Neighing with Fire: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (23 page)

Chip dropped from the pull-up bars and approached, leaving a panting Bobby leaning against the poles behind him. “You done with my chef?” he asked, putting his arm around Aaron.

“He’s all yours,” she said. “Thank you, Aaron. I’m sorry about your friend.”

Chip disappeared inside with Aaron. Bobby dragged himself by, waved, and entered the firehouse behind them.

“So?” Jimmy asked once they were gone.

“Things are more complicated than I thought,” she said. “Aaron never said anything to you about what was going on?”

“Nope. Aaron’s always been a loyal friend. I think the thought of not being there for Michael when he needed help has been tough on him.”

She nodded. “I’m going to call Bill, see if he found out anything more about Fuentes,” she said, pulling out her phone and heading around the side of the building.

“Where are you going?” Jimmy asked.

“To the beach. I need to clear my head.” She whistled for Sparky. “Oh, by the way,” she said. “I found my quote.”

“Congratulations,” he said with a grin.

She marched toward the boardwalk at Dolphin Street. Truthfully, she wanted to talk to Bill away from the firehouse. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her men, but she didn’t need them worrying about what was going on with the Fuentes case when they should be focused on events at the firehouse … and seeing the ocean really did help her think.

“What’s up?” Bill asked, picking up on the second ring.

“I ran into Aaron,” she said. “You know, the guy who runs the barbecue stand who used to work for Denny?”

“What did he have to say?”

“Fuentes may have been dealing with personal problems. You get a chance to talk to Denny’s guys?”

“Yep.”

“I’m going to the beach to walk Sparky. You wanna compare notes?”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“I’ll be near the stairs at Dolphin Street,” she said and hung up. “Come on, boy,” she called to Sparky, and jogged toward the beach.

Sparky loped after her, tongue out and tail swinging in a circle. They crossed Lighthouse Drive, sprinted over the boardwalk, and down the stairs.

“Taking Sparky for a run?” one of the lifeguards called down from his chair.

“Just a short one,” she called back, and ran toward the surf and the hard wet sand. It would be good to shake out some of the tension in her neck.

Sparky dashed into the surf and then scampered out as the ocean washed up over his haunches. He ran in again and she stopped to let him have his fun playing in the waves. He was long overdue for a bath, maybe the seawater would help.

The waves washed toward her, stopping short of her feet, and she thought about Fuentes and how long he had been buried in the dune. If not for Tropical Storm Ana, he might still be there. He had clearly stumbled upon or become mixed up in something he shouldn’t have, something that—to the killer—had high stakes. The Snellings and Custis seemed capable of killing but, as far as Aaron knew, his friend had had nothing to do with the tour company owner or his son … which left Denny as the most likely culprit. Could Fuentes have been the rat Denny was certain was in his midst?

She shook her head, baffled, and dodged Sparky’s attempt to spray her with a shake of his fur. Maybe Bill would have some answers. She glanced at the stairs, saw him searching for her, and waved. He waved back and hiked toward her.

“Hey,” he said, reaching her.

“Hey,” she said, squinting up at him. It felt like forever since she had seen him. “Good to see you.”

“You, too,” he said with a smile. “Sparky’s enjoying himself.”

“If he comes too close, run. He’s planning to get you as wet as he is.”

“You wanna walk?” he asked, motioning up the beach.

She whistled for Sparky to join them. “So how’d it go with Denny’s men?”

“A lot of complaints, mostly about superficial work things.”

“And?”

“Denny’s guys knew more about his business than I would have thought employees would know.”

“How do you mean?”

“They knew about Denny’s attempts to grab Pinky’s land and that Snelling was after Denny’s company.”

“How is Snelling? Has he said anything more about why he killed Denny?”

“Not a word. He’s still refusing to talk to his father and the lawyer. He’ll be transferred to the detention center tomorrow.”

“Aaron told me Denny accused his crew of having a rat in their midst. Given that everyone seemed to know Snelling was trying to make a grab for Denny’s company, you think Denny suspected someone was spying on him and the business for Snelling?”

“It would make sense,” he said.

“What did the other guys say about Fuentes?”

