The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire by Julie Campbell Read Free Book Online Page A

fuse so he’d be on Main Street when it started. That would explain how the fuel had time to evaporate. They also say it would have been impossible for Dad not to have heard the real arsonist moving around in the basement, if Dad was really upstairs working when he said he was.”
    “Does your father remember hearing any suspicious noises?” Brian asked.
    Nick shook his head. “As I told you, it’s a pretty rundown building. There are always lots of noises - wind blowing through cracks, things creaking and popping. Even mice scurrying around. You get so you don’t hear any of the noises; if you did, it would be too creepy to stay there at all.”
    “Gleeps,” Trixie said. “I can see why your father wanted out of his lease.” Realizing that she’d once again said the worst possible thing, she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Nick, I didn’t mean - I mean —”
    “I know what you meant,” Nick said with what seemed to be a genuine smile. “You’re right. We did want out of that lease. Not that badly, though.”
    “Couldn’t Mr. Slettom have done something about the drafts and the mice, so that you wouldn’t want to break your lease?” Brian asked.
    “No amount of repairs would have helped with the lack of space,” Nick pointed out. “Besides, fixing up that building would just have given Mr. Slettom a good building in a bad neighborhood. I doubt that he’d have been able to raise the rent enough to cover the cost of the repairs. I agree that Mr. Slettom’s building isn’t very attractive, but we were grateful to get it for the price when we first moved here.”
    Nobody responded to Nick’s logical defense of Mr. Slettom. There didn’t seem to be anything more to say. A deathly silence fell on the little group once again. Trixie suddenly remembered that she hadn’t called Honey and Jim. She began to look around for a pay telephone.
    Her search was interrupted by loud voices coming from down the hall. Trixie looked in the direction of the noise and saw Sergeant Molinson walking toward them. He was being pursued by an attractive, middle-aged woman who was wearing a tweed suit and carrying a bulging briefcase.
    “This is absurd!” the woman shouted. “There is absolutely no justice in holding that poor man when you haven’t a shred of a case against him!” Remembering what her father had said about sending Mr. Roberts an attorney who understood justice as well as law, Trixie whispered, “That must be Pat Murphy.”
    Brian nodded, but he kept his eyes on the woman who was standing next to the sergeant.
    “There are only two ways of proving arson. You can catch the perpetrator in the act or you can show exclusive opportunity. Neither of those rules applies here.”
    “He had motive —” Sergeant Molinson began belligerently.
    “Motive doesn’t count!” Pat Murphy snapped. “Can you show intent?”
    Sergeant Molinson didn’t reply, but the red flush that spread across his jowly face provided the answer.
    “I’ll tell you why you arrested Nicholas Roberts,” the attorney continued. “It wasn’t because of motive. It was because of media.” Without warning, Pat Murphy turned and thrust out an accusing finger.
    Looking in the direction in which the lawyer had pointed, Trixie was shocked to see Jane Dix-Strauss standing in the corridor, note pad in hand. At first, Trixie didn’t understand Pat Murphy’s statement. Then, suddenly, she realized what it meant. The police would never have arrested Mr. Roberts on such flimsy evidence if it hadn’t been for that article about arson, Trixie thought. They might have suspected him. They might even have questioned him. But they wouldn’t have put him in jail if Jane Dix-Strauss hadn’t written that article. It’s her fault Mr. Roberts is behind bars!
    All eyes had turned toward Jane Dix-Strauss, and Trixie was delighted to see how uncomfortable she looked. Then everyone’s attention turned back to Pat Murphy as the attorney once again