Page 103 of Heating Up (Nugget)
Rhys checked his watch. “Hopefully, he’ll be home by now. Let’s ride over there, feel him out a little.”
They took city streets to the highway, made the short trek outside of town, and turned up the Rigsbys’ driveway. It looked like John had already started work on the fire-damaged barn. Aidan spotted a pile of debris that had been cleared away from the site and a fresh load of lumber. He gazed across the property, searching for the goats, and found them penned in a corral not far from the barn.
Rhys pulled up to the driveway and Mrs. Rigsby came through the door.
“Hello, Chief. Can I help you?” She tilted her head at the passenger’s side window, catching a glimpse of Aidan.
Rhys got out of the vehicle. “Your husband home?”
“He’s inside taking a nap. What’s this about?”
Aidan stepped out and tipped his head in greeting to Mrs. Rigsby.
“We found something of his at one of the fires we’ve had in town,” Rhys said. “We’d like to talk to him about it.”
Looking from Rhys to Aidan, Mrs. Rigsby went a little pale. “I’ll get him. Come in.” She held the screen door open and led them into the living room. “Make yourself comfortable.”
There was an upright piano in the corner and Aidan wondered who played. Though lived in, the room was cheery enough, with lots of family pictures, a lamp made out of horseshoes, and a colorful afghan thrown over the couch. He scanned the room, hoping to find clues. Often, arsonists got a cheap thrill from saving newspaper clippings or photographs of their fires. But nothing stood out to Aidan. Just a typical working-class home.
Rigsby came into the room a short while later in shorts and a T-shirt. Aidan couldn’t tell whether he’d been sleeping or not, but he wasn’t friendly. Hostile would be a better word for it.
“What can I do for you fellows?” He didn’t sit, just stood there, glaring.
“Why don’t you sit down, John? Or if you’d prefer, we could go down to the station,” Rhys said.
“Letty says it’s about those fires you’ve been having in town. What does that have to do with me?”
“We were hoping you’d tell us.” Rhys was smooth, Aidan noted, no bumbling, hicksville cop.
“There’s nothing for me to tell you. I don’t know a damn thing about them, except for what I read in theNugget Tribune,” Rigsby said, choosing the recliner across from Aidan and Rhys.
“They weren’t accidents.” Aidan stretched his legs.
“That’s what theTribsaid. You think because of the fireworks I was somehow involved?” He smirked like he thought they were idiots.
“Nope,” Rhys said and leaned back, resting his arm on the back of the couch. “It’s because we found your shirt, covered in the same traces of accelerant used to start the fire, at one of the scenes. And one of your lighters at another.”
Rigsby wasn’t smirking anymore. If Aidan wasn’t mistaken, the electrician blanched. “How do you know they’re mine?”
“Both say ‘Rigsby Electrical’ on them.”
Rigsby jumped out of his chair. “Those lighters I pass out like business cards . . . that could’ve been anyone. I didn’t have anything to do with those fires and this conversation is over. I’m calling a lawyer!”
It was what Aidan had expected all along. People knew their rights. Rigsby would be a fool to cooperate without consulting with an attorney first.
“Now, I’d like you to leave.” To emphasize that, Rigsby walked to the front door and held it open.
They could’ve arrested and held him on what they had. But to make it stick, they’d need more than a shirt and a common lighter to hold him. The best they could hope for was that they’d unnerved him enough that in his panic to cover his tracks he’d mess up. Because Aidan would definitely be watching.
“That didn’t go so well,” Rhys said as they climbed into his police SUV and drove down the Rigsbys’ driveway.
“It didn’t go as badly as you think. Pull over.”
Rhys nosed into a turnout on the side of the road. “What’s up?”
“On our way out I noticed something on the front porch . . . something that could be significant. But we’d need a warrant.”
Rhys smiled. “I can make that happen.”
