JOE WAS STILL ASLEEP when I crawled into bed. I gently shoved Martha out of my spot and snuggled up to Joe’s back, wanting to wake him up so that I could tell him what was bugging me. Joe turned toward me, pulled me close to his body, buried his face in my smoky hair.
Have you been barhopping, Blondie
House fire,” I said. “Two dead.
Like the Malones
Just like the Malones.
I threw an arm across his chest, rested my face in the crook of his neck, exhaled loudly.
Talk to me, honey,” Joe said.
Excellent.
It’s about this woman, Debra Kurtz,” I said, as Martha got back up on the bed, turned around a couple of times, then curled into the hollow behind my legs, pinning me in.
Lives across the street from the victims. She called in the fire.
Firebugs often do.
Right. Says she got up for a glass of water, saw the flames. Called the fire department, then joined the crowd watching them put the fire out.
She was still standing there when you arrived
She’d been there for hours. Said she was best friends with the female victim, Sandy Meacham, and she’d also been sleeping with the second victim, Sandy’s husband
Weird definition of best friend.
I had to laugh. “Sleeping with her best friend’s husband until he dumped her. This Debra Kurtz has a key to the victims’ house. She also has a sheet. An old arrest for burglary. And guess what else? Arson.
Hah! She knows her way around the system. So she what? Sets fire to the house across the street - and just waits for the cops to take her in
That’s what I’m saying, Joe. The whole package is too much. Kurtz had the means, the motive, the opportunity. ‘Hell hath no fury’ - plus once a firebug, you know, it’s a hard rush to kick.
She strike you as a killer?” Joe asked me.
She struck me as a pathetic narcissist, in need of attention.
You got that right.
I gave Joe a kiss. Then I gave him a few more, just loving the feeling of his rough cheek against my lips, his mouth on mine, and the fact of him, big and warm and in my bed.
Don’t start something you’re too tired to finish, Blondie,” he growled at me.
I laughed again. Hugged him tight. Said, “Ms. Kurtz insists she didn’t do it. So what I’m thinking is . . .” My thoughts drifted back to the victims, soot-blackened water lapping around their bodies.
What you’re thinking,” Joe prompted.
I’m thinking either she set this fire because she’s so completely self-destructive, she wants to get caught. Or she did it and maybe she didn’t plan for her friends to die. Or else . . .
Your gut is telling you that she didn’t do it. That she’s just a total wackjob.
There ya go,” I said to my sweetheart. “There . . . ya . . . go . . .
When I woke up, my arms were entwined around Martha, Joe was gone, and I was late for my meeting with Jacobi.
