A Taste For Burning Part 6

'But there aren't any. Skeletons, I mean.'

'None that I know of. As far as I know, that investigation was copybook. I don't care who looks at it or how strong the magnifying gla.s.s, they won't find irregularities.'

Liz smiled. 'Then there's nothing to worry about.'

'Except which of my officers is giving confidential press briefings and claiming it's with my approval.' His voice was rough.

73.'She didn't exactly say that though, did she? You don't think maybe it was a misunderstanding? That in trying not to say where she heard the story she inadvertently gave you the idea it came from Queen's Street? I just don't believe it. n.o.body we work with would go behind your back like that.'

He wanted so much to believe she was right. Unconvincingly he shrugged it off. 'Oh, what the h.e.l.l. There's no real harm done. Perhaps it's better out in the open, then when it's finished with everybody'Il know.' He made a determined effort to put it out of his mind. 'Any progress with your fires?'

Liz shook her head. 'None. It's one step forward and two steps back. Donovan's conspiracy theory came to nothing: there is a connection between Younis and Aziz but it's not friends.h.i.+p, it's bad blood -they don't trust one another enough to do something dodgy together. And I don't have any other leads.'

'What about an Old Boys' Reunion?' She didn't understand. 'Haul in anyone you can find with form for this kind of thing and sweat them, see who coughs.' He heard himself talking like Donovan and winced. 'Even if n.o.body admits it you might learn something from the trade gossip.'

'How many ex-arsonists do we have in Castlemere?'

'Offhand I can think of -Shapiro sniffed and gave the light fitting a deliberate look -'well, none actually. Unless you count John Ho at the Golden Dragon, to whom the combustion point of fried rice remains one of the mysteries of the Orient.'

In spite of the gravity of the matter Liz chuckled. 'So no Old Boys' Reunion. Then what do I do instead? Help me, Frank, I'm out of my depth here.'

He shook his head wearily. 'We're all out of our depth when it comes to something like this. You do what you can think of and hope to get lucky. In the end he's as likely to be caught by a beat copper curious about a late 74.night walker with no dog as by clever detective work.'

'I can't just sit on my hands and wait for fortune to smile! One man's already died: G.o.d knows how many more people will be hurt or killed if we don't wrap this up soon.'

'What about the fuel? Whatever he uses, he must be getting through a good bit of it. Unless he's bright enough to use petrol siphoned out of his car, he's probably buying it by the can somewhere. Probably somewhere different each time. Since he won't want to walk home carrying a petrol can with every fire appliance in Castlemere coming towards him, he'll use it up and dump it each time. So he's probably bought a can of petrol, or maybe paraffin, from three different suppliers in the last fortnight. You could ask around the garages and hardware shops, see if anyone they didn't know has asked for fuel in a can over the last couple of weeks.

'Another thing: what happened to the cans? Like I say, he wouldn't want to be found in possession -particularly if, like most arsonists, he likes standing in the crowd watching the Fire Brigade at work. Bit of a giveaway, standing there with your can smelling of petrol. So he gets rid of it. Silcott would have said if his people had found it in the debris but check anyway.

'If he didn't leave it behind, it may be he was afraid it could be traced to him. So he dumped it somewhere else. But it had to be somewhere handy, and somewhere either it wouldn't be found or it wouldn't be noticed. You could have a diver search the ca.n.a.l at the back of the timber- yard. See if there's a dump or a builder's skip or anything near the shop and the warehouse. And check with the nearest garage in each case: the best place to hide a brick's in a wall.'

Liz groaned, appalled by the scale of the task. 'Even if we find it, what's it going to tell us? He'll hardly have left his fingerprints all over it.'

'You never know your luck,' said Shapiro. 'But even 75.without prints it may tell you something. Particularly if you find all three. If you can discover where they were bought they'll tell you something about his movements. They may have collected dust and grease from his garage in which case they'll be a positive forensic link when you do find him. They may -oh, I don't know, but I think you ought to find them if you can.'

