Monday
Ginny pushed open the heavy door and let herself into the lobby of the Dallas City Hall. An architectural marvel designed by I.M. Pei, the inverted pyramid loomed over the park and fountains out front, the earth-colored concrete pierced by dark glass windows providing spectacular views of the city. She located the Dallas Fire Department’s main offices on the directory and stepped into the elevator.
Investigator Michel was waiting for her, his credentials out for her inspection. “After what you said, it occurred to me you might want to know I was genuine.”
Ginny blushed, but stood her ground. “Yes, thank you.”
He escorted her into his tiny office and offered her a chair.
Arson Investigator Michel was what is known in Texas as ‘a tall drink of water.’ He stood 6’4”, with a lean, chiseled physique that completely contradicted his salt and pepper beard and smile-crinkled eyes. His hair was black and he moved across the room effortlessly, avoiding the sharp edges of the furniture with feline precision.
He was wearing jeans, a blue cambric shirt, and work boots. A cap with Investigator embroidered on it hung on a peg in the corner of the room. He caught the look of surprise in her eye and smiled.
“My work clothes. I was over at the Craig’s when I called.”
“I see.” She pulled out her laptop, booted it up, inserted the thumb drive, and brought up the Craig folder.
“Here are the spreadsheets I’ve — we’ve — put together. I don’t have permission from the CDC to share this information, so if you want to take this further, I’ll need to talk to them first.”
He nodded, looking over the Victims spreadsheet. “Hmm. Not much overlap. Different cities, different years. Same cause of death.”
“Not arson or even fire-related.”
“No, but there might still be a connection.”
“Yes.”
“They were all genealogists.”
“Yes.”
He looked up. “Does that mean something to you?”
Ginny shrugged. “Not yet.”
He flipped over to the Suspects list and looked it over. “This is for Professor Craig’s death, correct?”
“Yes.”
“How did you decide whom to include?”
“Some of them are qui bono, who benefits from the death. Others are opportunity, those present when we think the virus was injected. I don’t have anyone who fills all four criteria and I could easily have missed someone.”
He leaned back in his chair and looked over at her. “Let us go forward on the assumption that Professor Craig’s death and the attempt to burn his house down are related.”
Ginny nodded.
“The man is dead and buried, yes?”
“Yes.”
“What would our perpetrator have to gain by burning the house?”
Ginny shrugged. “Destroy evidence? Obliterate his memory? For the fun of watching something burn?”
Officer Michel nodded. “Many do set fires just for the fun of it, but let us assume that was not the motive in this case.”
“All right. To destroy something.”
“Something in the office, where the fire started.”
Ginny nodded. “I’ll buy that.”
He smiled over at her. “You were there on Thursday. What was in his office?”
Ginny made a helpless gesture. “Office stuff. Filing cabinets, books, his desk.”
“A computer?”
“Two, a desktop and the laptop he used for his lectures.”
Officer Michel’s eyes narrowed. “He was a teacher?”
“He was a professional genealogist. He lectured and did research, all over the world. He was very good.”
“Did you look at the computer files?”
“Yes, but I didn’t see anything obvious.”
“Your spreadsheet mentions a law suit.”
Ginny nodded. “One of the clients didn’t get the results he expected and wanted his money back.”
“Is this common?”
“It happens. Beginners often think any famous person must have sired all the people who share his surname. That’s not true, of course.”
“The client would want the evidence that destroys his dream to be destroyed, yes?”
“Yes.” Ginny frowned.
“You have another thought?”
“It’s just this. Mr. Adams had already filed a law suit. He had his revenge planned and he made a lot of noise about it. I can’t see him sneaking back into the library to stab Professor Craig in the neck. I can’t see him being able to get that close, not after drawing all that attention to himself.”
Officer Michel pulled one long leg up and set the ankle on his knee. “It is possible Mr. Adams set the fire and someone else injected the virus.”
Ginny nodded. “Yes. They may be completely unrelated.”
“But you do not think so.”
She met his eyes. “No.”
Her phone went off and she glanced down at it.
“I’m very sorry, but I must go.” She put her computer and thumb drive back in the carrying case, then hoisted the bag to her shoulder. “I can meet with you again another time, if you wish, perhaps after you talk to Mrs. Larson.”
“I’m very grateful for your help.” He escorted her to the door. “Thank you.”
She hurried toward the elevator. Once inside she pulled out her phone and texted Hal back, confirming he was waiting at her house, anxious to get to the car agency before the service department closed.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Downtown,” she typed.
“I have your car??????”
“I’m using Mother’s. Be there in twenty minutes.”
* * *
Ginny was enjoying her steak, thoroughly. “Ummmm! Delicious!” She smiled over at Hal.
He smiled back. “I’m glad you like it.”
She licked a bit of garlic butter off the end of her fork, then plunged it back into the baked potato. In addition to the dripping potato and juicy tenderloin, there was also a delectable green salad, with honey mustard dressing, and sourdough bread, fresh from the oven and still warm. It was her favorite kind of meal.
Hal was less enthusiastic about his own selections. He cared more about food than Ginny did and tended to be a bit picky. He was scraping peppercorns off his meat.
“Too much?” she asked.
“Yes, and a bit underdone as well.”
“Send it back,” she advised.
He shook his head. “I don’t want to wait. You’re getting way ahead of me as it is.” He raised an eyebrow at her plate.
Ginny didn’t let it bother her. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste of the meat.
“What were you doing downtown this afternoon?”
She opened her eyes and blinked at him. In the bustle of getting him to the agency before it closed and getting her car home and getting ready to go eat, she had almost forgotten about the fire investigator.
“Oh, Officer Michel.” She outlined what he had wanted.
Hal looked across the table, frowning. “He called you?”
She nodded.
Hal put down his fork, still frowning.
“Ginny, I don’t like this. There are too many people who know you’ve been looking into this death.”
“I told him I know nothing. All I could offer him was a third-hand account of that scene at the library with Mr. Adams. I told him he should talk to Elaine about that.”
Hal nodded. “Did he say anything else?”
“Only that whoever had set the fire had used some sort of chemical to start it with.”
Hal shook his head, returning to his steak. “Nonetheless, I wish you were out of the investigating business.”
“I am. Well, for the most part.”
“Oh?”
Ginny didn’t want to confess to Hal that she suspected Jim, but she did want to reassure him she was taking the possibility of a threat to herself seriously.
“Something happened last night at work.” She gave him a précis of the scare in the basement. “He insisted on taking me back to the E.R. and doing a workup for that virus.”
Hal’s eyes grew large. “Did he find anything?”
“No, but the experience was unpleasant enough that I don’t want to repeat it. And the only way to manage that is to butt out, which is what I’m doing.”
Hal nodded slowly, then caught her eye and held it. “I just hope it isn’t too late.”
* * *