Cole Fire, page 18
To his surprise, he broke his fall with his good leg and rolled to the ground without further injury to his ankle. Wiltz stood, dusted himself off, and made his way to the back alley.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” a policeman yelled as Wiltz entered the alley behind the building.
“I just wanted a better look,” Wiltz said. His tongue felt thick and his speech seemed slurred.
“Get the hell out of here! What are you, nuts? This is a major blaze. Go on, get out of here!” The policeman began moving toward Wiltz. He couldn’t let him near, he would certainly smell the gasoline that had splashed on him.
“No problem, officer. No problem. I’m going. I’m going.” Wiltz threw his hands up over his head in exaggerated surrender, turned away from the policeman, and moved toward the street beyond.
The inside of Wiltz’s car reeked of gasoline. His clothes were soaked. The gas, combined with the liniment, were a heady mix that made him light-headed. The Vicodin dulled his pain and clouded his thoughts. Drive, he thought. Just get home.
Driving was difficult. He used his left foot on the accelerator because his right simply wouldn’t bend. It was slow going, but he finally turned onto his street. Wiltz sighed with relief as the garage door rolled up.
He turned the engine off and sat for a long while before hitting the button to close the garage door. He made his way into the house with the single thought of lying down pushing him on.
Wiltz stopped just inside the door. The light was on in the kitchen. He was sure he had turned it off. He moved to the living room, the light on the overhead fan was on, a light he never used. The sight in front of him paralyzed Wiltz.
“What are you doing here?”
“Welcome home, sweetheart, where have you been?”
TWELVE
“You need to leave.” Wiltz was firm, but he was trying desperately to hide his anger.
“I am home. We will make a home together, you’ll see. We can be happy together.”
“Terri, I know I upset you,” Wiltz was struggling through the Vicodin to find the right words.
The sight of Terri as she sat on his couch in a filmy negligée unnerved Wiltz. He was in a situation that, without the pain and floating effect of the drugs, would have been hard to deal with.
“We can talk about this some other time.”
“No need.” Terri gave Wiltz a big smile, but there was no joy in her eyes.
“Look, I’m not feeling well,” Wiltz offered.
“You do look a mess, sweetie. Let’s take a shower and see if we can make you feel all better,” Terri said, seductively. She stood and let her thin translucent outer layer drop to the floor, revealing a sheer nightgown.
“No, that’s not going to happen. It’s time for you to go.”
“What is it about me that repulses you so?” Terri growled as she glared at Wiltz. “You are exhibiting very strange behavior lately for a counselor. My counselor is always kind to me. When I tell him about you, he always says, “Just might be the one.” She spun so fast it startled Wiltz. “I was looking around, straightening up, you know? I found some curious things.”
Terri moved to the end of the couch. She held up two catheter packages, and a medical disinfectant pad. “What have we here?” She tossed the items onto the couch. “And what does a man who lives in a town house need with so much gasoline?” She bent and picked up a gas can in each hand.
The red plastic containers seemed weightless to Terri as she tossed them on the couch. Wiltz blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening. It was then that he realized they were empty.
“You really do need a shower, darling. Frankly, you reek of gasoline.” Terri picked up the funnel and hose Wiltz had fashioned before the first fire. “What in the world is this thing?”
“Look, you are a lovely person, quite beautiful, in fact. But you have to realize, I, I, I cannot perform as you would like.”
“Of course you can. No need to be shy or nervous because you’re out of practice,” Terri said reassuringly.
Wiltz felt a rush of empowerment from the confession. For a moment he was fully lucid. A thought came to him and he acted on it. “Look!” he shouted, as he undid his pants and let them drop to the floor. “Happy now?”
Terri stood motionless, staring at the scars and discoloration of Wiltz’s groin. The thin elastic strap around his waist held a clamp tightly against his pelvic muscle below his navel. Fastened to it was the clear plastic tube of a catheter. The tube came from a round plastic stoma in the musculature of the genital wall. There was nothing else there but scars.
“My God, what happened to you?” Terri said in complete shock and revulsion.
“Vietnam! Bombs! War!” Wiltz screamed. “Now will you go?”
Terri walked to where Wiltz stood. Tears were now streaming down his face. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He could feel the softness of her breasts as she pressed against him.
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t live without you,” Terri whispered. “But you have ruined it. You set those fires. I know you did,” she whispered hoarsely, as she squeezed him tighter. “They will put you away forever, and I will be alone again.”
With a sudden powerful shove, Terri toppled Wiltz. She moved to the couch and felt along the edge of the cushion. Wiltz rolled onto his side, trying to get up. The carpet was wet. He smelled his hand. Gas!
“What have you done?” Wiltz said in horror.
“I found a way for you to be punished, and us to still be together.” Terri turned, and found what she was looking for.
“This is crazy,” Wiltz pleaded.
“You should know, you’re the counselor!” Terri chirped sweetly.
“Terri, please. I set the fires. You’re right. They had to pay for what they did to me. But you, you haven’t done anything. Leave. Call the police if you want. I’m ready to face my punishment. You don’t have to do this.” Wiltz was on his knees, frantically trying to stand. His injured ankle wouldn’t allow it.
