“My colleagues are perfectly well qualified to respond to a standard house fire,” says Wally. He takes a slow, dramatic step closer, his big arms crossing menacingly. “But you and I both know this was no standard house fire.”
“Oh, wedo, do we?” says Lesley. “And here I thought you were the genius and I was just the nuisance.”
“Ordinarily, yes. But today you’ve got the chance to be helpful for once.” Wally pulls a small notepad from his inside jacket pocket. “I’m sure you won’t mind if I ask you a few questions about the incident.”
“Wish I could,” says Lesley. “Only I’ve been told to stay out of official police business.”
Wally chuckles darkly. “I think we can make an exception, just this once. How about this: You tell me what I want to know,and Idon’ttake action on the list of punishable offenses you’ve committed over the years?”
As the two of them glower at each other, Grant leans over toward me. “Why do I get the feeling Anna is writing this while some corny cop show plays in the background?”
The loaded stare-down shows no signs of letting up.
“That or a bad porno,” I mutter, before getting to my feet to open the front door. “All right, you two. Let’s get this tough-guy showdown over with.”
• • •
HALF AN HOURlater in the study, Wally and Lesley are facing off across the coffee table while Grant and Lissa and I stand around the fringes of the room. The futility of the whole thing has been almost physically painful to watch; Wally’s intimidation tactics are nothing compared to Lesley’s knack for unhelpful answers. It’s like watching two people play tennis, only if instead of hitting the ball back one of the players kept catching it and throwing it in the garbage.
“What were you doing when the fire broke out?” asks Wally.
“Trying not to get burned,” says Lesley.
“Did you have anything to do with the fire?”
“Yes, if you count almost getting burned.”
“The building in question was described as yoursecond residence. Tell me, what is the purpose of having more than one residence?”
“So I have a backup in case one explodes.”
Wally’s smirk gets a little tighter with each question, his posture growing ever so slightly more rigid. Still, his composure is impressive.
“Is there anything you expect investigators will find at the scene of the fire?” he asks. “Anything damning you’d like to get off your chest?”
“Possibly the remains of my silver medal from the Stupid Questions Olympics,” says Lesley. “But don’t worry, the gold is still safe with you.”
Wally leans forward, his eyes narrowing. “Are you trying to hide something?”
“Areyoutrying to hide something?”
Wally clicks his pen and starts scrawling in his notepad. “Suspect refuses to cooperate,” he says without looking at the page. “I could arrest you for that, you know.”
“Could he?” I whisper to Grant.
“Probably not,” he murmurs back. “But I don’t think anyone’s expecting procedural accuracy from Anna Matthews.”
Wally gets to his feet, tucking his notepad away. “You know what, mate? I’ve had enough. I don’t know what’s going on here, whether this is your doing or you’ve managed to get a target on your back, but clearly you’re still causing trouble. Congratulations, I’m fresh out of warnings. You want to get yourself killed? Get yourself killed. Have a blast.”
He storms out, pausing only to give me and Grant the evil eye and a seriously disapproving headshake on his way.
Lissa drifts to the sofa, still hollow-eyed as she slumps down next to Lesley. He looks around, taking in everyone’s sooty clothes and worried faces. “Now, then. It’s been quite a day. What do you say we all decompress with some lunch and a cuppa? My treat. You all just take a breather and get yourselves cleaned up.”
He pats Lissa’s knee, and she drops a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” she says shakily.
He gets to his feet and heads for the door, pausing only to brush ash off his purple jacket. He clicks his tongue at the mark it leaves.
“Versace,” he says with a disgruntled shake of his head, then disappears toward the kitchen.
