After the Fire Page 3

  Chapter 3

  Bev stopped at the grocery store on the way home. People clustered in small groups talking excitedly. Some of them were crying. Bev made her purchases and spoke as little as possible. The people in town who knew her were aware she worked for an insurance company and traveled a lot. She didn't want the word to get out that she was working on this claim any sooner than necessary.

  By the time Bev arrived, Emily was home, watching TV and doing homework. Bev thought about delivering her standard lecture about concentrating on one thing at a time, but she didn't have the energy. Instead she curled up next to Emily and asked how practice had gone.

  Emily looked suspicious. “Why so interested? I thought you didn't want me to be a cheer-leader.”

  “It's complicated. I am interested in your experience. I want to be supportive, even if I would rather you were a braniac nerd than a cheer-leader.”

  Emily laughed. “You know, Mom. I'd like to be mad at you for being such a fuddy-duddy, but it's hard because you're so damned honest.”

  “Quit swearing in my presence, dammit. Makes me feel bad because I know you got it from me.”

  Emily looked at her mother out of the corner of her eye and said, “You're really rattled, aren't you?”

  Bev nodded. “I've handled worse fires. Bigger losses. More fatalities, even. I've just never handled anything this close to home. There's going to be a lot of pressure on Chief Casey and me over the next few weeks. I can handle that kind of pressure from strangers. I'm not sure how I'll react when the pressure is coming from my neighbors, looking to me for answers.”

  “Answers you may not be able to give.”

  “Or worse: answers they don't want to hear.”

  “How in the hell did you get into the fire investigation business in the first place, Mom? It seems to be a kind of odd job for a woman, and especially one from out here in the sticks.”

  Bev put her arms around her daughter. “The whole story is long and involved, but the short version is that your grandpa was a firefighter in Dayton. I wanted to be a firefighter, too, but Dad put his foot down and insisted that I go to college and get a job suitable for a woman, like teaching or secretarial work. It never would have occurred to me to defy my dad. After college, I got a job as a secretary in an insurance agency. One of the companies we represented was hiring adjusters for more money than I was making. I applied, got the job and took the training. I was good investigator and gradually worked my way up to being the company's number one fire investigator. That gave me the opportunity to come back here to live, because it sort of doesn't matter where I live when I travel all the time.”

  “Daddy didn't like you traveling?”

  “No, he didn't. He wanted me to quit traveling after you were born.”

  “Why didn't you?”

  “I liked my job better than I liked your father.”

  Emily put her head on her mother's shoulder and said, “You know, I understand that. I love my dad. And his new wife is perfect for him. They have a couple of perfect kids and a perfect home. He goes to work and she takes care of everything at the house. They are deliriously happy.”

  “I hear a BUT.”

  “But, they are so unbelievably boring, I go out of my mind when I go visit them. What did you see in him?”

  “He was the only guy I ever met who was interested in me.”

  “Why? You're kind of pretty and you can be funny. You're really smart. Why didn't guys like you?”

  “Because until a few years ago, I was way too impressed with my brains. I didn't wear makeup. I dressed really bad. And I kind of made it difficult for guys to express any interest.”

  “What changed?”

  “The only thing that changed was that I realized if I didn't present a better appearance my career would go nowhere, so I had a makeover and had a consultation with a fashion person at a department store. I guess I'm also not as impressed with my smarts as I used to be because I work with a lot of other really smart people.”

  “Have you ever dated after you and Daddy got divorced?”

  “I've gone out to dinner a few times with men. Mostly lawyers and cops.”

  “Maybe after this is over, we can do something about your social life.”

  “My social life is just fine. How's yours, by the way? Is Rob Sanders still nosing around?”

  “Yeah. Kinda. That's sort of why I want to be a cheer-leader. He's on the football team.”

  Bev leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She was so not ready for her daughter to start dating. Emily read her mind, and patted her hand.

  “G'night, Mom. I gotta get up early for a student government meeting.” Bev kissed her daughter and went to bed herself.

