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Authors: Brendan DuBois
Tags: USA
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pamphlets, each promising a wonderful time at sunny Tyler Beach.
"Watch yourself," he said. "It's pretty icy back here."
His flashlight lit the way through a dirty hallway, the carpet blackened and hardened in some areas with ice. At one point we had to do some fancy stepping, over some crumpled beams and ceiling tiles, and Paula tripped and I grabbed her arm.
"You all right?" I asked, enjoying the sensation of holding her.
"Oh, I'm just fine, but I'm gonna hit up the paper for a cleaning bill later," she said. "I've got ashes on me and I know everything's going to reek when we're out of here."
After a few more yards we were in an area that looked like it might have been a storage room. It was almost impossible to make out what had been there earlier, for everything was a blackened mass of objects, some fused together. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, and Mike switched off the flashlight and stepped closer into the destroyed room.
"This is where I think it started, and the state fire marshal's office, God love 'em, is inclined to agree with me," Mike said. "Care to guess why?"
I spoke up. "This is where you found evidence of accelerants --- something like kerosene, gasoline, or lighter fluid. The ignition point."
Mike nodded. "That's right. This was Mr. Keller's office, the owner, and he also used it for paper goods storage. Fire started here and went up through the walls, and by the time we got here... well, our guys would have been hard-pressed to save the foundation."
"Did you take samples from here?" Paula asked, notebook stuck in her hand.
"We certainly did."
"And the samples told you that accelerants were present."
Mike grinned. "Nope. The report's not back from the state lab yet."
Paula looked up from her notebook, eyebrows furrowed. "So how do you know that gasoline or something else was used here?"
He tapped the flashlight against the side of his head, near the burned tissue. "I used my eyes. Here, let me show you something."
Mike squatted to the floor and ran his fingers across the scorched and blackened wood. "See this? Wooden floor, looks all burnt to hell. Right? Intense heat and flames. That's what you see on the surface, but I don't like to just look at the surface. Watch." From his coat pocket he took out a folding knife, which he undid, and then with the blade he dug at the floor. The knife looked tiny in his huge hands. He pulled up a couple of long slivers, and undamaged wood was exposed from under the charred covering.
"The damage doesn't go that deep," Paula said, holding her notebook in both hands.
"That's right," he said, as if pleased she had guessed right. "Intense heat, but fast heat. Whatever burned in here quickly burned off. That tells you the fuel was something that burned in a short period of time. And if you look at the floor joints... " He dug around some more, exposing an area between two boards. It was black all the way through.
"See that?" he said, tapping on the wood with his knife. "Let's say gasoline was spread over the floor. It runs down the cracks, so when the fire is lit, the fire reaches down through the soaked joists. Classic accelerant signature, and I knew what we had the minute things cooled down and we got in here."
"So you have gasoline or something similar poured in here. How did it start?"
He stood up, closed up the knife, and put it back into his coat, grinning. "Now, now, Miss Quinn. You really can't expect me to give away any of our trade secrets, do you? So I'll have to say no comment."
She scribbled some more in her book, looked up, and smiled. "Outside you told us this was a probable arson. Care to change that to arson, with no probable attached?"
Mike nodded. "All right, I'll give you that. A definite answer. This was arson."
The hand with the pencil moved furiously. "And connected to the other three fires? All these arsons, are they connected in some way?"
Mike paused, rubbed at his chin. "The reporter from The Porter Herald , he might be
"Watch yourself," he said. "It's pretty icy back here."
His flashlight lit the way through a dirty hallway, the carpet blackened and hardened in some areas with ice. At one point we had to do some fancy stepping, over some crumpled beams and ceiling tiles, and Paula tripped and I grabbed her arm.
"You all right?" I asked, enjoying the sensation of holding her.
"Oh, I'm just fine, but I'm gonna hit up the paper for a cleaning bill later," she said. "I've got ashes on me and I know everything's going to reek when we're out of here."
After a few more yards we were in an area that looked like it might have been a storage room. It was almost impossible to make out what had been there earlier, for everything was a blackened mass of objects, some fused together. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, and Mike switched off the flashlight and stepped closer into the destroyed room.
"This is where I think it started, and the state fire marshal's office, God love 'em, is inclined to agree with me," Mike said. "Care to guess why?"
I spoke up. "This is where you found evidence of accelerants --- something like kerosene, gasoline, or lighter fluid. The ignition point."
Mike nodded. "That's right. This was Mr. Keller's office, the owner, and he also used it for paper goods storage. Fire started here and went up through the walls, and by the time we got here... well, our guys would have been hard-pressed to save the foundation."
"Did you take samples from here?" Paula asked, notebook stuck in her hand.
"We certainly did."
"And the samples told you that accelerants were present."
Mike grinned. "Nope. The report's not back from the state lab yet."
Paula looked up from her notebook, eyebrows furrowed. "So how do you know that gasoline or something else was used here?"
He tapped the flashlight against the side of his head, near the burned tissue. "I used my eyes. Here, let me show you something."
Mike squatted to the floor and ran his fingers across the scorched and blackened wood. "See this? Wooden floor, looks all burnt to hell. Right? Intense heat and flames. That's what you see on the surface, but I don't like to just look at the surface. Watch." From his coat pocket he took out a folding knife, which he undid, and then with the blade he dug at the floor. The knife looked tiny in his huge hands. He pulled up a couple of long slivers, and undamaged wood was exposed from under the charred covering.
"The damage doesn't go that deep," Paula said, holding her notebook in both hands.
"That's right," he said, as if pleased she had guessed right. "Intense heat, but fast heat. Whatever burned in here quickly burned off. That tells you the fuel was something that burned in a short period of time. And if you look at the floor joints... " He dug around some more, exposing an area between two boards. It was black all the way through.
"See that?" he said, tapping on the wood with his knife. "Let's say gasoline was spread over the floor. It runs down the cracks, so when the fire is lit, the fire reaches down through the soaked joists. Classic accelerant signature, and I knew what we had the minute things cooled down and we got in here."
"So you have gasoline or something similar poured in here. How did it start?"
He stood up, closed up the knife, and put it back into his coat, grinning. "Now, now, Miss Quinn. You really can't expect me to give away any of our trade secrets, do you? So I'll have to say no comment."
She scribbled some more in her book, looked up, and smiled. "Outside you told us this was a probable arson. Care to change that to arson, with no probable attached?"
Mike nodded. "All right, I'll give you that. A definite answer. This was arson."
The hand with the pencil moved furiously. "And connected to the other three fires? All these arsons, are they connected in some way?"
Mike paused, rubbed at his chin. "The reporter from The Porter Herald , he might be
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