Neighing with Fire: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (18 page)

Morgan took another bite, adding more condiments to his face, and said, “Continue.”

She swallowed, sipped her coffee, and asked, “So what types of accelerants are alcohol based?”

“All sorts of things.”

“Art supplies?” she asked, recalling the bottles in Autumn’s house.

“Sure. Many lacquer thinners, paints, and varnishes are alcohol based.”

Her heart sank a little. She had been hoping that Autumn was innocent. Now it looked more and more like she had committed the crime and that Pinky, by covering for her, was an accomplice.

“Look,” Morgan said, finishing his first hot dog and taking a break before the second. “There are all types of products for all types of jobs, all of which could be used as accelerants. Take cooking, for example,” he said, gesturing to the diner’s kitchen. “There’s propane, butane, and kerosene. Each of them does a job the chef needs but in a slightly different way. Chefs know that and how they affect the way the food cooks and tastes. Each will have their favorite. Arsonists are the same. They have an accelerant of choice. Like a fingerprint. Once we get the results back, we’ll get your guy.”

“Does the serial arsonist have an accelerant of choice?” she asked.

“Diesel. Fills the Molotov bottles with it.”

“Does that tell you anything?”

“Could be he’s a trucker or a mechanic or a gas station worker. Diesel fuel’s not uncommon in a Molotov cocktail but most folks use gasoline.”

“Doesn’t sound like teenagers up to mischief,” she said, now understanding why Morgan had dismissed her theory of the arsonist being a group of teen vandals during their phone conference.

“No, but it wasn’t a bad guess.”

“And it definitely doesn’t sound like my arsonist.”

“He’s most definitely a different shark,” he said, and finished his second hot dog.

Now that he was done eating, Colleen thought it a good time to tell him about his face. “You’ve got some food on your…” She pointed to his mouth and chin.

He wiped his chin. “The wife gets on me about that all the time,” he said with a chuckle.

She grinned.

He signaled the waitress to bring the check. Colleen pulled out her wallet. “No,” he said, waving her money away. “You were a sport about meeting me here. It’s on me.”

She had learned that when a man insisted on paying, you let him. “Thank you,” she said, and returned her wallet to her pocket.

The waitress came with the tab and Morgan handed her several bills. “Keep the change,” he said, and pushed back his chair.

“Come again,” the waitress said with an easy smile.

They exited the restaurant and she released Sparky from the picnic bench.

“Keep me posted if you have any more developments,” Morgan said. “We should have those results back soon. Then you can see if it rings any bells.”

They shook hands and went to their separate vehicles. While it had been a strange place to meet and a bit of an inconvenience, the trip had been worthwhile. Unfortunately, with what she had learned about the alcohol-based accelerant, it meant Bill was probably going to bring Autumn in and question Pinky again.

As she drove back to Corolla, she mulled over the information Agent Morgan had given her about accelerants and compared it to what she had learned about Pinky’s house and Denny’s vehicle fires. So far, what did she know? Sometime on Sunday morning Denny had driven to Pinky’s house—for what reason she still wasn’t sure—and gained access to the property. Myrtle tracked him to the house to confront him about interfering with the horses. He had seemed distracted and Myrtle noticed the smell of cigarettes. Jacob witnessed them arguing, Myrtle left, and then someone murdered Denny, started the fire with an alcohol-based accelerant, took his pickup, ditched it in an overgrown area of Carova, and came back later to burn it to perhaps destroy evidence. She tapped her finger on the steering wheel. Why did the murderer/arsonist return later to burn Denny’s pickup instead of burning it right away? Had he been interrupted when he drove it to Carova or had something happened to prompt him to burn it? And if so, what?

She glanced at Sparky, his nose out the window. His reactions to the house and car had been the same. While he wasn’t trained for detecting solvents like the canines working as part of special investigation units, he did have the ability to recognize similar smells and track a scent. He hadn’t been with her when she had visited Autumn. She wondered how he might have acted had he had a chance to sniff out her property. Would it be possible to pay Autumn a visit under the guise of planning for Fawn and Chip’s wedding and see?

