California Fire And Life

102

Way out in the boonies is no shit, Jack thinks as he drives on a windy dirt road up one of the dozens of side canyons that stretch out like fingers from Laguna Canyon.

Tucked away inside a little grove of trees, the Scollins place is more like the Scollins places, a number of little one-and two-story buildings tacked together on the sloped landscape.

Or they were, anyway.

Because when Jack gets closer he knows he's not going to get a chance to talk to George Scollins. Because now what you have are a bunch of little burned-out shells gripping the slope.

Hell of a view, though.

Jack gets out of the car, he feels like he's on the top of the world. He can see all across the dry, brown hills, and the ocean is like a rectangle of pure blue.

From this angle the water looks almost vertical.

Nice place to live.

He goes into the Scollins house.

To go dick around in there.

Place still smells of turpentine and shellac and a host of other carbon-based chemicals that must have made a hell of a fuel load.

The fire would have gone up fast and hot.

Ravenous alligator.

Small cinder block house full of wood.

When the fire broke out, it became an oven.

And a mess. It looks like Scollins lived his work. The metal bed frame sits by the wall, and there are remnants of furniture pieces scattered all over the floor. Heat shadows on the walls.

Jack finds the probable point of origin.

An electrical baseboard heater.

An easy call by the scorching and char around it.

Not to mention the remnants of what look to be cleaning rags.

Accelerant splatter at the base of the heater.

Why would the heat be on in the middle of summer?

Classic Teddy Kuhl.

Jack gets on his phone, calls the Sheriff's Department.

"Fire Investigation, please."

"One moment."

I need a little luck here, he thinks.

He gets it. Guy gets on and it's not Bentley.

"Hi," Jack says. "John Morici, Pacific Mutual Insurance. Hey, you guys had a fire recently in Laguna Canyon, the Scollins residence?"

"Hold on a sec."

Guy gets back on and says, "I'm showing that to be Farmer's Insurance."

"We have the Life," Jack says. He plays a hunch. "I'm behind on my files and my boss is all over my ass. Can you just give me a C amp;O so I can release a payment?"

"Hold on."

Jack holds on.

"Yeah," the guy says. "It was ruled Accidental. Let me see, pile of rags by the heater."

"So, Accidental Death?"

"You got it."

"Hey, who was the investigator?"

"Uhhh, that would be Deputy Bentley."

Yeah, that would be.

He's just clicked off when the phone chirps again.

"Yeah?" Jack asks.

It's Goddamn Billy.

"Jack-"

"Yeah, I know. I'm fired."

"It's not that," Billy says. "It's Letty del Rio."

There's been a shooting.