Murder Had a Little Lamb (31 page)

I was already scanning the room, straining to see in the shadowy darkness.

“Lou?” I cried as I looked around frantically. “Where are you?” I tried desperately to locate my Dalmatian, who I knew wouldn’t be handling this well.

Sure enough, I found him cowering behind a chair.

“There you are, Lou,” I said as calmly as I could. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get out of here.
Fast.”

I grabbed my shaking dog’s collar and dragged him toward the door. I was glad I’d gotten into the habit of closing it before going to sleep, since doing so had kept my dogs inside the room with me. Ironically, it was a tip I’d picked up while talking to a firefighter. I’d really been struck by his claim that if a fire broke out, a closed wooden door could buy you an hour before the flames got into the room.

As I reached the door with both dogs in my grasp, I found myself remembering some of the other lessons I’d learned about how to react in a fire—but never in a million years thought I’d ever have to use.

Checking under a door before opening it, for one.

Even in the dim light from the window, I could see dark gray curls of the horrifying stuff wafting into the room. Which told me that opening it would mean letting even more smoke into the room.

Still, I had to get all of us out.

It was only then that I tuned in to the screeching that, up until this point, had been nothing more than background noise to a terrifying situation. I realized the ear-piercing noise was Prometheus’s frightened squawks.

My blue-and-gold macaw wasn’t the only one on the other side of that door. So were Cat and
Tinkerbell. Leilani, too, my helpless chameleon trapped in her tank.

And then I heard a loud, desperate mewing sound. One of my cats, probably Tink, begging to be let in.

Use the cat door! I thought, letting out a whimper of my own.

“I’m coming, Tink!” I cried.

Gingerly I touched the metal knob, using only my index finger.

“Ouch!” I screamed, pulling back my hand.

Lou immediately began to bark. In response, Max moaned even more loudly, his sturdy little body quaking.

Stay calm! I ordered myself. Even though my heart was pounding and my stomach was in knots, I knew the most important thing was not to panic.

Instead, I forced myself to focus on the lesson about how a hot metal knob usually means there are flames on the other side of the door.

In order to rescue the rest of my animals, I was going to have to find another way into the living room.

I whirled around and headed for the bedroom window, still carrying my quivering Westie in my arms and dragging my poor whimpering Dalmatian beside me. As I passed the small night table next to my bed, I noticed my cellphone. Balancing Max on my forearm, I grabbed it and stuck it into the elastic waistband of my underpants.

Thank goodness I live in a single-story building, I thought.

I let go of Lou’s collar long enough to push up the window, which was already partially open. He was
frightened enough that he stayed close to me. By resting Max on my arm once again, I managed to use both hands to pull off the screen.

“Okay, Max, out you go,” I ordered. I lifted him up to the window and gently dropped him down onto the lawn. Like most terriers, he was almost as smart as a human, and he immediately raced toward Betty’s house.

“You’re next, Lou.” I grabbed my terrified dog’s butt and boosted him up to the windowsill. His long, gangly legs flailed in a dozen different directions, yet with my help he somehow managed to crawl out after Max. He dropped to the ground, then took off, heading toward the wooded area behind the Big House.

As I stood at the window, watching him for a second or two, I could still hear Prometheus’s desperate squawks. I knew I had no choice but to get myself out next. I only hoped that once I did, I’d be able to figure out exactly where the fire was—and find a way to get my other animals out of the house.

Sliding through the window was easy. The dewy grass felt cool and comforting beneath my bare feet, and I realized for the first time what a relief it was to breathe in fresh air. But there was no time to waste. I ran away from the house, meanwhile dislodging my cellphone from my underwear.

Thank heaven for elastic! I thought, amazed that the phone had pretty much stayed in place.

With trembling fingers I dialed 9-1-1.

“There’s a fire!” I told the dispatcher as calmly as I could. “In Joshua’s Hollow. Here’s the address …”

Once I’d made the call, I stood outside on the lawn,
my mind racing. I knew that another rule about fires, probably the most important one, was that no one should ever go back inside a burning building.

