“Do you have more than one policy covering fire damage?”
“No.”
“Have you had any previous insured losses of any kind?”
Gurney thought for a moment. “A theft-insurance payment. I had a motorcycle that was stolen in the city about thirty years ago.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Are you involved in any conflicts with neighbors, relatives, business associates, anyone at all?”
“It seems that we may have a conflict that we weren’t aware of-with the firebug who tore down our No Hunting signs.”
“When were they put up?”
“My wife put them up a couple of years ago, shortly after we moved here.”
“Any other conflicts?”
It occurred to Gurney that having a step sawed out from under him and a bizarre warning whispered in his ear might be construed as evidence of a conflict. On the other hand, there was no proof that either the sabotage or the warning was meant for him personally. He cleared his throat. “No other conflicts I know of.”
“Did you leave the house at any time during the two hours preceding the discovery of the fire?”
“Yes. I went down and sat on the bench by the pond after dinner.”
“When was that?”
“I was down there right after dark, so… maybe around eight?”
“Why did you go there?”
“To sit on the bench, as I said. Relax. Unwind.”
“In the dark?”
“Yes.”
“You were upset?”
“Tired, impatient.”
“About what?”
“A private business matter.”
“Involving money?”
“Not really.”
Kramden leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on a small spot on the table. He touched it curiously with his finger. “And while you were sitting there in the dark, relaxing, did you see or hear anything?”
“I heard a couple of sounds in the woods behind the barn.”
“What kind of sounds?”
“Maybe small branches breaking? I couldn’t say for sure.”
“Was anyone else out of the house during the two hours preceding the fire?”
“My son came down to the bench for a while. And Ms. Corazon also stepped out for a while, I’m not sure for how long.”
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t ask?”
“No.”
“How about your son? Do you know if he went anywhere other than back and forth between the house and the bench?”
“Just to the bench and back to the house.”
“How can you be sure?”
“He had a lit flashlight in his hand.”
“How about your wife?”
“What about her?”
“Did she leave the house at all?”
“Not that I know of.”
“But you’re not sure?”
“Not absolutely sure.”
Kramden nodded slowly, as though these facts were forming some kind of coherent pattern. He ran his fingernail over the tiny black imperfection in the tabletop.
“Did you set the fire?” he asked, still staring at the spot.
Gurney knew that this was one of several standard arson-investigation questions that had to be asked.
“No.”
“Did you cause it to be set by someone else?”
“No.”
“Do you know who did set it?”
“No.”
“Do you know anyone who might have had a reason to set it?”
“No.”
“Do you have any other information at all that might help in the investigation?”
“Not right now.”
Kramden stared at him. “What does that mean?”
“It means that
There was the tiniest flash of anger in the man’s suspicious eyes. “Meaning you plan to have some relevant information in the future?”
“Oh, yes, Everett, I will definitely have some relevant information in the future. You can count on it.”
Chapter 24
Kramden devoted only about twenty minutes each to his interviews with Madeleine and Kyle but then spent over an hour with Kim.
At that point it was nearly noon. Madeleine offered the man lunch, but he declined with a look that was more sour than gracious. Without explanation he left the house, walked down the pasture slope, and got into his van, which was parked halfway between the pond and the wreckage of the barn.
The morning fog had dissipated, and the day had brightened somewhat under a high overcast. Gurney and Kim were sitting at the table, while Madeleine was washing mushrooms for omelets. Kyle was looking out the kitchen window. “What the hell’s he up to now?”
“Probably checking on the progress of his gas-liquid chromatograph,” said Gurney.
“Or eating his own private sandwich,” said Madeleine with a touch of resentment.
“Once you get a GLC set up,” Gurney continued, “it takes about an hour for it to run an analysis.”
“How much can it tell him?”
“A lot. A GLC can break any accelerant down into its components-the precise amounts of each-which essentially produces a fingerprint of the chemical by type, sometimes even by brand if it’s a distinctive formula. It can be pretty specific.”
“Too bad it can’t be specific about the son of a bitch who set the fire,” said Madeleine, chopping a large mushroom with considerable force, the knife banging against the cutting board.
“Well,” said Kyle, “Investigator Kramden may have a smart machine, but he’s an asshole. Kept asking me about my flashlight, exactly what path I took to and from the house, how long I was down by the pond with Dad. He seemed to be suggesting that maybe I was lying about not knowing who started the fire. Jerk.” He looked over at
