Fireproof

I’ll make sure no one—and I mean no one—will hire you ever again, as a chimney sweep let alone a firefighter.”
    The tight smile showed bright teeth but the eyes were cold blue marbles when he added, “You think you can try and remember that, son?”
    “Yes, sir.”

CHAPTER 12

    WASHINGTON, D.C .
    R. J. Tully fingered the small cartridge in his trench coat’s pocket. The camerawoman had handed it over too easily. Even offered that the live feed would have been recorded at the station and could be viewed there.
    Now, as Tully looked down at the body beside the Dumpster, he doubted there would be much to see on the film. This killer had done all his dirty work well in advance of the fire. Tully didn’t need any experts to point out the trail of accelerant that had been poured along the side of the building. Black cinder marked the brick wall and he could still smell gasoline.
    Judging by this and the timing of the second blast, both fires had been carefully orchestrated. Chances were, the guy was long gone. Maybe even home watching on TV, enjoying from the warmth of his living room the same film footage Tully now had in his pocket. But gut instinct gnawed at Tully. He still believed the guy who started the fire was here tonight, watching and enjoying the chaos.
    “We can’t assume she belongs with the building.”
    Really? Tully wanted to say but stayed quiet.
    He’d met Brad Ivan, the investigator for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, only last week, and already the man’s talent for stating the obvious grated on Tully’s nerves. It didn’t help matters that he had an irritating nasal voice. His upper lip disappeared when Ivan was deep in thought. He tucked it under his bottom teeth, a nervous gesture that made him look like a horse chomping down on a bit.
    “I don’t think he killed her here,” Racine said, and both men stared at her. It took her a minute to realize that they were waiting for an explanation. She waved a thumb over her shoulder to the opening in the alley. “This whole block is hotel homeless. Same as last week’s fires.” She said it like she couldn’t believe neither of them had noticed. “First of all, she’s not homeless.” She pointed to the woman’s feet. “Not with that pedicure. It took some time to bash the face in like that. Somebody would have heard or seen it.”
    “And they wouldn’t have heard someone dragging and dumping a body?” Ivan blew out a breath of disbelief.
    “No dragging necessary. Pull a car up to the Dumpster. Open the trunk. Lift and dump.” She brushed her hands together. “Takes five, ten minutes. Not much to notice. He just drives out the other side of the alley and is on his way.”
    Tully nodded. Times like this he appreciated Racine’s no-nonsense theories. It made Ivan’s slow, analytical process sound as off-key as Ivan was. Sometimes a spade was a spade even after all the tests and assessments and studies.
    Ivan put his hand to his chin—another mannerism that grated on Tully’s patience—closed fist, bent index finger jutting out, creating a perfect shelf for the square dimpled chin. No answer. Not even a nod.
    “I’ve got a couple uniforms already talking to the regulars.” Racine didn’t wait for agreement. Tully knew she could care less what Ivan thought.
    “Think they’ll be willing to share information?” Tully asked.
    “Those who aren’t too stoned or tripped out will. These alleys are their homes. May seem odd, but it’s not all that easy for them to relocate. Downtown’s gotten awfully crowded and businesses have cracked down. The Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial Library is close by. That’s where the buses load.”
    “Buses?” Ivan asked.
    “The District operates a free mini-Metro for the homeless.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “Most of the soup kitchens and social service offices are still downtown. It’s about a five-mile walk. When the District moved some of the sleep shelters here they added the buses because there’s no place to get a free meal out here.”
    “So they come to this neighborhood to sleep, then have to commute downtown if they want a meal?” Tully just shook his head. Only in the District did that make sense. He remembered thinking his trench coat hadn’t been warm enough. The weather had been nice for February, but he couldn’t imagine sleeping on the street all night.
    “The homeless have to work at staying homeless, huh?” Ivan actually