Page 85 of Burning Caine

Samantha

LucyandIsataround a table in Kathy Becker’s cramped kitchen, having tea in mismatched cups. The modest house with flowered wallpaper was a far cry from the Scotts’ large one next door. The police had already interviewed her and we’d read their report, but I wanted to take care of some due diligence.

Kathy was a woman in her seventies with bottle-blond hair and a loud geometric-print blue dress, which clashed with her wallpaper. Wide-eyed with a broad smile, she said she was more than happy to answer my questions.

My phone sat in the middle of the table, recording our conversation. “Can you explain what happened before you called the fire department on July 31stof this year?”

“Yes, I was in the kitchen, cleaning carrots from my garden.” She gestured out the back door. “I smelled some smoke and ignored it until the scent got so strong, I went out front to check what was going on. That’s when I saw the smoke coming from Olivia’s house!” Her hand trembled as she reached for her teacup.

Before Lucy could ask another question, I gave her a quick look, reminding her to be patient.

“She and I used to have tea every Saturday, you know. I’d go over to her house, and we’d have a cup and talk about everything and nothing.”

“Kathy, you were saying about the fire?” I reminded her gently.

“Oh, yes!” She took a steadier sip of her tea and continued. “Sorry, it’s been a trying time for everyone in the neighborhood. Anyway, yes, I hurried over to see if Olivia or Bobby needed help. They have an alarm system, so I thought the fire department would already be on their way. But when I got over there, the alarm wasn’t going off. I rushed back to my house and called 9-1-1, and they sent a truck right away.”

“Can we see your garden?” Interesting, Lucy. That hadn’t been one of the questions we’d rehearsed.

“Why, yes!” She stood quickly and ushered us outside. The backyard was as immaculate as her hair. Perfectly flat lawn with precisely edged flower beds and a vegetable garden in full swing.

A five-foot high oak fence ran the perimeter, with a gate allowing access to the Scotts’ yard. She led us to the garden and explained how she managed it, until Lucy interrupted.

“Are you married, Kathy?” she asked.

“Oh, no, my husband passed away almost ten years ago. This yard was his prize. I miss him terribly.” She paused and picked a carrot out of the garden, absently brushing the dirt off. “I wonder if Olivia misses Bobby as much.”

“I imagine she misses him a lot.”

“I doubt it.” Kathy tore off the stem. “They used to argue a lot.”

“About what?”

“His business, his friends, money. I heard them talking about selling something to cover some business debts. I didn’t understand what it was, but it sounded like he said they should sell the ‘seagull,’ and she said they couldn’t. Big fight over that one.”

Lucy didn’t make the connection. “They argued about selling a seagull?”

“I’m sorry. I spend a lot of time out here, and their voices carried. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” Her eyes widened.

“Of course not.” I nodded gravely. “Did you hear anything out of the ordinary the morning of the fire?”

“A couple of vans had been there earlier, but I think they were having some work done.”

Lucy said, “We know about a security company and a painting company. Was that it?”

“Could be. They left in a hurry, though, with Olivia yelling at them, and then she drove off, as well. It seemed a little fishy if you ask me.”

While they spoke, I snapped a photo of the Scotts’ house, capturing the boarded-up windows and dark stains on the roof, then walked to the gate. Time to get a closer look.

“If you’ll excuse us for a moment, Kathy.” I beckoned Lucy to follow. Kathy was about to protest, but I smiled warmly and went anyway.

Lucy was right behind me, and we made our way to the back of the Scotts’ house. “What’s up?”

I gave her a motion to be quiet. We rounded the house to the concrete driveway at the front. I looked out toward the street but couldn’t see anything. I tried a few different angles, took some pictures, but the house was completely concealed. I repeated my checks and photos at the back of the property, where the fence separated it from the main road and the river beyond.

When I was done, we made our way through the gate, closed it behind us, and I asked, “Were you close to Olivia?”

“We had tea weekly, if you consider that close.”