Fire Engine Dead Read online

  “Makes sense to me.” I was pleased that I had no trouble keeping up with James’s long strides—all that walking to and from the station seemed to be paying off. “So that limits the field to people who would know how to set fires—which includes almost everyone involved with the Fireman’s Museum. Great.”

  “You didn’t think this would be simple, did you?”

  “It never is.”

  CHAPTER 14

  As we drove back to the city, I realized that I was pleased that James had included me, but I was still confused by what I had heard. “James, you said you handled arson cases before?”

  “Now and then. That’s why I know Celia. She’s kind of a unique resource. Read her book,” James said, his eyes on the road. “She does provide some broad profiles for the different types of arsonist.”

  I nudged his shoulder. “You have to turn here to get to the Schuylkill.”

  “Got it.” He moved onto the on-ramp and sped up.

  “I guess my problem is, I have trouble seeing any of the people I’ve met from the Fireman’s Museum as arsonists.” And, I reminded myself, killers. That was even harder.

  “Are you talking about Peter Ingersoll?”

  “In part, I guess. He’s an administrator, and he said he has asthma, although I suppose he could have lied about that. But I don’t see him hauling heavy equipment around or torching a warehouse. And I was in the room with him when he learned about the warehouse fire. I saw how he reacted. When was it set, do you know?”

  “Early morning, according to the fire department, but it spread slowly. It took the department awhile to put it out, and then they found the body. And then they had to figure out who the place belonged to, and only then did they get a handle on who had stuff there. Ingersoll would have had plenty of time to set a fire, go home, shower, shave, and make it to your luncheon.”

  “So it’s not an alibi. I wonder where he lives.”

  “Rittenhouse Square.”

  “Do you have a file on him?” I turned in my seat to look at James.

  “The police and the FBI have looked at all the principal players.”

  “Don’t tell me you have a file on me!”

  “No comment.” James’s mouth twitched.

  I took that as a yes. At least I had nothing to hide, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about the FBI snooping into my life. Not that anybody could hide much in this Internet age. Sometimes I yearned for the simpler days when people wrote letters to each other, which often took days or weeks to arrive. Was that why I oversaw collections full of them? Since they were far fewer in number than modern communications, they were more precious, at least to those who cared about such things. And somehow I doubted we would be collecting emails of the rich and famous any time soon.

  I pulled my mind back to the arson. “Did you find anything important about anyone?”

  “Nothing about setting fires, but they all have some connection with the city fire department or another department.”

  “Not just Gary? Even Jennifer?”

  He nodded, keeping his attention focused on navigating the notorious Schuylkill Expressway. “Jennifer was married to a firefighter and still collects a pension from the department. Peter and Scott’s father was a fireman.”

  “What about criminal records?”

  “Only Scott Ingersoll—he seems to be a hothead and has gotten into a few fights, but there’s nothing arson related.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad news. “Well, for the moment I reserve the right to believe that it is possible for anyone to hire a thug to do their dirty work. Have you had any luck identifying a trucker?”

  James sighed. “I should have known what I was letting myself into when I asked you to help. I don’t suppose I can ask that you limit your questions to your areas of expertise?”

  “Look, I understand about confidentiality and FBI rules and all that stuff, but I’ll be much more useful to you if I have a better picture of what’s going on. What you’re looking for. What you’ve already covered and dismissed. That kind of thing. And you’re right—you should know me well enough by now to know that I’m not going to sit quietly in my corner. You may have your own law enforcement turf to protect, but the Philadelphia cultural community is my turf. And you know I can keep my mouth shut.”

  “You are the perfect Girl Scout, Nell. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but as you point out, I have protocols to follow. Plus, much as I hate to say it, we’re just getting up to speed on this whole investigation now, and I don’t have a lot to share with you.”

  “The blind leading the blind. Great. Tell me this—do you think there will be more fires?”

  “I don’t know. I still don’t have enough evidence to say whether the ones we’ve had are related, or whether there’s more than one arsonist running around. It’s a big city. And there’s another angle we haven’t even talked about: it wouldn’t surprise me if someone had commissioned these fires to make the fire department look more essential—you know the city is looking to cut the department’s budget.”

  “What, fires as a public relations tool? That’s an awful idea.”

  “Well, if you exclude the one fire that interests us, the others have been relatively benign—no significant loss of property, and they were put out quickly.”

  “And that looks suspicious?” I asked. “You really think it’s just more than the fire department doing a good job?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Look, I don’t want to throw stones at anyone. I respect the fire department and the job they do. But you’ll have to admit it’s a good cover for the fire engine switch, especially if someone knew there were going to be other fires.”

  “James!” I said, appalled. “You’re really thinking there are two conspiracies here? One to boost the public perception of the fire department, and another to rip off the museum? I’m glad I’m not you, seeing nefarious plots under every rock.”

