The Cool Room by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 50

Morning brought a blue sky as Frank rose from a healthy sleep. It had been some time since he had slept so deeply and completely through the night. But as he sat up, Frank instinctively put a hand on the pillow where Dorothy’s head once lay, and with the repeated realization of her death, Frank began crying while sitting on the edge of the bed. He knew the pain would return and that he would have to deal with it. How long was a different matter? The idea of going back to the nameless man for a purchase of cocaine briefly crossed his mind, but he managed to calm himself and continued with his morning ritual. As he walked down the stairs, he noticed the beams of flashing blue and red lights flickering through the windows. Assuming there was trouble in the neighborhood, he continued around the bottom of the stairway on route to the kitchen when he was stopped by someone knocking at the front door. Thinking only of getting down to work, he walked to the front door, and upon opening, it caught the strong odor of smoke. Now, he was concerned. In front of him stood a police officer – one he was familiar with. “Officer,” he said. “Is there a fire?” He still had not considered the possibility that what was happening could somehow involve him, and as the officer continued his questions, it suddenly struck him that he should investigate for himself.

Although the officer tried to stop him, Frank pushed his way out on the porch, where he saw the source of the fire. Local fire engines were still hosing down what used to be his new hearse. Besides the down payment, he had made one monthly payment, and hearses weren’t cheap, with an average price tag of forty-five thousand dollars. The fact that he still owned the older model was not relevant. This was new – a thing of beauty. Frank was beyond livid and initially refused to answer any of the officer’s questions. He was simply not able to think clearly enough to speak. Putting away his notepad, the officer led him to the front steps and prompted him to sit. By this time, Jonathan and Emily were pulling up and taking directions from the firefighters, backing their cars to a safer distance. The officer was able to obtain a cup of water, and handing it to Frank, waited for him to calm down so he could speak. Getting out of their cars, Jonathan and Emily ran over to Frank with questions of their own but were motioned back by the officer whose questions took precedence.

“Frank,” he said. “This looks like it was set. Do you know anyone who might do this?” Frank was well aware of the person responsible, but explaining the situation would incriminate him in the commission of several felonies. The question he now asked himself was, ‘Could he present the officer with a convincing lie?’ He shook his head slightly while looking away, as if carefully considering the question. Out came the note pad. “I can’t think of anyone,” he said. “I mean, I run a funeral home, for God’s sake. What kind of enemies am I going to have?”

The officer nodded while writing in his note pad. What he wrote was not revealed to Frank. There was only one thing he was told.

“Well, Frank,” the officer continued. “It’s pretty obvious that this is a case of arson, but I’d like you to come down to the station for more questions. You’re not under arrest or anything. We just want to get to the bottom of this, and you might be able to answer a few more questions that could provide us with more information. Is that okay?” It would not look good if Frank refused. So, getting up from the stairs, he got into the police car and was taken in for questioning.