But I also knew that four of my animals were just a few feet inside the door.

I studied the cottage, concentrating on the smoke surging upward from one section of the roof. It looked as if it was concentrated in the area of the kitchen. That meant there was a chance I could get in through the front door, grab my animals, and still get out …

I was still debating whether or not to break that all-important rule of fire safety when I noticed some movement, two small blurs at the side of the cottage.

“Thank God!” I cried with relief as I realized those blurs were actually balls of fur, one gray and one orange. My two cats had gotten themselves out, no doubt finally figuring out that escaping through the cat door, instead of waiting for me to help, was the best idea. And now that they were outside, they were both heading away from the fire.

That still left Prometheus and Leilani inside the burning building.

My mind was on overdrive, moving almost as fast as my heart. I can’t just leave them! I thought. Not when I’m ninety-nine percent sure I can dash inside, grab them, and get out.

Besides, I could see through the windows that the swirling black smoke inside the house kept growing thicker.

Even though I never actually made a conscious decision to go back inside the house, before I knew it I
was running toward the front door. This time, I anticipated the metal knob being hot, so I grabbed it with the bottom of my T-shirt. It didn’t move.

It’s locked! I thought, feelings of panic rising up inside me once again. Of course it’s locked. I’m the one who locked it before going to bed last night.

I dashed around to the side of the house, wondering if I’d be able to fit through the cat door Cat and Tink had used to get out.

And then I heard the shriek of sirens.

I had never heard anything more beautiful in my life.

I jogged toward the driveway, waving my arms in the air to be noticed by the driver of the red fire truck that was careening along the narrow driveway, its lights flashing and its sirens screaming. I was vaguely aware that I probably looked like a crazy lady. But at the moment, that was the least of my concerns.

“Anyone inside?” one of the firefighters demanded in a loud voice as he leaped off the side of the truck.

“Two animals,” I yelled back. “A parrot in a cage and a lizard in a tank. They’re right inside the front door, in the living room. Look to the left, about ten feet in.”

He was already dashing toward the front door, brandishing an ax.

I felt a nearly overwhelming mixture of emotions as I watched him smash the wooden door. All around him, the other firefighters were jumping off the truck, shouting to one another as they dragged thick, heavy hoses across the lawn.

I was relieved that help was here—and that in just a few seconds, my parrot and my chameleon would be rescued.

But I was also watching my home being destroyed—not only by the blows of an ax, but also by the flames that were now leaping upward through huge gashes in the roof.

“Move back!” one of the firefighters commanded, gesturing toward the huge stretch of lawn beyond the cottage.

I did as I was told, meanwhile keeping my eyes glued to the little house that I loved so dearly.

When I saw two of the firefighters emerge through the doorway, one carrying Leilani’s tank and the other bearing Prometheus, fluttering around wildly inside his cage, I dropped to the ground. It was only then that I let go of the flood of tears that had been building up inside.

In fact, I suddenly found myself crying hysterically as I finally let myself feel the fear I’d been fighting off since the moment I’d awakened.

I jumped when I felt a comforting arm around my shoulders.

“My God, Jessica! Are you all right?” Betty cried breathlessly.

I raised my eyes and saw that she was kneeling beside me, dressed in a bathrobe and slippers.

“I’m okay,” I assured her, swiping at the tears streaked across my cheeks. As I spoke, I could taste their saltiness on my lips.

“And the animals?”

“They’re all fine,” I said. “The cats and dogs are
running around the property somewhere. I pushed Max and Lou out through the bedroom window, and the cats escaped by themselves. The firefighters carried out Prometheus and Leilani.”

“So everyone is safe—which is all that matters.” Betty reached into the pocket of her bathrobe and pulled out a wad of tissues. “Here. Take these.”

“Thanks.”

Hugging me closer, she said, “It looks like they’re already getting the fire under control. Why don’t we go into the house?”

I just nodded, glad that I had someone there with me. The fact that Max suddenly appeared out of nowhere didn’t hurt, either.

“Max!” I cried, grabbing my Westie and burying my face in his soft white fur. “I’m so sorry you had to go through such a terrible experience!”

