Missing: The Body of Evidence Page 3

  ‘How the hell?’

  The browser opened on the search page for spontaneous combustion. Sure I closed it. Maybe not. A glance around the room assured her there was nothing out of place. Get a grip. Nancy closed down the computer, turned off all the lights and retired to her bedroom for a quick shower before jumping into bed.

  Nancy was not one to feel insecure at home alone, but on this occasion, she lay there, trying not to move, or to make a sound. She listened intently, to the occasional rattle of water pipes, and to the noise of doors opening and closing in the other apartments. Her senses heightened to the extent that even the drips from the showerhead sounded like an explosion in her brain as they hit the tray.

  How in hell’s name could the other residents not hear the smoke alarm?

  Chapter 6

  Nancy gave one last glance around her apartment before heading out of the door, down the stairway and to her car. She cursed inwardly at the lack of sleep from the night before. All it would have taken, she thought, was for her to get out of bed and to tighten the control to the shower in the OFF position, but somehow, her exhaustion had pinned her to the bed. With an hour to spare before she was due at the fire department test lab, she headed for the professor’s apartment. Her foot pressed down hard on the gas pedal, but the engine did not respond as normal. She turned off the freeway, onto the road toward the professor’s apartment and then left into the cul-de-sac, where she stopped in front of the apartment block.

  The engine of her Ford spluttered on as she turned off the ignition. She hauled her aching body out of the driver’s seat and walked over to the apartments. The curtains at the janitor’s window moved.

  ‘Number five.’ It was the only apartment where the police officer had told her no one was at home on the day of the fire. Yesterday’s footwork had taught her a light tap on the door was not a recipe for success and she banged hard on the door.

  ‘What is it?’ a woman’s voice called out.

  The door opened slightly and stopped at the pull of a security chain. A woman’s face appeared in the chink.

  ‘Detective Roberts, LAPD. I need to ask a few questions about the professor from number seven.’

  A rattle of the chain and the door opened.

  ‘Come in, tragic accident. I saw it on the news when I got home from work. Lucky the whole place didn’t go up in flames.’

  ‘You work nights?’

  ‘For my sins... yes. How can I help?’

  ‘When was the last time you saw him?’

  ‘Around eleven in the evening when I set off for work, he was arguing with a young man at his door.’

  ‘What were they arguing about?’

  ‘I couldn’t tell. All I heard the professor say was to get some sleep and he needed to take him back in the morning. The professor gave him something from his pocket, sort of sleight of hand. The young guy dropped something and the professor picked it up. Then he slammed the door in the young man’s face.’

  Drugs? ‘Can you give me a description of the young man?’

  ‘Early twenties, he was wearing a dark-hooded top and baggie-black jeans. I didn’t see his face. The professor looked like he’d just returned home and he was carrying a Wal-Mart bag.’

  Nancy noted the details, jotting down the woman’s name and contact details.

  ‘Thanks, if I need anything else I’ll contact you.’

  Nancy turned, skipped down the stairway and made her way to the janitor’s apartment. There was no need to knock on the door; he stood in the doorway, his arms folded and a look of thunder on his face.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Were you expecting me? Can I come in?’

  He stood his ground. ‘I heard you arrive. Your car needs a service. I guessed you may have more questions.’

  ‘Can we talk inside? It will only take a few minutes.’

  He glanced over his shoulder down his hallway and back to her.

  ‘I suppose.’ He raised his voice. ‘But make it quick. I need to go out.’

  The stench was overpowering as she followed Kelly down the hallway.

  ‘The bat...’

  ‘Changed the battery last week. The fire officer checked my records.’

  ‘You told the officer you were making a coffee when you heard the alarm, but you told me the alarm woke you up.’

  ‘Yeah, what... what I meant was I was half asleep when I was making a coffee.’

  ‘Have you seen a young man hanging around, wearing a dark-hooded top and some black jeans?’

  He looked down and started to shuffle his feet. ‘No. Is that all you want? I have business to attend.’

