Firebreak: A Mystery (7 page)

Several minutes later Josie and Otto watched the white county hearse, a converted 1978 Dodge station wagon, wind its way down the road until finally pulling into the driveway. Mitchell Cowan got out of the driver’s seat wearing brown dress pants and loafers with a plaid button-down shirt. He’d always reminded Josie of the sad-eyed donkey with the big belly from the kids’ stories. Eeyore. Shaped like a bowling pin with a broad midsection and small head, Cowan was slow and methodical, and talked only when necessary to provide relevant information. Most people considered Cowan odd, but Josie had always liked him. He worked hard and he genuinely cared.

It took him several minutes to gather his medical bag and assorted other cases out of the back of the hearse. Josie and Otto stood behind him, filling him in on the basic information.

“We still haven’t ID’d the body. Based on the patches of clothing I could still see and the cowboy boots, I assume this is a male, most likely the homeowner, Billy Nix. We’ve not touched the body, but I’m anxious to roll him over and see if he has identification in his pants pocket.” Josie shuddered involuntarily at the thought. “I don’t know if the fire burnt all the way through.”

Cowan pulled two bags over his shoulder and handed a plastic briefcase to Josie. “Let’s have a look then.”

“Nobody’s examined the house to make sure it’s structurally safe,” she said. “The fire burned through the roof. The fire chief should be here in the next fifteen minutes or so and he can check it out if you want to wait.”

“Sounds prudent,” Cowan said.

When they reached the opening in the house they stopped and scanned the inside of the living room as Josie described how she found the body. From where they stood, the body was hidden behind the back of the couch. “Since the body was on the couch, and not making an attempt to escape, time of death will be critical.”

Cowan nodded. “Agreed.”

“Can you tell if fire or asphyxiation was cause of death? Or, if he died before the fire?”

“That’s a fairly simple matter. If the person was dead before the fire he was no longer breathing. He won’t have drawn soot down into his lungs. I’ll also do a simple blood test. If carbon monoxide was in his lungs we’ll know he was breathing during the fire.”

“Excellent,” Josie said. “Can you get that to us today?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

They heard a vehicle pull into the driveway and turned to find Doug Free driving his red pickup truck, which had the Artemis Fire Department logo painted on the door. Doug parked and got out of the truck, then surveyed the yard and the surrounding land for several minutes before joining them in front of the house.

He said hello to the group and asked if they had identified the body. Josie explained that they hadn’t gotten that far in the investigation. “We’re trying to locate the Nixes, but haven’t had any luck yet.”

Doug sighed. “The guys will be heartbroken. We were feeling good about only a few minor injuries. I sure didn’t expect to find a fatality.”

Doug gave an update on the status of the Harrison Ridge fire. “We’re eighty-five percent contained. It’s reached the Rio and doesn’t have enough energy to cross. Fortunately, the forecast is clear for the next two days and we’ve got minimal wind today. I think we’re out of the woods.”

“You fellas did a heck of a job,” said Otto.

Doug frowned and nodded. “I got a great crew. I just need more of them. Fortunately this didn’t last for days on end. Those weeklong fires, or two-week fires? People forget these guys are volunteers. They have jobs to get to, paychecks to earn.” He shrugged like he needed to get off his soapbox. “Anyway. Tell me what you have so far.”

“We need to get Cowan inside to the body,” Josie said. “Then we need to get the body transported for autopsy. We haven’t gotten too far with the preliminary investigation because we’re worried about the roof. Can you check it out?”

Doug retrieved a fifteen-foot stepladder from his truck and climbed up into the rafters in the living room to check for structural damage. While Doug worked, Josie called and spoke with Lou about tracking down the Nixes. Lou said she hadn’t gotten anywhere because her phone was ringing off the hook with residents wanting to know about fire damage and road closures and when they would be allowed home. Josie thanked her and told her to refer people to the sheriff’s department and to keep trying on the Nixes.

After Doug declared the structure safe, he gathered Cowan, Josie, and Otto on the concrete patio just outside the hole in the living room wall to talk about how they should approach the scene.