  The next morning, she took Emily to school and then drove by the ruins of The Barn. She was glad to see that the cops had posted a guard to keep curiosity seekers out. She stopped for coffee and a bagel, and glanced through the newspaper at a local coffee shop. A man at the next table said, “It's terrible about the fire, isn't it.”

  “Yes. It's a tragedy.”

  “They're saying that the owner of the restaurant torched it for the insurance money.”

  Bev wanted to smack him, but forced herself to say, “The fire department will need to finish its investigation, and even if someone did set the fire, that doesn't mean it was the owner of the restaurant.”

  “Why would anybody else burn down the restaurant besides the owner?”

  “I don't know, but that's what we need to find out!” She got up and left the coffee shop before he could ask her to elaborate.

  She arrived at the fire department early, and hung out in the conference room until the chief was ready for her. He said that he would let her ask most of the questions since she had much more experience than he did, but he would ask enough questions so he could say he'd done his job.

  Mazzoli arrived a few minutes before ten. Bev was a little surprised that he didn't have a lawyer with him. He was accompanied by his wife and his sister. Bev whispered to the chief, “Let's separate them and get statements from the wife and sister, too.”

  “Okay.”

  Ron Mazzoli looked like a man haunted by demons. He clearly had not slept, and was the walking picture of shock and grief. He laid his hands in front of him on the table. They trembled like an eighty-year old man. He looked from Bev to the chief and said, “Okay, I know you have a lot of questions and I'll do my best to answer them, but I'll tell you straight up right now. Yes, I was having financial problems. The restaurant was not as profitable as it used to be and we actually had months recently when we didn't break even. I have put some of my own money into keeping the business afloat.”

  He laid an expandable folder on the table. “Those are the last years bank statements and tax returns for the restaurant. It's pretty pitiful reading.”

  He laid his hands flat on the table and looked at them with tears in his eyes, saying, “I did not burn down my business and kill all those people! My grandmother started that restaurant. It's been the family's livelihood for three generations. Our customers were our friends and neighbors ....and relatives.” He put his face in his hands and sobbed, “My own granddaughter and her boyfriend were celebrating his birthday. I gave them a table near the kitchen and comped the meal.” It took him a long time to compose himself, and Bev had to struggle to avoid breaking down. Casey was clenching his jaw and biting his lips.

  When he could finally speak again, Mazzoli looked directly at Bev, “Mrs. Deller, I don't care about the money for the building. There is no way I'd have the heart to reopen that place after all those people died there. It would be haunted by their ghosts forever. Everybody is telling me that I'm going to be sued. I don't have the money for a lawyer. I need you to help me.”

  Bev reached across the table and patted his hand. “At this point, the fire is under investigation. Until an official determination is made, we will proceed as though this is a covered l
oss.” She slid her card across the table. “If anyone from any of the victims families contact you or if you hear from any attorneys, refer them to me. When you are served with lawsuits, notify me immediately.”

  “You will help me?”

  “Even if the fire was set, that doesn't mean you set it. We will investigate fully and we will proceed as if it is a covered loss until and unless we turn up evidence against you. If you set the fire, we will turn the matter over to our fraud unit and we will not defend you further. If someone else set it, we will defend you and pay the claim up to the limits of your policy. We will assist the cops in prosecuting the perpetrator.

  “I do have to warn you. Your policy only has $1 million in liability limits. If you have any other insurance, such as excess liability insurance or homeowners insurance, please notify your insurers and have the adjusters contact me. I can tell you right now $1 million will not be enough to cover this loss. If you have any other policies of insurance that might respond, let's get them on notice right away.”

  “What does that mean for me?”

  “Let's cross one bridge at a time. Right now, we have to investigate. That means Chief Casey and I will want your statement, as well as those of everyone who worked in the restaurant. We will expect your full cooperation.”

  “We will all cooperate. I swear to you, I didn't burn my business.”

