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“So everything wasn’t sweetness and light in your family before the explosion.”
Julia stared at him for a long moment. Was he trying to create ugliness where there wasn’t any? “Of course there were fights. Between my father and me. My father and Jeff. Probably between my mother and father. That’s the kind of man he was -- his way or the highway.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “No family is perfect. And in spite of the occasional fights, we loved each other. And they’re all dead. So why is any of this relevant?”
“Because I have no idea what is or isn’t relevant,” Nico said quietly. “I need the background. The details. An idea of the people involved.”
“They all died in that explosion, Nico.” She stood up and turned her kettle back on. She needed more coffee. “So what does it matter now?”
“I have no idea, Jules. I’m pulling the strings to see what might unravel.”
Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, she said, “Okay. While we’re waiting for the strings to unravel, what do we do next?”
“We can start with the pictures. The layout of the house.”
The kettle whistled, and she poured hot water over fresh coffee in the press. “I can do that.”
Twenty minutes later, after showing Nico pictures of her family’s house, pictures that included her brother and parents, she set the albums aside and sketched a rough floor plan of the first and second floors.
“This is the door I used to sneak in and out of the house,” she said, pointing to a door. “It led into the garden. We didn’t use it much, and it wasn’t near any of the bedrooms.”
She pointed to three of the second-floor bedrooms. “My room, Jeff’s and my parents.” She touched the one at the other end of the hall. “The guest room.”
Finally she looked at Nico. “Why is this necessary?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I need to get all the facts in my head.” He tapped his finger against her rough drawing. “I assume the police talked to your neighbors across the street. What about the ones behind you?”
“We didn’t have neighbors behind us,” she said. “There were empty lots. Jeff and his friends used to play back there, then my friends and I did the same thing. There was a tangle of trees and bushes. Great for hide-and-seek. Building forts. Make-believe.” Her mouth trembled for those long-lost innocent days.
“Your parents let you play in a patch of woods behind your house?” Nico stared at her, and he looked shocked.
“No, they told us not to go back there. Homeless people lived back there, my father said. But that made it more of an adventure. We played there, but never saw anyone.”
“Were there witnesses who heard the explosion or saw the fire start?”
Julia didn’t want to go back to that night, but she knew it was important. She nodded slowly. “The police told me a homeless guy who slept in the woods saw someone near the house. He’d gotten up to urinate. The police knew him and didn’t take him seriously. They said he was a drunk and was probably hallucinating. The guy told them he’d seen a hunchback near the house who disappeared like magic.” She smiled sadly. “The poor guy called our house Notre Dame.”
Nico leaned closer to her. “I’m sorry to bring all this up. I know it’s digging up painful memories. I’ve got Mel looking at your parents’ estate, but can we do one more thing?”
“What’s that?” she asked warily.
“Can we go look at the site?”
“There’s another house there now,” she said. “And houses behind it. It won’t look anything like it did back then.”
“I know. But I’d like to get a feeling for the neighborhood.”
Julia stared at her hands for a long moment. She had no desire to look at the place where her house used to stand. No desire to re-live the events of sixteen years ago. But she’d hired Nico to protect her and her business. And if he thought it was necessary, it would be stupid to say no.
“All right,” she sighed. “Let’s do it now. Get it over with.”
