Up in Flames - Again! Read online

  up in flames – again!

  a Carol Hennessey cozy mystery

  LIZ TURNER

  Copyright © 2019 by Liz Turner.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1 Musical Expression

  Chapter 2 The Lovely Couple

  Chapter 3 Details Gone Unseen

  Chapter 4 Everybody Knows

  Chapter 5 Mas Y Menos

  Chapter 6 Unknown Hurt

  Chapter 7 She’s Still in There!

  Chapter 8 Last Minute Plans

  Chapter 9 The Same Contract

  Chapter 10 Only a Victim

  Chapter 1

  Musical Expression

  “Fire!” someone yelled.“Fire? But there’s no way...” Carol said. “Two in one week? Oh no, no, no... Not this again...”

  She couldn’t tell if she was screaming in the moment, or if it was the sound of screams from her memory that caused her heart to race. It was the same as it was back then; the building before her was in flames, and someone was screaming in agony.

  Fire has to be the worst way to go, she thought.

  “Why did I take this case?” she muttered. “I retired for a reason. I was never supposed to be back here.”

  “Mrs. Hennessey!” a man yelled, frantically running up to Carol and grabbing her shoulders. “Mrs. Hennessey, you have to save her!”

  “Her? Who’s her?”

  “She’s still in there!” He pointed at the burning building. “You’re an arson investigator, aren’t you? You know about fire! Please, you have to save her!”

  The man’s face seemed to bend and shimmer as Carol struggled to remember where she was and what was happening.

  How did this man know my name? she wondered. Do I know him?

  She concentrated, fairly sure she remembered him from somewhere.

  “Hello, Mrs. Hennessey,” Sergeant Hansen said.

  Suddenly, Carol was all the way back at the end of last week, remembering a conversation she’d had from her front door on Saturday morning. She recognized it must have been important for her to suddenly remember it now.

  In her memory, she gestured for Sergeant Hansen to come inside, and the two of them sat in her well-lit front room, talking.

  “I understand you retired from the FBI a couple years ago? You worked as an arson investigator?” he said.

  “Yes,” Carol answered. “I used to love all the traveling and consulting I got to do. But after a while, you just wanna settle down, you know?”

  “Well, that’s actually why I’m here,” he said. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to go anywhere because it actually happened here in Edmonds. We’re certain it wasn’t an accident, but we just don’t have the expertize to do much more than think it looks like arson. We don’t have the training for a case like this, so myself and the fire department were wondering what we would have to do to convince you to consult on this case?”

  “What happened?”

  “Young man left for work, and when he returned, his house was completely destroyed. Everyone, including the homeowner, was convinced it must have been an accident. But then, one of the firefighters discovered gasoline residue on a cluster of exposed wires. There was no reason for gasoline to be anywhere near the wires, so we’re in desperate need of a second opinion from a specialist.”

  “And the victim?”

  “Johnny Jeong. Korean American, professional hip-hop dancer. Bought the house about a year ago.”

  “Sorry. I don’t care about who he is. I wanna know who he is.”

  Sergeant Hansen blinked. “Uhm...what?”

  “I don’t care about how he sees himself. I wanna know how other people see him. Who would’ve wanted this property destroyed? What benefit did it have making this man their victim? And then, if we can’t find a suitable reason to target him, we consider the value of the property and such.”

  “Well, I can tell you right now, we already have a pretty solid suspect. The man’s recently divorced–from his business partner, no less.”

  “And?”

  “And his ex-wife has no alibi.”

  “Did the divorce end badly?”

  “Not that we know of. But he took everything—the house, the car, the tv… The only thing he didn’t take was their studio, probably because she’s better at managing money than he is. Meanwhile, she went back to living with her parents.”

  “Sergeant, I’ll be blunt,” Carol said. “So far, I’m not convinced you need my consultation on this case. If you already have a solid suspect, why would you need my assistance?”

  “Because, well—would you look at the scene, at least? We just have some doubts...”

  “Fine. And you don’t have to pay me for this part.” Carol grabbed her coat out of the closet. “I’ll look at a frayed wire for free.”

  Sergeant Hansen drove Carol to the remains of Johnny Jeong’s house, where the chief of the fire department and Mr. Jeong stood waiting. Johnny tapped his foot nervously, and Carol couldn’t help noticing he kept looking over his shoulder, paranoid.

  “Does he believe his ex is responsible?” Carol asked as they got out of the car.

  “No,” Hansen said. “He’s convinced it’s not in her nature, but that’s what everyone thinks until they find out it is, right?”

  “Well, not usually with arson.”

  “Why not?”

  “It may just be my experience talking, but I find arsonists are rarely surprising. Most arsonists fall into a very specific psychological profile, and it’s unusual for no one to see the signs. What’s tricky is determining which men are arsonists, and which just fit the profile of one. If they don’t fit the profile to begin with though, they likely didn’t do it.”

