Skies of Ash (22 page)

Colin brushed sugar off his chinos “Don’t think so. The most popular timed device in arson is a cheap coffeepot. Leave the pot on, put a paper towel on or near the hot plate, let the pot burn ’til it’s hot enough to catch the paper towel.”

“The fire report didn’t mention a coffeepot,” Lieutenant Rodriguez said.

“Another popular way,” Colin said. “Frying chicken. Just leave the burner on beneath the pan, and the grease in the pan catches fire.”

“But this wasn’t a grease fire,” Pepe pointed out. “And it didn’t start in the kitchen. Petroleum product in the bathroom.”

“The Burning Man starts his fires with candles and lighter fluid,” Colin said. “And the Chatman fire—”

“Started from the electrical outlet in the upstairs bathroom,” I said. “I know, I know.”

“Last fact,” Colin said. “Women—
mothers
—are the usual suspects in fires that kill their children.”

“Except those mothers usually survive,” I pointed out. “Juliet Chatman died with her daughter in her arms. Or have you forgotten?”

“Elouise,” Luke said, “we can probably all agree that this Chatman guy is an asshole—”

“ ‘Asshole’ is a pretty lenient term for someone who possibly poisoned and murdered Juliet and the kids,” I spat.

“About that,” Pepe said. “Isn’t it possible that
Juliet
poisoned the kids? Say she did poison them, but then she changed her mind about it.”

“Which is why she called 911,” Colin added. “But by then, the kids were dead and it was too late.”

Luke nodded. “She was waitin’ for Chatman to come back home. She was holding that gun, ready to blow his ass to kingdom come. Her best friend told you she wanted to off him.”

“But Chatman worked later than what she’d planned,” Colin said. “So she starts the fire and dopes up on Valium, knowing that we’re gonna look at
him
for all this.”

“A mother would never do that to her children,” I said, even though I had implied a similar scenario to Dr. Kulkanis just a day ago.

“Susan Smith,” Colin said.

“Casey Anthony,” Lieutenant Rodriguez added.

“Both of those bitches are still alive,” I pointed out. “They had no intentions of dying.”

“But why would Juliet wanna live?” Colin asked. “Her kids are dead. And
she’s
dying—ovarian cancer, remember?”

“She didn’t know she was dying,” I said. “
Remember?
And the kids didn’t die from the Valium—they died from carbon monoxide poisoning from the
fire
. And where the hell are her car keys?”

Lieutenant Rodriguez cocked his head. “Why do the keys matter?”

“She was trapped,” I said. “Someone took the keys and—”

“Oh my Lord,
really
?” Colin said, rolling his eyes. “And
now
he’s taken the keys? You’re so freakin’ stubborn.”

“Christopher Chatman isn’t innocent,” I said. “My gut is telling me that.”

“He may not be innocent,” Colin said, “but that doesn’t mean he’s guilty.”

After the team disbanded, after Lieutenant Rodriguez carried the box of remaining pastries to the coffeepot, Colin rolled his chair to my desk. “Just cuz we’re partners—”

“Whatever, dude.” I logged back on to my computer. “I’m done with you right now.”

“Show me somethin’ hard, Lou, and I’ll go to the mat with you about Chatman. But from what I’ve seen so far—”

I swung around to face him. “No good mother would do that to her kids.”

“No good
father
would do that to
his
kids.”

“Who says he’s a good father?”

“He was there, wasn’t he? The kids had everything they wanted, and Juliet didn’t have to work. So they argued about the house. So what? Greg cheated on you a thousand times, and even now you come in miserable because he said something crazy or went MIA for the day and so nobody can speak to you cuz he’s fucked your head up with his
bullshit
. But I don’t think he’d kill his kids cuz he was a jerk to
you
. Your father left—”

I kicked my waste can. “Say one more word.”

Sensing danger, Colin rolled away. “Look: you’re my partner, and I care about you.” He waved his hand at our small group. “We
all
care about you. Hell, I got issues with my daddy, too. And I’m sure my mother has issues with her husband. None of this is strange, all right? We’re
all
fucked up. But you’re gettin’ lost in this, and I’m worried cuz you’re a kick-ass detective. Better than all of us in this building. So I’m just sayin’… You warned me about wanderin’ off the beaten path, but here you are—”

“Here I am, working my case,” I shouted. “Here I am, following a trail that will ultimately lead to Christopher Chatman because the first rule in a case like this is, ‘No one wants to kill your wife and kids except you.’ ”

“I’m not sayin’ there’s no such thing as a killer husband,” Colin shouted back.