  ‘Sure, that’s all, do you mind if I have a glass of water, then I can go. I doubt I’ll need to ask you anymore questions.’

  He looked relieved. Nancy experienced a strange feeling she was being watched and glanced around the room.

  ‘Kitchen’s that way.’ He pointed. ‘Rinse a glass out in the sink.’

  Nancy arrived in the kitchen, the sink was full of dirty dishes and the trash can was overflowing. The oven looked as though it had never seen a cleaning. There wasn’t a sign of a kettle, coffee, or cups and mugs, just empty beer cans strewn around the surfaces. She looked over her shoulder to make sure he wasn’t watching and stooped to lift the lid on the trash can. At the top, she noticed an empty lasagne package and a Wal-Mart bag. She turned to the sink and ran the tap, rinsed out a glass and put it back in the sink, not daring to take a drink. Nancy returned to the living room and faced Kelly. She stifled the notion to ask him where he bought the lasagne. It ran through her mind that thousands of the same brand of lasagne were sold every day at Wal-Mart.

  ‘Is that all, then?’

  ‘Er... Yeah. Fine thanks, I’ll let you get on with your business.’

  Holding her breath, she hurried through the living room, down the hallway and scurried out of the apartment. The door slammed behind her. Nancy breathed out and then she took a sharp intake of fresh air. Jesus, the filth some people live in. What do I do now about the lasagne? Nancy hesitated and sucked at her bottom lip. The idea that she had handled the situation badly weighed heavily on her mind. The lack of any sign of items to make coffee conflicted with his statement; this, together with the Wal-Mart bag and lasagne package was enough to give her cause for concern.

  Nancy sighed and she concluded her discovery was not of enough concern to arrest him, especially if his coffee equipment was there all along and tucked away in a cupboard. A glance at her wristwatch reminded her she was due at the fire department test centre and emptied her mind of her deliberations. Nancy headed for her car and decided it was best to run what she had found past Logan. Nancy shuddered at the distinct feeling she was being watched. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the curtains move at Kelly’s apartment window.

  Chapter 7

  The receptionist at the fire department laboratory escorted her through to the warehouse. Nancy shook hands with Rob, the fire investigator, but she couldn’t even look at Tracy, who likewise ignored her.

  ‘Okay, everything is set up for the experiment, follow me,’ he said.

  They walked toward a metal storage container at the centre of the warehouse. Nancy gulped. Inside, a strange unexpected sight greeted them. A dead pig wrapped in ill-fitting clothing sat upright in a chair similar to the armchair at the professor’s apartment. Furniture items arranged around the container mimicked those found at the professor’s home. There were steel tubes with probes sticking out at various positions leading back to the door. Wires led back to monitoring equipment outside the container.

  ‘Okay, were going to see if we can reproduce the candle-wick effect that we think took place at the apartment,’ Rob said

  Rob doused the clothing with some gasoline, took out a box of matches from his pocket and told them to go back to a painted line in the warehouse. Rob quickly joined them behind the line.

  ‘What about the door?’ Nancy asked. ‘The professor’s apartment door was clos
ed. The wires and pipes are preventing the door from closing on the container.’

  Tracy turned away with a disparaging sigh.

  ‘Good point. We’re not able to mimic the exact circumstances. Today is more about seeing the damage and smoke trail caused by the fire and trying to replicate the candle wick effect,’ said Rob.

  ‘How long will it take?’

  ‘It depends on the temperatures achieved. A crematorium oven can reach over one-thousand degrees and take two hours for a body to turn to ash and even then not all the bones turn to ash.’

  Rob and Tracy walked over to the monitors behind a screen; leaving Nancy feeling like a spare part that wasn’t needed. She knew the Boss wanted her to create some sort of dialogue with Tracy, but seeing as how Tracy wasn’t making it easy, she thought it best to let them get on with it.

  ‘Two hours is a long time, I’ll let you experts get on with it and call back after lunch,’ Nancy said.