“Everyone liked him and seemed kinda shook up by the whole thing.”

“Aaron had the same reaction,” she said.

“Some heard Fuentes and Denny had had a run in.”

“According to Aaron, Fuentes was upset about his mother being sick in Mexico. Maybe he wanted time off and Denny wouldn’t give it to him. Did the guys say what the fight was about?”

He shook his head. They walked in silence and dodged incoming waves.

“So,” Bill said. “About the wedding…”

“What about it?” she asked, yanked from her thoughts at his mention of a wedding.

“It’s the day after tomorrow. You ready for your duties?”

She peered up at him and caught him grinning. “What’s so amusing?”

“Nothing,” he said, putting on an innocent face.

“For your information, I’m all good to go. I even have my quote ready.” She yanked the paper with the quote from her back pocket and dangled it in front of him.

He attempted to grab the paper and she yanked it away. “You’re not going to let me hear what you found?” he asked, surprised.

“You’ll have to wait like everyone else.”

“Okay,” he said. He smiled at her affectionately and took her hand. “By the way, what time do you want me to pick you up?”

“What? Oh, I don’t know,” she said, distracted by the fact that they were now holding hands. They continued up the beach in silence, Sparky trotting beside them. They were the picture postcard of a happy couple walking down the beach … well, if that couple was a sheriff and a fire chief.

Chapter 21

“Agent Morgan’s
waiting to see you,” Jimmy said as she walked into the engine bay after her beach stroll with Bill.

She hurried toward the door. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I saw Bill’s pickup at the boardwalk. I figured you were busy.”

“Not that busy,” she said. “How long has he been here?”

“Not long. Relax. He’s been talking shop with the guys.”

“Right.” She entered the station. “Agent Morgan,” she said, moving to greet the arson investigator, who sat wedged between Chip and Kenny in the middle of the sofa.

“Ah. There you are,” Morgan said, extricating himself. “Thank you for the invitation, Chip. Most generous of you.”

Colleen motioned for Morgan to join her in the engine bay. “I wish you had called. I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“No. And for my time I’ve been rewarded with a wedding invitation.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, mortified that Chip would invite the busy investigator to his wedding. “I’m afraid Chip is rather excited.”

“As he should be.”

“Please don’t feel like you have to come.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked. “Mrs. Morgan will be thrilled.”

She raised her brows in surprise. Was the eccentric investigator seriously considering attending Chip’s wedding? Out of curiosity, she half wished he would. She’d love to meet the woman who was his other half.

“So,” he said. “You have evidence for me.”

She led him to her SUV. “I tried to collect it as best I could but there wasn’t much time.”

She popped open the back and uncovered the paint, brush, bottle, and Ziploc-enclosed cigarette. Morgan lifted the Ziploc bag and peered at the cigarette.

“Greg Snelling was smoking that before he was apprehended.”

“Matches or a lighter?” he asked. She gave him a puzzled look. “Did you see him light it?”

“No.”

He nodded, removed a pen from his pocket, and with it drew the paint can and bottle toward the edge of the vehicle. He waved his hand over the containers, sniffed the wafting air, and then straightened up.

“This isn’t your guy,” he said, and returned the pen to his pocket.

“Don’t you want to test it at the lab?”

“We’ll do that, of course, but this isn’t the accelerant.”

“Are you sure?”

“This proboscis has never been wrong.”

She didn’t want to question Morgan—he was one of the most well-respected arson investigators in North Carolina—but if he didn’t think the substances were consistent with their arson then they were back to square one.

He must have noticed her look of consternation. “If you don’t believe my nose, what about your dog’s? Sparky, isn’t it? You said he reacted to the house and car fire scenes. Did he have the same reaction to these substances?”

“I didn’t test it,” she said.

“Then let’s do that. Put it to the Sparky test. If his nose and my nose disagree I will reconsider.”

“Okay,” she said, figuring it was worth a shot.

“Wonderful. A little canine field test,” he said, almost giddy. He grabbed the items she had collected from the Tour-zilla parking lot and set them up in a row on the ground several feet apart from one another. “Summon our scientist.”