And then Lou was there, too, nudging me with his nose. As I turned to give him a hug, I saw that Winston was standing a few feet behind us. He was carrying Frederick in his arms, as if he’d wanted to make sure not to let his beloved dachshund out of his sight.

“Let’s all go inside,” Betty urged. “We can look for Tink and Cat after all the chaos dies down.”

Casting me a meaningful look, she added, “And trust me, Jessica. The chaos
will
die down.”

•   •   •

An hour later, Betty, Winston, and I sat in the kitchen, sipping cups of Betty’s famous whiskey-spiked tea. Max and Lou sat at my side, practically glommed
onto my legs, while Tink was nestled safe and sound in my lap. Cat, meanwhile, lay on the soft rug Betty had laid on the floor next to her.

A loud knock reminded us that this wasn’t your ordinary tea party.

“It looks like the police,” Betty said, craning her neck to see out the window.

I dashed across the room past Prometheus’s cage and Leilani’s tank and opened the back door. Standing there was a balding middle-aged man with a ruddy complexion, dressed in a jacket and tie.

“I’m Detective Dan O’Reilly,” he said somberly, flashing a badge. “Arson Squad.”

“Arson?” I squawked. I had just assumed that the fire in the cottage was the result of faulty wiring, since the building’s electrical system was probably in as bad shape as its plumbing.

“It’s standard procedure for us to check out the cause of every fire,” he informed me. “Are you the resident?”

After he stepped inside, we all introduced ourselves, with Betty explaining that she and Winston were the owners and I was the tenant. Once Detective O’Reilly had established that we all had a stake in the building that had just been destroyed, he said, “It’s too early to give a full report, but I looked around enough to get a pretty good idea of what happened here.”

From the grim expression on his face, I had a feeling he was about to confirm what I’d already concluded.

So I was braced for the worst when he said, “It looks like arson, all right. A really amateurish job,
too. We found a plastic container of gasoline we’re going to dust for prints. Hopefully that will help us find the person who did this.”

Even so, his words sent a chill running through me.

Arson? Committed by an amateur?

Instantly the name Serena Garcia filled my head.

A sick feeling came over me as I replayed Beanie’s words: “I heard she burned the guy’s house down—with him in it!”

At the time, I’d found her claim impossible to believe. Even Serena’s belief that the Santeria god of fire was her orisha hadn’t convinced me.

Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure.

As for what Serena’s motive might have been, the most obvious one was that she was trying to scare me away from the investigation—the reason being that I was getting dangerously close to discovering that either she or her daughter had killed Nathaniel Stibbins.

Or perhaps she had been trying to do more than scare me. Maybe her goal had been to get rid of me—this time, for reasons that had nothing to do with any Santeria ritual.

I sat in silence, debating whether or not to say anything to Detective O’Reilly. Yet even as he handed a business card to each one of us, inviting us to call him if we had any information about the incident, I recognized the danger of bringing up Beanie’s unproven claims.

Instead, I resolved to work even harder to determine the identity of the person who had committed not only murder, but also arson.

A few minutes later, I was still ruminating about what my next step should be when the crunch of tires caused me to glance out the kitchen window. As soon as I saw the familiar black Maxima pulling into my driveway, I mumbled something to Betty and Winston and flew out of the house.

Yet I didn’t know what to think about Nick’s arrival—even though his expression as he climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind him was one of deep concern.

“Jessie!” he cried when he spotted me. “Are you all right?”

I didn’t answer. I was too busy running across the lawn. When I reached him, I threw my arms around him. He immediately enveloped me in his.

“I’m fine,” I finally said, my voice breathless. “Just a little shaken up.”

“And the animals?”

I pulled away just enough that he could see me nod. Between my shock over seeing him and the sudden thickness in my throat, I was having trouble speaking.

“They all got out okay,” I finally said, choking out the words.

I was back to hugging him as he said, “Jessie, I felt sick when I heard.” His voice was muffled by the fact that his mouth was buried in my hair. “I freaked out when Betty called to tell me what happened.”