Firebreak: A Mystery (9 page)

“I’d put him between five foot ten inches and six feet tall.”

Otto jotted down the numbers on his diagram of the body.

“Let’s take a look at his teeth. We won’t get an exact match, but we can at least get an age range.”

Otto turned his head as Cowan placed a metal tool inside the blackened skeletal remains of the jaw. As Cowan began to discuss the number of teeth, Otto saw a navy-blue pickup pull into the driveway. He both hoped and worried that the Nixes had just driven around the barricade and arrived home. He left Cowan, glad at least for the excuse to leave the body, and stepped outside through the hole in the living room wall.

A man in his midtwenties got out of the pickup truck carrying a clipboard. Otto noted the blue strobe light on the dashboard of the truck and realized he was most likely a volunteer fireman.

“What can I do for you?” Otto asked.

“I’m Derek Lanman. Doug called and told me to bring you the spotter records for yesterday.”

Otto nodded, finally recognizing him. “You work over at the body shop?”

He smiled. “That’s me. I do the custom paint jobs. My specialty’s old Fords.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Otto said. “I appreciate you coming over so quickly.”

Derek had the baby face and pale skin of one who had been pampered as a child, although Otto doubted that was true. His dad owned the business, Bodies by Carl, and Otto knew that Carl was a hardnose with high expectations of his staff, including his son.

Derek tilted his head toward the house. “What’s going on?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the hearse parked behind them. “Somebody die in the fire?”

“We’re not making any statements at this time. We’ll get information out to people as soon as we can. Meanwhile, until we have facts and have spoken with family members, I need you to keep what you’ve seen here confidential.”

Derek stared into the living room, obviously trying to see what Cowan was doing behind the couch.

“You’ll keep this confidential?” Otto repeated.

Derek turned his head back toward Otto, an embarrassed grin on his face. “Sorry. I’ve never seen the hearse at a fire. Just kind of weird to see.”

“The confidentiality?” Otto was beginning to wonder if Doug had made a mistake telling Derek to come to the scene.

The kid’s expression turned earnest. “Yeah, sure. I won’t say a word.”

Otto pointed toward the road and they walked away from the house and the temptations of Cowan’s work.

“What can you tell me about the fire that burned through here?” Otto opened his steno pad and propped it on top of his forearm to take notes.

“We keep spotter logs. I’m one of the newest volunteers. I haven’t had much experience in the field, so Doug had me logging reports that were called in by the spotters. I keep the information for Doug. He uses it to predict the direction and speed of the fire.”

Otto looked at the clipboard. “Is that the log?”

“Yeah. I don’t have much for this area though. We had a crazy weather pattern blowing westward that finally connected with the Harrison Ridge fire. We were pretty confident the road would act as a firebreak to keep that fire from moving any further west. That’s why I was surprised when Doug said the Nixes’ house burnt. I didn’t think the fire jumped the road over here.”

“Can you look on your list and tell what time the fire reached Prentice Canyon Road?”

Talking quietly to himself, Derek studied the log, running his finger up and down the pages. “A spotter called in up north of here. He said the fire reached their ranch at nine ten. They called in to say the fire hadn’t crossed the road. That means, I’d guess it crossed here around nine thirty.”

“Can you explain what would have made the fire cross the road here when it didn’t elsewhere?”

“Not really,” he said slowly. “I’m not the expert, but I don’t really get why the house is so burnt up. Don’t make much sense.”

“Could the fire have crossed here at around seven forty-five yesterday instead of nine thirty?”

He squinted his eyes like he just couldn’t make the figures work. “There’s just no way. Prentice Canyon runs north-south. So if the fire crossed that road at nine ten and then traveled south, there’s no way this place could have burned at seven forty-five. The fire wasn’t near this far south yet.”

“Maybe your spotter gave you the wrong time. Or you logged it incorrectly in the book.”

Derek narrowed his eyes and turned the corner of his mouth up in an irritated smile, obviously offended at Otto’s comment.

“I’m just thinking that it’s dark out. It’s crazy and stressful,” Otto said. “I’m sure mistakes happen.”