“Then what
are
you saying?” I asked, standing from my chair. “That I’m so… so
dick-matized
by Greg that I can’t do my job? That cuz my daddy abandoned me when I was a wittle-bitty girl—?”

“No,” Colin said, also standing. “I’m sayin’ that your judgment on this—”

“Oh, you’re questioning my
judgment
?” I took a step closer to Colin.

All commotion in the room stopped.

“Oh shit,” Pepe said, coming to stand with us. He touched Colin’s shoulder. “Why don’t we—”

“If you’re about to get us jacked up in court,” Colin snarled, “hell, yeah, I’m questioning your judgment.”

Lieutenant Rodriguez had stormed out of his office and was now back in the squad room. “What the hell’s going on?”

Colin knocked Pepe’s hand off his shoulder and started to pace near his desk.

I ran my fingers through my hair, more yanking it than combing it. “Taggert’s being an asshole, sir.”

“Fuck you, Lou,” Colin muttered.

“Taggert, shut it,” Lieutenant Rodriguez snapped. He pointed to me, then pointed to the door. “Cool off. Be productive while you’re at it.” He pointed to Colin. “You’re fuckin’ up.”

Colin gaped at the bigger man. “
I’m
fucking up? What did I—?”

“Always back your partner,” Lieutenant Rodriguez said. “Especially if you have as much experience doin’ this shit as a Girl Scout. Don’t know how y’all worked in the mountains, but that’s how we roll in my unit. Got it?”

“So I can’t have an opinion?” Colin asked, arms spread.

“Opinions are like assholes,” our boss said.

“And you’re an asshole,” I spat.

“Detective Norton,” Lieutenant Rodriguez shouted. To Colin, he said, “She’s senior.”

“And she can still be wrong,” Colin countered. “But I guess you folks don’t mind takin’ the hit—”

“You hear that?” I said to our superior.
“You folks?”
As I grabbed my bag and the Chatman case file, I eyed my boss with bemusement.

Lieutenant Rodriguez chuckled, then muttered, “
Dios mío.
”

Colin shook his head in awe. “What kind of thin-blue-line, fascist bullshit—?”

“Lou,” Lieutenant Rodriguez growled. “My office. Now.
Please.
”

I stomped past him. “See you later, cowboy.”

Always back your partner.

But if Colin wouldn’t back me, then I would go it alone.

It wouldn’t be the first time a man didn’t have my back.

It wouldn’t be the last time, either.

LIEUTENANT RODRIGUEZ SLAMMED HIS OFFICE DOOR SHUT.

My arms spread wide as I opened my mouth to say, “All I’m—”

But my boss pointed at me with a single thick finger. “You’re fucking up.”

I gaped at him, then cocked my head. “
Excuse
me?”

He now pointed toward the detectives’ bureau beyond his closed door. “I will back you out there in the midst of those assholes,
especially
Taggert, but in here—”

“What are you saying?”

“That’s he right: you’re letting outside shit—”

“No—”

“Hey,” he shouted. “At ease, Detective.”

Everything in me numbed, and weird prickling spread across my chest.

Lieutenant Rodriguez exhaled, then crossed his arms. “Next time you’re in here with me means what?”

Pangs of anger exploded behind my eyes like little bombs. “Means I’m off the case.”

He glared at me. “Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

I gave him a short nod, then left him to whatever he did at his desk all day.

Everyone’s gaze followed me as I stomped out of the station and into the frigid night, out to the parking garage and to the Crown Vic. I was nauseated and light-headed, and it felt like an alien was clawing in my belly, trying to burst through and spray the world with acid.

On every case, a detective decidedly depersonalizes all of it to stay sane.
The dead victim ain’t my sister, the perp ain’t my husband, and the murder didn’t happen on my block.
Yes, a cop brings her own experiences to the squad room and to a murder scene. She filters bullshit through her prejudices and bigotry. Tells herself, same shit, different toilet. She pushes the rock up the hill even when she knows the fucker will roll down the other side. But she’ll do anything for justice.

So to be told that I couldn’t
see
because my boobs were blocking the view? That I couldn’t think correctly because the little girl inside of me was sobbing on the living room couch, waiting for her deadbeat daddy to make her whole again?