  He glanced briefly my way. “Nell, it happens more often than you’d like to think. But you go right on thinking the best of people. It’s part of your charm.”

  Great. Nell Pratt, aka Pollyanna. Still, I’d rather look for the best in people than assume everyone had an ulterior and malicious motive. Of course, I spent most of my time living with the past, while James was on the front lines of the present. Maybe that made a difference.

  We arrived in front of the Society building. James pulled into the bus stop space and stopped the car. “Will you be seeing Ingersoll again, or anyone else associated with the Fireman’s Museum?”

  “Not that I have scheduled. Do you want me to try to plan something?”

  “Only if it looks natural. And I’ll trust you not to ask stupid questions.”

  “You mean, like, Have you met any arsonists lately?”

  “Exactly.” He grinned at me, and I swatted his arm.

  “I think you’ve given me enough work to keep me out of trouble for a while. Let me know if anything else comes up—or burns down.” I climbed out of the passenger seat and waved as he pulled away, before marching up the stone steps.

  I managed to make it all the way to my office without being interrupted, but when I arrived there Eric looked ready to burst. “Oh, there you are, Nell. It seems like half the staff is looking for you. Rich has called a couple of times, and then Latoya—something about processing the new materials? And Marty’s waiting in your office.”

  Great. If I’d been hoping for a little time for myself, I was out of luck. “Thanks, Eric. I guess I’ll deal with Marty first.”

  I marched into my office and hung up my coat. “Hello, Marty. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  Marty had been sitting on the settee against the wall, leafing through an issue of Antiques, but she jumped up and moved to a chair in front of my desk. “What the hell is going on in processing? I thought your people were working on the Terwilliger Collection?”

  I sat down behind my desk. “So no one told you?”

  “T
old me what?”

  I sighed. “The FBI finally released the documents they had seized.”

  Marty nodded impatiently. “Well, we figured they’d be coming, didn’t we? Why is everybody running around like a bunch of headless chickens?”

  “Because your cousin James decided to release all the documents they’d seized. One hundred and sixty-seven boxes’ worth, to be precise. And he sent ’em all here.”

  It was interesting watching Marty’s expressions change, and I sat back and enjoyed the show. First anger, that James had interfered with the processing of her family’s beloved collection. Then speculation, as she began to wonder just what else might be in there. Then a kind of glee, when she realized that there might be some really good stuff mixed in and she had first crack at all of it. I waited.

  Finally she said, “I don’t know whether to kick or kiss that boy. Have you looked through the stuff?”

  “Not yet, beyond peeking in a few boxes. It all came in yesterday and what time we had we spent hauling them upstairs. And both Nicholas and Alice showed up early, and I barely had time to introduce them to Rich before the avalanche. And this morning James and I paid a call on an arson expert.”

  “Why?” Marty relaxed back into her chair, apparently over her snit.

  “Because there’s been a whole series of fires recently, and he’s trying to figure out where the Fireman’s Museum fire fits. If it does.”

  “That’s not our problem,” she said, brushing aside the issue of the fires. “What’re you going to do with the mess here?”

  “Most of the materials will be things that we know didn’t come from the Society’s collections. Nicholas has made some impressive claims about his software package. I figure I’ll let him loose on the new materials and see what he can do. And before you ask, the ownership of this stuff is kind of up in the air, so it makes sense if Nicholas keeps it independent of the Society’s data, at least for now. He can give his results to the FBI, which should win us some points.”

  “Any chance the Society’ll get to keep any of it?”

  I shrugged. “I really don’t know. According to James, it depends on whether any of it can be identified as belonging to another institution.” Marty snorted. “I know, it’s unlikely that we’ll be able to trace its ownership. But I also don’t know what the FBI can or will do with it. Right now James has asked us to sort through it and identify what we could, period.”

  “You know anything about the guy who collected all of it?”

  “Not much. I think James told me when they arrested the guy that he was into the Civil War, but that’s about all I know.”

  “You gonna let me get my hands on any of this?” Marty said with an evil gleam in her eye.

  I was surprised that she actually asked permission. “Within limits. You can identify the Terwilliger stuff, which demonstrably belongs to the Society, so we need you there. That means you’re going to have to be involved in sorting through it all, at least the first pass. Will that make you happy?”

  “It’s a start.” Marty stood up. “Want to get going?”

  “Marty, I need to get some lunch, and I need to go smooth some ruffled feathers and make sure everyone is working together. Not necessarily in that order. Why don’t we go over to the workroom now and make sure nobody has come to blows yet?”

  “Excellent,” Marty said, and led the way.

  I had to rush to keep up with her. She pushed through the doorway with me on her heels, and we were confronted by a scene of controlled chaos. At least I hope it was controlled; the chaos part was a steady state. It was a large single room with windows along the outside wall. Large tables were distributed throughout the room, and various supplies and works in progress were scattered around the perimeter, on shelves, under the tables, and anywhere else there was room. Now there were 167 boxes shoehorned between the tables—and three people at opposite corners, looking none too happy.

