Sabotage

Sabotage

Crime scene investigators had determined it wasn't an accident, but sabotage. Now the hunt was on for who why and when. Connie Winston was the lead detective on the case. A five-foot red-headed dynamo who wouldn’t stop until she got her man or woman.

Death insulted her, violent death infuriated her, and murder enraged her. There was never an excuse for any of it. She never understood why some people didn't just walk away from a failing marriage but instead turned to murder. Greed in business often resulted in death, especially when someone felt they'd been unfairly treated. If the situation warranted it, go to the police. The problem with people was, they let situations and emotions fester until they spilled over and exploded into violence. That or they wanted something that wasn’t theirs, they hadn’t earned and weren't entitled to. Any murder was unthinkable and inexcusable. She hoped that through her hard work and that of all the other dedicated detectives and forensic units, they’d obtain justice for the victim(s). Although the ultimate insult was to the victim, the rippling effect included so many more and was far-reaching

An employee of Art IN Life, Weston Humphrey, was hanging on by a thread. The young man having arrived early, found the building engulfed in flames and instead of calling for help and rushed inside in a misguided attempt at saving as much of the artwork as possible and as a result, suffered severe smoke inhalation.

The fire chief’s examination indicated the fire was set in the back room where some highly flammable supplies were kept. The back door had been jimmied and oddly, the alarm hadn’t triggered. The major damage had affected the storage area and a large back room that normally held a large number of paintings. The vast majority of the damage was due to smoke and water but the entire building would have to be demolished as the fire had found several pathways to follow and ate away at several walls. The artwork that survived was caked with soot and wasn’t looking good. She wondered if even an art expert could salvage much of the artwork that had once been quite beautiful.

The owner of Art IN Life, was a well-renowned painter himself. Gary Barber's art sold for hundreds of thousands and was in great demand. He was scheduled to meet her in a few minutes and although she'd never previously met him, she knew what he looked like. As a major benefactor of both law enforcement, the fire department as well as generously supported a variety of local organizations, his photo was splashed across a huge portion of social media and the press.

As he strode toward her, she saw strength, determination and suppressed anger in every movement. He was tall, good-looking, and athletic. Cliché as it may be, a painter wasn’t the first thought to come to mind when she set eyes on him.

Connie waited until he was a couple of feet from her before proffering her hand. “Detective Winston, thank you for meeting me.”

“Where else would I be?”

She paused then began her questions. “Do you have any enemies anyone you can think of that might be angry enough to set your gallery on fire?”

“Not really, no. It sometimes can be a volatile world, with artistic ego being what it is, but I can’t imagine anyone that would do this!“

“Any reason the alarm would have been shut down?”

"None, it’s a priority as all my staff well know, in every location. He stopped and stared directly at her, “You’re saying the alarm was off?”

“Neither the fire or police departments received an alarm indicating there was an issue with the store. So, I have to ask, who had access to the alarm, who would have set it last?"

“Unfortunately, the young man in the hospital would have been the last one in the gallery. I was running late and asked Weston to lock up. He called to report that everything was in order before he left."

Detective Winston explained, “The Fire Chief explained that either it was a slow-burning fire that took time to catch or it was started sometime before dawn given the burn pattern. We’ll know more after a thorough examination. Either way, you’re not responsible for what happened here," she remarked sensing guilt was eating at him.”

She requested the name of the patron he’d been with, along with a phone number and address to verify his whereabouts last night, then asked, “Can anyone verify what and where you were this morning?”

"No. I live alone. I got up ate, dressed and was heading here when I received your phone call. So no, I don’t have an alibi.”

Although he realized the questions were routine, it irked him, all the same, to think that anyone would suggest he would burn down his own gallery or injure Weston

She had several more questions and when he'd finished answering said, "Ok, that’s all, for now, Mr. Barber. I’ll be in touch. Please stay available in case we need more information.”

“Certainly, Detective, now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get inside the gallery, see if anything is salvageable and find a way to lock up so I can get to the hospital and see Weston."

“Of course," she remarked.

He nodded and hurried away.

He was insulted and angry at what had happened in his gallery but more importantly to Weston and he was taking it personally.

By the end of the day, pictures of the carnage were splashed across newspapers along with information on the damage and injury to a young as yet unidentified employee. Journalists contacted her the second they found out she was in charge of the investigation, asking for information or an update on proceedings. Of course, she couldn't give them anything, it was an ongoing, but that didn't stop the phone from ringing which had the annoying effect of slowing down her investigation. Finally, she simply let all her calls go to voice mail, preferring to run through her messages later, checking first and foremost to see if anyone had called with information pertaining to the fire.

After speaking with Barber, she'd canvassed all the nearby stores across the street from the gallery and on both sides. No one had any information to provide as most hadn't arrived at their own premises until the fire trucks and police were already on scene.

Something told her this wasn't going to be a slam dunk and would take considerably more time to solve than she'd hoped.

Later that night she received a phone call from the doctor in Emergency to inform her that Weston Humphrey had died due to complications relating to the injuries he'd received in the fire. She hung up then sadly stared through her front window. The investigation had taken a sinister turn. Murder. Damn it! Even though from what the ambulance attendants had told her on scene, she'd known it was unlikely Weston Humphrey would survive, it came as a blow, as all murders did.

She wasn't sure why she felt the compulsion to phone Gary Barber. He answered on the third ring. "Hello."

"Mr. Barber, Detective Winston. I just received confirmation regarding Weston Humphrey and I wanted to convey my sincerest condolences and assure you your case is considered a top priority."

He was taken aback at first, both surprised and yet pleased by her concern and obvious dedication. "Thank you. That's most kind."

During the weeks that followed, Gary Barber would come to know Connie Winston well. He'd done some digging of his own. He liked what he saw and what he'd learned. The other cops had called her a dynamo and they were right. She worked tirelessly on the case, always with care and compassion but with deep and abiding dedication. If anyone could find and solve the murder and arson, his money was on her.