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  UP IN FLAMES

  A Casey and Catt mystery novel

  Geraldine Evans

  Up In Flames

  Geraldine Evans

  Copyright 2003 Geraldine Evans

  Publisher’s Note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Discover other titles by Geraldine Evans at http://www.geraldineevans.com

  Cover design by Cheryl Casey Ramirez

  www.CCRBookCoverDesign.com

  All Rights Reserved.

  OTHER BOOKS BY GERALDINE EVANS

  Rafferty and Llewellyn mystery series

  Dead Before Morning

  Down Among the Dead Men

  Death Line

  The Hanging Tree

  Absolute Poison

  Dying For You

  Bad Blood

  Love Lies Bleeding

  Blood on the Bones

  A Thrust to the Vitals

  Death Dues

  All the Lonely People

  Death Dance

  Deadly Reunion

  Kith and Kill

  Casey and Catt mystery series

  Up in Flames

  A Killing Karma

  Historical Novel

  Reluctant Queen

  About the little sister of Henry VIII

  Romantic Novel

  Land of Dreams

  REVIEW FOR UP IN FLAMES

  'Well researched. Intriguing plot. Good pace. Excellent characterisation and wry humour make this a very enjoyable read. Highly recommended.'

  Mystery Women

  REVIEWS FOR GERALDINE EVANS’ OTHER NOVELS

  DYING FOR YOU

  STARRED REVIEW FROM KIRKUS

  ‘Evans brings wit and insight to this tale of looking for love in all the wrong places.’

  EUROCRIME

  ‘It’s bad enough being suspected of a double murder, worse still when it’s your alter ego being pursued and it’s the pits when you are the policeman in charge of supposedly catching yourself. I thoroughly enjoyed Dying For You, the sixth in the series. A lot of humour is injected in Rafferty’s narrative. He’s got himself in an impossible situation and one wonders what can go wrong next. I savoured this book and am keen to read the rest in the series asap.’

  THE HANGING TREE

  ‘Great book! A wonderfully entertaining read. All the clues are there, set out honestly and fairly, yet the identity of the killer still comes as a surprise. I got one of those "of course - I should have known!" moments at the denouement. Crime writing at its best.’

  REVIEW OF THE HANGING TREE BY JAMES GRACIE

  ABSOLUTE POISON

  ‘Well, this was a real find. Geraldine Evans knows how to make a character leap off the pages at you.’

  LIZZIE HAYES, MYSTERY WOMEN

  ‘An ingeniously constructed plot, deft dialogue, well-drawn characters, and a few humorous touches, make this an enjoyably intriguing read.’

  EMILY MELTON, BOOKLIST

  UP IN FLAMES

  First in the Casey and Cat mystery series

  When Chandra Bansi and her baby, Leela, are burned to death, DCI ‘Will’ Casey and his less than politically correct sergeant, Thomas Catt, rapidly come under pressure from their superintendent to put a couple of skinhead thugs behind bars for arson. But Casey had more questions than the jailing of the skinheads will provide answers to.

  His investigation is not helped when his hippie parents decide they need a temporary new home and decamp to Casey’s doorstep.

  And when it comes to Chandra’s family, just how respectable is Chandra’s businessman father and her vindictive in-laws? Chandra was a modern young woman who was caught uncomfortably between two cultures. It’s hard to say which of them is the more dangerous.

  Up In Flames

  Table of Contents

  Up In Flames

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  About the Author

  Geraldine Evans’ Other Novels on Kindle

  The Rafferty and Llewellyn procedural series

  Chapter One

  The blue idol in the corner of the room was untouched by the fire. While delicate fingers held the silver flute to his lips his painted eyes gazed serenely down on the still-twitching form of the young woman on the floor. The once-shapely limbs were now blackened. The glorious fall of silky dark hair was now a rusty stubble.

  As the idol watched, languorous flames began to caress the bright cartoon transfers on the white-painted cot. Above the quickly-snuffed out whimpers of the deeply-sleeping infant could be heard the distant clanging of fire engines.

  The fire flickered up the curtains. More hungry now, the tongue of flame licked across the ceiling. Molten plaster dropped on to the figure on the floor. The young woman’s body lifted slightly, gave what sounded like a sigh, then settled and lay still.

  Through it all, the flute-playing idol played on; his sweet, silent music a poignant serenade.

  The fire had been quickly extinguished. The neighbours, who had been evacuated by the firemen, had been allowed to return to their homes by the time DCI ‘Will’ Casey’s car, with DS Thomas Catt at the wheel, edged its way forward.

  The row of small, Victorian terraced houses was situated in a narrow side road on the outskirts of the eastern market town of King’s Langley and the fire brigade vehicles were lined up in the middle of it. With the area car parked across the road behind the fire engines, they could drive no further. Catt pulled up and parked neatly beside the police car. As they climbed out, they silently took in the chaotic scene.