  “Well, like I said, we don’t deal with cases like this often. Usually, if someone burns something down in this town, they want the victim to know it was them.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Carol said. “You’ve probably seen more arson than you even know.”

  “Okay, on that note,” Hansen said, approaching the men, “Carol, this is Chief Barrow, and this is Johnny Jeong, the homeowner. Gentlemen, this is former arson investigator, Carol Hennessey.”

  “Former?” Chief Barrow eyed Carol. “I’m sorry, but you look way too young to be retired!”

  “Yes, well–things are different in the FBI,” she retorted.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to come off as rude,” Barrow said. “It’s good to have you here.”

  “Where are these frayed wires?” Carol asked, getting straight to the point.

  “Ah, yes—right over here. Now, it’s not unusual to have wires visible on this panel, but it is unusual that several of them were exposed and worn like this. According to Mr. Jeong, these wires looked old and in need of replacing long before they lived here. But what I don’t understand is how the gasoline got involved. How many people do you know store gasoline near their breaker closet?”

  “Well, I never doubted that this was intentional,” Carol said. “I just want to see what exactly was done to these wires. It’ll help me give you a timefra
me for when the suspect was actually here.”

  “But we know when the fire started…”

  “The time the fire started doesn’t matter,” Carol explained. “If all they did was poured gasoline on these wires, they could’ve been long gone before the fire started. I’m trying to see if they wore down the wires any more to accelerate the fire and see if I can find evidence of how much gasoline may have been used. That's gonna give you a better idea of when they were here.”

  “Oh,” Chief Barrow said. “Well, we didn’t find any signs of intentional acceleration. That’s why I initially believed it was an accident. But the perp obviously didn’t know how easy it is to find residue after you pour gasoline on a non-flammable surface like this electrical tape.”

  “Then it’s lucky for us that our homeowner didn’t put another layer of tape over the exposed wires. Otherwise, this might have ended very differently and he might’ve gotten away with it,” Carol said. “Johnny, what was your air conditioner set to when you left?”

  “It probably wasn’t on,” he said. “I never really change it, and I think Mei turned it off before she moved out because the weather was nice.”

  “Okay,” Carol said. “So looking at these wires and judging by the humidity and temperature the house would’ve been at, the gasoline could’ve been introduced to the wires twenty minutes to an hour before the wires sparked and it still would’ve lit. Gasoline is only flammable in fumes, so dried or wet gasoline wouldn’t light, especially from a tiny spark.

  “What concerns me is that for the gas to be in fume form, it would’ve had to be heated up—meaning those wires must’ve gotten pretty hot before they started sparking. Given time, this place might’ve been up in flames without gasoline. But that also means it would’ve been evaporating the gas. Gasoline is virtually harmless after it dries, so I think this was all done probably closer to twenty minutes before the start of the fire.”

  “Yeah, and you’re right about those wires,” Johnny said. “They do get really hot sometimes. It made me nervous, so I had an electrician coming to look at it tomorrow, actually. But whoever did this must have known that and seized the chance.”

  “How often did that happen?” Carol asked.

  “The heat or the sparks?”

  “Both.”

  “Hmm… I never really sat around in my closet to watch, but I think it sparked every five minutes or so. The first time I noticed the wires were hot, it sparked really bad a few seconds later. We actually disconnected as many of the wires as we could because we were scared it would burn the house down. It looks like someone plugged them all back in though.”

  “So he would’ve had to know there were faulty wires and either he was really lucky, or he knew the gasoline wouldn’t light until after he got out,” Carol reasoned.

  “Sorry—but why do you keep saying ‘he’? Did Hansen not tell you who our suspect is?” Barrow asked.

  “He did,” Carol replied. “But you’re gonna have to do a bit more to convince me than picking the most obvious suspect and going with it. Statistically and psychologically, it’s unlikely this was the ex-wife.”

  Barrow raised an eyebrow. “Have you met the ex-wife?”

  “I don’t need to,” Carol said. “From what I’ve heard so far, I already know she doesn’t fit the profile. But when—or if—I meet her, I’ll be sure to consider your suspicions.”

  “It wasn’t her,” Johnny said. “She’s not that kind of person. She’s too emotionally mature to do something like this to me out of spite. If she was really mad enough to light my house on fire, she would’ve quit the studio and started her own a long time ago. She’s got a big enough following to do it. But she stuck with me at our studio because she’s not like that.”

  Carol narrowed her eyes at him. “How would you define emotional maturity?”

  “I dunno… Like, how she talks about things?” Johnny shrugged. “I mean, if something’s wrong, she’ll talk about it. She’s got good coping skills. I’m pretty sure she’s been in therapy since she was a kid, and she’s always said she applies what she learns there to her every-day life. Even during our divorce, she was never shady about anything. Everything was on the table where I could see it.”

