Blue Smoke

but he’s a nice enough boy. I just want to say, I might not be on the best terms with Ella right at the moment, but I wouldn’t wish this sort of thing on anybody. I think it must’ve been some freak accident. Spontaneous combustion or something.”
    “We’ll be looking into it. I appreciate the time.”

    Reena went inside. She stood in the front hall, absorbing the tone and feel of the house. The fire hadn’t come this far, but she could smell the smoke. Fire suppression had caused some minor damage. Soot and dirt on the floor, the stairs.
    But she could see what the neighbor meant. Looking beyond the mess of emergency, everything was scrupulous. A gleam under the debris dust, flowers arranged just so in vases, color-coordinating cushions and drapes, all chosen to accent the tones of the walls, the tones in the art.
    Upstairs, she found the same. The master bedroom had taken the worst. Blistered paint, scorched ceilings, water and smoke damage.
    The duvet on the king-sized bed had caught, as had the coordinating curtains. The natural wood blinds were scorched.
    She could see the path the fire had taken, down the attic steps, eating its way across the polished wood floor, gnawing on the antique rug.
    She moved down the hall, found two home offices. More antiques, she noted, more careful decorating.
    The boy’s room was at the other end of the hall. It was big and airy, done in a soccer theme. Framed posters, lots of black and white with red splashes. Rigorously organized bookshelves. No scatter of toys, no piles of discarded clothes.
    She took out the file, checked information. Then took out her phone and made a call.
    O’Donnell was working through layers of debris when she picked her way carefully up the damaged steps.
    “Nice of you to join me.”
    “Had some background to check.” She glanced up, studied the sky. “Most of the fire headed up. They’re lucky. Damage to the second floor’s not that bad. Just smoke and water damage on the main floor.”
    “No evidence of an accelerant so far. Point of origin, southeast corner.” He gestured as she took more photos. “Got the plywood, flashed the insulation behind it, traveled up, took the roof.”
    She crouched, picked through debris with her gloved hands and pulled out the scorched remains of a snapshot. “Photographs. Pile of photos, probably the starter.”

    “Yeah. Little bonfire of photos. Fire travels up, travels out. Storage bags, clothes inside, storage boxes, decorations inside, fueled it, carrying it down the stairs. Ventilated by the open window and the open door.”
    “Have you checked for prints? Door handle, around the window frame?”
    “Waiting for you.”
    “Had a nice chat with the neighbor. Guess who likes to hook school?”
    O’Donnell leaned back on his haunches. “Is that so?”
    “Young Trevor Parker’s been truant six times in the last three months. On the day of the fire, he was tardy, came in between eleven and eleven-thirty. Had a note,” she added, “claiming he’d had a doctor’s appointment.”
    She began to check for prints on the burned wood of the window frame. “The school has the students’ medical information on record and was persuaded to give me the name of Trevor’s pediatrician. He didn’t have an appointment on the day in question.”
    “Nothing in the report about that either,” O’Donnell pointed out. “Both adults were at work, until they were notified of the fire.”
    “Got a thumbprint here. Small. Looks like a kid’s to me.”
    “I guess we’d better go have a talk with the Parkers.”
    E lla Parker was a buff and stylish thirty-eight. She was a senior vice president in marketing for a local firm, and came in to the station house carrying a Gucci briefcase. Her husband was her counterpart, heading the procurement department for a research and development organization.
    He wore a Rolex and Italian loafers.
    They’d brought Trevor with them, as requested. He was a small and wiry nine wearing two-hundred-dollar high-tops and a sullen expression.
    “We appreciate you coming in,” O’Donnell began.
    “If you have a progress report, we want to hear it.” Ella set her briefcase on the conference table in front of her. “We’re dealing with insurance and estimates. We need to get back in the house as soon as possible so we can start repairs.”

    “Understood. While we’ve determined the cause of the fire, there are still questions to be addressed.”
    “I assume you’ve