Up in Flames Read Online Free

glass lay on its side a few yards closer to the house, presumably dropped by Mrs Neerey  when she realised her neighbour’s home was ablaze.
                  Although small, the garden was well-stocked and a kaleidoscope of colour and pattern met his eye. Generous swathes of bright yellowy-orange Rudbeckia with its rich, hot chocolate coloured centre, fiery orange Crocosmia with its branching stems, white and mauve Love-in-a-Mist and many more were crammed in to the limited space. Their fresh beauty struck a harsh contrast with the sight two doors down of charred bodies, twisted metals and blackened walls.
                  Casey turned back to Angela Neerey. ‘Did you hear anything from next door? Screams or cries? I understand you were in your garden when you first noticed the fire.’
                  She shook her head and cupped her hands round her now cooling tea. ‘Unfortunately, I had my headphones on,’ she explained. ‘I was listening to Rock music. I like my Rock good and loud.’
                  It was Saturday lunchtime, a time when most people would have been home. Casey hoped one of the other neighbours might have heard something. With the weather so warm there would be open windows and doors, so any noises or cries would be easily audible. It was now nearly 2 p m. Mrs Neerey had reported the fire around one o’clock. Conscious of the passing time, and all that had yet to be accomplished, Casey pressed on. ‘Tell me, was Chandra security conscious?’
                  Angela Neerey nodded. ‘Yes. So am I. Let’s face it, a woman alone is an easy target. And after the local arson cases, being Asian, she must have felt even more vulnerable. That’s why I’m surprised her father put her in the flat when her in-laws threw her out, instead of taking her back home.’
                  So was Casey.
                  Thinking about the victims’ Asian background prompted him to ask, ‘Do Chandra’s parents speak English?’ Obviously Chandra did, but she was of the younger generation. Often the middle-aged and elderly Asians kept to their own people and had little occasion to speak English.
                  ‘Her father seems to. Of course, I’ve done little more than pass the time of day with him, but he understood my colloquialisms well enough. I don’t know about his wife, though. She just smiled and nodded on the couple of occasions they visited. I don’t even know their names. As I said, Chandra only lived there a few weeks, so I had little time to discover more.’
                  She seemed to have discovered most of Chandra’s short life history in the brief time she had known her, Casey reflected. And if this should turn out to be more than an accident and more than a random arson, it might be fortunate for the investigation.
                  He heard a rapid rat-a-tat. Casey leaned over and gazed up the hallway. PC Keane stood at the open front door. He called down the hallway. ‘The pathologist’s here, sir.’
                  Casey nodded, thanked Mrs Neerey for her help and handed her his card. ‘If you think of anything more, please ring me.’
                  Dr Arthur Merriman, the Pathologist, was the complete antithesis of his name; A Merry Man he was not. Thin, severe and not at all given to the telling of jokes, macabre or any other kind, he was just getting into his protective gear as they approached his car.
                  Casey and Catt, who had stripped off their protectives before they spoke to Chandra’s neighbour, Angela Neerey, quickly climbed back into them. ‘It’s like a war zone in there,’ Casey warned the pathologist. ‘Better get a helmet.’
                  After borrowing another hard hat from the fire crew, Casey led the way through the smashed front door of number 5a and gestured Dr Merriman ahead