  “And did she ever express any anger?”

  “No. We just didn’t feel the same vibes in our relationship anymore. There was no fighting or anything. We just agreed it wasn’t a good idea for us to stay married.”

  Carol nodded. “See? She doesn’t fit the profile.”

  “Seems like we really need your consultation to figure out who does then,” Hansen said.

  “Well, no one got hurt in the fire...” Carol said and then sighed. “Oh, all right! I guess it wouldn’t conflict with my schedule to solve a simple little arson case for you.”

  “Yes!” Hansen pumped his fist triumphantly.

  “Johnny, I can’t help but notice you seem nervous,” Carol said. “Do you suspect somebody?”

  “Huh?” Johnny said and then shook his head. “No. It’s just crazy that this all happened… And it kind of makes me worry, ya know?”

  Carol tilted her head. “Why?”

  “Because of things that happened before I moved to Washington…”

  “When did you move to Washington?”

  “Well, I don’t remember Korea, but I was born there and moved to L.A. when I was two. Then my parents decided to move here three years later.”

  “How old are you now?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “Ah, so you were in L.A. in the mid-nineties?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Johnny, have you ever felt targeted or threatened because of your nationality?” Carol asked.

  Johnny blinked. “Not personally. But my dad’s store got targeted a lot in L.A. That’s why we moved. But I was still only five, so I hardly remember that either.”

  “You mean during the L.A. riots?” Carol said. “If you don’t mind me asking—how was your father targeted?”

  “That’s why this is so troubling,” Johnny said, his brow furrowed. “I remember my mom coming home from the store one day, freaking out. She was talking about how the rioters had finally made it to Dad’s shop, and the place was on fire… She wasn’t sure if he got out or not. Ya see, it was a bit after closing time, and she had the car that day, so either he was walking home and was about to walk through the door, or he was never coming home again...”

  “I take it he was on his way home?” Carol said.

  “Yeah, thank goodness. Even though the rioters hated us Koreans, they were at least considerate enough to wait until after the shops closed to set the fires. They didn’t want us dead—they just wanted us to suffer.”

  “How long after that did you move?”

  “It felt like the next day,” Johnny said. “I don’t really remember, but my dad didn’t have a job anymore. And my mom was so spooked, she wouldn’t let me leave the house until we were packed and ready to go.”

  “That had to have been quite the time to move to L.A., huh?” Carol said. “Were your parents fluent in English?”

  “No. That’s the thing—Koreatown was the only place they could really work because they couldn’t speak English well enough to work anywhere else. But a lot of Koreans were moving up this way after the riots, so my mom’s friend hooked my dad up with a job in a shop. As for my mom–she worked at a hotel and got transferred within her company to their Seattle location. That’s when they had to learn English.”

  “Do they know about the fire yet?”

  “No—and they never will, if I can avoid it,” Johnny said. “I’d rather not make my mom relive the horror...”

  “Okay. Does Mei know?” Carol asked.

  “Yeah. She’s the first person I hit up when I got home. She didn’t have much left in there, but I thought she might like the heads-up that the house was gone.”

  “And how did she react?”

  “About how you’d expect–shock, tears, asking me over and over i
f I was okay.”

  “Right,” Carol said. “Well, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of the crime scene now. Here’s what I’ll need from you guys. Hansen and Barrow—I need the substance and damage analysis collected by the fire department, complete with details of any fire accelerants available on or around the scene. And I need recorded interviews with both Johnny and Mei, and twenty minutes to go home and feed my dog.”

  “I think we can handle that,” Hansen said.

  “Actually, I have the reports right here.” Barrow passed several documents to Carol. “I’ll need those back before the end of my shift though.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be quick.” Carol examined the fire department’s reports while she and Sergeant Hansen returned to his car.

  As soon as they sat down, Hansen turned to Carol, confused. “I don’t doubt you have a reason for everything you do, but what in the world are we interviewing Mei about if you don’t think she’s a suspect?”

  “Oh, I want you to give Johnny and Mei the exact same interview,” she said. “Something’s not adding up about them, and I want to see if they both have the same story about the divorce.”

  “Ah,” he said, nodding. “That makes sense now.”

  “Yeah. I wanna know how they felt when they married, how they felt about the divorce, how their business relationship was before and after, and any other details you find necessary. Just make sure the interview questions are almost exactly the same. Your follow-up questions can vary, but they need to answer all the same questions to begin with.”

  “And what are you looking for in those reports?”

  “Well, they’ve already proven the gasoline on the wires couldn’t have been from Johnny’s diesel truck, and there are no fire accelerants or gas cans on the property, which means the perp had to have brought it or took it with them. I guess I’ll have to check for gas cans during my interviews,” she said.

  “And what do you think about Mei’s alibi?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, she was supposed to be teaching a class then, but she never showed up. Suppose you find a gas can on her property?”