The Mysteries of Max: Books 31-33 by Nic Saint (interesting novels in english txt) 📕

“Sure thing,” said Max.

She hurried across the street and rung that now-familiar mother-of-pearl bell again. Moments later the door opened a crack, just like it had last night, and two hostile eyes bored into hers. “You again,” said the woman. “What do you want this time?”

“Hi, Mrs. Dibble. I just thought I’d drop by to—”

“Bart!” the woman suddenly bellowed. “Better watch out! That reporter from last night is here again. I’ll bet she’s trying to distract us while her grandma burgles the place!”

“My grandmother is nowhere near here,” said Odelia, who hoped that this was true. “In fact I’m here to apologize on her behalf. She should never have done what she did.”

“I heard they let her out again. They should have kept her under lock and key. The woman is loony tunes. And so is her friend.”

“Look, I just wanted to ask you once again: are you sure it wasn’t you who called the police the night of the fire?”

“I told you this before and I’ll tell you again, cause obviously you have a problem with your ears. We didn’t call no cops.”

“But at the police station they told me you’ve called the police many, many times these last couple of months. So why not when there was a fire…”

The woman’s eyes flickered dangerously, and Odelia suddenly understood.

“You wanted that place to burn down, didn’t you? That’s why you didn’t call the police. You hoped the place would burn down and you’d be rid of it once and for all.”

“So what if we did? You can’t believe the trouble we’ve had, missy. People coming and going at all hours of the day and night. Drug dealer central is what it was. So if you’re going to ask me if I’m happy someone torched the place? Hell, yes, I am. I think whoever set fire to that dump deserves a medal.”

“But three people died.”

“Not people, drug dealers!”

“That’s kind of harsh, don’t you think? They may have been drug dealers, or drug addicts, but that doesn’t mean they deserved to die.”

“Nothing out here, Ma!” the woman’s husband yelled. “I think this time she came alone!”

“Good,” grunted the woman, and made to close the door.

“One more question,” said Odelia quickly.

“Oh, what is it now?”

“So you said you saw my grandmother sitting in her car, with her friend, yeah?”

“So?”

“And you saw Joshua Curtis come walking out of the house. Did you see anybody else? Someone acting suspicious or who wasn’t supposed to be here that time of night?”

“Look, people acting suspicious was all that place was about.”

“But that particular night?”

The woman stared at Odelia for a moment, then finally said, “One person came walking from behind that fence over there. I remember thinking they looked entirely too well-dressed to be a drug addict or even a dealer.”

“They?”

“Couldn’t see if it was a man or a woman. Kept their head down.”

“And this person came from behind that fence?” She glanced across the street. Next to the house where Franklin Harrison had died, a fence had been erected, to shield off the vacant lot which lay behind it. Graffiti covered the fence, giving it a derelict look.

“Yeah, crawled right from behind it.”

“So not out of the house?”

Mrs. Dibble shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean anything. There’s a back entrance to number 51. Behind that fence is just an empty lot, all overgrown weeds and brush. You cross it and you’re at the house. Junkies use it all the time. It’s like a minefield of needles and junk. I’ve told the police many times to clean that place up. It’s dangerous, both for pets and kids. Though no decent parent would let their kids play out there, and no pet owner on this block would ever let their dog off the leash to run around there.”

“I don’t understand why my grandmother didn’t see this person. She was parked out here for at least half an hour before the fire.”

“She wouldn’t have. The person got out on the far side of the fence and walked off in the other direction, away from where your grandmother and her friend were parked.”

“So… why didn’t you tell the police about this person?”

The woman was conspicuously silent for a moment, then growled, “I told you before, Miss Busybody, whoever torched that place deserves a medal, and I’m not the one who’s gonna be responsible for them getting caught! If your grandma and her friend didn’t see that person, I didn’t see them neither—you got that? And now get lost already, will you?”

And with this, she finally slammed the door in Odelia’s face.

Chapter 30

We were back at the precinct, and in Chase’s office. Uncle Alec was out, and probably that was a good thing, as he was seemingly a little annoyed with his ‘civilian police consultant.’

“So this is the second call, okay?” said Chase, who was behind his desk, with Odelia having rolled up a chair next to him. He tapped a key on his computer and the subdued voice of Joshua Curtis echoed through the room. “Then there’s the third call, coming on the heels of the second one,” he said, and Gran’s voice sounded from the tinny speakers.

“Okay, so that was Joshua, then Gran. And how about that first call?”

Chase clicked a key and a voice spoke, but this one sounded really weird. Robotic.

“He must have used a voice changer,” Chase said.

“That’s some pretty sophisticated stuff, right?”

“Not necessarily. Nowadays you can easily install a voice changing app on your phone.”

“So who could this person be?” asked Odelia.

“Why do you want to know? We have our man in custody, babe.”

“Has Joshua confessed yet?”

“No, he’s still holding out,” Chase admitted. “But he’s got no leg to stand on. He did it. No doubt about it.”

Odelia didn’t seem to be so sure. “Play that last part again, will you?”

The scrambled voice sounded through the room again. ‘I wish to report a fire,’ said the mystery caller. ‘Parker Street fifty-one. Better hurry, or else the whole place will