Free Nantucket Grand by Steven Axelrod Page B

anything delicious…never to say anything clever.” Snobs like Lattimer didn’t burn down a house, they filed suit with the Boston Land Court to have it taken by eminent domain.
    I shook my head. “Not likely.”
    â€œI know Mike Henderson didn’t do it. That’s a painter’s worst nightmare—setting a house on fire.”
    â€œYeah, Mike’s no arsonist. How about the other guy?”
    â€œI talked to him. He’s a movie director. He was scouting locations, taking pictures. That’s what he said. He had a really expensive-looking camera. If he wanted to burn down a house he’d wait until he was shooting his movie. I mean, if there was a fire in his movie. Why waste it? Like in Gone With the Wind when they burned down all those sets at the MGM studio.”
    I nodded, thinking: I want to take a look at those photographs.
    â€œLet’s go back a little further. How did you get to the house? Were you driving? Walking?”
    â€œI was riding my bicycle. It’s a Specialized mountain bike. I can go anywhere with it.”
    â€œThat’s good. People in cars don’t really look around that much—they’re just staring at the road in front of them. Bikers pay attention. They’re actually in the environment. That’s the whole point.”
    She smiled. “Yeah.”
    â€œSo what did you see?”
    â€œI don’t know…the usual—hawks and cardinals and turkey buzzards, lots of bushes. Some beer cans and paper cups. Someone had dumped an old refrigerator out there.”
    â€œThe actual dump is taking them for free right now.”
    â€œI know but…this one looked like it had been there for a long time. The door was off and I think something was nesting in it.”
    â€œAnything else?”
    â€œNot really.”
    â€œNo traffic?”
    She sat up a little. “I almost got driven off the road by some jerk.”
    â€œWhich way was he coming?”
    â€œRight at me.”
    â€œSo he could have been coming from the house.”
    She took a quick breath, contemplating that idea. “Wow. You really think so?”
    â€œWhat kind of vehicle? SUV? Truck?”
    â€œIt was a black Ford F-150. A new one. I didn’t get the license plate.” She must have caught my skeptical look—everyone watches the cop shows. She’d be dusting for fingerprints next. “No, really, I tried! I wanted to get the number. I wanted to report the guy. He was going like forty miles an hour on those dirt roads. I hope he bottomed out or hit a deer or something. Asshole.”
    I pushed my chair back. “Okay. Thanks, Alana. You’ve been a huge help.”
    â€œBut nothing’s going to happen to those people.”
    â€œSomething’s already happened. Their secret is out. And like you said—there’s nothing anonymous on Nantucket. They tried to scare you, but they can’t be sure you won’t go to the police, anyway. You were a witness to the fire and there were other witnesses. That’s an open arson investigation. Jill Phelan could wake up tomorrow, and her father’s on the rampage. Apart from everything else, their little soundstage just burned down with all their equipment in it. They may be safe, but for the moment they’re out of business. They’re not going to be making any more movies for a while.”
    â€œI guess.”
    â€œAnd by the time they do poke their heads up out of whatever hole they’ve climbed into, I might have enough evidence to put them away. Thanks to you.”
    â€œThe Ford?”
    â€œThe new black F-150. How many of those can there be on the island?”
    â€œLots?”
    â€œWe’ll track it down, don’t worry. And I’ll have my boys keep an eye on you for the next few weeks. Cruise by the house from time to time. Make sure you’re safe.”
    â€œCan you really do that?
    â€œI have a lot of officers and a