  She looked at him for a long time. She'd interviewed a lot of people in his situation. She knew in her heart he was telling the truth. She also knew the facts looked bad for him. One million dollars would not begin to satisfy the claims that were going to be made against him. This was going to be tough. She said, “I believe you. Now we have to find out who did it.”

  They spent the next few hours taking his statement as well as those of his wife and sister. The chief asked him for a list of the contact information for all his employees.

  After they were finished, Bev went to meet Paul Morehouse.

  She walked into the office and told the secretary she didn't have an appointment but urgently needed to make one. The secretary told her to wait. She went into his office and came out a second later with Morehouse behind her. He reached out to take her hand and said, with an undertaker's expression, “How can I help you?” He was in his late twenties and looked very serious.

  Bev wanted to smack him for being condescending. Instead, she said, “I'm the adjuster for Midwestern Indemnity responsible for the fire claim at The Barn. I need a local lawyer to be the face and voice of the investigation. Hear me: I will be running the show and I will have big city litigators managing the lawsuits. We need a local guy to manage the press and be the spokesperson.”

  He looked offended. “You want a PR guy, get a PR guy.”

  “I need local counsel to work on the biggest case you'll ever see, Mr. Morehouse.”

  “What firm will be managing the litigation?”

  “I haven't decided yet.”

  “You're hiring local counsel, not your attorneys? Isn't that a bit unusual?”

  “It's highly unusual. This is my home town. This is my show. We'll all do it my way.”

  “I would like to be present when you have this conversation with your big-city litigator.”

  “Oh, you probably will be because you're going to be lead counsel and my big-city litigator will be providing aerial support.”

  He laughed and said, “I don't like your attitude, and I'm not really interested in being your spokes-model, but you're right, this will be the biggest case I'll ever see. I'll no doubt learn a lot. Besides, I'm inclined to sign up for the entertainment value of that meeting alone.”

  “Whatever your reason, I'm glad you see it that way.”

  “When are you taking Mazzoli's statement?”

  “Chief Casey and I took his statement this morning. I want you to make arrangements with a court reporter to get a Statement Under Oath as soon as possible.”

  “You already took his statement before you hired me?”

  “Yes. I did that on purpose. I didn't want to get lawyers involved until after I had spoken directly to my insured.”

  “He doesn't have a lawyer yet?”

  “He does now. You're it. Your job is to babysit him and keep the press the hell away from him.” She looked at him, “Mr. Morehouse, your client is a man whose life has just imploded. He lost his business, and a lot of his customers and friends were killed. At least one member of his immediate family died in the fire. He needs all the help he can get. He needs you in his corner. Let me investigate the claim. Let the hot-shot litigators manage the lawsuits. You take care of your client.”

  He smiled at her. “Ms. Deller, you surprise me. I would not have expected such compassion from an adjuster.”

  “Then you've been watching too many ads on TV from ambulance chasers.” She paused, “I'll pay you $150 an hour. I want your bills in tenths of an hour, submitted monthly by the tenth of the month. Let me see your standard engagement letter.”

  He handed it to her. “Are you a lawyer?”

  “No. But I've been doing this for a long time.” She ran her fingers through her hair, “Today it feels like too long.” She glanced through the agreement and said, “This is fine. Here's my card. Set up the letter and I'll sign your engagement letter with no changes. Please reach out to Mr. Mazzoli today. He's desperate to know that somebody is going to help him.”

  He furrowed his brows, “How does this work. The word on the street is that the fire was set. Why would you hire a lawyer for him if he torched the building? Wouldn't that be insurance fraud?”

  She smacked her hands on his desk, “Mr. Morehouse, we do not know that the fire was set. The investigation is ongoing. And, even if it was set by someone, that doesn't mean that Mr. Mazzoli set it. I, for one, do not believe he burned down his business. I intend to handle this under a reservation of rights and defend and indemnify him until I turn up evidence -- as in hard, scientific evidence -- that he committed insurance fraud. If that happens, I'll turn the matter over to the prosecutor and withdraw defense.” She looked at him for a long time, “I don't expect that to happen, and after you talk to your client, I think you will agree with me.”