  Beyond the firemen in their bright yellow helmets, milling around as they stowed their gear, Casey caught a glimpse of the uniformed officers from the area car. They were keeping the crowd of neighbourhood onlookers herded out of the way at the far end of the street. The hoses from the Brigade’s vehicles writhed like snakes across the pavement ready to trip the unwary. Great puddles lay in front of the blackened ruin in the middle of the terrace. Incongruously, the puddles reflected only the brilliant blue of the August sky.

  Casey straightened the jacket of his plain, sombre-hued suit as he gave a tiny, approving nod. The scene might look chaotic, but it was an organised chaos. Beneath the surface confusion, Casey recognised the quiet competence of well-oiled routine. What a pity it had been in vain.

  Gus Freeman, the Assistant Divisional Fire Officer, approached them. Soot streaked rakishly across one eye, giving him a piratical air, but under the grime, his normally cheerful face was strained.

  ‘Chief.’ After exchanging the brief greeting, Casey got straight to the point. ‘I gather you’ve got two bodies?’

  Freeman nodded. ‘One adult. One infant. Asians, according to the neighbour.’

  Casey’s green eyes shadowed at this news. He offered up a little prayer that this latest fire proved accidental. But after the recent spate of arson attacks on local Asian families he wasn’t optimistic. He steeled himself and voiced the question he had been worrying at since he’d first heard about the latest fire. ‘Was it arson?’

  The arson attacks had caused a furore in the town. Fortunately, until now, there had been no fatalities. Anxiety had made Casey’s question come out sharply, but the Fire Chief didn�
�t take offence. They had come to respect one another, even though Casey, at thirty-five, was ten years younger than the Fire Chief and with his quiet, unconsciously puritan air and immaculate dark suit he was in stark contrast to the large, normally ebullient and slightly scruffy Chief, the pair got on well.

  ‘Arson’s a possibility,’ Freeman admitted. ‘One of the neighbours, a Mrs Angela Neerey, from number 7a, next door but one to the scene, told me she smelt petrol shortly before she noticed the neighbour’s flat was on fire, but as her neighbour on the other side made a habit of topping up his car’s petrol tank from a can in the street she thought no more about it. Even when she smelt the smoke she just assumed it was another neighbour having one of their regular barbeques.’

  Beside Casey, Thomas Catt murmured, ‘The normal scents of summer in suburbia.’

  ‘Exactly. That’s what Mrs Neerey thought. It was only when she got up to go into her flat to top up her drink that she noticed the neighbouring flat was on fire. That’s when she rang 999. We’ve only just got the fire out so have had little time to check for other signs.’

  ‘She didn’t notice anyone suspicious hanging around?’ Casey asked.

  Freeman shook his head. ‘She was sunbathing in the back garden.’ He went on to say that, according to the neighbour, a young Asian girl by the name of Mrs Chandra Bansi, lived there alone with her baby daughter.

  Casey stared grimly at the smoke-blacked ruin. Briefly, he wondered why an Asian girl would live alone with her baby. It was unusual. The Asian way was the extended family all living together. He asked Freeman, ‘Notice any sign of a break-in?’

  ‘None that I could see. But the back door was only a cheap wooden job. Mrs Neerey was fairly certain the back door was shut when she first went out into her garden and was still shut when she noticed the fire. The lock wasn’t good quality either and was so twisted from the heat that it was impossible to tell if it was locked or not. Apart from that, I saw nothing to indicate that it had been forced, certainly no chisel or other marks, though admittedly, as most of the wood had burned away, I couldn’t swear to it. The front door was locked and still intact when we arrived. It was a better quality door. We had to smash it down to gain access for our hoses.’

  Casey nodded and asked the question that could no longer be avoided. ‘Where are the bodies?’

  ‘Ground floor. Back living room. There’s access from the rear as there’s an alleyway running along the entire row. I’ve notified my Control. They’re sending out a team of fire investigators.’

  The police team were also on their way; the Scene of Crime team, photographer, forensic and Dr Arthur Merriman, the Pathologist. Casey knew Dr Merriman, for one, was likely to be some time as he lived and was based nearly twenty miles away. But meanwhile there was plenty to be getting on with. ‘What about the top flat?’

  ‘Empty, luckily. A repossession job.’

  ‘I want to have a look at the scene. Has the structure been made safe?’

  ‘It looks worse than it is. There seems to be little structural damage. But get hard hats in case of falling debris and masks as there might be some lingering toxic fumes.’ He gestured at the poorly-maintained row of terraces. ‘The area’s run-down, so I expect the soft furnishings were second-hand and stuffed with the old-type foam.’ Grimly, he joked, ‘We don’t want any more fatalities.’

  The SOCOs and the brigade fire investigators arrived simultaneously. Casey and the Fire Chief walked over together as they got their equipment from the vans parked one behind the other at the rear of the fire engines. The narrow street was beginning to resemble a grid-locked race track After he and the Chief had briefed the SOCOs and Fire Control teams, Casey thanked Gus Freeman and left them to it.

  He and Catt approached the police officers keeping the crowd back who had been the first on the scene and Casey asked them, ‘What can you tell me? Have you had a chance to speak to any of the other neighbours yet?’