'All right, I'll get on to it first thing tomorrow.' She hesitated before continuing. 'Look, I know you're on holiday, and I know you have to keep away from the Foot business, but would you mind if I kept in touch over this? To be honest I don't know that I've got the experience to handle it. I'd feel better if I could just talk to you from time to time.'

It was as pretty a compliment as Frank Shapiro could remember. 'Any time. Phone me or come round, any time. But trust your own instincts too. Taylor wouldn't have you running this if he didn't think you were up to it, and I think so too. Listen.' He hauled himself to his feet and headed for the door. 'About the other thing. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for thinking it, sorry for saying it and sorry for disturbing you at this time of night. Tell Brian I'm sorry, will you?'

'If he's still awake.'

Shapiro was too tired to drive. The trouble with driving when you're tired is that things happen faster than your mind can deal with them so that accidents happen. He was also too tired to think. The trouble with thinking when you're tired is that your mind works too quickly and runs out of control, and you haven't the concentration to discriminate between good thinking and bad. That's why minor problems seem insuperable during the night, crazy ideas seem brilliant, and things that you don't want to think about at all force themselves into your head.

They battle their way to the surface of your brain and lay siege to you, and pound away at you until in sheer 76.exhaustion you give way and consider them. That's what happened to Shapiro on his drive home. In the daytime he might have had the same idea but dismissed it before it was more than a bad taste in his mouth. But because it was late and he was tired he let it into his head where it took root, and soon he was considering something he very much didn't want to.

David was in bed when he got home, catching up on lost sleep. If Shapiro had had the sense to wait until morning it wouldn't have seemed so important to either of them. But he'd already made a fool of himself with his colleagues and he wanted retribution for that as well. He clumped up to the spare room and turned the light on, and waited stony-faced while the boy blinked awake.

'Wha-- what's the matter?'

Tell me again about your arrangement with the Courier," Shapiro said coldly.

77.II.

The Castlemere Courier was printed on Thursday evening and on sale from Friday morning. It enjoyed a healthy local circulation since it made a point of carrying the news readers were genuinely interested in -bowling league results, who'd been in court for drunken driving and which borough councillors had made idiots of themselves at this month's meeting -rather than merely important matters like foreign wars and whether the government would survive another economic scandal.

But the Courier had rarely been scanned with such intensity as it was this Friday morning in the CID offices at Queen's Street. There was so much in it that concerned them.

There were accounts of all three fires. The first, at Rachid's the previous Friday, had come at that nightmare time for a weekly newspaper, too late to carry the story that week and old as the hills by the next. There were pictures too: the ashes of the first two, more spectacular shots of the timberyard fire at its height with David Shapiro's by-line prominently displayed.

There was a paragraph on the reopening of the Foot inquiry. As Shapiro had hoped it was brief and to the point: the police were looking into the possibility that fresh evidence had become available. Nothing in the wording or slant of the report indicated its origins.

Then there was the chance that the paper was being used as a menu, and that any property mentioned in any 81.context -advertising columns, news reports, forthcoming events, anything at all -was fair game for a pyromaniac. So for perhaps half an hour after the papers came in there was no sound to be heard from the second-storey offices except the steady rustle of pages.

Liz read her copy three times and each time the same item caught her eye. She wasn't sure why. It wasn't the sort of target he'd chosen before. Perhaps it was only the fact that a fire there would be so comprehensive a disaster, in both financial and human terms, that set alarm bells ringing. At length she called Donovan in, hoping he could persuade her she was wrong.

"The new shopping mall?' His eyes widened as the implications sank in. 'Holy G.o.d!'

She scanned his sharp face anxiously. 'It's not me leaping to conclusions, then? You think he'll have seen that too?'

'He's bound to see it,' said Donovan, tracing the story with a long finger. 'But -1 don't know, maybe it's not what he's looking for. He's never set out to hurt anyone before.'

