The Elemental (Blair Dubh Trilogy #1) (13 page)

They were greeted by Bill Miller, Brenda
’s husband, who emerged from the house streaked with soot. “About bloody time you lot showed up.”

“
What have we got?” said Craig.

“
The fire was confined to the lower level. We’ve put it out, thank Christ.” His expression softened. “Claire’s dead.”

“
Right, I’m declaring this a crime scene,” said Craig forcefully.

“
Why, was it murder?”

The wind was taken out of his sails.
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen inside yet.”

“
Then how do you know it’s a crime scene?”

“
A woman’s died.”

“
Might have been an accident.”

“
Was it?” he said impatiently.

“
You tell me Poirot. I just pour water on things until they go out. I’m off to the pub for a stiff drink. Gordon’s opening it up for us heroes of the hour,” he said before striding away.

“
Is it safe to go in?” called Craig.

“
Aye,” he called back without turning round.

“
Don’t take offence Sarge, I think he’s trying to hide his upset behind a front,” said Steve.

“
I know. Come on, let’s get it over with. This isn’t going to be pleasant.”

As they reached the house Adam stumbled out of the front door and leaned against the wall, looking dazed. At twenty two he was the youngest member of the volunteer brigade.

“Are you alright?” Craig asked him.

In response the boy doubled over and vomited into the bushes. They hastily walked past him and into the house to be greeted by a giant dressed in yellow and streaked with soot, a mask covering his face, breathing like Darth Vadar.

He pulled off the mask to reveal Toby. “Jesus it’s a mess in there.” His face turned green and he charged past them and joined Adam throwing up in the bushes.

“
Oh this is going to be bad,” whispered Steve.

Reluctantly they walked into the large sitting room to find three of the more seasoned men of the village staring sadly at something in the fireplace. Craig could smell the body before he saw it and his stomach turned over. He
’d seen the victim of a fire before after a homeless man got trapped in a disused tenement the night some idiot decided to petrol bomb it.

The body lay half in the gothic marble fireplace, the blackened legs hanging out. The rest of the room was untouched by the fire, which had been contained within the fireplace.

“Oh God,” gasped Steve before clamping a hand to his mouth and running outside to join Adam and Toby throwing up in the bushes.

Craig and Gary looked at each other before turning their attention back to the body.

“What have we got?” said Craig, trying not to inhale.

“
I thought that would have been fucking obvious,” replied Jimmy, Lizzy Clark’s husband and Bill’s best friend.

“
I mean, were any accelerants used or did she fall into the fire?” he retorted, attempting to keep his temper.

“
There was a strong smell of petrol,” offered Jimmy, “but we’re no arson investigators, we’re just volunteers.”

“
I know and you’ve done a commendable job. So are you Acting Incident Commander?”

“
No way, I’m Station Commander but that’s it. You’re no’ lumbering me with fancy titles.”

“
And I’m no detective but I’m stuck with it. These are unusual circumstances and we’ve all got to band together.”

Jimmy shrugged his big shoulders.
“Alright, I suppose.”

“
Okay, first things first, are we sure that’s Claire?”

“
Got to be. She’s no’ here and the cross she always wore is burnt into the flesh of her chest.”

Steve - who had just returned to the room - heard this comment, heaved and had to run back outside.

Craig ignored him. “Is this the only room affected?”

“
No, the study’s been burnt out.”

“
Shit,” he said, resisting the urge to run and check how much damage had been done. He had to do this properly. “Is the building safe?”

“
Aye, it’s only this room and the study affected. No supporting walls or timbers damaged.”

“
How did you discover the fire?”

“
Martin told us.”

“
What was he doing here?”

“
Checking on Claire apparently. You’ll have to ask him for more details. When we got here she was burning in the grate, already dead. I’m no expert but I think someone poured petrol on her and set her on fire, it stank of it.”

“
Have you seen a jerry can anywhere?”

He shook his head negatively.

“Was the door open when you got here, you didn’t force entry?”

“
It was open. I don’t know how Martin got in.”

“
I’ll speak to him. Has anyone been hanging round, asking about the fire?”

“
None of the lads have mentioned it.”

“
Steve, that’s something you can do,” he called when his constable returned, looking peaky. “Go back outside and check there’s no one hanging around with an unusual interest in the fire. Speak to any witnesses then check all the doors and windows for forced entry.”

Steve could have wept with gratitude and he nodded and raced back outside before Craig could change his mind.

“Okay thanks Jimmy,” said Craig. “We’ll take it from here. Finish up and get yourselves to the pub, you deserve a drink.”

“
Thank Christ for that.” He looked into the grate, eyes sad. “We’ve not seen anything like this since Mary Cassidy was tied to a pike in the woods. I was at that shout too.”

“
I know,” said Craig quietly. If there was any doubt the killer was mimicking the original murders it had just been violently eradicated.

“
So, what do we do now?” said Gary sounding a bit lost as the fire crew filed out.

“
Well, we’ve no crime investigator, no fire scene examiner and no sodding detectives.” He chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Let’s start with what we know best. Let’s cordon off the area.”

“
Okay,” said Gary, looking happier. This he was familiar with.

