pack it in?” he asked.

“Yes,” Alexis answered subdued, exhaustion evident on her face. “I need sleep. Nothing is making sense anymore. I keep going over the same stuff, looking for different answers, and there aren't any.”

Jake smiled. “You're right. I'm spinning my wheels here too. We need a break.”

They packed up the files, put them in the file cabinet and locked it. Jake pocketed the key. Arm in arm, they walked out of the station and got into the truck. Tomorrow, they would have some of the results from the evidence they had brought in, and he would take Alexis over to the other crime scenes.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Jake said, when he had parked the car as close as he could to her cabin.

She opened her eyes and smiled invitingly.

“Sorry about that; I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“Not a problem. You snore, you know,” he said.

“I do not!” She punched his shoulder.

“Ouch! I'd carry you in, but the leg is sore, so that's a pleasure I'll reserve for another time.”

He got out of the car and opened her door. The outside light on the cabin shone brightly, and she could see lights on inside as well.

“Stay here and watch me,” she said. “I can make it the rest of the way.”

Too sore and too tired to argue, he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. “Sleep tight. We'll go to the cabin site in the morning.”

He bent his head and kissed her gently, his body molding to hers as if they had been made for one another. He raised his head ending the kiss. He released her and motioned that she should move to the door. She did and turned to wave after she had opened it. He flashed the lights, started the vehicle, and reversed towards the front of the motor inn.

Jake parked the car in the handicap spot in front of the inn, too tired to move the car to the garage. A sudden flash of lights from the driveway caught him off-guard.

Probably someone turning around,
he thought and looked at his watch. It was almost midnight, not the usual time for someone to be taking a quiet drive. Was it possible they'd been followed? He looked over towards the cabins. He wished he had not put her so far away from the inn. What had seemed like a good idea at the time now looked like a huge error on his part.

He said good night to the night clerk and entered his apartment. As soon as he did, Maya was up, wanting to be let out. He went to the door and let her out on the deck. Tomorrow he'd have to see to it that she got a proper run. Even little dogs needed exercise. Once she was back inside and settled by the fire, he went to his computer and turned it on.

The lights in the driveway concerned him, but he might be jumping at shadows. Although he was dead tired, there was something he wanted to do before it slipped his mind. He opened a new document and proceeded to list a number of questions that had occurred to him. The one that stood out was the one that puzzled him the most — if the bikers had not been the target, who had? A runaway wife? It was possible, but if the package found in the kitchen were any indication, it had to be the two teenage girls or Howard and Alicia.