Derek scanned down the page again and finally looked up, smiling as if he’d just been vindicated. He tapped his forefinger on the clipboard hard. “Right here. Skip Altman called from the Morris ranch and said they had the fire under control using their spray rig and stock pond. That place is just south of here. His call was at nine forty. No way it would take an hour to get from the Nixes’ house to the Morrises’ ranch.”

“Okay.” Otto nodded, pleased with the information. “I’ll need to take your records and submit them as evidence.”

Derek took a step back as if ready to protect his information. “Doug never said nothing about any of that.”

“Why don’t you give him a call? He can confirm we need the records.”

Derek called Doug. After a quick conversation, Derek hung up and reluctantly relinquished his logbook to Otto. Derek took one more long look at the house and finally got into his truck and drove away.

Otto went back into the house and discussed the time frame with Cowan.

“I’m ready to release the scene to you,” Cowan said. “I’ll rule this a homicide with a preliminary time of death of seven thirty-eight p.m. I’ll get back and start on the autopsy.”

*   *   *

The recital ended, and after a miserable two hours of sitting in a hardback chair listening to four people screech away at violins and cellos and who knew what else, Dell could finally get up to stretch his knees and back. He stood in the back of the room as Mary Lou hugged and kissed each of the musicians, gushing over their brilliant performance. Dell was thinking about needing a new water source for his cows when she finally made her way back to him.

She patted his arm and he noticed the smile lines around her eyes. He wasn’t sure how to handle a perpetually happy person. It didn’t feel natural to walk around smiling all the time, but he felt compelled to at least try since she seemed so inclined.

“I have a surprise for you,” she said, smiling. She gestured toward the door and they walked outside into the late-afternoon heat. “I know this wasn’t your idea of a fun afternoon, so I’m going to make it up to you.”

He opened the truck’s passenger door for her and she slid across the seat, toward the middle. He walked around to the driver’s side, not entirely sure he wanted her to make anything up to him at this point in the day. He felt guilty, but he had chores to do.

“I have chicken salad already prepared in the refrigerator, as well as fruit salad and chocolate cake made from scratch. I thought we’d have a nice light lunch since it’s so hot out.”

“That sounds nice.” He started the truck. It had always been Dell’s position that meat and salad did not go together in the same dish. He rarely ate bread with his meat, preferring to allow the taste of the meat to dominate. The idea of mixing chicken into a salad did not appeal to him in the least.

“I thought we’d stop by my house and pick it up, then take it out to your place. Maybe you could show me around the ranch after lunch.”

He nodded, and looked over at the smiling woman sitting next to him. She was beautiful and kind, and for some odd reason she wanted to spend time with him. But he was rapidly losing control of his life.

“You know, it would be nice to invite Father Paul out to have lunch with us. He’s young and new to town. He doesn’t get out much.”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“We’ll have him out to dinner another night,” she said. “Let’s just enjoy the day at your ranch together.”

EIGHT

Angela Stamos had been bartending at the Hell-Bent for as long as Josie could remember. Her heavy-lidded eyes and permanent smirk said she’d seen it all. Angela was in her early fifties, with auburn hair cut in a stylish pixie that framed her round face. She wore round wire-rim glasses with purple-shaded lenses. Angela was a striking woman with a reputation that kept the men at bay. For the most part, they treated her with a degree of respect that some of the other, younger women at the Hell-Bent didn’t get. Josie wondered if bartending for so many years had tarnished her opinion of men.

Last Josie had heard, Angela was single, but when Josie parked her car in front of the bartender’s home she saw a man standing on the side deck flipping hamburgers on a small charcoal grill. He turned slightly and waved, giving Josie a long stare, but he stayed where he was.

The house was a small brown adobe with deep-set window wells and a front porch over which the roof extended by eight feet along the front of the house. Two wooden rocking chairs sat on the front porch with a small table in between them. The table held an ashtray filled with cigarettes and two empty martini glasses. A small yard was landscaped with native plants like prickly pear, agave, and yucca. It was a comfortable, attractive home and it fit Josie’s image of Angela.

