An open path through the restaurant was quickly created by Eugene Grovington and it was not long before Commander Monaghan and Doctor Conrad joined other authorities on the hardstanding tarmac again. Ivy had questions and wasted no time in attempting to rout out the possible reasons for an arsonist to target the Park Chalet and distinguish among possible suspects.
“It must not be someone who frequently does this,” Sophie pointed out the anomalies captured in her amateur attempt at crime-scene photography. “They left quite the trail of evidence.”
“You’re right,” Ivy nodded. She wasn’t an expert on arson, but the crime scene was riddled with clues, “And it looks like the culprit had an easy way in--no signs of forced entry.”
Expanding her field of vision, Ivy could see that the other members of ACME had started the process of taking statements and crowd control. She saw that Derringer and Rose Ningolsham were safe, their heroic efforts currently being praised by a relieved mother. Arsonists, even amateur ones, often stayed within the crowd to watch their work, but the Commander saw no one out of place. The fire, although damaging, was in a rather secluded area and did not seem to attract any casual observers.
Chase Devineaux recognized the light tinge of burned pine among the restaurant’s partial wreckage. There was, in contrast, no real evidence of petroleum accelerants. In a small area like this, anything of that sort would give off some form of odor.
“Our best bet may be to leave debris collection to the labs and have them put it through a GC-MS.”
He knew that was almost unnecessary, the culprit likely didn’t have time to leave the area considering how quickly the authorities had reacted.
“Are we cleared to interview any employees?”
As soon as that was said, attention was brought to a distraught staff member who was one in a group being treated for smoke inhalation. A policeman led them to a middle-aged gentleman, seated at the back of an ambulance, hunched over to breathe out of a high-flow oxygen mask. Remains of the blaze peppered his ruffled hair and smeared across his skin and clothes. His eyes were red and swollen, and Sophie stood aside to examine him with fair sympathy. Chase, however, perceived that the man’s clothes reeked of distilled resin. He stepped forward.
“I’m Chase Devineaux,” he introduced himself.
“Tim,” the seated countered, “Tim Walker.”
“You paint?” the question was pointed.
“Yes,” the man reluctantly replied, “as a hobby.”
“Oils?”
"Yes..." surprise lifted Walker's brow, "how do you know?"
“Turpentine, it’s all over your shirt,” Devineaux hinted to his clothes and then towards the restaurant, “It’s all over the kitchen range too, at least that’s what I’m willing to bet when the chemical analysis comes back.”
Tim Walker looked up at the Director with indirect contrition.
“I worked here for years,” he began slowly, “years...” The story emerged in halting words that became more and more like an outpouring of guilt within a confessional.
With the admission from Timothy Walker and the evidence logged by ACME, there was little to do for the guests and the “party crashers” but to return home and allow more established legal procedures to take place.
In the coming days, the ACME agents responsible for aiding the public and the investigations were commended, and the Bunker Boys’ inventions caught the attention of local news networks, which boosted their standing with Academy’s Board.
While it had curtailed the joyous soirée planned, the fire did end up bonding the women of ACME together in its rather unique way and it was unanimously agreed that a similar event should take place the following year--though, fire safety inspections would be high on the priority list.
