Up in Flames by Geraldine Evans Page A

done now? she had asked. Casey wondered what Chandra could possibly have done before to warrant such a question. However, for the moment he didn’t invite Catt or Shazia to share his speculation. Anyway, it seemed likely that her in-laws would be keen to dish any dirt going. Unless, of course, they did have something to do with Chandra’s death, in which case, he supposed he could expect them to backtrack on any accusations they had made about their daughter-in-law.
                  Catt had voiced no further argument by the time they arrived back in Ainsley Terrace. As he got out, Casey told him to drive WPC Singh back to the station and, in a quiet undertone, he agreed that Catt could begin to check out the father’s finances and any inheritance that Chandra might have been left by her husband. While he was at it, he could arrange for them to see Chandra’s in-laws, the Bansis.
                  After giving his instructions, Casey headed back to the flat to have another word with the team. He hoped they would have made some progress. He needed some speedy answers on this case or it wouldn’t be long before there were others besides Catt raising ugly suspicions on little or no evidence. He was already starting to do so himself.
     

Chapter Six
    It was now nearly 7 pm. Dr Merriman had long since departed, but the forensic boys were still hard at work. When Casey returned to Chandra’s flat they had the floorboards up and were carefully packing what they found — charred wood, carpet, paper.— that had fallen through the cracks.
                  ‘How are you doing?’ Casey asked Andy Simmonds. ‘Found anything else yet to indicate arson?’
                  ‘Not yet. Trouble is, when accelerants like petrol or kerosene evaporate they produce hydrocarbons. And hydrocarbons have a low molecular weight.’
                  ‘And that’s bad?’
                  Andy nodded. ‘Hydrocarbons are very volatile, you see, which means evidence of accelerant use is hard to find.’
                  ‘So you have no conclusive proof that this was arson?’
                  Simmonds shook his head. ‘Not yet, anyway.’
                  ‘So what now? Is there any hope that you’ll find something?’
                  ‘There’s always hope, Inspector.’ Andy nodded towards the raised floorboards and told him, ‘It just means we have to try harder. That’s why we’re looking under floorboards and rugs, in corners and so on, in the hope that not all the accelerant has evaporated and that some, at least, of the liquid, hasn’t burned off. With luck, it may have soaked into surfaces which can then be treated in the lab.’ He hefted one of the containers he had been using. ‘Here’s where we’ll find any evidence of the use of an accelerant, like petrol. These little beauties prevent vaporisation so we can get fibres back to the lab for testing. Then we get the gas chromatograph to work on them and it’ll separate out the individual traces on these fibres. All we need is an infinitesimal amount of accelerant and we’ll have confirmation that this was arson. Then we might nail whoever did this.’
                  Casey could only hope he was right. It was late, but the day still held another duty before he could go home. Superintendent Brown-Smith had stayed behind specially and awaited Casey’s return and his report.
                  And as he knocked and entered Brown-Smith’s office, he braced himself.
     
    Casey had been too busy all day to see a newspaper, so when Superintendent Brown-Smith thumped a copy of the local evening rag on his desk, Casey was shocked to see the headline ‘Suttee in Suburbia?’ glare out at him from the front page.
                  He sighed quietly. Their local newspaper was owned and edited by Gwyn Owen, an independently wealthy