He had heard about the fire on a couple of newscasts. Coupled with Montrose’s death, which seemed less of an accident now, the fatal fire and the presence of the arson squad had ignited the interest of the press. So far, the identity of the victim had not been made public, but he knew it was the boat studio that had burned and he nodded quiet acceptance when Laura told him the dental records confirmed that it was Erika. “What did she do? Fall asleep? She looked completely wiped the past few days.” “The police think she might have been drugged.” “You mean as in murder?” “There seems to be no doubt that the fire was deliberately set, so it kind of follows, doesn’t it?” “I hear you spent the morning with her ex-boyfriend?” Jeremy Switzer’s eyes were bright with curiosity as he leaned across the lunch table. “Yes,” replied Laura. “He’s a Wall Street lawyer. He was going to ask her to marry him.” “His timing wasn’t so hot, was it?” said Jeremy, then clapped his hand over his mouth as if realizing that his impulsive remark was too crass even for him.
