Hot Water Read Online Free

buy the place?”
    “About two months ago.”
    “So realtors might have had access?”
    “Marshview Realty handled the sale. I can ask them about access while they had it listed.”
    “Anyone else? Maybe a handyman to change the locks?”
    “I’m sorry. I don’t know the answer to that. But I can find out.”
    “I need to know.”
    He parked at the end of the road and donned his camera. A fully involved fire all right. No standing timbers. Just ashes and rubble. It was rare for non-arson fires to burn so completely. His hopes rose as they exited the truck.
    Not much to examine, but whatever was here, he’d find.
    He circled the burn site, making notes and taking pictures as he walked. He preferred to start from the outside and work in to the heart of the fire. He saw crumbling brick pilings which looked like building supports, a few twisted pieces of tin from the roof, pools of melted metal from the rest of the roof, galvanized piping, a couple of soot-covered toilets and sinks, some odd bits of metal, here and there a partially burnt hunk of wood. Given the seventy-five-year vintage of the building, the framing timbers and heart pine floor had fueled the flames.
    “Walk me through it, from your recollection,” he said.
    She pointed due south, her cop hat riding low over her dark eyes. “One of my domestic violence moms was staying with a friend the next road over. I was following-up with her when the call came through. Because I was nearby, I secured the scene. Southside’s pumper pulled up a few minutes later. They dropped a hose in the creek and sprayed the fire. Investigator Rawson and Deputy Ballard arrived next and relieved me. Folks came from miles around to watch the fire.
    “I watched the blaze for a while. The fire chief had a fit when he arrived, because cars blocked the road. He ordered the deputies to clear the area. I left in the general exodus, before anyone knew there was a body inside. They found Brown early the next morning, two days ago.”
    He envisioned the scene she painted. From her recital of facts, he gathered she was analytical and organized. She took care with her appearance as well. Her uniform was pressed and tidy, her shoes glossy black, her burnished chestnut hair in a crisp regulation cut framing her chin.
    He glanced around. No plugs in sight. No wonder the pumper truck had to draft water from the creek.
    “Tell me more about the fire,” he said. “What color was the smoke?”
    She laughed, a melodic sound to his ears. “Smoke-colored.”
    “I meant was it more white in color or black?”
    “Black, I guess.”
    Black smoke came from a very hot fire. A blue pickup approached and parked next to his truck. An older gentleman eased from behind the wheel and limped over. “Looks like we’re all here,” Wyatt said.
    Dinterman introduced Fire Chief Buford Pratt. A Braves baseball cap covered the chief’s head, but he wore shorts, a T-shirt, and turnout boots. Definitely not standing on ceremony or dressing to impress.
    “What can you tell me about our fire, young man?” the chief asked.
    Was the man joking? How the heck would he know anything at this point based on the chief’s inadequate report? “I was hoping you might remember more details to help me reconstruct it. Did the blaze start inside or out?”
    “Inside’s my guess,” Pratt said, hands in his pockets. “When we got here, flames were shooting out the windows and flaring from the roof.”
    Wyatt noted there were no trees adjacent to the former restaurant. The woods were forty feet away from the west side of the building. A tidal creek ran along the east side of the property. A grassy parking lot and the road bounded the other sides. “Good thing the fire didn’t jump. Once it got in those pines, you’d have had quite a wildfire on your hands.”
    The chief’s brow furrowed. “My men responded quickly, and they knew what to do. We take fires seriously around here.”
    Definitely not joking. Maybe a bit