“Let’s talk about how this investigation might differ from what you’re accustomed to. With a death involved in what could possibly be arson?” Doug frowned.

“This’ll end up at trial,” Josie said.

Doug nodded several times and put a thumb in the air as if agreeing. “And, the insurance company, or companies”—he paused and looked at both officers as if stressing the point—“will be crawling all over us. As you know, a trial could be a year or two away. We need photographs, video, and detailed notes. The fire marshal really stressed that.” He looked at Cowan. “You play the most crucial role right now. The body will tell us all kinds of things about the fire. When it happened, maybe even if something was used to start or accelerate it.”

“Understood.”

“The scene is well preserved,” Josie said. “There’s been no water damage, nothing to disturb the house, as far as we can tell. The only tracks we found were a set of tire tracks, on the other side of the road. With the road closures, no one should have been coming through here, though.”

“Don’t put too much weight on the tracks. There’s always a few Peeping Toms after a fire passes. We’re trying to do our job, and they want a first look at the disaster.”

“What about evidence collection?” Josie asked.

He pointed a finger at her. “That’s what we need to talk about. It’s completely different at the scene of a fire. I don’t want to insult your intelligence, but this is usually what the state fire marshal would take care of.”

Josie waved his concern away and he continued.

“Here’s my worry about you going in to take care of the body,” Doug said, tilting his head toward Cowan. “We may have evidence around the body that’s extremely fragile. Possibly unrecognizable.”

Josie watched Cowan process the information.

“What do you suggest?” he said.

“I would like to limit foot traffic as much as possible.”

Josie put a hand up to interrupt him. “My first priority is identification of the body and finding the Nixes. Can you and Otto take care of processing the scene in the living room so Cowan can get in there and hopefully find identification?”

Doug nodded. “What are you thinking?”

“For now, this is an unidentified body,” she said. “Lou hasn’t made contact with the Nixes. She would have let me know if they had returned her calls. I know they’re good friends with Hank Wild, the owner of the Hell-Bent. I’d like to start there first. I’ll talk to Hank about how to track them down.”

“That makes sense,” Otto said.

Doug faced Otto. “I’d like you and me to take the video camera and walk together. We’ll start outside the house, then through the point of origin. We can make our way back through the dining room where the fire burned out. I want very minimal foot traffic on our first walk-through. Just observations. Then you can take it slower. Just be extremely careful when you reach for anything to pick it up and catalog it. It may look solid, and then disintegrate in your hands.” He turned to Otto. “It’s critical that you check for evidence before Cowan walks around the body. It’s a different kind of investigation when everything you look at is charred gray and black and evaporates when you touch it.”

SEVEN

The Hell-Bent Honky-Tonk drew well over a hundred people every Friday and Saturday night for live music, cold draft beer, and a packed dance floor. Located off Highway 67 in the midst of rolling ranch country, it drew people from all over far-west Texas. The owner, Hank Wild, had a knack for discovering talent and developing singers and bands into local celebrities. Over the past five years, two different local bands had been signed by Nashville labels, all because Hank had enough clout with the industry to get the scouts to make the long trip west.

It was hard not only to bring big-name acts to such a remote area, but also for the locals to travel several hours to see an out-of-town show: the band had better be worth the drive. The Hell-Bent was the solution. With its success, Hank became a local celebrity in his own right. Country singers in the area knew that if they wanted an audience, they had to develop a performance Hank would buy. If he didn’t like your act, you might as well pack up and move elsewhere, because the Hell-Bent was where it was at.

No billboards advertised the dance hall; they weren’t necessary. A metal sign hung between two massive poles at the entrance to the lane that read H
ELL-
B
ENT
H
ONKY-
T
ONK
, but an out-of-towner could easily mistake it for one of the surrounding ranches and drive on by. From the road, the building appeared to be a large hay barn, but a trip down the long drive revealed a gravel parking area large enough for several hundred people, with spillover parking in the desert beyond. At night, there was little doubt what the Hell-Bent was about: outdoor pole lighting and lanterns strung along the roofline lit up the building, and the bands and the rowdy crowd could be heard for miles.