'But he is getting more ambitious with every attack. First an empty shop; then an empty warehouse; then a thriving business after hours. A brand-new shopping mall full of people could be his next step. He's killed someone already, even if he didn't mean to. If he starts another fire after that it means he's come to terms with it: thought about it and decided it doesn't matter. If that didn't stop him he won't stop till we get him.'

Donovan was still reading. 'I can see how he'd be tempted. If he lives locally he must have seen the building going up. He must know it's about ready to open. It's a big project, they're going to town on it: celebrity cutting the ribbon, bands, fireworks, the lot. To make the most of the fireworks they've opted for a gala evening. That'll suit him fine: he likes the night, it hides him and it shows off his work. OK, with all those people about it'll be harder for him to vanish. But with all those people about, 82.why should he? He just joins the crowd and who's to say he's not there looking round the new shops too? It'll be a nightmare to police.'

'Maybe we shouldn't try,' said Liz. 'Maybe we should get them to put it off until we find him.'

Donovan raised sceptic eyes. 'When's that likely to be?'

She found Superintendent Taylor reading the Courier too. She wondered if he'd spotted the same story and come to the same conclusion. But no; he was studying the photographs of the fire at the wharf. 'Shapiro,' he mused as Liz took the chair he indicated. 'Is that Frank's son?'

She nodded. 'He's a photographer -that's what he does.'

'I thought he'd moved away.'

'He lives in London. I think he was just visiting when this happened. He was staying with Donovan.'

'Sergeant Donovan?'

Liz smiled faintly. 'Don't tell me there are two.'

'That's where he lives, isn't it? Where he keeps that boat of his?'

'Right there: she was almost sunk when the wall came down.'

'So young Shapiro was perfectly placed to get his photos.' He peered at the front page. 'Too close for comfort, though.'

'He's ambitious, out to impress. Sir, while you've got the paper there turn to page three. The item on the new shopping mall.'

Taylor studied it, the neat beard bobbing as he scanned the lines. 'Yes?'

She explained what she feared. 'If he really is choosing targets from the paper, that could be irresistible. It's a major development, there's been a lot of prior publicity and they're making a big thing of the opening. Including fireworks. He won't be able to resist fireworks.'

Taylor shot her a look that was nothing less than 83.appalled. She found it rather touching that a policeman of his experience could still be shocked by the idea that people committed stupid, pointless, dangerous crimes. 'The place'll be packed with people. Shoppers, sightseers -people'll take their children!'

'Yes,' said Liz. 'If a fire starts, even quite a small one, the panic will cause more casualties than the flames. The opening's scheduled for Monday evening. That gives us the weekend to find this man and I doubt if that's possible, sir. I think we have to ask them to delay the opening; or if they won't do that, at least to hold it at a different time. At ten in the morning maybe he wouldn't be so interested.'

Superintendent Taylor had recovered his composure and doubt was creeping in. 'Do you not think you're overreacting, Liz? I mean, it's all very hypothetical. You've no actual reason to believe that the Castle Mall is his next target. Not the kind of reason I could explain to a shopping centre management who'd lose a small fortune by changing their plans now. I appreciate you're trying to second-guess this man; but an uneasy feeling hardly const.i.tutes a threat to public safety.'

He was, Liz had recognized soon after coming to Castle-mere, a man of limited imagination. But his reasoning was una.s.sailable. She had no concrete evidence, no circ.u.mstantial evidence even, that the shopping mall was at risk. Her gut feelings had a good track record but she couldn't expect thousands of pounds to be thrown away on them alone.

'What about changing the time? Will you ask them to do that?'

He gave an elegant little shrug. 'I'll ask them. But we may have to accept that it's a bit late in the day even for that. They'll have made arrangements, booked entertainers, caterers ... And if they ask me to make it official, I'd have trouble doing that. I'll put it to them, but I wouldn't feel justified in twisting their arms.

84.'Look on the bright side. By Monday night you may have it all wrapped up. If not, we'll put on a show of strength at the Castle Mall -for your peace of mind and mine -enough to make sure that everyone's there for the shops and the bands and no one's brought his own fireworks. What do you think? Will that serve?'

