From the Frying Pan into the Fire
Chapter 3
Sean and Michelle decided to first investigate Rick Thunder's office. Perhaps his place of business would hold further clues. If Sean remembered correctly, Thunder's office was located in a strip mall, near downtown. Along with Thunder's cheap office storefront, the strip mall also contained a convenience store, a beauty salon and a pizza joint as well. It was the typical urban eyesore.
Sean drove while Michelle sat on the passenger side of the car.
"Sean, I understand why you took this case...but..."
"...but, what?" Sean asked as he stopped at a light.
"WHY did we have to start investigating so early...it only 7 a.m.!" she wanted to know.
"I'm surprised you're even complaining, Michelle. After all, you're the one that's a morning person," Sean reminded her as the light turned green and he accelerated, "the only way I could be a morning person is if mornings happened around noontime."
Michelle smiled at his wry comment.
"I'm not complaining about it being early, Sean," she stated, "it's just that this is my workout time. I'm usually at the gym. Using the elliptical alone takes me at least an hour."
Of course Sean knew that. Without even realizing it, they knew each other's lifestyles quite well, including morning routines.
"Oh-oh... you're not going to tell me another workout story, are you?" Sean asked as he made a left turn.
Michelle turned to face Sean, "I didn't realize I was boring you with my gym anecdotes."
"Oh no, nothing like that," Sean said sarcastically.
" I can't help it if I'm motivated to work out." she stated, "After all, exercise helps get the adrenaline going, starts my day out right. And. actually, I was hoping my gym stories might help to motivate you to work out, too."
"Let me put it this way, Michelle," he said, "unless you fell off the treadmill and ended up with your posterior sticking up in the air, workout stories are not really that interesting."
She sat back and folded her arms.
"You just don't want to hear a reminder that you need to workout," she stated.
A part of her realized that sometimes they sounded like a bickering couple. And instead of being repelled by it, she actually enjoyed it.
Sean checked his rear view mirror, "For your information, Michelle, I used to go to a gym. But then the gym and I broke up. We just weren't working out," he stated straight faced.
Michelle's petulant mood changed as she laughed; she couldn't help it. Despite fighting against it, she enjoyed Sean's company more than she should.
Sean, meanwhile was wondering how come he took such delight in their bantering. He NEVER felt this way with his ex-wife. Then again, maybe that's why she was his ex. As he and Michelle drove closer to the destination, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something did not feel right.
As it turned out, he had been correct about his misgivings.
From the looks of it,, the strip mall must have been engulfed in flames last night. All that was left now was the gutted, scorched skeleton of the long building. As they got out to approach the scene, the scent of smoke was still heavy in the air.
Yellow caution tape had roped off the area, but instead of police, it was the FBI. Sean and Michelle went under the tape to get closer to the scene. All around was charred debris. Arson investigators were carefully picking through the burned up rubble trying to determine the cause of the blaze. FBI agents mulled around, talking to CSI and arson experts.
And of course the lead FBI agent HAD to be Agent Frank Rigby along with his partner Agent Darius Carter. At one point, Rigby had looked up from his discussions and when he spotted Sean and Michelle, a look of annoyance crossed his face. He walked over to them, intent on kicking them out of the crime scene.
"Hello, Agent Rigby," Sean put on his brightest smile, but it wasn't fooling Rigby.
"Gah!" Rigby responded, looking at both Sean and Michelle with disdain, "Could my day get any worse?"
"And it's nice to see you, too, Rigby," Michelle said sweetly.
"Please confess to me that you two are the arsonists," Rigby suggested. When he didn't get an answer, he gave a frustrated look, "so if you're not here so that I can arrest you, then tell me, why are you both here?"
"We were going to ask you the same thing, Rigs," Sean stated all friendly-like, "Shouldn't this be a police matter? How is a burned out strip mall connected to the FBI?"
"That is none of your business and don't call me Rigs," Rigby stated in his no nonsense way, "so answer me; why, of all the wonderful places in the world, did you two elect to come here and make my life miserable?"
"We'll show you ours if you show us yours," Michelle playfully promised.
"Yeah, come on Rigby, on the count of three, all of us just say why we are here," Sean jovially proposed, "Okay, now...1...2...3..."
Rigby sighed but reacted.
"RICK THUNDER!" Sean and Michelle said at once.
"...Rick Thunder," Rigby stated, a half of a beat later.
There was a slight pause.
"Wait a minute, here," Sean stated, "if you're here because of Thunder, I'm assuming it's because he must have helped the FBI in some kind of capacity -perhaps as an informant?"
Rigby's non-responsiveness told them Sean had hit it on the nose.
"And the reason you two are here?" Rigby inquired, choosing to ignore Sean's theory.
"Rick Thunder was a pal of mine," Sean stated, stretching the truth slightly.
Rigby snorted, "Figures. Of course you and Thunder would pal around. It wasn't as though Thunder was a real private investigator, either; he was nothing more than a paid con man. Once again proving the point that birds of a feather flock together."
"And a bird does not sing because he has the answer," Sean stated randomly, "he sings because he has a song."
"What?" Rigby looked confused.
"What?" Sean repeated, annoying Rigby further.