At a little before noon Josie pulled into the parking lot and counted about fifteen cars, most likely people searching for solace among friends until information could be discovered about the status of their homes and their property. Josie knew they would be frustrated with her when she wasn’t able to provide information. She grabbed her steno pad from the passenger seat and locked the jeep.

The barn was weathered gray and covered in handmade signs that local performers were invited to display to advertise their acts. The band signs had become more artistic, and more outrageous, as the years had progressed. Hank strategically moved the signs to keep the front-runners near the entrance. Josie noticed that Billy Nix’s sign hung on the porch, just a few feet from the front door—a prime location. Billy’s three-foot-wide sign was a carved replica of a rugged cowboy hat with the words “Outlaw Billy Nix” carved into the hat brim. Josie thought of how sad it would be if his life ended before he received the big break he’d worked so hard to achieve.

The barn’s substantial wooden door opened onto a dance hall the size of a basketball court. After driving into the bright afternoon sun, Josie had to allow her eyes to adjust for a moment. The shiny wooden dance floor was empty and swept clean. A few overhead lights were turned on, but otherwise the space was barely lit. Hank served sandwiches and other greasy bar food, but it was secondary to the music. No one cared if the fries were cold as long as the bands were hot.

Opposite the front entrance, on the far side of the dance floor, was a raised stage where Josie and Dillon had last watched Billy Nix perform almost a year ago. She remembered having a conversation with Dillon about how there was often a fine line between the great local bands and the stars who played on the radio. They had agreed that night that Billy and the Outlaws sounded as good as any band they’d ever heard at a larger venue.

Josie walked toward the bar, where half a dozen men sat on stools. Another ten or fifteen men and women sat at the tables. The TV on the wall was on, but the volume was down. Hank was talking to the men sitting at the bar and didn’t notice her approach. When she reached the men, Sauly Magson, who was sitting on a stool at the end of the row, spotted her and called out, “Chief!”

Sauly was one of Josie’s favorite locals. He was an old hippie burnout who didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He was dressed in ragged blue-jean shorts and a ripped T-shirt, and he wore nothing on his feet, allowing his leathered soles to serve as his shoes. The “No shoes, no shirt, no service” motto had never applied to Sauly, at least not in Artemis.

“Hey, Sauly. How you doing?” Josie patted Sauly on the back and felt the attention in the bar shift to her, the conversation die out to nothing. She knew people were desperate for information, so she backed up to see most everyone and raised her voice. “I’m not here to give an official report, but I know you all need answers. I just wish I had more to give you. The police haven’t been given the authority to check homes yet. Unofficially, I can tell you the fire is close to contained. The bad news is, the firefighters haven’t had the chance to check structures to make sure they’re safe enough to allow people back in.”

“How many homes were lost?” Hank asked.

“That number hasn’t been confirmed yet.”

“Let us check our own structures. We’re not idiots,” said a man Josie recognized as a local truck driver.

“Nobody said you were an idiot. But you and I both know, if we open up the roads, we’ll have people who have no idea whether the roof is ready to cave in on them walking back into homes. I’m not willing to risk someone’s life. Just try and be patient with us. I promise, our goal is to get everyone back into their homes as soon as possible. Keep listening to Marfa Public Radio. That’s the best source of information right now.”

Sauly asked, “You figure on getting in to check houses today still?”

Josie paused. She didn’t want to commit to details, with the first responders facing such a huge task with no timeline yet established. “I honestly can’t say, Sauly. I wish I could. Those firefighters worked through the night and they’re exhausted. They just need time to do their job.” Josie paused a moment and no one said anything so she turned and sat down next to Sauly.

“Rough night,” he said.

Sauly lived on the other side of the mudflats and Josie was surprised when Otto had told her that Sauly had evacuated. She had figured him for a holdout. It had been a relief to hear he left.

“Where’d you stay last night?” she asked him.

“You really want to know?”