She returned to the Outer Banks and slowed behind traffic on northbound Route 12. She and Bill had yet to meet with the Tour-zilla owner. If anyone had a reason for murder, it was a business that stood to lose their solid reputation and hundreds of thousands of dollars if it was revealed they weren’t abiding by the law and were endangering the horses. Why had she been so quick to zero in on Autumn when she and Bill had yet to talk to all of those who had motive? She shouldn’t jump to conclusions about Autumn, even if she was a strong suspect. And what about Rosalinda Hawthorne? How far would she take defending the piping plover? Was it possible she had fingered Autumn as a way of throwing them off her trail? She sighed. Had Denny made a foe of everyone in Corolla? She suspected the answer was probably in the affirmative. But even if that were the case and every citizen in Corolla and Carova had a reason for detesting him, not everyone would want to do him harm. And out of the group of people who would, only a select few would have the motivation and means to carry out the deed.

“I don’t have a clue about this one,” she said aloud, prompting Sparky to turn from the window and blink affectionately at her. She rubbed his ear. Even Sparky had a reason to dislike Denny after being teased with food. She came to a stop as the car ahead of her waited for a break in the oncoming traffic in order to make a left. A team of men unloading plywood from a truck at a construction site caught her attention and she thought of Denny’s crew. Perhaps they could give her insight into their former boss. After all, she knew next to nothing about him other than what was publically known and that most people disliked him.

There was also another victim she knew little about … Michael Hector Fuentes. Who would kill the man and leave him under a walkway to rot? Police often focused on family members and friends as suspects because they were the people that knew the victims best and would have the strongest feelings toward them. But Fuentes’ family was out of the country.

Both victims were connected through Denny’s construction business. What if they were connected in other—off-the-books—ways? Could Fuentes have been killed to warn or punish Denny? If so, that would be pretty thuggish activity for the Outer Banks. Not even Denny would have stooped so low as to knock off an innocent person. Or would he? She needed to find out more about the victims, and the people most likely to know something about both men were members of Denny’s crew. It was time to do a little digging into Custis Construction Company.

The traffic broke and the car in front of her turned into a neighborhood on the sound side of the island. She picked up speed. It was still relatively early. She wondered if she had time to meet Bill at the Tour-zilla office or if she should get to the station. Shoot … the station … she was supposed to meet Chip ten minutes ago. She grabbed her phone and hit speed dial for Chip’s number.

“Hey, Chief,” Chip said.

She could hear the worry in his voice and felt terrible that she had kept him waiting. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m running a little late. I was meeting the arson investigator on the mainland.”

“That’s okay,” he said rather unconvincingly. “You still going to help me with the ring?”

“Absolutely. Give me ten minutes.”

“Okay,” he said, his tone brightening.

She clicked the phone off. How could she have forgotten about going with Chip to pick out Fawn’s ring? A therapist would probably tell her she had repressed it because of her own issues … and the therapist would probably be right. It wasn’t that she was opposed to the institution of marriage—she was all for it—it just terrified the living daylights out of her. Her biggest concern was losing her own identity in the coupleness of it all. She had been single for so long that it had never occurred to her that one day she might marry … well, not until recently. Given her feelings, she wasn’t sure she was the best person to help Chip with the task of picking out an engagement ring, but if he could dare to love with abandon, then she could set aside her own issues and dare to help him with a ring.

Chapter 17

“We’re here,
for better or worse,” Colleen said as she parked in front of the jewelry store at the Seagate North Shopping Center in Kill Devil Hills.

“You okay?” Chip asked with concern.

Don’t ruin his day because you’re uncomfortable, she silently told herself; she put on a smile and replied, “Let’s do this.”

They exited and approached Gold-N-Gifts jewelry store. A poster of a beautiful sunset in the window of the shop next door caught her eye and she paused to read the quote below it by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, the spiritual leader who had introduced the world to Transcendental Meditation in the 1950s.

“Chief,” Chip said.

“What?”

“You ready to go in?” he asked, indicating the jewelry store.

“Of course,” she said, not entirely sure she was.

