Free Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Dead by Lena Diaz Page B

hard to find. At auction, this shelf alone could bring hundreds, maybe thousands of dollars. I would guess everything in this hutch could go for tens of thousands of dollars.”
    “That rules out burglary as a motive,” Matt said. “If someone set the place on fire to cover up their crime, they wouldn’t have left thousands of dollars of dishes in here. Which makes it much more likely we have the right Sharon Johnson.”
    “Maybe they didn’t know what the dishes were worth.”
    “Doubtful,” Matt said. “Even though I don’t know much about the value of antique glassware, I suspected these were valuable. I think most people would assume that.”
    Tessa replaced the plate and gently closed the hutch door. She peeled off the now soot-blackened glove, turning it inside out before shoving it into her suit jacket pocket. “I think the fact that the second floor burned so evenly, without burning the first floor, makes it obvious that arson wasn’t just an afterthought to a bungled burglary. The perp used some kind of accelerant all along the perimeter, but only on the second floor. This was deliberate, with a specific goal in mind.”
    “To kill Miss Johnson.”
    “Or to burn her body after killing her, to ensure no forensic evidence would remain.”
    “Then I’d say arson was secondary to the primary goal, a means to an end,” Matt said. “The perp was here for one thing, murder.” He headed back into the family room.
    “Where are you going now?” Tessa sounded exasperated as she followed him again.
    Matt waved toward a group of pictures. “There’s a black lab in these photos, and food and water dishes in the kitchen. Sharon Johnson had a dog. Where is it?”
    W HEN T ESSA CONTACTED the police to ask about Sharon Johnson’s missing pet, the chief was still too busy to take her call. His assistant routed the call to Detective George Jimenez.
    “The chief sends his apologies, Special Agent James,” the detective said over the phone. “We’ve got an all-hands-on-deck situation right now. But he assigned me to assist you. I’m at your disposal. I can meet with you now, if you want to come to the station.”
    “Thank you, Detective.” Tessa leaned back against the rental car. “But we’re already in front of Sharon Johnson’s house. We’d like to interview a few of her neighbors while we’re here, to get some background information on the victim.”
    “How about I meet you there and take you wherever you need to go?”
    “That’s very kind of you. We appreciate your help.”
    “Not a problem. ETA ten minutes.”
    True to his word, Detective Jimenez pulled up to the curb exactly ten minutes later. He unfolded his lanky frame from his unmarked Charger and shook Matt and Tessa’s hands before sliding his sunshades into his front shirt pocket.
    “Thanks for coming,” Tessa said.
    “My pleasure. It’s not every day I get to meet a couple of FBI agents. Happy to help and see how you do things.”
    “I’m not FBI,” Matt corrected him. “I’m a consultant.”
    “What kind of consultant?”
    “Private investigator. I specialize in cold cases.”
    The detective rocked on his heels. “Cold cases, huh.” He glanced at the recently burned- out house behind him, then stared thoughtfully at Tessa. “What kind of cold case brought you here? A serial arsonist?”
    Tessa shot a warning glance at Matt. “We don’t have enough evidence to make that assumption. All we have is Miss Johnson’s name on a letter. We don’t even know if this is the same Miss Johnson.”
    Matt raised a brow, probably surprised she wasn’t sharing the Ashes, Ashes part of the letters. But since Tessa didn’t know this detective, she wasn’t about to trust him with those kinds of details. She didn’t want to risk having that information posted in tomorrow’s headlines.
    “You mentioned you wanted to interview some neighbors. You want to ask them about the night of the fire?”
    “That would be good, yes, but