“Oh, darling, we are so far beyond that.”
Between her fingers Terri rotated a cheap blue Bic lighter. In one graceful movement she flicked the lighter and knelt to the floor. The carpet ignited instantly and flames raced across the floor. The couch and curtains erupted in orange flames. Wiltz’s gas-soaked clothing went up like a match. He screamed in agony. The last thing Donald Wiltz saw was the pale pink nightgown melt against Terri’s skin as she stood motionless before him.
* * *
“Good morning, chief!” Hanna set a steaming mug of mocha before Cole. “That was quite a day yesterday. Tough act to follow.”
“Fits and starts, that’s the news business. Today will be as dull as dishwater.” Cole lifted the mug in a silent toast.
The phone on Hanna’s desk began to ring. “So it begins, she smiled.
“I got it,” Cole reached for the phone. “Sage.”
“Bright and early. Nice to see you back in the groove,” said Leonard Chin.
“Oh good, I’ve been waiting for your call.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t you get my message?”
“No, I called about the fingerprints on the pipe. They just came back from the lab.”
“You got a hit?”
“Yeah, your thumper is a counselor at the VA hospital.”
“Donald Wiltz?” Cole said, blowing across the top of his steaming coffee.
“How did you know that?”
“That’s why I called you. My guy found him through the records of the Army press office. He was in Vietnam the same time I worked there. He said I was a condescending smartass in Saigon. Can you imagine?”
“Only the location has changed to protect the innocent,” Chin scoffed. “We’re going to go pick him up. You want to ride along? Pretend you’re going to ID your attacker?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Pick you up out front in ten?”
“Great.”
“Randy was right!” Cole called through the door.
“Wiltz is the arsonist?” Hanna replied.
“Yes, but how about him pounding on my head?” Cole inquired.
“Does it still hurt?”
“Not really,” replied Cole.
“Old news,” Hanna said distractedly from the outer office.
“Can’t fire her, she makes too good a cup of mocha.” Cole took a sip of his mocha and shrugged. “A little sympathy would still be nice.”
By the time Lieutenant Leonard Chin picked up Cole at the Chronicle building, he had already called the VA Hospital to see if Donald Wiltz was in. He was not, Chin was told, and neither was his secretary.
“Looks like we’ll be going to the home address,” Chin greeted Cole. “He didn’t show for work and neither did his secretary.”
“Think we got a runner?”
“Could be.” Chin hit the lights on his Crown Victoria.
“Thanks for letting me ride along.” Cole buckled his seatbelt.
“No problem, I gotta throw you a bone now and then, so when I ask questions you give me a truthful answer.” Chin looked straight ahead.
‘Like?” Cole figured there was no need to prolong the inevitable.
“How much do you know about the whole Jesse Monday mess?”
“Not much printable. Mostly hearsay, really. I do have a pretty credible witness that believes the whole thing was staged. It’s pretty much universally held that Monday’s right-hand man, Skeeter Evans, is a force for evil, not the high-minded spiritual message they espouse.”
“In English for us poor second-language learners.”
“He’s behind the whole deal—bribes, staging, and fake news releases. You name it, it was his baby.”
“So where is Monday?”
“My best guess? He’s in the wind. He reneged on the deal, Skeeter is furious and will go on without him. He’s got the money. What is it you always tell me? Follow the money?”
Chin hit the siren and nearly sideswiped a taxi that wasn’t pulling over fast enough to suit him. “How much money you figure they have?”
“Hard to tell. It’s an all-cash business. Lot of sources, and a lot of KFC buckets passed around. Could be substantial.”
“And I thought monks were free-loaders.” Chin said sarcastically.
The two rode in silence for a while.
“What do you have for back-up?” Cole asked.
“What, badass Sage scared?”
“We are dealing with someone who has obviously had a psychotic break. No telling what he’s capable of.”
“I’ve got two cruisers on their way. No lights or sirens. I told them to stay back until we make contact. Geez, Cole, you think this is my first rodeo?”
“I heard the guy talk. Eight on a ten scale for delusional.”
“What have we here?” Chin interrupted.
As they turned the corner onto Wiltz’s street, the area was cordoned off and there were three fire trucks and several black-and-whites. A building to the left of them was heavily fire-damaged.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Chin said, leaning over his steering wheel as he approached a uniformed officer.
“Morning, Lieutenant.”
“What the hell is all this?”
“House fire. Called in around two-thirty. Been out for several hours but the coroner, fire inspector and Homicide are taking a close look.”
“Got a name?”
“No, sir.”
“Is it 1218?” Chin asked.
“I believe that would be correct, sir.”
“You believe this?” Chin said to Cole.
“Live by the sword?” Cole said.
“Got a spot for me?” Chin asked the patrolman.
“To the right, in front of the Chief’s car, I think there is room.” The officer moved the barricade and Chin drove through.
“No questions, if you please.”
“Got it,” Cole said.