There was something awkward about helping one of her guys pick out a ring for his fianc
é
e. She had suggested that Chip ask Autumn, but he had said that he wanted to keep it a secret and knew Colleen wouldn’t tell. After repeated requests, she had eventually agreed to accompany him. Even though she greatly admired the artistry displayed in the work of jewelry designers, she had never been much for earrings, necklaces, or rings. She didn’t know if she’d be of much help, but if Chip could put his life on the line every day for the community of Corolla, then the least she could do was assist him in choosing a ring.

They entered Gold-N-Gifts, a sweet store that had a reputation for offering a comfortable beach ambience, friendly service, and fine jewelry at reasonable prices.

A woman behind a display counter looked away from the customer she was helping. “I’ll be right with you,” she said in a welcoming tone.

Chip wandered along the cases and perused the contents. Rings, bracelets, necklaces, pendants, and earrings sparkled brilliantly under the glass. Display cards indicated the collections and names of the designers. She trailed Chip and glanced into the cases at the works of Lori Bonn, Gabriel & Co., and Evan Lloyd.

“There’s so much here,” Chip said.

She studied the young firefighter’s face. He was visibly overwhelmed. “Why not concentrate on the rings since that’s what you came here for.”

“Good idea,” he said, and redoubled his efforts.

The saleswoman finished with the other customer and approached. “Welcome to Gold-N-Gifts. Is this your first time at our store?” She smiled at Chip.

“Yeah,” he said. “How can you tell?”

“We remember our customers,” she said, and then turned to Colleen. “And you must be his—”

“Boss,” Colleen blurted out, panicked that she might be mistaken for Chip’s fianc
é
e.

“I was going to say sister,” the woman said, amused. “I think this is the first time we’ve had someone bring their boss.”

Chip turned a deep pink. Even his ears blushed.

Colleen patted him on the back, realizing she did have a useful role to play. “Chip’s one of my best firefighters,” she said with pride. “Since I’ve never done this before either, I guess it’s a first for all of us.”

Chip’s shoulders relaxed and he flashed her an expression of gratitude.

“Wonderful,” the saleswoman said. “I take it you’re in search of an engagement ring. Anything in particular?”

“Actually, Fawn and I are getting married this weekend. The ring is a surprise,” Chip said.

“Does the young lady know this?” the saleswoman asked, her brows raised in wonder.

“She does indeed,” Colleen said. “And at the risk of embarrassing Chip, she’s very much in love with him.”

“Chief,” Chip said, reddening again.

“Fawn’s a pretty name,” the woman said. “Would you say she’d like more of a traditional style ring or something unique?”

“Unique,” Chip and Colleen said in unison and chuckled.

“I think we have just the thing then,” the woman said, and motioned for them to follow her down the display case. She opened the glass and removed a black velvet tray containing stunning quartz rings. “These are lovely.”

Perfect, Colleen thought, impressed with how efficiently the woman had identified a suitable stone and style. Fawn would love the spiritual power associated with the quartz.

Chip studied the rings. “What do you think?” he asked Colleen.

“They’re quite pretty,” she said honestly.

“The ancient Japanese believed quartz formed from the breath of a white dragon,” the saleswoman said.

“Fawn told me once that it enhances spirituality and wisdom,” Chip added.

“And the rose quartz is said to be the stone of love,” the saleswoman said. She raised a stunning ring with a rose quartz surrounded by diamond-accented dolphins on a pink sterling silver band and held it out to him.

Chip took the ring. “It is nice, but I think it may be a little out of my price range.”

“We have a discount for emergency responders,” the woman said.

“How much would it be with the discount?”

“Hold on.” The woman grabbed a calculator, punched in numbers, and showed Chip the display.

Colleen wasn’t certain if the store had a regular discount for firefighters or if the woman had offered the discount in the name of love, but she wanted to hug her all the same.

“Wow, that’s much better,” he said, brightening. “What do you think, Chief?”

“I think any woman would be proud to wear that ring.”

“Would you?”

She blushed. It was a moment like this that she had dreaded when agreeing to the ring shopping. “I’m not really a ring gal,” she said. “But, yes, I’d wear that ring—especially if it came from the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”