Smoke And Ashes

“Your gut is going to cost me thousands...and possibly cost you your job. You need to get your butt over to that scene and pull the men off the lines.”

He stared at the picture on the front page of the Missoulian. “I would, but I’d hate for the press to get the idea we aren’t doing our best to keep the public safe. I mean it would look bad if there was another fire, a fire where someone was killed.”

The phone rustled. “You’ve got thirty-six hours.”

The line went dead.

He slid his phone into his pocket. The pressure was on.

Kevin walked inside and a sixtysomething waitress strode up to him.

“Can I help you, sonny?” she asked in the raspy voice of a lifelong smoker.

“I’m looking for an Elke Goldstein. She work here?”

The woman frowned. “Waddya want with her?”

“I’m just here to talk with her. I’ll sit down and wait, if that’s okay.”

She grabbed a menu and led him to a table close to the kitchen door. “She’ll be right out. Coffee?”

He mostly wanted answers, but coffee would do for now. “Sure. Thanks.”

“Take it black?”

“Unless you can pour some of your sweetness in,” he joked.

“Oh, we got a charmer, do we?” The woman strode into the kitchen with a wide smile on her lips.

A minute later a mousy, brunette woman walked out and stopped beside his table. She had a nice face, but her eyes told him she was a woman who worked long hours and dreamed of something more.

“I’m Elke.” She scowled at him as she poured his coffee. “I know you?”

“The name’s Kevin Jensen. I’m a fire inspector for the city of Missoula.” He took a long drink of the ashy tasting coffee. “I was called to your house last night. Nice to meet you.”

She took a step back from the table and looked over her shoulder. “How’d you find me? I thought y’all weren’t going to bother me,” she said, her voice tinged with a slight Southern drawl.

“Battalion Chief Hiller told me you worked here.”

She nodded, but her body tensed and the pot in her hand shook slightly, sloshing the coffee. “He had no business tellin’ you. I didn’t have nothin’ to do with that fire.”

In the fire academy, one lesson had been drilled into him over and over: It didn’t matter what words came out of a person’s mouth, body language and demeanor were a much better indicator of someone’s guilt or innocence. Right now, Ms. Goldstein looked guilty. All he needed to figure out was whether she was guilty of setting the fire or guilty of something else.

“I’m sure you didn’t have anything to do with it,” he lied. “I just need to ask you a few questions so we can make sure you get the money you are entitled to from your insurance company.” He paused as he let the bait sink in. “You do have insurance, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I think so...” She looked away as though she was trying to catch a memory that had drifted out of reach.