“Oh my God.” Roz jumped up and ran over to the firefighters. They were already suiting up in protective gear, and they listened and briefed her and told her to get as far away from the fire as possible, just in case.
“The fumes could be toxic, but it shouldn’t blow up again,” she informed Alden after she’d jogged across the big yard back to him. “They told us to stay far away. The wind is blowing the smoke out to sea, but maybe we should move out to the street.”
“Poor fish,” Alden said. “And what do I do with this guy? I’m not carrying him again.”
“Drag him?” Though Alden hauling the sad sack that was Craig had been pretty hot, all things considered.
An ambulance crew entered the gate on foot and made a beeline for them with a stretcher on wheels. Two familiar police officers came in right behind them.
“Duke,” Alden said dryly. “My hero.” He beckoned over the officers. “Here’s your killer. Can you take him off my hands?”
Alden stood to give them access to Craig, who groaned. “He basically admitted everything,” Alden said. “And he tried to kill me. And he almost killed Roz.”
Duke gave them both a look, as if to ask if they were sure, then nodded to Deputy Byrd. She secured Craig’s wrists before she let the medics roll him away.
“There’s an ambulance on the street,” she said. “You two OK?”
“Super,” Alden replied as they all walked toward the gate together. “But I’m just so sad.”
Roz gave him a sharp look as Duke asked, “Why?”
He gestured toward what was left of the garage. The flames were almost under control. “The Bentley.” He looked like he might actually shed a tear. “And the Mercedes!”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Roz said. “My car is toast!”
Alden stopped, looked around, and spotted the wreckage. “Oh, no. I’m sorry, Roz.”
She sighed. “It’s OK. We’re still alive.”
“You two are testing your luck this week,” Deputy Byrd said. “We’re going to need the whole story.”
“That’s right,” Duke said. “‘Basically admitted everything’ isn’t enough.”
“He indicated he sabotaged Wayne Vandershell’s vape pen,” Alden said, “and wired his car to explode.”
“Did you record it?” Duke asked.
Alden shook his head. “Not this time.”
“One more thing,” Roz interjected. “We think Wayne Vandershell tried to kill Sebastian. He stood to inherit all the money for the movie studio project and get the property for a song. I bet you’ll find evidence on his laptop.”
“We took a look at his laptop,” Deputy Byrd said. “There was a bunch of stuff in a folder labeled ‘script research’ about sabotaging small planes, particularly a Cessna 172.”
“Was using the wrong fuel one of the ways?” Roz asked.
“He’d highlighted that one,” Deputy Byrd replied. “We’ll have to talk to the NTSB. One of our people is looking at his financials.”
“And you’re going to want to talk to Enolia Honeywood,” Roz told them.
“After you beat the details out of Craig,” Alden added. “I can help with that if you want.”
Duke smirked. “We won’t beat him. But we’ll get it out of him.”
They passed through the gate. As they stood on the sidewalk, drivers slowed to gape and shoot videos—which reminded Roz to get a few shots of the fire with her phone.
She and Alden gave the deputies more details about Wayne and Enolia and the writer’s bonkers assistant. How Roz figured Craig’s expertise in explosives, and his lies about his background, suggested Alden might be walking into trouble. How Enolia had given Roz her Taser “just in case” when she went to investigate. And why the jealous and angry Craig wanted to kill Wayne.
As darkness fell and the firefighters doused the blaze, Duke retrieved Enolia, walking her out to the sidewalk.
