Free Who Killed the Ghost in the Library: A Ghost writer Mystery by Teresa Watson Page B

couple of fire trucks.” He put the walkie talkie on the hood of his car. “Stay down while I take a look.” Standing up, he looked at what was left of Cliff’s house, which wasn’t much.
    “Can I get up now?”
    “I think so. Just be careful. There’s glass and wood everywhere.”
    I started to push myself up, but stopped when I felt a sharp pain in my left wrist. “Damn, that hurts.”
    “What’s wrong?” Mike said, kneeling beside me.
    “Nothing. I probably just landed on it wrong.” I brushed some leaves out of my hair with my right hand. “You’ve got some cuts on your face and arms.”
    “Not surprising, considering the whole house is gone,” he replied, helping me to my feet.
    “Oh my gosh,” I said. “How did we survive this?”
    “That’s a good question.”
    We heard sirens in the distance. Two fire trucks pulled up and Oliver Malloy, one of the lieutenants, jumped out of his rig and ran over. “What the hell happened, Mike?”
    “It blew up, Ollie. What do you think happened?”
    “Are you guys alright?” he asked as his men connected a hose to a nearby hydrant and started fighting the fire.
    “We’re fine.”
    “Dan!” Oliver called to one of his men. “Check those houses. Make sure no one’s home.” He turned back to face us. “EMS will be here in a minute. Get them to check out those cuts to make sure you don’t have any glass or splinters imbedded in your skin.” He ran off to help his men.
    “I guess we don’t have to worry about looking at that police report now,” I said.
    “Definitely not,” he said as an ambulance pulled up behind us.
    “Hey, Mike, what happened?” Kim Thurston, one of the paramedics asked as she got out. “Is this a new interrogation technique? Blow up their house to get them to talk?”
    “Very funny, Kim. Don’t quit your day job,” Mike replied. “Kim Thurston, this is Cam Shaw. I think she might have a sprained wrist.”
    “I’m fine,” I said.
    “Let me be the judge of that,” Kim said, gently taking my left arm in her hands. She gently pressed on it, and I winced when she got to my wrist. “Mike might be right, as much as I hate to admit it. Corey, bring me an ACE bandage.”
    “Well, at least it isn’t my writing hand,” I said as Corey, the other paramedic, came over with a small brown wrap.
    Kim expertly wrapped my wrist . “You’ve got a few cuts, but I don’t see any pieces of glass or splinters,” Kim said. “The folks at the hospital will do a more thorough job.”
    “Sounds like so much fun.”
    “Pure torture,” she laughed. “There are some real sadistic nurses in the E.R. who just love to dig around and look for foreign objects. They’re going to have a field day with you, Mike. I see stitches in your future.”
    “Later. Right now, I’ve got an investigation to start,” he said, pointing toward the fire.
    “I hope no one was in there,” Kim replied.
    Mike shook his head. “This was Cliff Scott’s house.”
    “Oh man,” Kim said. “I heard about the accident yesterday. He was a good man. He’ll be missed. Listen, can you drive yourself to the hospital? Corey and I need to stay here in case one of the firefighters needs medical attention. The other ambulance is on another call. An accident out on 287.”
    “I told you, I’m not leaving,” Mike said.
    “And I’m telling you that you need stitches. It looks like it is going to take them a couple of hours to get this under control. That is more than enough time to go to the hospital and get checked out.”
    “Alright, alright,” he grumbled. I grabbed my messenger bag out of the 442, and he helped me into his Bronco. After a quick word with Oliver, he got in and drove off.
    “What did Oliver say?”
    “He’s going to call the gas company and ask them to turn it off in the neighborhood until they get the fire under control.”
    “I wonder why the other houses didn’ t blow up, too.”
    Mike shrugged. “ Beats me. I’m sure the arson