"Don't mind Sean; he's just repeating something he read from a fortune in a fortune cookie," Michelle explained.
Rigby gave a look as if he could care less.
Just then Carter came out up from the side of a building, "Hey, Rigby, over here," he waved towards the side of the building, "Looks like the coroner found something in the alley."
Rigby became all business again as he ignored Sean and followed Carter to the alley. Sean gestured to Michelle, and then they, too, proceeded to follow the agents down backstreet.
Next to the burnt building in the narrow alleyway, they found a man wearing a jacket with the words 'CORONER' emblazoned on the back. He indicated to them something he found in the trash bin. Sean immediately walked right up to the coroner.
"What's the story here?" Sean blurted out without any introductions.
The coroner stared at Sean, "Who the hell is he?"
"Never mind that. Just tell us what you've got here." Michelle gave the coroner her most official sounding voice.
The coroner pointed at Michelle, "Who the hell is she?"
"No one important," Rigby declared, "Just tell us what you found out, Thompson."
Coroner Thompson then directed all his comments to the FBI agent.
"I'm still trying to figure that out, Agent Rigby," the coroner stated as he motioned towards the bin, "All I can tell you is that the victim was a male and whoever he was, he was burnt extra crispy last night."
Their gazes followed the coroner's and looking in the bin, they saw a charred corpse curled amidst the burnt trash. The tremendous heat from the fire had dehydrated the victim's muscles, causing them to contract and twist the body into that crimped position.
Rigby, Carter, and Michelle took one quick look and turned away. One look was enough. Sean, however, couldn't take his eyes off the burnt corpse.
"Any identification yet?" Rigby questioned the coroner.
"You're kidding me, right?" coroner Thompson sounded irritated, "the victim was nearly cremated. There's almost no skin or subcutaneous tissue left. Call me in the morning after I've had a chance to get a closer look. Who knows? If you're lucky, I might be able to tell you the cause of death."
"I'm guessing 'fire' was the cause of his death," Carter said, as a shiver ran down his body.
"I wonder how he ended up in the trash bin?" Michelle wondered outloud.
"If it's Rick Thunder's body," Sean theorized, "maybe the killer tossed him in the trash and set him aflame to make a statement. Then the killer torched his office to destroy Thunder's files and any evidence that leads to him."
"Or," suggested Rigby, "Thunder is the killer and he murdered someone, setting his office on fire to divert attention away from this body."
Sean shook his head, "Thunder may have been a scum bucket and a blackmailer, but he was no murderer."
Michelle then turned to Agent Carter, "Were you able to talk with the fire investigators? Which fire started first, the one in the trash bin or the one in the building?"
"They don't have that answer yet," Carter responded, "When the firefighters had arrived, both the building and the bin were already fully engulfed. Right now they are collecting samples from the point of origin and from this trash bin and running them through the vapor trace analyzer."
"So we won't know the answer until later," Sean said, regretfully.
"Let me guess," said Rigby drolly, "You're using your psychic skills as a private investigator to draw useless conclusions."
Sean stared expressionless at him, "Bad sarcasm causes stress, Rigby. Relax. Maybe you need to take a deep breath...and hold it for about 20 minutes."
Touché, Michelle smiled to herself.
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Edgar was at his usual friendly desk when Sean and Michelle arrive back at the beach house office.
Michelle was the first to walk in and she removed her jacket as she spoke to Sean, "So what do you make of the case so far? Do you think Rick Thunder is really dead?" She sat on Edgar's desk.
Sean followed after her and sat at his own desk, "If Rick is dead, he didn't die last night."
Michelle looked baffled.
"Sean, there was a burnt corpse that tells us otherwise," she claimed.
Edgar interjected, "Burnt corpses cannot talk, Michelle."
Michelle turned to Sean.
"Sean, according to fire inspectors, the body had been burned the previous night."
"And I'm telling you that the body burnt wasn't Thunder's," Sean said evenly.
Michelle's mouth made a small 'o'. For some reason, Sean found watching her lips that way very attractive.
"What makes you think that body wasn't Thunder's?" she asked.
"I thought it was obvious," Sean said, "it's because the post office doesn't move that fast."
"Slow post office; snail mail," recited Edgar, "which refers to the lag-time between the dispatch of a letter to its recipient."
"I hope," Michelle continued her conversation to Sean, " you are not inferring that the post office put a hit on Thunder?"
"No," Sean said, "but just think about the timeline, Michelle. I got the manila envelope this morning. If Thunder had been burnt toast last night, how had his lawyer been able to get it mailed to us so quickly?"
"Why didn't you say all of this in front of Rigby?" Michelle wondered.
"Because this is our case. Besides, I don't like his personality," Sean stated, "he's all anger without the enthusiasm."
She grinned. Michelle already knew that Sean was determined to solve this mystery on his own without the FBI's help since that had been Rick Thunder's last request. At the image of Thunder in her mind, another thought entered her mind and she looked grim again.
"But even if the burnt body wasn't Thunder's, he's still must be dead somewhere," Michelle concluded, "after all, you did receive the manila envelope."
It broke her heart to see Sean's eyes filled with sorrow. That was an expression she rarely saw on his face.
"Yeah," Sean heaved a disappointed sigh, "there's that."
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