After putting up crime scene tape, securing the windows and locating the keys for the doors they returned to the grisly scene in the sitting room.

“Is it me or is the smell getting worse?” said Gary.

“
It’s getting worse but we can’t open a window, rain could get in and contaminate the scene.”

“
What do we do now?”

Craig desperately wished the weight of this had landed on someone else
’s shoulders. “If this was a normal investigation I’d be checking the local petrol stations to see if any cans of petrol had been bought recently, but this isn’t a normal investigation. People in this village have cans on standby because they can be cut off from civilisation so easily, so chances are the petrol might have been bought so long ago there’ll be no CCTV footage anyway, that’s even if I could get out of the village. Take a look outside, there’s some equipment out back. See if any of it takes petrol. The killer might have used that.”

“
Sarge,” he said almost with a smile, eager to get out of that room.

Not wanting to be alone with the body Craig decided to examine the study. The room was a shell, the furniture melted or completely destroyed and the stench of petrol was strong. The desk was barely managing to stay upright, its legs burnt away to spindles. Worst of all, that cupboard with all those enticing files had been obliterated. But he did have one piece of luck; those weird books had been saved. Pulling on his gloves he took them off the shelf and flicked through them, hoping to get a better insight into the mind of Alexander Logan. A horrible thought occurred to him. Had his visit to Claire triggered her death? Did she know something that the killer was frightened she
’d reveal? One thing was for sure, this study had held a clue to it all, but now that clue was gone.

There was a loud groan followed by an enormous bang.

“Jesus Christ,” exclaimed Craig, dropping the book.

Logan
’s desk had collapsed, the ruined legs finally giving way. He bent to retrieve the book, which had fallen open at an old drawing of a witch being drowned. Picking it up he flicked through it and found another of a witch being burnt at the stake.

“
Is that what it was Logan? Did you believe they were witches? You mental bastard.”

Craig
’s head snapped up when he heard those slow steady footsteps outside the door again, the ones he thought he’d heard on his previous visit.

“
Hello?” he called.

There was no response, the only sound those footsteps getting nearer and nearer. Craig backed up towards the window, afraid of seeing a tall figure in black stride into the room ready to condemn his soul to hell.

Instead Steve and Gary entered the room, both dripping wet and shivering but bright eyed with the hunt and fresh air.

“
Oh thank God,” breathed Craig.

“
What’s up Sarge? Getting spooked?” said Gary.

“
Aren’t we all?” replied Steve. “This whole village creeps me out.”

“
Did you find anything?” said Craig, keen to move the conversation on.

“
There were no witnesses except the doctor,” began Gary. “The only people who came up here were the volunteer fire brigade.”

“
Did you interview Martin?”

“
He’s down at the pub attending to one of the firemen,” replied Steve. “Apparently one of them got tangled in the weeds in the garden like we did, fell flat on his face and knocked himself out.”

“
Alright, I’ll interview him later.”

“
And there were no signs of forced entry. Whoever it was, she let him in or she left the door unlocked.”

“
Okay, good job Steve,” he said, thinking he needed to hear those words.

“
Thanks,” he smiled, reminding Craig of an enthusiastic puppy.

“
Gary?”

“
I found a couple of broken down petrol lawnmowers out back, no one’s touched them in years. There’s no vehicle either so he must have brought the petrol with him.”

“
Good work Gary.”

Gary wasn
’t as easily pleased as Steve and just nodded his head in acknowledgement of the compliment.

“
We’d better take another look at the body.” Craig looked to Steve. “Think you can handle it?”

“
Well I can’t possibly be sick again. There’s nothing left in my stomach.”

“
Puff,” muttered Gary, and Steve’s eyes filled with hurt.

As he made for the door something caught Craig
’s eye. He frowned and saw what appeared to be a flower pressed between two pages of a book. He pulled on his gloves and picked it up, holding it up to the light.

“
What is it?” said Steve.

“
Looks like a rose, a red one,” replied Craig. “It must have fallen out of the book I was looking at. Wait, there’s two.” He picked up an identical package, only this time the rose was yellow.

“
Rose Macalister?” suggested Gary.

“
One of Logan’s hobbies was growing roses,” replied Craig, “and they’re for remembrance.”

“
Or he could just have enjoyed pressing flowers,” said Steve.

“
No, I think these mean something. The pages they’re pressed in are pages from the Bible and not pages from the book they were stuck in, see?”

Steve took them from him to study.
“They’re the same pages from two different bibles. Genesis, Adam and Eve, when Eve ate the forbidden fruit.”

“
But why only two? I thought he was supposed to have killed four women,” said Gary.

They hunted around the floor but failed to find any more flowers.

“Let’s do a proper search in the morning,” said Craig, sliding the roses into evidence bags and pocketing them. “Right now we need to take a closer look at the body.”

Reluctantly they returned to the sitting room and gazed down at the twisted mass of blistered flesh contorted in its last agony. Steve blanched but managed not to pass out or throw up.

“Okay Steve?” said Craig kindly.

He nodded.
“Sorry, it’s my first fire victim.”

“
Don’t apologise, it’s never easy, no matter how many times you see it.”