From the middle of the street where they stood, Cole could see the fire had done a lot of interior damage, but structurally, it still looks sound.
“Looks like they got here pretty quick,” Cole observed.
“Yeah, the top floor is still in pretty good shape.”
A graying man with a brush cut approached the pair.
“Hey, Len, what brings you here?”
“I thought I was going to make an arrest.”
“No shit? What charges?”
“Arson,” Chin said, not wanting to play up the irony.
“You’re kidding? That’s...”
“Yeah, I know. So who’s in charge?”
“Hearns. He’ll be thrilled to see you. Fire’s aren’t his thing.”
“Thanks, Sal.”
“No problem.”
Water and hoses still covered the street. Several firefighters stood around a large truck drinking coffee. Their yellow fire suits were covered in soot. There was a calm over the scene, and most of the crew were either silent or chatting in lowered voices.
Chin and Cole crossed the driveway to the front walk. The front window had blown glass all over the small patch of grass in front of the townhouse. Through the window three men could be seen in the bright rays of the morning sun.
“Dean, you in here?” Chin called ahead, knowing full well Dean Hearns was in the house.
“Back here,” came the reply.
“Chin, what are you doing here?” Hearns asked, as they made their way across the soggy remnants of carpet to the kitchen area.
“I thought I was going to make an arrest.”
“And him?”
“He thought he was going to make the ID.”
“That’ll take dental records, I’m afraid. You got an open file on this?”
“‘Fraid so.”
“Then it’s all yours, my friend.”
“Gents, I think you know Lieutenant Leonard Chin, and his evil twin, Cole Sage,” Hearns said, doing the introductions.
“Good morning,” the coroner and fire captain said almost in unison.
“Can we take a look at what you’ve got?”
The four men went across the small dining area to what was the living room.
“Hope you have a strong stomach, Mr. Sage.” The fire captain’s comment gave Cole a strong sense of déjà vu.
The living room was like a surreal charcoal sketch. The room was awash in light from the sliding door. Shade upon shade of black and gray nearly hid the focus of the investigation, the two bodies.
For a long moment, Leonard Chin stood taking in the scene. Cole’s eyes were drawn to the carbon mass near the center of the floor. Obviously, a human form, but the extent of the fire’s destruction was unlike anything in Cole’s experience. If it was indeed Donald Wiltz, he bore an eerie resemblance to the lava-covered victims of the Pompeii volcano, except black as coal. One hand seemed to be reaching out. The body that the coroner would confirm was a woman seemed to have fallen straight back against the couch, rigid, like a statue of charcoal fallen from its stand.
“Can you walk us through the scene?” Chin asked the fire captain.
“The room was literally soaked in accelerant, probably gasoline. From the looks of it, the point of ignition was near the woman’s feet. See the circle there,” he indicated a bare spot the size of a pie tin burned through to the cement below. “We found the metal top of a lighter. So the fuel in the lighter combined with the gas, burned hot enough just long enough to create that pattern. The two masses on what’s left of the couch are gas cans. They burn differently than regular polyethylene. All this will have to be verified by the lab, but I’ll bet a month of Krispy Kremes I’m right.”
The fire chief moved to the end of the couch. “Take a look at this. It appears the woman was wearing little, if anything. There is no underwire or clasps from a bra, no zippers, just this thin film melted to her. I’m betting a very thin nightgown.” He flicked at the material with the tip if a pen.
“Why is she stiff like that?” Chin asked.
“That’s the weird part. Look at him. On the floor, reaching, stretched out, toward the woman, if you will. Yet she is, pardon the pun, stiff as a board. It’s like she stood for quite a while and burned before falling over. Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Can you do a tox-screen on someone this far gone?” Chin asked the Coroner.
“Believe it or not, the chest and thoracic area are still in pretty good shape, enough I’m sure, to get at least a partial on stomach content, maybe even a liver sample.”
“Can we get upstairs?”
“I can save you some time. There is one bedroom with a connected bath. No clothes, no decorations, no toiletries, looks totally unused. This one down here appears to have been occupied by whoever lived here, we are assuming the man at this point. You’re welcome to take a look. We’re pretty much wrapped up here. Since it is a murder-suicide, dual suicide, or whatever, we will need your OK to remove the bodies.”
“Did you get plenty of pictures?” Chin asked.
“Tons.”
“I’m good, just send me what you got. Chief, are you satisfied there was no outside help on this mess?” Chin queried.
“No, she lit the fire and that poor sucker couldn’t get out. Way too much accelerant. It burned hot as hell, for a minute or two, blew out the window, and the fire retardant in the carpet, drapes and furnishings kept the fire to a melting smolder until our guys arrived. Eleven minutes from the time of the first call.”
“I’ll take a peek at the bedroom, but it seems pretty cut and dried what we have here. She torched the place and he paid the price.” Chin turned toward the bedroom. “Got any questions? You’ll be the one with the first shot at this,” Chin said to Cole.
“Nope, I’m good. Thank you, gentlemen,” Cole offered, extending his hand to the chief and then the coroner.
