Death on the Diagonal - By Nero Blanc Page 0,51

don’t agree with, but that’s how it is. So I’d like you to lay out exactly how this problem transpired—whether it’s ‘fuzzy in your head’ or not.”

The barn manager remained quiet for a moment, then stood and walked into the kitchen area. “Do you mind if I light a cigarette?”

Rosco shook his head. “Go for it.”

He lit up and inhaled deeply. “It was simple. The phone rang in the tack room. I turned around real quick to answer it and knocked the space heater onto the floor, and the place caught on fire.” Orlando looked at Rosco and added an unconvincing, “It sure as hell wasn’t done on purpose.”

“And the liquor bottle in question? Did it hit the floor and break before or after the space heater?”

“Umm . . . before . . . no, after. The cord from the space heater dragged it onto the floor and it smashed.”

“I see. And then you tried to put out the fire, is that it?”

“No. No. It happened too fast. I was more concerned about getting the horses into a safe area, so I ran to open the place up.”

Rosco leaned forward on the couch. “Mr. Collins said that when he looked out from his house he could see someone swatting at the flames with a horse blanket. So, I gather that wasn’t you? Was there someone else in the tack room at the time?”

Orlando shook his head. “The training operation was shut down for the day. Barn managers are always the last to leave the place at the end of a work session, you know, kind of square the place away, make sure the equipment is stored properly, and all . . . come to think of it, I guess I did try to put the fire out first. That would have been a natural thing for me to do, contain it. When it started to spread I gave up and ran to release the horses.”

“Did you answer the phone?”

“What?”

“Did you answer the phone? You said the phone rang. That’s what caused you to knock over the heater. Did you get a chance to answer it?”

“Umm . . . no. I didn’t.”

Rosco stood, walked over to the door, and then back to the couch. He paced in that fashion for a few seconds, finally saying, “If you were known to be the only person in the tack room at that time of evening, whoever was calling wanted to talk to you. Do you have any idea who it might have been?”

“No. No. I don’t know. Maybe it was Kelly. She was in Kentucky visiting her family. Maybe she tried me here in the apartment, got no answer and then rang the tack room.”

Rosco continued to pace. “On the other hand, it’s my understanding that the phone in the tack room is on a line that’s connected to every building on the farm, so if someone were to call there it would ring elsewhere, even in Mr. Collins’s house. Would your wife, an employee, do that? For a personal call? Dial a number that would risk disturbing Mr. or Mrs. Collins or his children?”

Orlando crushed out his cigarette. “Okay, maybe it wasn’t Kelly. I told you I didn’t answer the thing. Maybe it wasn’t for me at all.”

“Here’s the problem I’m having with this telephone business: that phone rings all over King Wenstarin Farms, yet no one else—Jack Curry, Mr. Collins, Chip, Fiona, Heather, Michael Palamountain, none of them—has mentioned hearing it shortly before the fire broke out. How do you explain that?”

“Okay, maybe it wasn’t the phone, maybe it was the intercom. I told you my mind’s real blurry. I only remember little bits and pieces. And then not all the time.”

“The intercom is a speaker phone; there’s no receiver to reach for.”

“There’s a button you have to push in order to talk. You hear a voice, but you can’t answer without depressing the talk button. Maybe I was reaching for that . . . yeah, I’m sure I was. It wasn’t the phone at all.”

Rosco stopped by the apartment door and turned toward Orlando. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. And whose voice was so important that you spun around—triggering the events that produced the fire?”

Polk seemed to freeze. He stood in that awkward posture for a long moment, then finally whispered, “I don’t . . . remember.”

Rosco reached for the doorknob and flung open the door. Standing there was Heather Collins, who all but tumbled into the room.

“Oh,” she said