  Rob acknowledged her with a thumbs-up, but Tracy kept her head buried in the data on the monitor screens. Nancy turned on her heels and came face to face with Blondie and his sidekick from the CIA. The sidekick thrust the apartment keys at her.

  ‘Find anything?’

  ‘Nothing to find.’ Blondie said. ‘Accident, like I said.’

  Nancy took the keys and watched as they lined up side by side, with their arms folded, at the yellow line on the warehouse floor. Nancy looked at the keys and across at Tracy who was still busy. I’ll give her the keys later. She decided to head to the Mall for lunch and some shopping therapy.

  ***

  Nancy finished her shrimp-salad sandwich and ordered another latte. The events surrounding the professor’s death kept nagging at her and she took a pen and notebook from her purse. She began to jot down bullet points of things that were bugging her. The lasagne purchase at the top of the list kept drawing her attention. The waitress arrived with the latte, but she pushed it to one side, left payment and a tip and set off for her car.

  In the parking lot, her cell phone rang and she answered. The line was bad, but she could see it was Kyle from the display.

  ‘Wha... doi... tonight.’

  ‘I can’t hear you, you’re breaking up.’ The phone went dead and she could see there was no signal.

  Her fingers tapped him a message back, to say she would call him later and she set off for the apartment. As she drove along the highway, she checked her cell phone on the seat beside her. The signal was strong and she pressed send. She turned off at the next intersection and arrived outside the apartment.

  The curtains twitched at number one, but she paid it no attention. She fished in her glove compartment, took out some evidence bags and exited her car. A quick climb up the stairway, she arrived at the doorway, put the key in the lock and opened the door. My God!

  The odour of fresh paintwork hit her in the hallway. Nancy checked all the rooms. No one would have guessed there had been a fire. It looked like a new apartment prepared for sale. The room was empty and every surface freshly painted. There was even a new smoke-detector alarm. Nancy went to the bedroom; the drawers in the walk-in-closet were empty and there were no clothes on the rack. The degree certificates had gone from the wall. Oh no. Her temper was self-evident as her cheeks flamed and her head pounded. If someone had given her a thermometer to hold, she felt like it would have exploded. She rushed to the kitchen, pulled out the trash can and pressed the pedal with the toe of her shoe. Ha... they missed it. ‘Oh... thank you.’

  She rolled her eyes to look at the ceiling. Nancy bagged the Wal-Mart receipt, gum wrapper and beans can separately. A glance around and she headed back to her car.

  In the sanctuary of her car, Nancy started to go over various scenarios in her mind until she could no longer think logically. Her head still pounded, and she pushed a CD into the player, started the engine with the ignition key and set off for the warehouse. I’m Flying Without Wings, blasted through the speakers, uplifted her spirit and despite the volume, her headache subsided.

  Nancy parked outside the warehouse and entered. The two CIA guys were still standing like statues, arms folded and with their toes exactly behind the line.

  ‘You decided to join us, then?’ Tracy asked.

  The stench in the warehouse was the same as that she had experienced in the apartment on the day of the incident. Nancy ignored Tracy and turned to Rob.

  ‘Well, how’d the experiment go?’

  ‘Best we talk about it in the office. It’s a bit toxic in here. It’ll take some time for the fan to clear the air.’

  They all made their way to the office and sat around a large table. Rob sat down and placed an armful of printouts on the table. Tracy placed a CD in the computer and pressed play.

  ‘We can definitely say there must have been a body in the apartment,’ said Tracy. ‘All the samples I have taken indicate that the yellowish-black residue from the fire, and that we replicated today, is the fat from the body. The bone of the foot hadn’t been severed and comparisons with other bone fragments found in other fires, indicate it had burned in situ.’

  Rob interjected.

  ‘If you look at the playback, which is in fast motion, you can see the effects of the heat on the surroundings and the candle-wick effect of the clothing burning the body fat. As you can see, none of the surrounding furniture is catching fire.’

