Up In Flames Extract First in the Casey and Catt Crime Series

PROLOGUE Flames

The blue idol in the corner of the room was untouched by the fire. While delicate

fingers held the silver flute to his lips his painted eyes gazed down on the

twitching form of the young woman on the floor. The once-shapely limbs were

now blackened. The glorious fall of silky black hair was now a rusty stubble.

As the idol watched, flames began to caress the bright cartoon transfers on the

white-painted cot. Above the snuffed out whimpers of the deeply-sleeping infant

could be heard the distant clanging of fire engines.

The fire flickered up the curtains. More hungry now, the tongue of flame licked

across the ceiling. Molten plaster dropped on to the figure on the floor. The

young woman's body lifted slightly, gave what sounded like a sigh, then settled

and lay still.

Through it all, the flute-playing idol played on, his sweet, silent music a poignant
serenade.

ONE

The fire had been quickly extinguished. The neighbours, who had been

evacuated by the firemen had been allowed to return to their homes by the time

DCI 'Will' Casey's car with DS Thomas Catt at the wheel, edged its way forward.

The row of small Victorian terraced houses was situated in a narrow side road on

the outskirts of the eastern market town of King's Langley, and the fire brigade
vehicles were lined up in the middle of it. With the area car parked across the road
behind the fire engines they could drive no further. Catt pulled up and parked neatly
beside the police car. As they climbed out, they silently took in the chaotic scene.

Beyond the fireman in their bright yellow helmets, milling around as they stowed

their gear, Casey caught a glimpse of the uniformed officers from the area car.

They were keeping the crowd of neighbourhood onlookers herded out of the way

at the far end of the street. The hoses from the brigade's vehicles writhed like

snakes across the pavement, ready to trip the unwary. Great puddles lay in front

of the blackened ruin in the middle of the terrace. Incongruously, the puddles

reflected only the brilliant blue of the August sky.

Casey straightened the jacket of his plain, sombre-hued suit as he gave a tiny
approving nod. The scene might look chaotic, but it was an organized chaos.

Beneath the surface confusion, Casey recognized the quiet competence of

well oiled routine. What a pity it had been in vain.

Gus Freeman, the assistant divisional fire officer, approached them. Soot s

treaked rakishly across his cheek, giving him a piratical air, but under the grime

his normally cheerful face was strained.

'Chief.' After exchanging the brief greeting, Casey got straight to the point.

'I gather you've got two bodies?'

Freeman nodded. 'One adult. One infant. Asians, according to the neighbour.'

Casey's green eyes shadowed at this news. He offered up a little prayer that

this latest fire proved accidental. But after the recent spate of arson attacks

on local Asian families, he wasn't optimistic.