I released a single primitive scream, and the alien pushed past my pancreas and lodged near my clavicles. Stuck.

Be productive.

That had been an order from my boss.

Fifteen minutes later, I had parked a block away from Ben Oliver’s house. Just as I was about to leave the car, the Motorola blurped from the passenger seat.

“Lou, you there?” the man asked.

I smiled and grabbed the radio. “Now, you’re a voice I haven’t heard in a while.”

“I tried you at the station,” Zucca said, “but Taggert said you went out in a huff.”

“Bitches be huffy,” I said, glimpsing all of the activity on the Oliver property.

“The blood found in Christopher Chatman’s Jaguar.”

“What about it?”

“Belongs to Juliet Chatman… and to someone else.”

My mouth opened, but no words came—someone else?

“You there?” the criminalist asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “At this point, any news is good news. Any idea who ‘someone else’ is?”

“Nope.”

“We need a sample from Chatman, don’t we?”

“That would help, yes.”

There could have been many reasons Juliet’s blood had been found in her husband’s car. Couldn’t wait to hear those reasons from the man himself.

“PC?” Lieutenant Rodriguez barked over the radio, less convinced of the need for a warrant for Chatman’s DNA.

“He’s the husband and father of the deceased,” I said. “He and Juliet were having financial and marital difficulties. She thought she was pregnant. We need his DNA to compare against what was found at the crime scene.”

Lieutenant Rodriguez sighed. “Hit or miss. The judge likes ’em cleaner than this.”

“If it’s nothing, it’s nothing. At least we know it’s his blood. If it’s not his blood, then we have a bigger problem. And we want to know if it’s a bigger problem, right?”

“Yup. We’ll send it over ASAP.”

Case file in hand, I trekked back to the Oliver lawn. Two Hispanic valets wearing short red jackets were setting up a key cubby. A catering company truck had blocked the driveway, and two workers pushed silver carts down the truck’s loading ramp.

The man of the house, dressed in a blue polo shirt and khakis, stood in the front door with his arms crossed. “An evening visit from Detective Elouise Norton,” he called out, his dark eyes bright with amusement. “Must be my lucky day.”

“Aye, it is,” I said, hopping up onto the porch. “How are you?”

“Been better.” We shook hands—firm, dry, a second longer than appropriate. “Nice seeing you again, Detective Norton.”

“Is it really?” I asked, eyebrow cocked.

Ben laughed and his white teeth glistened. “Guess I should apologize for that.”

“Are we talking about the mugging in Ruby Emmett’s living room on Tuesday night?”

“Gimme a break, all right? My family had just died under suspicious circumstances. Can you honestly ding me for not trusting you? I’m protecting my friend, my brother, in a way. Christopher is far more important to me than MG Standard’s bottom line or your caseload. I’m successful at my job because I’m not scared of lions. I must admit, though, you are certainly one of the pride’s… finest.”

I rolled my eyes, but my lips fell into a lopsided grin. “Flattery will get you almost everywhere. Especially on a day like today.”

“Oh, the places I’ll go, then,” he said. “Or try to, at least.” He smiled, then bit his lower lip. “Believe it or not, you and I have the same mission: making sure that those who need help get help. So with that said…” He offered me his hand again. “Truce?”

Why so friendly? Why no lobbing ten-dollar words at my head?

We shook again.

This time, he squeezed my hand.

“Party tonight?” I asked.

“Yep. How can I help you, Detective?”

“I’m here to talk with you about the case.”

He smiled and tilted his head. “So this trip wasn’t just to hang out? Should’ve known better—you don’t seem like the ‘pleasure trip’ type.”

“Shakespeare said, ‘Every man has business and desire, even homicide detectives.’ ” I paused, then added, “I’m paraphrasing, of course.”

“Of course,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”

“I apologize for not going through your secretary for this meeting,” I said, slipping off my blazer and not sorry at all. “I know you’re a busy man.”

He took my jacket and hung it on the coatrack. “I was actually sneaking in a couple of
X-Files
reruns before getting ready for tonight.”

As we talked about aliens, Mulder and Scully, and the absence of good sci-fi on television, he led me down the hallway to the living room. A giant white-flocked noble fir, bright with tinsel and colorful ornaments, overwhelmed the room. Three red velvet stockings hung from the mantel above the roaring fireplace. The scent of cinnamon and peppermint wafted from an invisible plug-in air freshener.