  “Does he have sufficient limits of insurance?”

  “No.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “For you it means that you'd better do everything in your power to make nice with this town so the families of the victims will be satisfied with the paltry one million dollars he has available. And for me it means that I need to find who set this fire and hope that person has some money.”

  “You think it was set?”

  “Not sure, but if it was, I hope to hell our firebug has a nice, fat bank account.”

  She turned to go, saying, “I'll stop by later to sign the engagement letter and drop off a copy of the insurance policy. Please call your client as soon as you can.”

  As she walked to her car, Ben Tucker called her to tell her he was on his way from the airport. She suggested he check into the hotel, change and then meet her at the restaurant. Next she called Chief Casey. He told her the FBI wanted the Cincinnati crime lab people to be on the scene when her investigator went through the scene.

  She asked, “The FBI's not planning to be here are they?”

  “No. I gave them your argument that we are operating under the assumption the deaths were incidental to the property crime. He said he'd stay in the background, but that's why he wants the crime lab folks to come back.”

  “I'm okay with that. I'll meet you at the restaurant in an hour. By the way, I hired Paul Morehouse to represent Mr. Mazzoli.”

  “He's not representing the insurance company?”

  “Oh, no. My Company will have much better lawyers than that. Trust me. He seems like a nice enough kid. His main job is to babysit Mr. Mazzoli and make nice with the town. I wasn't very nice to him. You should be the good cop with him.”

  He laughed. “I wish I had se
en that exchange.”

  “I'm glad there were no witnesses.”

  She went home and changed into jeans and a tee shirt, and dug out her rubber boots and tossed a packet of latex gloves into her bag. She sent a text message to Emily to the effect that she'd need to ride the bus home from school. Then Bev drove to the restaurant and parked across the street, munching peanut butter crackers, waiting. A man approached her car and laughed, “You'd make a good cop with that diet. I'm Tom Jackson, Cincinnati Crime Lab.”

  She got out of the car and shook his hand. “Your buddies in the FBI wanted you here?”

  “Yeah. Only they're usually not so buddy-like. I'm not sure what got into them.”

  “They don't trust small town investigators and they really don't trust insurance experts.”

  “Usually that's wise. In this case, I think they're out of line. Ben Tucker's the best in the business. Hell, the FBI uses him as an expert from time to time.”

  “Yeah, but I'm paying for him, and that automatically makes him a whore as far as they're concerned.”

  Tucker pulled up and parked behind Bev and Chief Casey joined them a few minutes later. The four of them entered the building together. Bev explained to them what she had seen the night of the fire. Tom Jackson summarized what little data they had already compiled from processing the scene. Ben went through the building with swabs and plastic bags, collecting samples and taking photos. Jackson watched him, but did not interfere. Every now and then Jackson made note or took a picture of something his guys had evidently missed. Tucker was thorough, and it was almost dark by the time he finished.

  He ended up with a box of samples. He asked the CSI if he could overnight the samples to a lab in California to preserve the chain of evidence. The CSI looked at Bev, “You picking up the tab for this?”

  “Send me the bill.”

  Tucker said, “This is going to be expensive.”

  Bev said, “Cha-ching!” After Casey and the CSI left, Bev asked Tucker if he wanted to get dinner. Then a kind of confused look came over her face and she said, “Actually, without The Barn, there really there isn't any place other than chains and fast food places, neither of which appeal to me. Come to my house and we'll do pot luck.”

  They discussed the case while Bev made dinner. Then they took a break from business when Emily came in and the three of them ate supper together. Emily asked, “Mr. Tucker, have you worked with my mom before?”

  “Yes. We've worked together on several cases. Actually, I guess I should say a lot of cases.”

  “My mom's good at what she does, isn't she?”

  He grinned and nodded, “I'd say your mom's one of the best there is at what she does.”

  “It's cool to see her in action.” Her face clouded and she looked as though she might cry, “But I hate that this is happening in my town.”

  Bev said, “That makes two of us.”