Page 76 of Love Again

Kevin Barr squirms in his chair and sticks a fresh toothpick into his mouth. “Why are you showing this to me? You’re acting like I had something to do with these.”

Mateus’s voice is soothing, as if they’re only chatting. “Well, you did, right? You do have information about them?”

“Hell no. I don’t even like matches. I burned my hand once as a kid,” he says and holds up his left hand. A two-inch scar runs from his pinky over the back of his hand and disappears under his thumb.

“These five fires are all linked to your father, your family. There’s motive.”

“Bullshit,” he says, though Mateus shifts his weight a little and moves closer. The guy is a profiler, and he’s caught something I didn’t see.

“No, not bullshit. Real shit. We’ve checked the records. Your father was in court when these buildings went up. So, I’ll ask again: what do you know about these fires.”

This time, the sentence is framed like a statement, not a question.

“Who’s he?” says Kevin, all of a sudden pointing at me. “Why is he here? Maybe I should have a lawyer. My dad’s gonna shit his pants when he finds out I’ve been hauled in again.”

“This is Luke Walker. He’s a fire investigator with the county, and he’s working with the Rockland police and the Saxton’s Bay Fire Department in the connection between these fires.”

“How can you do that? Different places, different counties.”

I clear my throat. “I’m not too sure how you know that,” I say. “You’re right, they’re all in different counties. But in each case, your father was either renting the building or owned the building, or there was another family member who had a connection to the building. They all went up. It makes sense to speak to both of you.”

Kevin’s figured out he’s not supposed to know too much. The fact we never told him where these were is damning right there. I’m sure everyone on the other side of the glass caught this.

“When?” he asks

“When?”

“When did all these places get torched?”

“Within the last ten months.”

Kevin nods, but there’s something else there too. He picks up a photo of the storage facility and compares it with the house fire in Camden. I can’t put my finger on what’s in his face, and then I see it. Pride.

I lean forward slightly. “What’s your relationship with Detective Carlson?”

Kevin’s jaw is set. “What do you mean? He’s out to get me, that’s what I think. He’ll use me however he wants until something happens, then he’ll throw me under the bus. Is this being recorded? I want this all recorded for my own protection.”

Mateus’s face remains impassive. “Do you know anything about the night his houseboat went up in flames?”

“He’s watching through that glass, right?” He smirks. “I was at work in Camden. I was cooking at Captain Chowderhead’s. He already asked me about that.”

“And you were there the whole night?”

“Yep.” Kevin rubs his hands on his pants and cracks his neck. He’s got a wallet chain that rings against the back of the metal chair every time he moves.

“You read about it, then.” Mateus is going for something, but I can’t quite figure out what.

“Yeah. Well, no. My dad told me about it and then word was out. You know, a detective’s houseboat goes up—”

“In flames. And there are rags found,” Mateus ticks off facts.

“In the water,” I add.

Mateus narrows his eyes. “You don’t know where those came from?”

“Like I told him, I know nothing. I was slopping chowder into bread bowls.”

“And this,” I say, setting the small glass specimen jar down on the table.