  I sneaked a look at Marty, who appeared to be enjoying herself. But then, she wasn’t the one who had to clear up the mess, literal and figurative. It was time for me to step up to the plate. “Rich, Nicholas, Alice—I’m glad to see you all here.” That much was true. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier this morning to explain and to get you pointed in the right direction, although I’m sure Latoya and Rich can do a much better job with that last part. Grab a stool, why don’t you? This may take a little time.”

  They sat, without moving any closer together, and I reviewed for them what I understood about the situation, based on what James had told me. I wouldn’t swear that I had the whole story yet, but it was the best I had to work with. I finished up by saying, “I think this is a great way to get you started—you can jump into sorting and cataloging with both feet, and we have no idea what you’ll find. Pretend it’s a treasure hunt. Plus you’ll be garnering the gratitude of the FBI, which can’t hurt—especially if you’re planning anything illegal.” When nobody even smiled, I hurried to add, “That was a joke. We take honesty, and the integrity of our reputation, very seriously here. All I’m saying is that this is a good opportunity for you to learn to work together, and you could find some interesting material here. Nicholas, you’ll be using your software for this? You won’t be hampered by having to compare it to our current records, in the event that your software isn’t compatible with ours. Rich and Marty between them can cull out the Terwilliger papers, and you can handle the rest.”

  He nodded, his expression still serious. “That makes sense. I don’t have to hand my software over to the FBI, do I?”

  “Just the output, not the program.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Alice said.

  “Whatever Rich asks you to do. Plus I’m hoping that you can take what Nicholas comes up with and create an overview report that we can send to the FBI. You know, more qualitative than numerical, describing the scope of the collected materials, their quality, and so on. You all can work together on this, can’t you?” I scanned the group and was relieved to see that they were beginning to look a little happier. “How about you three come up with a preliminary assessment by, say, the end of the week? And include how much time you estimate it will take to get through all this. Then we can sit down together and work out a plan. Sound good?”

  Three heads nodded.

  “Great! I’ll go talk to Latoya about it. You three—get to work!”

  I turned on my heel and went out the door, with Marty close behind. “That was fun!” she said.

  “Maybe for you. Do you agree with my plan?”

  “I do, overall. And I’ll hang around and make sure they don’t miss anything from the Terwilligers.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  CHAPTER 15

  Now I had to go explain the whole situation to Latoya. How was it that I kept having to defend myself to that woman? Yes, collections was her domain, and she was entitled to make decisions that pertained to collections—acquisition, cataloging, physical maintenance. I subscribed to the idea that one should hire good people and let them do their job, without hovering over their shoulder and second-guessing all their decisions. Not that I’d been the one to hire Latoya, although I had no argument with her qualifications. Still, I know I’d resent that kind of treatment, and yet here I was, stepping all over Latoya’s toes. But I was in an unusual and awkward position, since it was my special relationship with the FBI that had created this problem. There was no way I was going to give Latoya the option of saying no to the FBI.

  I squared my shoulders and marched down the hall. When I reached Latoya’s door, it was closed, so I knocked and waited politely for her to invite me in. She took her own sweet time about it. When I finally walked in, she looked up in surprise. “Oh, Nell—I didn’t know it was you. What can I do for you?”

  I sat without waiting for her to ask. “I wanted to give you an update about what’s going on with that material we received yesterday.”

  Latoya sat back in her chair. “Ah, yes, the FBI dump.
I did check in on the young ones this morning and encouraged them to cooperate with each other. I take it you’ve talked to your, uh, contact at the FBI?”

  “I have. He says the agency wants us to go through it and see what we can identify. Our missing items, of course, but we should at least give him enough written detail on the rest that he can compare the other pieces to any of the available databases of stolen items.”

  “I see. Did you tell him we have no space, no staff, and no time to undertake something like this, particularly without warning?”

  “I did, but I also told him that we would find a way to make time. We stand to gain much more than we lose by doing this, starting with the goodwill of the FBI. Not to mention, they’ll pay us, enough to support the new staff for the time it takes. Plus there’s some possibility that we might get to keep the confiscated materials, if legalities permit.”

  “Ah,” she said. “I wish you had done me the courtesy of discussing this with me first. But all right. What do you want me to do?”

  “Supervise the team. I’ve asked them to do a first pass and create an action plan and a timetable. You need to make sure they’re on track.”

  “What about the Terwilliger Collection?”

  “I’ve already talked to Marty, and she’s okay with this. You can bet that she’s going to be involved all along the way, because she’s the best person to sniff out her family’s documents from the piles. In fact, she’s already in the workroom.”

  “Very well,” she said at last. “I’ll keep an eye on them. All of them.”