She suppressed a grin, spotted Sparky lounging in a hole he had dug by a bush, and whistled. He leapt from his hole and trotted toward them. When the dog was a few yards away, she held up her hand signaling him to stop. He cocked his head expectantly. There wasn’t anything better to a Border collie than being given a task. Morgan nodded.

“Sparky, come,” she said, and pointed to the objects on the ground.

Sparky dashed to the largest of the objects—the paint can—cautiously sniffed, then moved on to the next item. After inspecting the last item he moved to Agent Morgan, sniffed him, and wagged his tail. Nothing had evoked the response from the dog that he had had at the fires.

“I believe Sparky and I are in agreement,” Morgan said, and patted the dog on his rump. “Nevertheless, I will have these tested.”

“So the guy we have locked up isn’t our guy?” she asked.

“I’m not saying the guy you’ve got in custody didn’t do it. I’m saying this isn’t what he did it with.”

“But why would someone confess to a crime he didn’t commit?” she asked, now starting to doubt if Greg Snelling was their arsonist after all.

“You’ll have to ask him,” he said. “That’s a different kinda species altogether.”

He lifted some of the items from the ground and walked toward his car. She grabbed the rest and watched as he placed them into proper evidence collection containers.

“Tell me,” she said. “What would you say our guy is like? If you had to take a guess?”

“White male, early to late twenties, works outdoors…”

“That sounds like Snelling,” she said. But then again, it could be a lot of people. “Would you say he has issues with authority, like maybe his father?”

“Could be. I can tell you one thing … whoever set those fires certainly had problems with your victim.” Morgan slammed his trunk closed. “Well, I best be on my way.”

“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I know we’re a little out of the way.”

“Well worth it,” he said with a smile. “See you at the wedding.”

“Right,” she said, stepping aside with Sparky and waving as the agent drove off.

She had no idea why the man would attend a wedding of a complete stranger with his wife, but one thing she did know … she and Bill needed to question Greg Snelling again. She removed her phone from her pocket and dialed.

“Hey,” she said after Bill picked up. “You at your office?”

“What’s up?” he asked, sensing she had news.

“Morgan stopped by. He doesn’t think what I collected from the Tour-zilla location is what was used in the arson.”

“What are you saying?”

“I think we need to talk to Greg Snelling again, and I think we should have his father there.”

“He’s already refused to speak to his father,” Bill said. “I don’t see what—”

“Bill,” she said, interrupting. “I’m not sure we have the right guy.”

There was a pause on the other end and then … “How soon can you be here?”

“I’m on my way.”

Chapter 22

“This better be
worth my trip,” Snelling said to Bill and Colleen in the hallway of the Sheriff’s Department. “I’ve got a business to run.”

Colleen was amazed. Never had she met a father who cared so little for a son.

“Thank you for coming,” Bill said. “When do you think your lawyer will be here?”

“He’s not coming,” the Tour-zilla owner said.

“I’d advise you to—”

“I’m not paying no lawyer two-fifty an hour to be turned away again,” Snelling said, cutting him off. “So what is this about?”

“I spoke with the agent in charge of the arson investigation,” she said.

“We were hoping Greg could clear up some things for us before his transfer to detention,” Bill said.

“So why talk to me?”

“We can’t be certain,” she said, “but we believe there’s the possibility that your son didn’t set the fire.”

“What?”

“We’re not saying he’s innocent,” Bill said. “But if he is, do you have any idea why he’d confess to something he didn’t do?”

“Yeah,” the man said. “Because he’s a fool, that’s why.”

“Please, Mr. Snelling,” she said, losing patience. “Your son could be innocent. If so, we’d like to know why he’d confess to a crime he didn’t commit so we can catch the guy who did.”

“And we think that can happen if you to speak to him,” Bill said.

“We’ve been through this. He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

I wonder why, she thought. “Calling him an ‘idiot’ and ‘fool’ may not be helping.”

Snelling raised a brow. “Have you met my son?”

“Do you really want him to go to jail?” she asked, stunned by the man’s lack of feeling. “This is arson and murder.”

“The chief’s right,” Bill said. “These aren’t misdemeanors where he’ll be out in twelve months.”