Page 58 of Rest In Pink

“Such as?”

“How come whoever had the grill going didn’t die? How did the carbonmonoxideget into Thacker’s room, but not the fire? How come the smoke alarms in the fire room or Thacker’s didn’t go off? What happened to Thacker’s briefcase and laptop? How come Thacker didn’t wake up?”

“Olson said it was intentional,” Rain said. “Do you agree with him?”

I nodded. “He’s the expert, and it’s where the evidence points. We don’t know who the perp was in the grill room. Our officers’ canvas of the people there turned up no witnesses. The door to the room was a cheap lock that can be opened with a credit card or other stiff, flat object. Same with the lock on the inside door adjoining the fire room and Thacker’s. You found no legible prints off the outside door. The interior suffered too much fire damage. No CCTV coverage.”

Rain nodded. “Really, Vince, Burney is like Mayberry except with arson and murder. Right now, the evidence isn’t going to tell us who was in the grill room.”

I answered my own questions. “Why didn’t that person die or be overcome with the smoke from the grill? Either they weren’t in the room or they wore a gas mask. The latter indicates planning, which means premeditation. How come the smoke alarms in the perp’s or vic’s room didn’t work? Olson showed us both. Batteries removed.”

Rain picked up the narrative. “The perp could remove the battery in their room while in it. To remove the battery in the vic’s room means the perp went in beforehand and removed it. And how did the CO but not the fire, get into the vic’s room?” She scrolled on her iPad, then tapped it. “Olson found this for us. He’s pretty good.”

Just above the baseboard in the corner of the room was a quarter sized hole, right next to the air unit below the back window.

It was my turn. “The perp got into the vic’s room some time before the vic got back in the evening. Removed the battery from the smoke detector. Went into the room next door. Removed the battery from that smoke detector. Made this hole between the rooms. Sealed the door and windows in the grill room. Started the charcoal in the grill. Put on a gas mask. Waited while the vic fell asleep and the perp’s room filled with CO.

“Around midnight, the perp started pushing the CO through this hole where it was spread by the air unit. The CO filled in the vic’s room while the fire was contained in the grill in the perp’s room. I’d say the perp waited long enough for the vic to go from sleep to unconsciousness. It doesn’t take long. Then opened the door between the rooms. The CO level increased while the perp took the vic’s briefcase with laptop. Somewhere in that time, Thacker died. The perp checked to make sure the vic was dead. Went back to the room with the grill and knocked it over, starting the fire, and left believing that would cover their trail.”

It sounded complicated until I had thought it through in the five minutes before I fell asleep. It was actually very simple and easy to do. Popping those doors was easy. So was removing the batteries from the smoke detector. The hardest part was drilling through sheetrock for the hole for the carbon monoxide. Which wasn’t difficult. My bookcase had been more difficult.

“There is the slight possibility the fire was set by the owner,” Rain said, checking something on her iPad, “for the insurance money. Except the Shady Rest was sold two days ago.”

“To who?” I asked. “A company called Vermillion Inc.?”

Rain shook her head. “No. Some company called ECOmena.”

I sighed. “Well, maybe they’ll be good for the environment.”

“Plus, you’ve had several fires here, right?” Rain asked.

“Two this year. Old cardboard factory and the cardboard museum.”

“Arson?”

“We’re leaning that way.”

“I’d like to see both to walk the terrain,” Rain said. “Sounds like someone doesn’t like cardboard.”

“Mickey Pitts.”

“Ah,” Rain said. “I thought you’d never mention him.” She opened her briefcase. Removed a file which she put on the counter. “Take a look.”

The tab read MICKEY PITTS. I opened it to the mug shot. He had a broad face and looked like a prize fighter with a broken nose, scarred eyebrows, a ruddy complexion and long white scraggly hair.

“Fuck me,” I said.

“What?”

“I saw him. A couple of days ago when I pulled over Thacker. He went right by. No helmet. Fucker even smiled at me.”

“Maybe he was following Thacker?”

“Could be.” I read his charge sheet and it was extensive. Starting from before he was double digits in age. Arson was prominent. Apparently, Mickey was quite good at it. A pro. “A fire bug.”

“Not only fire,” Rain said. “There’s a note in there about his cell mate for most of his stretch.”

I turned to the prison worksheet. “Oh, fuck.”

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