Angela opened the front door and stepped outside before Josie reached the porch. Her face was pinched with worry, not the expression of the laid-back bartender Josie was accustomed to.

“Hi, Angela. Sorry to stop by without calling ahead.”

Angela nodded. “No problem. Something wrong?”

“We’re working on an investigation and I need to ask you some questions.”

“Is this about Buddy?”

Josie recognized the name and remembered he was her brother, a perpetual troublemaker. “No. This doesn’t have anything to do with your family. I have some questions about work last night.”

She sighed, visibly relieved, and motioned for Josie to sit in one of the rocking chairs. Angela wore jean shorts that didn’t cover much more than her underwear, a tight T-shirt and cowboy boots, and a necklace made of rattles from a rattlesnake that hung down her chest.

“Sorry. I haven’t heard from the peckerhead since the evacuation yesterday. He was supposed to go to my parents’ house in Houston, but he never showed up.” She seemed to notice Josie’s concerned look and waved a hand in the air. “No worry. Buddy’s a jackass. He doesn’t follow through with anything. He worries my parents sick.” She sat down in the chair, picked a pack of cigarettes off the table, and lit one. She held the pack toward Josie.

“No, thanks. We’re trying to put together a timeline of events that took place yesterday evening, and I hope you can help me with some details.”

“This have to do with the fire?”

“We’re not sure yet. Why don’t you start by taking me through your day yesterday? What time you came on shift, went to lunch, and so on.”

Angela squinted at Josie through her purple glasses. “Am I in some kind of trouble here?”

“I assure you, you’re not in any trouble at all. You just happened to be working during a time frame we’re trying to piece together.”

She smirked. “Story of my life. I always just happen to be somewhere.” She settled back in her rocker and took a long drag of the cigarette. “Okay, so I went to work at noon. Hank called begging for help. He was bartending so I ended up waiting tables and helping in the kitchen.”

“What time did you get a break?”

“I sat down about four to have a sandwich. We had such a crowd I skipped lunch. I ate a hamburger and was back up waiting tables again by four thirty.”

“Could you make a list of people you saw come through the bar?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“It would be very helpful.”

“I guess so. I could try.”

“Did you see Brenda and Billy Nix that night?”

“Yeah. They came in for Billy’s guitar. I had to unlock the dressing room for them.”

“Can you tell me what time that was?”

She scowled and thought for a moment. “I guess about five thirty.”

“Can you think back, give me a more exact time?”

Angela looked at Josie closely, obviously realizing that Josie had already zeroed in on specific customers. “Actually, I know it was five thirty because I remember walking into the dressing room and looking at the clock on the wall. I remember thinking that I’d be lucky to make it home by midnight. Which I didn’t.”

The man who had been grilling when Josie pulled up opened the front door and poked his head out. “Everything okay?”

Angela leaned forward in her chair so that she could see him. “It’s fine. Give me a minute and I’ll be in.” The door shut and she faced Josie again, her expression troubled.

“Did both Billy and Brenda go back to the dressing room with you?” Josie asked.

“No, just Billy. I saw Brenda, but I don’t know where she went when Billy and I went back.”

“What did you and Billy talk about?”

Angela paused and squinted at Josie. “Why are you asking about Billy? Is he in some kind of trouble?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you at this point. I’m just pulling together information.”

Angela’s expression had grown guarded.

“What did you talk about?”

“We just talked about the fire. Billy wanted to stay home. Brenda was set on leaving. After he got his guitar we walked back out onto the dance floor and he was looking for Brenda. It was a madhouse in there. I think he ended up talking to John Lummin for a while. You might talk to him.”

“You said Brenda was set on leaving. What do you mean by that? Didn’t they both want to leave because of the evacuation?”

“She wanted to go to Austin, talk to some of the big-time bar owners. I felt sorry for him.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She’s just—” Angela paused and curled her lip up. She flipped ashes from her cigarette into the ashtray as if disgusted by the thought of the woman. “I don’t know. I don’t like her. I think she treats him like crap. He’s the one with the talent and the heart for music, but she talks to him like he’s nothing. Tells him what to do. I sure as hell wouldn’t put up with it.”