“Keep your voice down. I was forced to go out with him to find out about your criminal record. He’d made it sound as if—”
“My criminal record?”
“Yes, I have copies—”
“Well, great. I’m so glad you do. I hope my criminal record didn’t shock the hell out of you. That’s all I need right now.”
“Ken, listen to me.”
“No, you listen to me. I thought we had a different kind of arrange-ment than we apparently do. So, I’m out of here. I’m going to the gym near my apartment to work off some steam. Okay? And since the gym is closer to my apartment than coming back here, I’ll stay there tonight. Believe me, the way I feel, it’s for the best.”
While she stood angrily where she had been, he walked—stalked—down the hall to their bedroom, gathered up a few things in a duffel bag, walked tight-faced back past her to the door. Before he could go out she ran to him, stuffed the papers Fred had given her into his shirt pocket, and stepped back. “Those don’t sound all that bad to me, and they were a long time ago,” she said. “If you’d just listen—”
But he went out anyway, as if he needed to hold on tight to his hurt feelings. Like some damned kid.
“Are you coming back?” she whispered after the door had closed behind him.
The man, carefully dressed all in black, walked stealthily while he stayed in the shadows, his boots making little noise. He was carrying the cardboard box of paint rags and paint thinner he’d brought from the Rafferty construction site in front of him. He stopped when he reached the darkest corner between the triple garages and the Helmer mansion. It would be best if the fire started next to the garages where at first it would be expected that oils or gasoline stored in one of the garages had accidentally started the fire.
That would delay matters and give him enough time to circulate the information he wanted to become public first. When it was discovered that, in fact, the fire was set deliberately, there was sure to be added notoriety for the person who would be accused of setting the fire, building on his reputation for violence that would have been exposed in the papers and on news broadcasts ahead of time. After that the police could not fail to succeed, as he wanted them to, in their investigation of the fire. It would be a case tried in the papers. No jury in this town would acquit the man they believed was guilty.
He didn’t need to worry about being suspected himself. It wasn’t like him to do this sort of thing, which, of course, meant he would never, ever be considered. And it was as close to “killing two birds with one stone” as anyone could come. How very, very clever of him.
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