  ‘What were the temperatures?’ asked Nancy.

  ‘One thousand-five-hundred degrees was the highest we recorded,’ Rob said.

  ‘I see the ceiling of the container is buckling. Wouldn’t that have caused the ceiling to burn through in the apartment ceiling?’ Nancy asked.

  ‘Well, we’re burning a pig here, so the body mass of a human body may have acted differently with lower temperatures,’ replied Rob.

  ‘And did it turn the pig to ash?’ asked Nancy.

  ‘Some of it… but not all.’

  ‘You poured gas on the pig’s clothing and lit it with a match. I thought there weren’t traces of accelerant found at the scene, or signs that he smoked?’

  ‘We’ve moved on since then,’ said Tracy, ‘the clothing we took from his closet showed traces of rubbing alcohol used for cleansing hands in hospitals. He could have used matches to light a cigarette or a cigar. There were traces of a wine glass smashed from the heat, maybe he had a drink, used the wine glass as an ashtray, fell asleep and. and there we have it, hey presto... our first case of apparent spontaneous combustion.’

  ‘There you are then, accident, like we said all along,’ said Blondie. ‘Case closed, we can all go home and the coroner can write it up.’

  Nancy wasn’t buying it. She glanced at the computer monitor, the time flashing away in the bottom left indicated approaching two hours, but most of the pig’s bones remained.

  ‘Tracy, can I have a word in private?’ Nancy asked. ‘We can talk on the way to my car.’

  ‘Sure, I think we’re finished here. I think I can guess what it is.’

  They headed for her car and Nancy walked slowly to give the CIA guys time to leave first.

  ‘This has nothing to do with you saying anything to Logan about me not wearing a cap at the scene.’

  Tracy’s face rouged.

  ‘What is it, then?’

  ‘I don’t buy this accident thing. Did you know the CIA have totally cleaned the crime scene and decorated all the rooms?’

  ‘Crime scene!’ Tracy shook her head. ‘You mean the apartment. Yes, they told me. They said if there is anything we need, they’ll share their findings with us.’

  ‘So you don’t find it strange?’

  ‘What do you want me to say? I don’t work on conspiracy theories... just facts.’

  They arrived at the car. Nancy opened her car door, leaned over the seat and took the evidence bags from the glove box.

  ‘What about the missing battery?’ Nancy asked.

  ‘Rob took it for testing. It still had a charge. He reckons it stopped working when the wires m
elted and short circuited.’

  ‘Then how come no one from whole block of apartments heard the alarm, except for the janitor?’

  Tracy looked unfazed.

  ‘Smoke alarms are internal. They’re only designed to alert the occupants of the apartment.’

  Nancy wondered if maybe Tracy should have slept in her apartment the night before and listened to the racket that she had heard, but she wasn’t about to debate on the subject of acoustics and sound travelling around apartments.

  ‘Okay, then there’s the timing. If two hours couldn’t incinerate pig bones, how come the alarm was still going when he’d turned to ash? It only took fifteen minutes for the fire department to arrive.’

  ‘You tell me, you’re the detective,’ said Tracy. ‘It isn’t every day we get to experience cases like this.’

  Nancy felt anger well up inside at Tracy’s apparent disinterest, but managed a smile in return.

  ‘I just collected these from the apartment; the clean-up guys missed them. Can you check out the gum wrapper to see if there are any traces of drugs? Oh, and a bean can from the trash can in the kitchen. It probably has the professor’s prints.’

  ‘The bean can okay, but why the wrapper?’ Asked Tracy and placed her hands on her hips.

  ‘Look, I can’t say anything until I’ve spoken to Logan. I want you to trust me on this. I have a strong hunch. There’s more to this than an accident.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say something in the team meeting?’

  ‘I don’t trust the CIA guys. That’s why.’

  Tracy laughed at first and then set a cold stare. Nancy flustered and felt a rage boiling inside her at Tracy’s indifference.