Macy nodded. “I’d bet a paycheck on it.”
Garrison stood, the discomfort in his knees reminding him of his last days as an air force paratrooper. “Why?”
“Hard to say. Intense, intense blaze that started out of nowhere near the back door. There appeared to be nothing near that door that could have accidentally just exploded like that.”
“How long before you know for sure?” Garrison said.
“Chances are I won’t even be able to inspect the embers until tomorrow when the area is cooled and safe to investigate.”
“Let me know as soon as you have information.”
“If your killer set this blaze to cover his tracks, he didn’t do such a good job,” Macy said. “It was a long shot that the house fire would have destroyed the body.”
“I’m not so sure the killer wanted the body destroyed,” Garrison said.
“Why not get rid of the evidence?” she said.
Malcolm shook his head. “If the body is obliterated, there is no one to admire his handiwork. ”
Macy’s gaze lingered on the body before she tore it away. “Think he’ll do it again?”
“I don’t know,” Garrison said.
She shook her head. “As unpredictable as fires can be, I understand they will kill me if I don’t respect them.” She stared at the draped lifeless body. “Whereas people, well, you never quite know where they are coming from. They are a mystery.”
Garrison couldn’t tell if she referred to him or the killer. “I don’t want anyone near this body—including your men. The last thing I need is some nutcase trying to copycat this murder.”
Macy planted her hands on her hips. “A few have already seen it, but I can trust them to keep quiet.”
Garrison met her gaze. “I’m counting on that.”
Bristling at his tone, she raised her chin. “You worry about your people and I’ll worry over mine.”
The fire sparking in her gaze told him if he didn’t back off, they’d land in a full-blown pissing match. Intensely loyal to the men and women who worked for her, Macy would go toe-to-toe with anyone who spoke badly about her “crew.”
Garrison needed cooperation, not a turf war. And if Garrison was good at anything, it was convincing people to see things his way. He relaxed his stance, trying to cool off her temper. “Have you spoken to the survivors of the fire or the shelter director?”
“That’s your gig, not mine.” Still defensive, but breathing a bit less fire, she said, “I’m just here to show you the body so I can get back to figuring out how that fire got started.”
Malcolm dusted imaginary dirt from his hands. “Fair enough.”
Garrison grinned at Macy. “And when you find out anything about the fire, you’ll let me know.”
“You’ll be the first.” She walked back toward the throng of fire trucks and let the controlled chaos swallow her.
“You have a knack for pissing her off,” Malcolm said.
“It’s a gift.”
Malcolm muttered an oath. “You dated her once, didn’t you?”
“Yep. ”
“Christ, man. Any woman in this city you haven’t dated?”
“I never lie and I never make promises.”
“That why all the women love you?” Sarcasm dripped from the words.
Garrison ignored the comment. “Forensics has been dispatched and should be here soon. The first priority is to run prints and find out the victim’s identity. If by some remote chance the two murders are linked, we need to know.”
“The killings look as if they were done by different people.”
“That’s my initial thought.” But he’d let the forensics play out.
“She looks classy,” Malcolm said. “Doesn’t look like she and the first victim ran in the same circles.”
“Doesn’t mean they don’t have something in common.” Garrison glanced at the dark roots peeking out from her blond hair. She appeared well nourished and didn’t show any track marks on her arms. Her breasts appeared to have been enhanced by a plastic surgeon. He covered her body with a sheet.
“Want me to canvas the crowd again?” Malcolm asked.
“Yeah. And keep on the lookout for that woman in the crowd. She might have doubled back. I’ll talk to the survivors.” Tonight promised to be long.
“Will do.” Malcolm peeled off toward the onlookers while Garrison cut back toward the front yard where the seven survivors were huddled under blankets and cradling cups of coffee. Each stared blankly—a sign of shock.
The group looked ragtag, worn and shell-shocked from the fire. Garrison’s gaze scanned the group, beginning with a woman in her fifties. Wisps of gray hair escaped a thinning ponytail, and crow’s feet highlighted brown sunken eyes and leathery skin.
At the opposite end sat a man—mid-thirties with a mocha complexion. He wore a thick hunting jacket two sizes too large, a tattered ball cap that read ACE, steel-toe boots, gray shirt and jeans covered with a half-dozen patches.
He’d have to talk to them all individually so one person’s story didn’t contaminate another’s. Eyewitness testimony coupled with trauma often meant skewed memories.
“I saw what happened.” The man on the end with the ACE hat had spoken up.
Garrison slipped a hand in his pocket and pulled out a pack of g
um as he strolled toward him. He offered the man a stick and waited patiently as the guy unfolded the wrapper and folded the gum in his mouth.
The guy nodded. “Thanks.”
“Let’s walk.”
“Sure.”
The two moved out of earshot of the other six survivors. Garrison learned long ago if he didn’t rush the interview process he often learned more in the end. And a little kindness led to more information than hard-edged questions.
“Can I have the rest of that gum?” Ace said.
“Sure.” Garrison handed him the packet. “My name’s Detective Garrison.”
“I’m Ace.”
“Just like your hat.” Garrison pulled out a slim notebook and pen from the breast pocket of his blue sports coat.
“They call me Ace because of the hat.” Ace fumbled with the gum and then held it up to his nose. He inhaled deeply then shoved the pack into the pocket of his jacket.
“What’s your real name?”
Dark brows knotted. “I don’t remember.”
Garrison smiled. “Maybe it’ll come to you.”
He knotted his brow as if it bothered him that he didn’t know his name. “Sometimes it does. Give it time.”
“Well, we’ll just stick with Ace for now. Ace, what happened? How did the fire start?”
“I was watching the television. We were all watching Entertainment Tonight. I like Mary Hart. You watch ET?”
“No. Not much of a TV guy when it’s not football season.”
“I love ET. Proves even the celebrities got their issues. Maybe if I’d had a handler like those stars I’d still be fine.”
“I suppose we could all use a little handler.” Hell, there’d been a time when his parents had stepped into his life and straightened him out. No telling where he’d have ended up if not for them. “Did the fire start before or after the show ended?”
“Right at the end, thank goodness. I was just getting up to get water from the kitchen when I saw this flame in the front yard.”
“A flame?” Garrison jotted notes.
“Yeah. Some guy held a flame in his hand.”
“A Molotov cocktail? ”