Page 31 of Paranoia

“It could be part of a bigger case.” The fact that she’d researched who I was told me she was pretty sharp. I decided to turn things around on her. “I’ve got a question for you.”

She smiled like it was a game. “Ask away.”

“Why’s a big-deal special agent with the chief law enforcement agency for Florida looking at a double suicide?”

“Touché. I deserved that.”

She smiled again. She had one of those smiles that could disarm you just before she eviscerated you. I could tell she knew what she was doing, and she appreciated challenges.

Finally, she said, “I’m on the Joint Terrorism Task Force. We look at any kind of explosion or serious fire just in case it’s not what it seems. In this case, the Hollywood cops did a good job and examined all aspects of the incident. They even picked up a computer keyboard that had been blown out of the house. One of the men who died, Gary Halverson, had written a good-bye note to his niece. Apparently, he had advanced lung cancer. His fingerprints were still on the keyboard.”

We headed south on state road A1A into Hollywood Beach. Traffic was lighter. I focused on the surroundings. Everything here was greener and brighter and warmer than New York.

After a couple of quick turns, we came up to the shell of asmall house. Not only were the windows and doors blown out; the heat from the fire had even melted the plastic siding, making the house look like something out of a horror movie.

Special Agent Frederick and I exited her car and walked around examining the house. I didn’t really know what I was looking for. Maybe I just needed to tell myself I had gone to the scene in person and done everything I could.

I shook my head and said, “Who uses propane tanks to commit suicide?”

“It happened up in Palm Beach County.”

“I know. I read the story online about the deputy US marshal who used propane tanks to commit suicide. But it seems like an outlier.”

Frederick shrugged. “Everything is an outlier until it’s not. Maybe this is a new trend. If you have any doubts about the suicide or any information, I’m all ears.”

It was refreshing to see someone with such an open mind. There was no pretext. She was interested in getting things right. I wished I saw more of that from government employees.

I eased off the topic by saying, “I guess I’ve never seen it in New York because not many people have propane-powered barbecue grills.”

“Well, you can’t blame Florida Man when this was done by two retired cops from New York.”

She had a point. I smiled and said, “Touché.”

CHAPTER 47

WE SPENT A little while longer looking around at the burned-out remains of the small house. I knew from the reports that Ralph Stein’s sister had witnessed the explosion while walking nearby with her two grandchildren. The sister had already given several statements, but Special Agent Carol Frederick had managed to schedule us another interview with her for later in the day just to be on the safe side. She’d taken the initiative and set that up on her own, on short notice. I appreciated the effort.

Frederick stood next to me as I poked around the house and said, “Clearly, you think there’s more to this case.”

“What do you think?”

“I looked through the reports and I did a couple of interviews. Everyone said the same thing. Stein and Halverson were perfectly nice neighbors who mostly kept to themselves. A few people noted that they were pretty heavy drinkers. Sounds like a lotof people I know, especially retirees. We’re still waiting on the toxicology report, but my guess is they were pretty loaded at the time of the incident.”

“Are there any bars close by?”

Special Agent Frederick thought about it and said, “There’s a little place called Hollywood Squares less than a mile up the road.”

“Hollywood Squares? Really? Like the old TV game show?”

“Been there a long time. I guess they’re just trying to capitalize on the city’s name. It’s not a spring break kind of place. You can get a burger, but it’s mostly alcohol sales to older, serious drinkers. Most of them live on this side of the Intercoastal.”

Every community had bars like this. And every bar had a bartender who was much more observant than people thought. “Could you stand a hamburger?”

“You think we should talk to the bartender.”

I just smiled. Carol Frederick reminded me of Terri Hernandez. Always thinking and usually a step ahead of me.

Hollywood Squares was exactly as I’d imagined it. A one-story cinder-block building with few windows and a flat roof. There were two cars in the gravel parking lot. An old pickup truck and a Ford Escort with cardboard where the rear passenger window should be. Painted on the front, around a single window and door, was a mural with manatees and dolphins swimming around the words “Hollywood Squares.” A caricature of the famously campy 1960s game show panelist and comedian Paul Lynde poked out from theHin “Hollywood.”

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