Page 50 of Arsonist's Match
As the doors closed, Athena turned to Karen and opened her mouth.
“I know,” Shoops said before Athena could speak. “I’m on my way to dig up everything on Simon Neel.”
Chapter 22
While Shoops researched his background information, Athena sat in on the interview with Simon Neel. They were in a corner of the situation room, not a formal interview room, as former Nutty Smooth Peanut Butter Cannery workers were scattered everywhere.
“I’m Special Agent John Paulson, and this is ASAC Athena Bouvier,” Paulson said, introducing them both.
Neel occupied a cushioned armchair near Paulson’s computer station with no shiny table or blazing overhead lights. While tapping his thumb to forefinger nervously, it seemed he’d recovered from his earlier shouting match.
“Simon Neel,” he replied. “How can I help? I’ve already been questioned once and can’t think of anything new to add.”
“Something might come to you,” Paulson suggested, “or we might ask different questions.” Paulson’s smile and unintimidating manner seemed to set Neel at ease. His finger tapping stopped, and he nodded.
“You told the fire department you had been at work on July 1st.”
Athena was content to observe Neel while Paulson asked the questions, paying close attention to his body language and emotional cues.
“That’s right. I was filling jars that day, only Jolene had just broken up with me by text—can you believe it? Later in the day, I wasn’t feeling well, and they let me go home early,” Simon explained. He shook his head. “I didn’t see or hear anything suspicious. When I heard about the fire, I assumed some trouble-making kids had done it for kicks, or something.”
“If so,it would have stopped there. We are now investigating five fires we believe were started by the same perpetrator, and it’s not a gang of rowdy kids.” Paulson pinned Simon with an intense stare. “How well do you know the owner, manager, and other employees?”
“There’s a couple of guys on the line I talk to, eat lunch with,” he shrugged, “but they wouldn’t do something like that. My supervisor was a jerk, but he had nothing to gain. Honestly, I didn’t know the owner or manager at all.”
“You didn’t witness an altercation, an accident, any drama in the weeks leading up to the fire?” Paulson readied his pencil to take notes.
Simon rubbed his chin, a look of deep concentration lining his youthful face. His nails were bitten to the quick, his fingers tobacco stained.
“I can’t think of anything. Five fires, you say?” Simon leaned back, crossed a foot over his knee, and shook his head. “That’s terrible. And Jolene’s warehouse was one of them, eh?”
“I suppose you’ve seen stories about it on the news,” Paulson admitted.
Agent Howard darted up to Athena, cupped his hand to her ear, and whispered. Taking in his report, she nodded. “Thanks. Inform Shoops.” Howard disappeared in a flash.
“Where were you the night of the cannery fire?” inquired Paulson in a casual tone.
“Like I said, I wasn’t feeling well—emotional slap in the face.” Neel shrugged. “I was home in bed.”
Changing tacks, Paulson asked, “What have you been up to since then?”
“Looking for a job!” Simon let out a laugh, dropping both feet to the floor. “It’s not as easy as it looks, I tell you. I finally went on unemployment, but I’ve still been pushing applications. My stepdad used to complain all the jobs were going to China and Mexico.” He shrugged. “Maybe he was right.”
“Can you account for your whereabouts on July 17th, August 8th, September 7th, and this past Thursday night?”
Athena scrutinized Neel’s response, the subtle tug at his collar, how his gaze flicked away from Paulson, and his slow, deep breath. Pressing a hand onto his knee, he lifted a confused expression. “Can’t rightly recall July and August, but September7thwas a Saturday, and I drove to the beach to cool off and try to calm down from job-hunting stress.”
“Which beach?” Athena asked, speaking for the first time.
He glanced at her in curiosity. “Porretto Beach, on the island,” he answered, tilting his head at her. “Picked up some beers at the Snack Shack and lay around, soaking up the sun. This past Thursday, I was tired from beating the streets job-hunting, so I went to bed early.”
“How long have you known Jolene Carver?” Athena asked. She didn’t intend to usurp John’s interview; it just happened.
“We met in June, through a mutual acquaintance. She’s a few years older but seemed fun. We talked a little, and I asked her out. We must have dated for two weeks or more, then, out of the blue, she sends me a text saying it was fun and all, but she was ready to move on—didn’t want to see me again.”
“Harsh,” Athena conceded.
“I know, right?” He raked a hand through his burnished hair. “But, whatever. I can do better.”
