returned to the bathroom and peeled off every item of clothing I’d been wearing.
“I like what I’m seeing,” said Tom, who’d pulled a small chair in next to the hamper.
“I look like crap.”
“Far from it, Miss G.”
I stepped into the steaming shower and shivered in the luxurious stream of heat. Tom scooted the chair over to the tub.
“Begin with when you got there,” he said.
“I tried to call you. Oops, no washcloth.” I blinked in the stream of water as Tom’s large hand pushed the shower curtain aside and offered me a clean cloth and new bar of soap. “Thanks.” I scrubbed up quickly. “The investigators weren’t there, and I wasn’t sure whether we had permission to be in the house when they weren’t there.”
“I remember telling you that. I also got your messages after I left the hospital. Sorry about that.”
“So we went up, finally.” I told him about Ferdinanda and Yolanda gathering up their belongings while I concentrated on the puppies. But their chow was missing, I added, so I went around the house looking for it. Clearly, the investigators had been there, because some files were opened in Ernest’s study. I looked all over for the chow and finally found a new bag next to the marijuana plants in the greenhouse.
“That seems odd,” Tom observed. “Ernest was a careful, conscientious investigator. Why would he leave puppy chow next to marijuana? Do you think he forgot it there? That’s just not like him.”
“I don’t know.” I drenched my hair, shampooed it, and rinsed. “You’re right about the conscientious bit, though. Except for the places where your team had been, the house was neater than a magazine spread on compulsive organization.”
“You ’bout ready?”
“Just need a couple of towels.”
His hand appeared again with two plush cotton towels. I wrapped them around my head and torso and stepped out. “Thanks. Are you going to keep asking me questions while I get dressed?”
“I’d rather be doing something else,” he said warmly, “but unfortunately there’s this damn job I’m obligated to. So you found the chow and the weed, and pulled off a bud.”
“Right.” I dried quickly and pulled my clothes on. “Oh, sorry, forgot to tell you. The phone rang while I was looking for the dog food. It came up on the caller ID as Humberto Captain. I answered, but whoever it was hung up.” Tom wrote, and I continued. “Anyway, when I was in the greenhouse, I saw a flash of movement from outside. It was a man holding something. I killed the lights in the greenhouse to get a better look. First he threw a rock through one of the windows. Then he lit the rag, or whatever it was, going into a bottle of accelerant. I saw him more clearly then.”
“Describe this man.”
Again, I did my best with that while rubbing my hair dry. No, I didn’t get a good enough look at his face to go through a police photo array. What could I say about him? He was tallish, bald, and white. I stopped talking for a moment, then asked, “If the arsonist was the source of your false reports, and he was destroying evidence, say, why would he wait half an hour before torching the place?”
Tom looked at the floor. “Maybe he was watching Ernest’s house. Waiting for you all to come back. I don’t like that one bit.”
“Neither do I. But at least Yolanda, Ferdinanda, and I, plus all the puppies, got out of the house before it went up in flames.” As I told Tom this, a rocklike tightness formed in my chest. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with the dogs. I have no idea why Ernest would have been growing pot. And what about that crazy bald guy? Tell me. Do you think he was trying to destroy evidence? Or was he trying to kill us?”
“Come here.” Tom stowed his notebook, stood up, and gently tugged me toward him. “I don’t know the answers to your questions. But clearly, Ernest pulled somebody’s chain. It’s already making Yolanda crazy, as you’ve seen. I need you to keep a steady head, all right?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Let’s go see how Boyd’s doing.”
When I walked into the living room, Boyd stood up, which I appreciated. Tom and I sat down. I did feel sorry for Yolanda and Ferdinanda, who looked as ragged and ash covered as I had fifteen minutes before.
“Tell him, Goldy,” Yolanda said. “Tell him you came down the stairs when you knew someone was trying to burn down the house. Didn’t you—”
“I’m sorry,” said Boyd, stirring uncomfortably in his wingback chair. “I have to ask you these questions.”
Tom held up an index finger, meant for me.
Boyd began again. “So where were you exactly when you heard glass breaking? Downstairs, you said? Where downstairs?”
“I don’t know,” said Yolanda. “I don’t remember. I just heard Goldy screaming about a fire. Then she fell down the stairs, I think because she was in a hurry, or maybe the big explosion made her lose her balance—”
“Did you smell anything unusual?” Boyd asked.
“Like what?” demanded Ferdinanda, turning to Boyd. She tapped one of the metal arms of her wheelchair. “Burning
Yolanda gave her aunt another warning glare. “If you mean like gasoline, no, I didn’t.”
“And where were you when Goldy screamed at you?” asked Boyd.
“
“Look,” pleaded Boyd, “I’m doing the best I can here.”
Ferdinanda shook a bent forefinger at Boyd. She leaned forward and waggled her head at him. Her steely, determined face made him draw back. “We answered your questions, the same ones you’ve been asking since we got inside. I’m tired and I’m going to eat this wheelchair if you don’t leave us alone. The place where we were staying burned down. That’s all.”
“Boyd,” interjected Tom. “Want to stay for dinner?”
“I would love to,” he said. “But I promised SallyAnn I’d go see Bertram.” Tom’s invitation, though, signaled that Boyd didn’t have to ask Yolanda and Ferdinanda any more questions.
“Goldy.” Boyd handed me a pad of paper he’d produced from an inner jacket pocket. “Humor me here. Could you write down everything you saw, and exactly what happened, and when, while you were at Ernest McLeod’s house?”
“Tom’s already asked me questions,” I said.
“Sorry,” said Boyd. “I need it for the record.”
“Okay, but I want to get Yolanda and Ferdinanda settled first. Just five minutes?”
“No,” Tom interrupted, and I flinched. Tom said, “Yolanda? Ferdinanda? Did you know Ernest was growing marijuana in his greenhouse?”
“What?” Yolanda sat up straight, a stunned look on her face. “Are you kidding me?”
“No,” said Tom. “I’m not.”
“I never went up to his greenhouse,” said Ferdinanda. “This wheelchair can’t climb steps.”
“So neither of you had
Yolanda shook her head in puzzlement. Ferdinanda said, “Yeah. I smelled it a couple of times.”
Tom narrowed his eyes. “Did you ask Ernest about it?”
“No,” Ferdinanda said emphatically. “It was none of our business. And before you ask, no, I didn’t tell Yolanda, either.”
“Ferdinanda!” exclaimed Yolanda. “I tell you everything.”
When the old woman shrugged, it looked as if her whole body was rising out of the wheelchair. “I am older than you. I don’t have to tell anybody anything. Now, I’m not going to say any more until Goldy shows us where the bathroom is, so we can clean up.”
There was a brief silence in the living room until Tom said, “Fine. Thanks for giving us your statements. If you think of anything else, please let us know. Actually,” he said, “why don’t I show you the way to the first-floor bathroom while Goldy writes out her statement? Sergeant Boyd needs to wait for it before he goes down to the hospital to see John Bertram.” He said this last part without inflection, but Ferdinanda did drop some of her steely
