Barlow rolled his eyes. “No, not now. Are you going to make this right?”
“Yeah. I am.”
Barlow nodded. “Good. Now, let’s get back to work.”
They headed back to the warehouse. “This was no environmental arson, Micah. There was nothing in that warehouse worth burning, except for the guy without a face.”
“I know. Something’s connecting these two arsons. You’ve got a good eye. You ever think of going into investigation?” he asked.
David shook his head. “Took me a while to find firefighting, but now I can’t see myself doing any- thing else.”
“You like walking into fires,” Barlow said, a touch of envy in his voice.
David grinned. “It’s a rush like no other. At the same time, I do like a good puzzle. Olivia’s brother-in-law is an arson guy, too, back in Chicago. I like to think I’ve picked up a thing or two.”
Barlow slung his tool kit over one shoulder and pulled his camcorder from his coat pocket. “Then let’s see what our nonenvironmental arsonists left behind.”
Chapter Eleven
Tuesday, September 21, 12:55 a.m.
Knock again,” Kane said when Mrs. Tomlinson didn’t answer the door.
Olivia raised her fist to knock again when the door opened, revealing a very tall, statuesque woman wearing a silk robe. Even without makeup, she was very beautiful and not at all what Olivia had expected a woman named Weezie to look like.
“Yes?” the woman asked.
“We’re looking for Mrs. Louise Tomlinson,” Olivia said.
“Well, I’m Louise, but not Mrs. Tomlinson for much longer,” she said.
“I’m Detective Sutherland and this is my partner, Detective Kane. We’re here to talk to you about your husband.”
Louise’s perfectly tweezed brows lifted. “What has he done now?”
“He’s dead, ma’am,” Olivia said. “He was murdered tonight.”
Quite unexpectedly, Louise Tomlinson’s haughty expression slid away. Growing pale, her mouth dropped open. “He’s dead? Barney’s dead? No.” Not waiting for an answer, she began to weep. She lowered her chin to her chest, hugged herself as she stood in the doorway and wept her heart out.
“Can we come in, ma’am?” Olivia asked.
Louise allowed herself to be led to a sofa in an ornately decorated living room, where she sank into the cushions, her face in her hands. “How did this happen?”
“He was shot while he was in his warehouse.”
Louise looked up, her eyes wild. “He didn’t kill himself, did he?”
“It doesn’t appear so, ma’am,” she answered. “Why?”
“He was so angry with me. Very upset. I’d had our assets frozen.”
“We heard that you two were going through a messy divorce,” Olivia said quietly.
“We were. He cheated on me.”
“That had to make you angry,” Kane said smoothly.
Louise’s wet eyes flashed. “Of course it did. We’d been married for almost thirty years. I wanted him alive to suffer, not dead. Am I a suspect?”
“Right now we’re just talking to people who knew your husband,” Olivia said. “But just so we can check you off our list, where were you tonight?”
“Here. Alone.”
“Was Mr. Tomlinson living here?”
“No. He had an apartment downtown near the university. Our son is a student there and lives in the dorm. Oh God, I have to tell him his father’s dead.”
Olivia put a gentle hand on the woman’s wrist. “We’d like to tell him.”
Louise turned stark white. “You think my son had something to do with this?”
“I think it would be best if you’d come with us, until we can get this all sorted out.” Olivia stood. “I’ll go up with you while you change your clothes.”
Tuesday, September 21, 2:35 a.m.
“Well?” Abbott asked.
Olivia stood at the window looking into Interview Two and shook her head. Louise Tomlinson sat at the table, numb. Her lawyer patted her hand from time to time.
“She was angry with her husband and she stands to benefit financially from his death and the fire,” Olivia said. “But unless she paid somebody to kill him, I don’t think she was involved. No gunshot residue on her hands. The neighbors we talked to didn’t see her leave her house. The engine of her car was cold. None of that is definitive innocence, but at this moment we can’t place her at the scene.”
“The son’s in Interview One,” Kane added. “He was at a party all night. At least fifty people saw him. No GSR on his hands either.”
“Then cut them loose,” Abbott said. “Find out who had cause to kill Tomlinson, besides his wife and son. Find out how they connect to the condo. See you at oh-eight.”
Olivia shot Abbott’s back a baleful look. “Why is it always oh-eight?”
“Go home, Liv,” Kane said kindly. “Get some sleep.”
“I will, after we talk to the Tomlinsons. I’m hoping if I talk sweetly enough, she’ll hand over the copy she made of her husband’s hard drive. Otherwise we have to go to the IT guy, and he’ll want a warrant.”
“You think you can sweet-talk her after hauling her ass downtown?” Kane asked.
Olivia raised a brow. “I got ten that says I can.”
Kane smiled sharply, sensing an easy win. “You’re on.”
Olivia took a minute, putting herself in the mind of the older woman. Her grief had been real, as had her rage. She’d been entitled to both. Unless of course she paid someone to do her dirty work for her, but if that was the case, they’d find a money trail.
“Mrs. Tomlinson,” Olivia said when she’d closed the door behind her.
Tomlinson’s lawyer jumped to his feet. “How long will you keep her here?”
“Not much longer,” Olivia said. “Your son is coming. I’d like to talk to you both.”
Louise glared. “I don’t want to talk to you. You treated me like a criminal.”
Olivia sat across from her. “No, ma’am. I was doing my job, as respectfully as I knew how. I’m so sorry that your husband is dead. I can’t pretend to know how you’re feeling right now, but I work homicide. My responsibility is to your husband. I have to find who killed him. I hope you and your son want the same thing.”
Louise swallowed, her lips thin. “You fingerprinted me. You fingerprinted my son.”
“So we could tell your prints from anyone else’s in his office or his apartment. It’s standard procedure. Again, I’m sorry this had to happen tonight, but every hour that passes is an hour his killer goes free.”
Still pale, Louise closed her eyes. “Someone shot him.”
“Yes, ma’am. It looks like he was at his desk, working. He was shot from behind.”
Louise flinched, then snapped her gaze to the door when her son entered. He looked even angrier than his mother had. He folded his mother in his arms and she began to cry again. Seth Tomlinson glared at Olivia. “How dare you?”
“Please,” Olivia said. “Please sit down.”
Still furious, Seth did, taking his mother’s hand protectively. “It’s bad enough we have to go through this.”
“You’re right,” Olivia said and Seth narrowed his eyes.
“You’re the good cop. Where’s the bad cop?”
Olivia returned his furious gaze with a sympathetic one. “Right here in this chair. I can be either or both, depending on who’s sitting in your chair. I need your help.”
“No,” Seth said. “I’m not helping you.”
“You’re entitled to your anger and your frustration. Right now, I need you to be angry at the person who put a bullet in the back of your father’s head. The fire destroyed a lot of the things we’d normally look for-signs of a struggle, for example. Signs that someone forced their way into his office. Did he know his killer? Or was he simply in the wrong place at the wrong time? Did he keep money in his office?”
Louise shook her head. “No. None of our sales transactions were cash. All of our customers paid by check or bank transfer. Anything Barney had in the office was strictly for personal use, and he was running short. I’d made sure of that.”