Death on the Diagonal - By Nero Blanc Page 0,57

I keep the damn intercom turned off. Most of the time it’s just my sisters knocking each other over something. I get tired of listening to their gab. It starts sounding like talk radio.”

Rosco took a sip of his beer. “I know what you mean. I’ve got sisters, too. Greek sisters. When it comes to vendettas, they take the cake.” Then he added a seemingly nonchalant, “Can I be up front with you?”

“I hope so.”

“I have good reason to believe your barn manager didn’t start that blaze. I think he’s covering for someone. I can’t figure out who, and I can’t figure out why. The thing is, I feel the fire marshal’s initial assessment is correct: that the blaze was an accident. There are a lot easier ways to start a fire than with a space heater. So I don’t get it. What do you think, Chip? Who’s Polk covering for, and what’s his reason?”

Chip swiveled his stool around so that he was facing Rosco. “What? You think I started that fire? And that I’m paying off Orlando to keep his mouth shut? Because I don’t want to get in Dutch with my old man for what I did? Is that it?”

Rosco shrugged and pasted a diffident smile on his face. “Hey, that’s not a half-bad scenario . . .” He cocked his head as though weighing the notion and then discarding it. “But my hunch tells me the idea won’t hold water. You just don’t seem like the kind of guy who’d let someone else take the fall for him. So, if not you, who? Your brother-in-law, Michael? Heather? Fiona?”

“I don’t know about my sisters, but I was nowhere near that barn. And Angel can back me up on that,” Chip insisted hotly. “Besides, if I had inadvertently set the place ablaze, I would have owned up to it and tried like hell to save the building. Sure, the old man and I have had our differences over the years, but I’m not afraid of him. And believe me, Rosco, I’ve done worse things in my day than burn down a barn, and he hasn’t thrown me off the property yet.” By now, Chip’s tone had become neither confrontational nor defensive; in fact, it carried a certain amount of familial pride. Rosco found himself believing the pronouncement.

“Okay, then what about your sisters? How’s their relationship with your father? Or Jack Curry? Could he have started the fire and be afraid of losing his job?”

“I guess . . . but what difference does it make? No matter who did it, it’s still an accident, and the insurance has to pay off. Anything else is a Wenstarin Farms’s internal problem, right?”

Rosco nodded. “Then let’s look at arson as a possibility. I recall Heather stating that your competitors at Holbrooke Farms might have had a motive.”

Chip finished off his ale. The bartender arrived with their platters, and another round of beers was ordered.

“I’d love to believe that Holbrooke Farms business of Heather’s, I really would,” Chip said between oysters. “They’re a bunch of jerks over there. But they wouldn’t stoop to that. And logistically it’s next to impossible for them to sneak into our compound—or pay someone to do their dirty work for them. Despite Heather’s allegations to the contrary, my father commands too much loyalty from his employees. He can smell a rat quicker than a cat can.”

“Then we’re back to Orlando, and who he’s covering for. What can you tell me about his wife, Kelly?”

“Pretty girl. Nice. Quiet. Helpful. Friendly without getting in the way. She was in Kentucky when the fire broke out—and that’s a long way to toss a lighted match, let alone a space heater.”

“I know. I’m just trying to see how the pieces of the puzzle fit together.”

“Kelly serves dinners up at the Big House; cleans and so forth during the day. Her father’s ill, so she’s been going back and forth to Louisville a lot lately.” Chip was quiet for a long moment. Finally he said, “You’re convinced Orlando didn’t start that fire?”

“Not convinced, necessarily. But I do know he’s lying about the events of the evening in question.”

Chip nodded. “It’s an interesting thought . . . an innocent person putting himself at risk because he’s determined to protect the guilty party. We could all learn from that model.”

Rosco swallowed another oyster and said, “These are on the money, thanks for the recommendation.” Then feeling that Chip was being honest with him, he opted to