  PC Jonathon Keane, the area driver, shook his head. ‘Me and John Jones had our hands full just keeping the gawpers back out of harm’s way.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll get others on to that.’ He went on briskly. ‘I want you to get a clipboard and make sure you get the name of everyone that enters the house from the front. Find someone to do the same from the rear.’ After the firemen had clumped through with their equipment Casey realised this was probably a waste of time. But if this turned out to be arson it was essential he did everything by the book in case an investigation followed. ‘But before you do that find some more bodies to help Jones keep that crowd back out of the way. Send someone to let me know when the pathologist gets here. Once I’ve looked at the scene I’ll probably be with the neighbour, Mrs Neerey at 7a.’

  After directing other officers to search for any discarded container with petrol or other accelerant dregs, Casey and Sergeant Catt climbed into their white protective gear and borrowed hard hats and masks from the Brigade vehicle. They made their way round to the alleyway that Gus Freeman had mentioned.

  The fire had blasted the windows out and the grass in the back garden glittered diamond-like in the bright sunshine. Treading carefully over the grass’s slippery carpet, they approached the house. Casey checked inside the back door for glass, but there was none inside which would have pointed to an intruder. It was all outside, making walking treacherous. Although the back door was badly burned away by the fire, Casey, like the Fire Chief, couldn’t see any obvious marks to suggest a forced entry and remarked as much to Catt.

  ‘But it’s a warm day,’ Catt pointed out. ‘I know Mrs Neerey thought it had been shut, but after seeing her neighbour’s home ablaze she’d have been in shock and could easily have been mistaken. But either way, we don’t know if it was locked, which is more to the point. If it wasn’t anyone could have gained easy access from the alleyway.’

  Having checked the exterior, they approached the window of the living room, and peered through the now black and jagged frame.

  The body of the adult was lying in the middle of the floor and as usual in a fire, it had adopted the typical ‘pugilistic attitude’, with the arms extended and the forearms flexed in a boxer’s pose. The legs, too, were flexed. This heat-stiffening, Casey knew from previous conversations with the pathologist, was caused by the coagulation of the muscles on the flesor surface of the limbs. But to Casey it suggested that the victim had fought the fire and suffered the inevitable, painful defeat. There was an infant’s cot near the window and he could see the tiny, blackened form through the metal bars. It, too, had adopted the boxer’s stance.

  He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Behind him, he heard the crunch of glass as the rest of the SOCO team entered from the back alley. He opened his eyes and from a throat suddenly raw with held back emotion, said, ‘Let’s leave them to it. I want to speak to this neighbour, Mrs Neerey, anyway.’ They carefully retraced their steps and headed for 7a.

  Mrs Angela Neerey, tear-streaked and obviously distressed, was standing in her doorway, watching the comings and goings and shaking her head. She was a fair-haired woman in her early thirties with a wide, generous mouth that looked as if it would smile readily. But now, its full curves were compressed. Her eyes were puffy, and she had a tight grip on the handkerchief in her right hand. Her gaze fixed steadily on Casey and Catt as they and walked up the path.

  ‘Mrs Neerey?’ Casey asked. She gave a quick nod. He introduced himself and Catt.

  ‘You’ve found them?’ she questioned, in a tear-thickened voice.

  She must have watched as they spoke to the Fire Chief and guessed the worst, Casey surmised. ‘Two bodies have been found,’ he quietly confirmed. ‘One a baby. But I’m afraid we’ll have to wait for positive IDs.’

  Mrs Neerey paled as she took in the implications of this. She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to keep back further tears. And as she crumpled the handkerchief tightly in her fist, she asked, ‘Was it — was it an accident or ... or another arson attack?’

  �
�We don’t know for sure either way yet,’ Casey told her, hoping to deflect her questions. But she persisted.

  ‘You must have an idea.’

  Cautiously, Casey told her that arson was a possibility.

  Her generous mouth tightened. ‘Then for God’s sake make sure you catch them this time. We don’t want anyone else getting away with murder. We don’t want more riots.’

  Her harsh words were a brief foretaste of what Casey knew he could expect if this did turn out to be arson. He glanced at Catt, but the normally upbeat, even cocky, ThomCatt was subdued and unnaturally silent. That, more than anything — even the, so far, brief view of the victims — brought home to Casey what kind of task lay in front of them.

  And after the uproar that had followed the failed investigation of black teenager Stephen Lawrence’s murder in south London, Casey knew that if his worst fears were realised and this did turn out to be arson the feelings that had been running high in the town since the first Asian arson were likely to explode.

  Slow-fused and patient beyond most men’s capacity, Casey suspected both traits would be tested to the limit. And not just by the Asian community...

  Chapter Two

  A minute later they were in Mrs Neerey’s sunny kitchen at the back of the flat. Decorated in shades of yellow and white, it should have looked fresh and clean. But smoke from the fire had laid a coating of grime over everything.

  ‘Please, sit down.’ She gestured at the cheap pine table and four matching ladder-back chairs placed just under the window. After quickly wiping the chairs with a duster, she picked up a couple of toy trucks that lay on the floor in their path. ‘My son’s. He’s asleep, thank God. I was just making tea. Would you like some?’