Arsonist

CHAPTER 10

Emma Lyon answered her phone on the third ring and heard her receptionist’s voice say that her two thirty appointment was here.

“Send him in,” she said.

She glanced around her office as she waited and decided that she really needed to straighten up. It was typical for a professor’s office: shelves upon endless shelves of books, a few degrees up on the walls, papers stacked a foot high on her desk. The office was small and most people would feel claustrophobic in it, but it was comforting to her. Like an old sweater she’d thoroughly broken in. Above her door was a sign that read, CHEMISTS DO IT SUBATOMICALLY.

She watched as the homicide detective walked in and shut the door behind him. He was carrying an iPad under his arm and wore a pinstripe sports coat with jeans and a tie. He had boyish good looks and despite herself, she knew she was blushing.

“Jon Stanton,” he said.

“Emma Lyon,” she said, rising and shaking his hand. He stood there a while. “Oh, sorry. Please have a seat.”

“So how do you like teaching here?”

“UCLA or Los Angeles?”

“UCLA.”

“It’s great. I get a lot of support, a lot of time to pursue research interests. Did you go here?”

“No, I taught here for a couple of semesters.”

“Really? Criminal justice?”

“No, psychology and psychopharmacology.”

“And you’re now a homicide detective? That’s quite a jump.”

“Less pay and worse hours; how could I resist?”

She chuckled, just a little longer than she wanted to. “So what can I do for you, Detective?”

“I heard that you consult law enforcement on arson investigations?”

“Used to consult. Now I just do defense.”

“Prosecution to only defense. That’s quite a jump.”

She ignored the implicit question and said, “So I’m afraid you’re out of luck if you’re looking to get a conviction.”

“I’m not. My department’s looking to blame the sixteen-year-old stepson of the victim that died in the fire. I think he’s innocent but the arson investigation doesn’t support that.”

She leaned forward on the desk. “Really? Well, now you have my attention.”

Stanton unlocked his iPad and pulled up some photos. He lost them when he accidently closed the window and then opened it again and handed it to her. “Sorry, just getting used to this thing. He died of smoke inhalation but you can see the body’s pretty damaged too. The arson investigator said there’s a lot of evidence indicating that the fire was set intentionally. If that’s true, I still don’t think the stepson did it but he was the only one around at the time. I’m afraid it might be pinned on him.”

“What’s the matter? You don’t trust a jury to acquit him?”

“No, absolutely not. Juries convict the innocent all the time.”

She handed back the iPad. “Well you’re the first cop I’ve ever heard say that.”

“I’m not a fool. Our system’s not perfect. But I could really use your help. We don’t have a lot of money but I can probably get you approved for our standard consultation fees.”

“I guess there’s no way I could turn down that offer and sleep at night if that kid gets life in prison. Okay, you got me on board, Detective. I have a space open this afternoon around four thirty and I’d like to go see the house.”

“So soon? It’s not going anywhere.”

“The sooner the better. Some of the evidence I’m looking for dissipates over time. I know you send police escorts but I would ask for no more than one person. I like to work in some solitude.”

“It’ll just be me. Should I come pick you up?”

“I can meet you there. If you would please just leave the address with my receptionist.”

He rose. “I really appreciate this, Emma.”

“If he’s really innocent, then it’s my pleasure. But I’ve gotten quite a few detectives in here over the years and they’re not always happy with what I find. Don’t be surprised if he’s not as innocent as you think.”

Stanton smiled and tapped the desk. “Thanks again. I’ll see you down there.”