Night Smoke - Night Tales 4 Part 9

He was so cold about it, she thought. Maybe he had to be. "You have a miserable job, Inspector."

"That's why I love it." He glanced around as the outer door opened. "Have a seat. I'll be right with you." Ry pulled the office door closed before he turned to the uniformed fire fighter who'd come in behind him.

Through the gla.s.s, Natalie could hear the mutter of voices. She didn't need to hear Ry raise his voice-as he soon did-to know that the young fireman was receiving a first-cla.s.s dressing-down.

"Who told you to ventilate that wall, probie?"

"Sir, I thought-"

"Probies don't think. You're not smart enough to think. If you were, you'd know what fresh air does for a fire. You'd know what happens when you let it in and there's a d.a.m.n puddle of fuel oil slos.h.i.+ng under your boots."

"Yes, sir. I know, sir. I didn't see it. The smoke-"

"You'd better learn to see through smoke. You'd better learn to see through everything. And when the fire goes into the frigging wall, you don't take it on yourself to give it a way out while you're standing in accelerant. You're lucky to be alive, probie, and so's the team who were unlucky enough to be with you."

"Yes, sir. I know, sir."

"You don't know diddly. That's the first thing you remember the next time you go in to eat smoke. Now get out of here."

Natalie crossed her legs when Ry came into the room. "You're a real diplomat. That kid couldn't have been more than twenty."

"Be nice if he lived to a ripe old age, wouldn't it?" With a flick of his wrist, Ry tugged down the blinds, closing them in.

"Your technique makes me regret I didn't bring a lawyer with me."

"Relax." He moved to his desk, pushed some files out of his way.

"I don't have the authority to arrest, just to investigate."

"Well, I'll sleep easy now." Deliberately she took a long look at her watch. "How long do you think this is going to take? I've already wasted twenty minutes."

"I got held up." He sat, opened the bag he'd brought in with him.

"Have you had lunch?"

"No.'' Her eyes narrowed as he took out a wrapped package that smelled tantalizingly of deli. "Are you telling me that you've kept me waiting in here while you picked up a sandwich?"

"It was on my way." He offered her half of a corned beef on rye.

"I've got a couple of coffees, too." .

"I'll take the coffee. Keep the sandwich."

"Suit yourself." He handed her a small insulated cup. "Mind if we record this?"

"I'd prefer it."

Eating with one hand, he opened a desk drawer, took out a tape recorder. "You must have a closet full of those suits." This one was the color of crushed raspberries, and fastened at the left hip with gold b.u.t.tons. "Do you ever wear anything else?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Small talk, Ms. Fletcher."

"I'm not here for small talk," she snapped back. "And stop calling meMs. Fletcher in that irritating way."

"No problem, Natalie. Just call me Ry." He switched on the recorder and began by reciting the time, date and location of the interview. Despite the tape, he took out a notebook and pencil.

"This interview is being conducted by Inspector Ryan Piasecki with Natalie Fletcher, re the fire at the Fletcher Industries warehouse, 21 South Harbor Avenue, on February 12 of this year."

He took a sip of his coffee. "Ms. Fletcher, you are the owner of the aforesaid building, and its contents."

"The building and its contents are-were-the property of Fletcher Industries, of which I am an executive officer."

"How long has the building belonged to your company?"

"For eight years. It was previously used to warehouse inventory for Fletcher s.h.i.+pping."

The heater beside him began to whine and gurgle. Ry kicked it carelessly. It went back to a subdued hum.

"And now?"

"Fletcher s.h.i.+pping moved to a new location." She relaxed a little.

It was going to be routine now. Business. "The warehouse was converted nearly two years ago to accommodate a new company. We used the building for manufacturing and warehousing merchandise for Lady's Choice. We make ladies' lingerie."

"And what were the hours of operation?"

"Normally eight to six, Monday through Friday. In the last six months, we expanded that to include Sat.u.r.days from eight to noon."

He continued to eat, asking standard questions about business practices, security, vandalism. Her answers were quick, cool and concise.

"You have a number of suppliers."

"Yes. We use American companies only. That's a firm policy."

"Ups the overhead."

"In the short term. I believe, in the long term, the company will generate profits to merit it."

"You've put a lot of personal time into this company. Incurred a lot of expenses, invested your own money."

"That's right."

"What happens if the business doesn't live up to your expectations?"

"It will." He leaned back now, enjoying what was left of his cooling coffee.

"If it doesn't."

"Then I would lose my time, and my money."

"When was the last time you were in the building, before the fire?"

The sudden change of topic surprised but didn't throw her. "I went by for a routine check three days before the fire. That would have been the ninth of February."