Free Kill and Tell by Linda Howard Page B

wasn't there unless she had gotten real clever and hidden it under the house or, somehow, in the ceiling. He found the trap door into the attic area and peered around, but everything was dark and dusty, and it was more than a hundred degrees up there. Nor was he inclined to crawl around under the house; that wasn't a good hiding place, because it was so dank. The moisture ruined everything. He was certain the book wasn't on the premises, but Hayes's orders had been to burn the place if he didn't find the book. He shrugged. Orders were orders, and Hayes was a careful man. Carl set about following those orders.
    In his opinion, the best way to burn down a house was a grease fire in the kitchen; there weren't any accelerants to raise suspicion, and it always looked like an accident. Fires started in kitchens all the time. He whistled softly as he set to work. Bless her, Miss Karen had fried up some bacon that morning and Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    left the pan of grease sitting out to cool. Using a towel, he turned on the gas burner and set the pan on top of it, then arranged the towel so that it was close enough to catch fire when the grease blazed up. He made a silent bet with himself, then opened the cabinet door closest to the stove. Yep, that was where she kept the cooking oil, in both bottles and spray cans, right where they were closest to the heat and were most likely to catch fire. She couldn't have made it any easier for him if she had tried. Professional that he was, he didn't leave without knowing he had done his job. While he waited for the grease to flame up, he took a battery out of the smoke detector and reversed it, then put the detector back in place. He hated listening to that damn shrill noise.
    Smoke was filling up the kitchen pretty good now. He opened all the doors in the house so the fire could get good air flow and spread more quickly. He didn't enjoy burning the house; he even regretted upsetting the pretty little blonde. It would hurt her to lose all her pictures and things. But a job was a job, and this wasn't personal.
    Crouching on the floor to stay out of the deadly smoke, he waited until the pan on the stove flamed with a sudden whoosh . The towel caught fire immediately, and tongues of flame leaped up the cabinet. Carl quickly left the house then and took his usual precautions returning to the car. He glanced back occasionally and at last was rewarded by the gust of black smoke that meant either the roof or a wall had been breached by the flames. It was tempting to drive by the house to make certain it was engulfed, but that was a bad idea, and he knew it. Never go back. As old as the house was, and the way he had opened up all the rooms, the fire would spread too quickly for anything to be saved. He checked his watch when he heard the first siren in the distance: ten minutes. Too long. Houses burned much faster than people realized; they thought they would have several minutes in which to rescue their treasured possessions. Wrong. By the time most fires were noticed, the people inside had about thirty seconds in which to get out. The only way he had been able to remain as long as he had was because he had been aware of the fire from the beginning, he had stayed low, and he had been near the door. By the time the fire department actually got to the house, every room would be involved. They would concentrate on keeping the flames from catching the trees on fire and spreading to the other houses.
    He gave a mental shrug as he drove away. He had both failed and succeeded. He didn't have the book, but if it had been anywhere in that house, it was now totally destroyed. He had carried out Hayes's instructions, though they seemed excessive to him. He'd tell Hayes he didn't think the book was there, and what Hayes did then was his own business. Carl had done his job. The dented, rusted pickup rolled to a stop at the end of the narrow dirt road, and two