Liz remained uneasy. 'I can see it's maybe the best we're going to do. But, sir, I don't know how we set about effectively policing something like that, given the size of the place, and the number of people who'll be there. They won't have tickets, they won't be known to anyone. They'll all be travelling in different directions, coming and going as the mood takes them. They'll have shopping baskets, trolleys, prams and pushchairs. There'll be people on their own and family groups. There'll be gangs of teenagers and old men on sticks.

'And one of them -man, woman, adult, adolescent will be carrying the means to start a fire. I know, I can't prove that, but it's what I believe. He'll be there. He won't be able to stay away. It's a disaster in the making. And you're telling me there's nothing we can do to prevent it?'

Taylor's smile was growing a little stiff. 'You could catch him, Inspector.'

'I am working on it,' she said reproachfully. 'In spite of the fact that we've had three fires now there isn't that much to go on. I have a line of inquiry but I'm a long way from making an arrest.'

Taylor seemed unduly impressed. 'You are making progress, then.'

Liz gave a noncommittal shrug. 'We're trying to find out where he bought the fuel he started the fires with. If we can get a description of him, then we'll have a chance.'

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that the idea was Shapiro's, that she'd talked to him about this. But she imagined that when Taylor sent someone on holiday he expected that person to get on with his gardening, decor 85.ate his house or visit relatives, not to continue as if nothing had changed except the view from his desk. Instead she said, 'When can we expect Mr Shapiro back?'

'When this other matter's cleared up,' Taylor said coolly.

'How's it going? I know we have plenty to do but I could find you some help if that would speed it up. It would be an investment really: the sooner Mr Shapiro's back, the sooner we'll get a result in the arson case.'

Taylor compressed his lips. 'We all feel the same way, Inspector. But some things take time. Thank you for your offer but I don't believe I need take you up on it. n.o.body's indispensable, not even Frank Shapiro.'

'I don't think he's done a d.a.m.n thing about it!' Li zexploded in the privacy of her own office -Shapiro's office -with only Donovan to hear. 'I swear to G.o.d, he has all the sense of urgency of a giant panda on its wedding night!'

'You know,' Donovan said slowly, 'I could maybe get things moving a bit.'

'You could? How?'

He made a little grimace. 'This supposed new evidence. There can't be that many people it could have come from: someone Foot knew, who's still around, who has at least some credibility else G.o.d wouldn't have done what he did. I mean, you ask a detective chief inspector to go on holiday, you need a pretty good reason.'

'So?'

'So if there's someone in town still carrying a torch for Foot after all this time, who cares enough about him to risk making a phoney allegation against the chief, I can find her.'

Alarm bells jangled. Liz raised her head and fixed him with a steely eye. 'Sergeant, I hope you're not offering to intimidate a witness.'

She'd misunderstood. Donovan looked indignant. 'Away on. Only, you and I both know there's no truth in 86.this. If we knew who was behind it we could probably nail it there and then. If she's Foot's friend -if it is a woman -she's probably about as reliable. Maybe she's done something like this before. When he knows the sort of witness he's dealing with even G.o.d'11 see this is accountability gone mad, and we'll have the chief back by close of play.'

Liz was tempted. She thought he was probably right and the name of this surprise witness would tell Shapiro everything he needed to know. But she had offered CID's help and Taylor had rejected it: to send Donovan to investigate now would be as near insubordination as made no difference.

She shook her head. 'It's in Mr Taylor's hands, I think we have to let him get on with it. Maybe I'm wrong: maybe he is making progress, he just doesn't want to talk about it. Anyway, I can't spare you. We've got to make some kind of breakthrough with these fires, and we've got to do it before Monday night.'

Donovan gave his wolfish grin. 'Boss, I'm touched. You don't think you can manage without me?'

She scowled. 'I'm a detective inspector, I'm ent.i.tled to have someone to shout at. It's in my contract.'

