The Motive Read Online Free PDF Page B

as old as a schoolgirl. Glitsky had no choice. He gave her a salute. “It would be my pleasure,” he said.
    As a deputy chief, Glitsky had a city car and a driver—Sergeant Tom Paganucci—assigned to him for his personal use. Paganucci, humorless, taciturn and loyal, suited Glitsky well. He did not make suggestions or offer opinions, and only asked questions related to his work, though he would answer them on other topics if Glitsky asked him directly. He started no conversations at all, but waited for orders that, once given, he obeyed with what seemed to be a complete commitment of his body and soul.
    He was forty-three years old, heavily built, clean-shaven, prematurely gray. Because he’d asked on their first day together, Glitsky knew that his driver was married and child-less, but that was the extent of his knowledge of Paganucci’s personal life, except he was reasonably certain that he didn’t do stand-up comedy on his nights off.
    Paganucci had kept the car running where he’d left his boss off a half hour before, out in the street in front of City Hall, and now Glitsky slid into the backseat. He closed thedoor after him and leaned back for an instant into the comfortable black leather. He looked at his watch—11:50. “Do you think the chief’s in, Tom?”
    Paganucci reached for his intercom. “I’ll call.”
    “No, wait. What am I going to say to him anyway?” Glitsky didn’t want an answer from Paganucci and wasn’t going to get one in any event. He let out an audible breath. “All right,” he said, “let’s go.”
    “Yes, sir. Where to?”
    “Alamo Square.”
    Paganucci put the car in gear and they started to roll.
    “He was here ’til they bagged the bodies, sir,” Becker said. “Then I guess he went home to get some sleep.” They were standing outside on the concrete steps, where Becker had come out in response to Glitsky’s hail.
    “What about you?” Glitsky asked.
    “What about me?”
    “And sleep.”
    The firefighter chortled. “Not a priority. Not ’til I’m satisfied here anyway.”
    “And you’re not?”
    “I’ve got a pretty good basic idea, but I’d be more comfortable if I had more answers.”
    “Like what?”
    Becker shrugged. “Like multiple flash sights. The place went up so quick and thorough, it looks like somebody knew exactly what they were doing.” He motioned behind him at the charred remains of the house. “But we’ve only got the one spot. You want to go in, take a look?” Without waiting for an answer, he led the way through the still-standing front doorway. Some of the ceiling above the lobby was intact, but with the fog burned off, the day was bright with sunshine and there was sufficient natural light to see clearly.
    Glitsky squatted over an area of rug that appeared less scorched than its surroundings. There was another, similar spot about eight feet farther into the lobby, at the entrance to what might once have been a hallway. “This is where you found them?”
    “Yeah. Plus, it’s where the fire started. Get down and you can still smell the gasoline.”
    Glitsky leaned over and inhaled, but couldn’t smell anything except fire. “You’ve probably gone through all this with Cuneo, but I’d be grateful if you ran it by me one more time. The mayor’s personally interested. She was friends with Mr. Hanover. I’d like to sound reasonably intelligent when I brief her. I’m assuming it was Hanover?”
    “That’s the assumption, although Strout makes the formal call. But whoever it was—call him Hanover—he fell on his wallet so it didn’t burn completely. It had Hanover’s driver’s license in it, so it looks good for him.”
    “What about the other body?”
    “No way to tell. Your man Cuneo seemed to think it was probably his girlfriend.”
    “You don’t agree?”
    “I don’t know. There was nothing to identify her. It could have been.” Becker spoke with little inflection. He was assembling the facts and would share