File M For Murder

The next morning, after a sound sleep, I woke to the phone ringing. I groaned. A short sleep, because the clock informed me that it was two minutes past seven. I fumbled for the receiver, wanting to answer it before anyone else was wakened by it.

“Hello.” I wanted to say, Who the heck is calling here this early?, but good manners forbade me. I noticed Diesel was not beside me on the bed. He was probably with Laura.

“Mr. Harris? Kanesha Berry here.” Her clipped tones indicated she was in business-as-usual mode. I expected her to call about the fire, but not so early. Did the woman never sleep?

“Good morning, Deputy. What can I do for you?”

“I hear you had some excitement last night at your house. Mind filling me in on what happened?”

I gave her a quick summary, and when I finished, she didn’t respond right away. I waited a few moments, then was about to ask her if she was still on the line, when she spoke.

“Why do you think someone tried to burn your house down, Mr. Harris?”

Her matter-of-fact tone chilled me. The reality of what happened finally started to sink in. I had been too dazed last night to take it in completely, but now I realized someone intended to kill us all.

“Mr. Harris?”

“Sorry, Deputy, but reality is setting in.” I paused for a steadying breath. “Obviously the person who did it is afraid one of us knows something that will implicate him—or possibly her—in Connor Lawton’s death.”

“And what would that be?” Kanesha’s clinical tone did nothing to abate the chill. “You must have some idea, surely.”

“Lawton’s thumb drive, I suppose. There must be something on it that’s dangerous for the arsonist.” A new thought struck me. “Although I’m not really certain why that person would think it’s still in the house.”

“I agree that there’s potentially important evidence on the drive. I’m not convinced, however, that the arsonist thought it was still in your house and not in police custody,” Kanesha said. “Are you sure there’s not something else, something your daughter’s holding back, for example?”

The only information Laura was holding back—that I was aware of, anyway—was that she took the drive from Lawton’s apartment after his death. How she came by it suddenly didn’t seem that significant to me. The importance of the drive was in its contents, not its provenance.

“You’ll have to ask Laura that yourself, Deputy.” The strain in my voice was evident to me, and probably to Kanesha as well. How she would interpret that, I had no idea.

“I’m not happy that Miss Harris didn’t turn that drive over to me right away.”

“I can understand that,” I said. I wasn’t happy about it either, but Laura had her reasons, misguided though they were.

“I have a computer consultant examining it.” Kanesha’s tone could have frozen water. “If she discovers that anything on that drive was changed or deleted after Mr. Lawton’s death, your daughter is going to be in serious trouble, Mr. Harris.”

TWENTY-NINE

Kanesha’s statement—no, it was a threat—robbed me of speech. The danger of Laura’s situation hit me hard.

I realized Kanesha was waiting for a response. In my frostiest tone I replied, “You won’t find any evidence of tampering, Deputy.” Time to go on the offensive. “What are you doing about protecting my family from another attempt at murder? I thought your department was going to keep an eye on my daughter in case of another attack.”

I would like to have seen Kanesha’s face just then because I did not receive an immediate reply.

When she did speak, her tone was grudging. “I’m real sorry about that, Mr. Harris. Frankly, I didn’t see any need to keep a watch on her at night. I didn’t expect anything like what happened.”

“My whole family could have died or been critically injured.” I wasn’t ready to accept her apology. She had screwed up, and she knew it. Maybe it was petty of me, but I thought she needed to squirm a bit longer.

“You’ve made your point already.” The tartness returned. “It won’t happen again. You’ve got my word on that.”

“Thank you. Now, if you don’t have any more questions for me, I have things to do.”

“That’s it for now,” Kanesha said. “When I need to talk to you or your daughter again, I’ll let you know.”

The dial tone buzzed in my ear, and I hung up the phone. I sat there for a moment, feeling another headache coming on. I decided I needed water, because my throat felt parched. I headed into the bathroom.

Ten minutes later I was downstairs making coffee. The house was quiet around me, and were it not for the smell of smoke that lingered, the events of last night might have been only a bad dream. I decided to wait until I’d had at least one cup of coffee before I went out back to assess the damage. I needed caffeine in my system before I could deal with that level of reality.