Money To Burn Read Online Free PDF Page B

attention beside me, its female owner at its side. The owner wore a windbreaker emblazoned with the Durham Fire Department logo. A heavy belt encircled her waist and a large pouch hung from it. The dog was staring at the remains of the house, its tail thumping in excitement. Its fur was black but long white tufts of hair sprouted from behind each of the dog’s ears to curl toward its nose, and all four of its paws where white.
    “Well, hello there,” I said to the dog. It looked up at me without interest, then returned its gaze to the fire.
    “Annie’s only interested in fires,” the owner explained apologetically. “She’s an accelerant dog.”
    “No kidding?” I stepped back to give the dog a better look. I had heard about Annie, but never expected to meet her face-to-face. Or snout-to-snout, as it were.
    “I hear her evidence is good enough to be admitted into court,” I said.
    “That’s right.” The owner smiled and ruffled the back of Annie’s neck. “This gal’s got two hundred twenty-five million nerve endings in her nose alone. You and I have five million at best.”
    “Just as well, with the kind of boyfriends I have,” I said.
    The owner smiled. “Annie’s more accurate than all current laboratory tests. Maybe you ought to have her check out your boyfriends for you.”
    “What does she do exactly?” I asked.
    “She’s trained to sniff out five different kinds of accelerants used to start fires, from petroleum to acetone and alcohol-based products. If she finds something, she bows over the spot and waits until I arrive. I mark the spot and give her something to eat.” She patted the pouch hanging around her waist. “If someone has helped a fire along, believe me, Annie will find out.”
    “I’m impressed,” I admitted.
    “What’s the story here?” she asked. “Chief says it’s a suspicious fire.” She was obviously assuming that I was there in an official capacity. That’s what happens when you’re a woman wearing black—and an attitude. I didn’t bother to correct her.
    I told her what I knew and threw in my two cents worth about where the fire originated. “I think it was probably started in the basement. They’ve been down there a long time.”
    “That means they found a body,” she explained. “Annie and I will be going down next.”
    The watching crowd began to murmur as several men ascended up the ladder from the basement hole, poking their heads into the morning light like ground hogs about to see their shadows. They were followed up by another man gripping the front legs of a flat gurney. As the rest of the carrying board emerged into sight, I realized that the gurney held the remains of a body beneath a white plastic sheet. Its dark outline pressed against the opaque plastic with a pathetic smallness.
    They had found Thomas Nash.
    A few minutes later, the men had maneuvered the gurney up the ladder and were carrying it toward a waiting van. Maynard Pope walked behind it, making notations on a clipboard in his hand.
    He saw me staring and waved me over. “Sure you can do this?” he asked. “The body was found slumped over an upturned metal desk and pooled water preserved a small part of the face. If you could just take a look at the height and build—and what’s left of the face—it would be worth our while to send for dental records. Think you can take it?”
    “Of course I can,” I mumbled, dreading the moment. The gurney had been half-lifted into the back of the truck and the men carrying it were waiting for the go-ahead. Maynard stepped up and peeled the plastic sheet back, starting at the top of the head as he slowly unveiled the body.
    Charred remains that had once been a face stared up at me, the flesh on the left side burned away so that the skull and teeth gleamed in a death grimace. Part of the other half of the face remained, where the body had been lying on its side in water. The flesh was covered with a black crust, but I recognized enough of