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The building had been barricaded with the yellow ‘do not cross the crime scene’ line. The fire had only ravaged a single room, the room Joe had been in. Apart from that, there was no other damage. The situation was strange. It seemed like the fire was indeed arson.
As I walked out of the building, I made a conference call with all the workers on this project, and they all said the same thing: the room on the second floor suddenly went up in flames. I ended the call with the assistant foreman and called the buyers of the building. I assured them the situation was being taken care of and that work would resume in a few weeks. Yet questions swam through my mind until my head started to ache.
Is someone trying to kill Joe? What would anyone gain from killing him? Does he have enemies that I don’t know about? Why didn’t the fire spread to other parts of the building? Am I over thinking this? Is someone trying to ruin me?
“You have been so quiet,” Ward said once I got into the car and we were on the way to the police station.
“I think someone is trying to ruin me,” I said, still trying to think of who would sink this low. This seemed to be even a low point for Rebecca Rice, and she was cold-blooded. “That fire was arson, and something doesn’t add up. I checked all the electrical units, and it didn’t seem that the fire was a result of an electrical error.”
“No, it’s not adding up at all, Mira. It definitely sounds like arson. The question is who would do this?”
“I can’t think of anyone who would hate me so much, except Rebecca,” I replied.
“But she wouldn’t risk her reputation and freedom to do something like this,” Ward said, though he didn’t sound as confident as he did about most things. “Heck, it could be a domestic terrorist with all that’s been going on in the United States lately,” he theorized.
“Let’s just hope the police have an idea,” I said as Ward parked the car in the police station’s parking lot.
We made our way into the building, and a bald-headed middle-aged cop directed us to Detective Jones’ office.
“Hello, Miss McBride and Mr. Levine,” Detective Jones said as we entered. “You may sit down.”
We sat down in the two chairs in front of the desk. A few moments later, the door opened, and Detective Murray joined us.
“How’s Mr. Joe doing?” Detective Jones asked.
"He's still in a coma, the doctors say he should be out of it in a few days…or weeks."
“What time do your workers report at the site each morning?” Detective Murray asked.
“Joe is my foreman, and he comes in at 7.30 a.m. promptly every morning, but the other staff doesn’t come until 8 a.m.,” I replied.
“Where were you between the hours of 6 a.m. to 7 a.m. this morning?” Detective Jones asked.
“I was in the office at my desk at 5 a.m. By 7 a.m., I was already on another of our building sites, which happens to be Mr. Levine’s project,” I said, hoping they didn’t think I’d burn down one of my own sites with my man in the building. “You can check the camera in my office, and also talk to my secretary and the other staff at Mr. Levine’s site. They can verify what I’m telling you,” I assured him.
“Mr. Levine, what time did you get to the site?” Detective Murray asked.
“7.30 a.m.,” Ward said curtly. “Do you think Mira would burn down her own building?”
“These are routine questions we ask in situations like this,” Detective Murray explained after he and Detective Jones made brief eye contact.
“My men and I checked the building and discovered someone connected a gas pipe into the room that exploded. It seems Mr. Joe discovered this and was about to raise the alarm when the room went up in flames. We found a gas hose at the back of the building.”
“My God. Who would do this? Did you find any DNA on the gas pipe?” I asked.
“It came back clean,” Detective Murray said. “Whoever did it must have been a professional.”
“Do you have any enemies? Anyone upset enough to do this to you?” Detective Jones asked.
“Honestly, no solid names come to mind, but Rebecca Rice and I have had a cat and dog relationship over the years. We exchanged a few words recently, but I still don’t think she would do this,” I said though a small part of me wondered if she would stoop this low.
Did finding out about Ward and me make her snap? Having him come to his front door with the scent of another woman lingering on his lips could do something to a woman. And then to have him push her away like that may have sent her over the edge.
“Rebecca Rice? The same one that works in community planning?” Detective Jones’ deep voice boomed with skepticism.
“Yes, her,” I said.
The Detectives both wrote down something on their little notepads. “We will contact her and ask her a few questions,” Detective Jones said. “But it’s unlikely that she did this. We’d like to speak with all your staff, both those on your payroll and those freelancing.”