'So shout at Scobie. It'd do him good.'

'Constables don't count -everybody shouts at them. The canteen lady shouts at Scobie.'

'That's 'cause he pinches her bread rolls for his Dolly Parton impression.'

Scobie was as tall as Donovan and twice as far round, and his nose had been broken twice before he left school. Liz didn't even want to think about his party piece. 'Get out of here. Come back when you can tell me where our arsonist bought his petrol.'

Her next visitor arrived so soon after Donovan had left that they must have pa.s.sed in the corridor; a coincidence that would have been more interesting had either known who the other was. Asil Younis was looking for 87.blood, and the blood he wanted was Donovan's.

His complexion was dark with anger: a European would have been red in the face. But he kept his anger bridled, didn't let his voice rise and sat when Liz asked him to. His self-command was impressive.

'I wish to make a serious complaint, Inspector Graham,' he began. 'It is one thing to question me, and indeed Mr Aziz, about the fires which occurred at our respective properties. I may not like the suggestion that I might know something about these incidents, but I can see that it is a legitimate line of inquiry you must pursue. I have no objection to this.

'What I do object to, most strenuously, is your sergeant bringing up a personal matter concerning my son and Mr Aziz's daughter. These two young people both have their futures to consider, and for a Pakistani -either a young man or a girl -a future without honour is barren. Your sergeant's behaviour is an insult to my family and that of Mr Aziz.'

For a moment Liz quickened at the idea that the two men were, whatever their differences, still close enough for Aziz to warn Younis about Donovan's visit. But the news had travelled a more devious route. Aziz had told his daughter that the police had been asking about her unwise friends.h.i.+p, Nazreen had phoned Reading to tell Fakhar Younis and Fakhar had called his father.

Liz moved smoothly into mollifying mode. 'I'm sorry if you feel our enquiries have infringed on delicate personal territory. It's not our intention to embarra.s.s anyone over matters unconnected with the case. But I hope you can see that establis.h.i.+ng the precise relations.h.i.+p between your two families, which neither you nor Mr Aziz was prepared to spell out, was important. Now we know what the situation is I see no need for it to be mentioned again. Sergeant Donovan never discussed it with anyone except Mr Aziz and me. I'm sorry if you were upset but there's no reason for you to feel insulted.'

88.Younis wasn't quite ready to leave it at that. 'I accept what you say, Inspector Graham. It might have been wiser if I had been candid with you in the first instance. However, there must be no more discussion of my son's friends.h.i.+p for Nazreen Aziz. If I hear gossip about them from any other source I shall a.s.sume that it originated here and make a formal complaint. I shall also take it as a personal affront if Sergeant Donovan comes near either myself or Mr Aziz again.'

Liz sighed. 'Mr Younis, you must know I can't let people pick and choose who they're interviewed by.'

Younis stood up, a small man with an air of infinite authority. 'I believe I have made myself clear, Inspector Graham. I shall not be in touch again. If I have further cause for complaint my solicitor will inform your superintendent.'

In which case, Liz thought glumly as she watched him go, there'll be me, DC Scobie and the canteen lady left to find a mad b.a.s.t.a.r.d with a box of matches before he sets fire to a shopping mall with a thousand people inside.

89.The diver found an oil can on the mud floor of the ca.n.a.l within a couple of minutes of going in off Broad Wharf. He started searching -groping rather than looking, the water was the colour and consistency of Brown Windsor soup -at the edge of the scree where the timberyard wall avalanched in. If the arsonist had dumped his container directly behind the building it was now lost under a hundred tons of masonry, so the diver began his search where a can might possibly have survived and very soon he found one.

Soon afterwards he found another. While he was wondering which of these two was the genuine article he found a third and fourth, and a fifth tripped him up as he made for the bank.

'Doesn't anybody round here use dustbins?' demanded Liz indignantly.

The diver pulled the breathing tube out of his mouth. 'Do you want me to keep searching, ma'am?' It was still barely midmorning.

'Let's have a good sniff first.'