Dana said, “I read about the Taylor Winthrop house burning down and I was curious about it.”
“Yeah. That was a year ago. Probably the worst thing that ever happened in this town.”
“What time of day did it happen?”
If he thought her question odd, he gave no sign. “It was the middle of the night. We got the call at three A.M. Our trucks were out there by three-fifteen, but it was too late. The house was burning like a torch. We didn’t know anybody was inside until later when we put down the fire and found the two bodies. That was a heartbreaking moment, let me tell you.”
“Do you have any idea what started the fire?”
He nodded. “Oh, yeah. It was an electrical problem.”
“What kind of electrical problem?”
“We don’t know exactly, but the day before the fire, someone called an electrician to the house to fix it.”
“But you don’t know what the problem was?”
“I think there was something wrong with the fire alarm system.”
Dana tried to sound casual. “The electrician who went out to fix it—would you happen to have his name?”
“No. I guess the police would have it.”
“Thanks.”
He looked at Dana curiously. “Why are you so interested in this?”
Dana said earnestly, “I’m writing an article about ski-resort fires around the country.”
The Aspen police station was a redbrick one-story building, half a dozen blocks from Dana’s hotel.
The officer at his desk looked up and exclaimed, “You’re Dana Evans, the TV lady?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Captain Turner. What can I do for you, Miss Evans?”
“I’m curious about the fire that killed Taylor Winthrop and his wife.”
“My God, what a tragedy that was. The folks here are still in shock.”
“I can understand that.”
“Yep. Too bad they weren’t able to save them.”
“I understand the fire started from some kind of electrical problem?”
“That’s right.”
“Could it have been arson?”
Captain Turner frowned. “Arson? No, no. It was electrical failure.”
“I’d like to talk to the electrician who went out there the day before the fire. Do you have his name?”
“I’m sure it’s here in our files. Want me to check it out?”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Captain Turner picked up the phone and spoke into it briefly, then turned back to Dana. “First time in Aspen?”
“Yes.”
“Great place. Do you ski?”
“No.” But Jeff does. When we come up here…
A clerk walked up and handed Captain Turner a sheet of paper. He passed it on to Dana. It read: Al Larson Electrical Company, Bill Kelly.
“They’re just down the street.”
“Thank you so much, Captain Turner.”
“My pleasure.”
As Dana left the building, a man across the street turned away and spoke into a cell phone.
The Al Larson Electrical Company was in a small gray cement building. A clone of the man at the fire department, tanned and athletic looking, was seated at a desk. He stood up as Dana came in. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Dana said. “I’d like to talk to Bill Kelly.”
The man grunted. “So would I.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Kelly. He disappeared almost a year ago.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yeah, just left. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t even stop to pick up his pay.”
Dana said slowly, “Do you remember exactly when that was?”
“Sure do. It was the morning of that fire. The big one. You know, the one the Winthrops died in.”
Dana felt a chill. “I see. And you have no idea where Mr. Kelly is?”
“Nope. Like I said, he just disappeared.”
The remote island at the tip of South America had been buzzing all morning with the arrival of jet planes. Now it was time for the meeting, and the twenty-odd participants were seated in a guarded, newly built structure that was scheduled to be demolished as soon as the meeting was over. The speaker stepped to the front of the room.
“Welcome. I am happy to see many familiar faces here and some new friends. Before we begin our business, some of you are concerned about a problem that has arisen. A traitor is among us, threatening to expose us. We do not know who it is yet. But I assure you that he will be caught quickly, and that he will suffer the fate of all traitors. Nothing and no one can stand in our way.”