I drove through the open gates and up the long drive to Dunlow Manor. The sun peeked from behind grey clouds, weak and without warmth. Emerging from the forest, the lawn at the front of the house had been churned by thick wheels. Great grooves tore through the smooth surface. Pools of water gathered in the imprints of heavy boots and tyres across the uneven driveway. A cordon wrapped around the house, the blue-and-white plastic flapping in the breeze.
One fire engine remained. A firefighter aimed a hose towards the house, a steady stream of water soaking what remained of the right side. Crooked beams jutted into empty space, collapsed ceiling carvings mingled with charred sofas and damp papers. Over it all, the spray of water created fleeting rainbows.
I’d been pissed about cutting breakfast short, since the information from the station had been infuriatingly vague. A fire could mean a kitchen needed repainting. Or it could mean this.
I parked near the garage and walked over to Dunlow and his sons. They stood a safe distance from their half-destroyed home. Dunlow’s soot-stained face was carved into an angry snarl, one of his hands bandaged and held in a sling. Terence had his arm around Leo, who shivered under a reflective blanket.
‘Good morning.’ I cringed at myself but powered on, pulling my notepad out of my pocket. ‘Can you tell me what happened here?’
‘The fire started early this morning. The boys were in their rooms.’ Dunlow’s flinty eyes tracked my pencil. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I was making a coffee when I heard crackling and went through to the drawing room. There was a fire. It looked like it started over by the window, but it had spread too far and I couldn’t fight it. I shouted for the boys to get out and called the fire brigade.’
Terence nodded, but I couldn’t be sure Leo was listening. He huddled close to his brother, watching the jet of water. His glasses sat lopsided on his nose, his hair mussed.
‘Was there anything in the room that could have caused the fire?’ I asked. ‘Candles, cigarettes, any open flames?’
‘We don’t light candles and none of us smoke.’ Dunlow’s face was stony. ‘I’d had a fire the evening before, but it was extinguished hours before this started.’
Terence shuffled, jostling Leo. ‘I do occasionally have a cigarette.’ He avoided his father’s piercing stare. ‘I smoked last night, but down near the barn. I didn’t bring it up to the house.’
‘Thank you for being honest.’
He blushed in the same uneven way as his brother.
‘Did you notice anything strange last night?’ I asked. ‘Anyone on the estate who shouldn’t have been?’
‘I thought someone was hanging around, but I didn’t see them.’ Dunlow tutted. ‘We occasionally get people wandering onto the estate because they feel entitled to come onto any land they choose, private or not.’
What a hardship, occasionally sharing all this space with curious ramblers. I glanced over at the manor. ‘Do you need help finding somewhere to stay?’
‘We’ll manage,’ Dunlow said.
‘Great.’ I flipped my notepad shut. ‘Give me a call if you think of anything. We’ll be in contact when we know more.’
‘There was this.’ Leo’s eyes were unfocused as he handed me a piece of paper, the blanket across his shoulders crinkling. ‘It was posted through the door last night.’
I scanned the note, then pulled an evidence bag from my pocket and slipped it inside. Dunlow glared the whole time, too dignified to peek but clearly outraged his son had kept this from him.
I tucked the note away without giving him a chance to peruse it. He was already prejudiced against other suspects in this case, I didn’t need to give him further reason.
‘Thank you, Leo.’
The young man didn’t look at me before I crunched across the gravel towards the fire engine. A firefighter jumped down from the cabin as I approached. He’d abandoned his fluorescent jacket but didn’t seem cold in a tight-fitting T-shirt. His corded arm muscles were streaked with black, the skin underneath a soft brown.
‘Detective Sergeant Gabe Martin,’ I said, offering my hand.
‘Matt Lam. I’m the forensic officer.’ He gripped my knuckles firmly in his large hand.
‘There was a murder on the grounds a few nights ago. I was called out just in case the fire is related in any way.’ The other firefighter continued hosing the ruined side of the house. ‘Are you almost done?’
‘Nearly.’ Matt smiled, revealing a gap between his top teeth. ‘With old places like this, we drench them down. A lot of the wood is dry and we don’t want it catching again. I won’t be able to do a proper examination until the area has cooled for twenty-four hours.’
‘Any idea how the fire started?’
‘Some.’ Matt led me around to the side of the house. He was a good foot and a half taller than me. I resisted jogging to keep up. ‘According to Mr Dunlow, the fire started near this window. I had a quick look around when things quietened down.’
We stopped under a blown-out window. Shards of broken glass mingled with gravel.
‘You see these?’ Matt pointed near the wall.
Crinkled stubs of cigarettes shone through the damp shadows. My heart sank. Only one other smoker associated with this case, apart from Terence, would have been capable of wandering the estate at night. Together with the note, Jordan was going to find it incredibly difficult to explain his way out of an arson charge.
‘We think maybe someone was here, watching Mr Dunlow.’ Matt scratched his head, thick fingers disappearing into his sweaty, black locks. ‘Strange thing is, we haven’t been able to find a butt in the room yet. Mr Dunlow was sure the fire started over near the window, but if it was caused by a stub then we would have found some evidence, even if it had burnt up. Most of the damage in this room was around the fireplace. The blaze spread to other rooms from there.’
I raised my eyebrows as I whipped out my notepad. We’d need to talk to Jordan, figure out if he was lurking near the manor, but maybe the fire was an unlucky coincidence. I hoped so. Jordan might have hit his girlfriend and be a hard man in training, but heading to prison right on the cusp of adulthood wouldn’t straighten him out.
I walked over to the lawn, searching the once perfect grass for footprints. There were none. Only churned up grass and soil.
‘Thank you.’ I turned to Matt. ‘There’s nothing I can do here, so I’m going to head off.’
He held out his hand again. I fumbled my notepad into my pocket and took it, unused to tactile colleagues. Maybe it was a fire service thing.
‘Let me know if there’s anything else I can help with.’ He held my hand to his hot palm for a beat and let go, his dark brown eyes intense. ‘Here’s my card, if you need me.’
I looked over at him once I’d climbed into my car. I wished Juliet was here. She could have given a second opinion on whether I’d been flirted with. Not that it mattered, since I’d asked Ollie to be exclusive. But still.
I fiddled with Matt’s card. He stood beside the fire engine, his arm flexing as he leant against the door. Behind his well-built frame, water streamed into the dark hulk of the ruined manor.