Dead by Any Other Name by Sebastian Stuart

forensics was able to determine that the fire originated in his bedroom, but his body was so badly incinerated that medical examiners were unable to establish a definitive cause of death. No charges were ever filed.”
    â€œIncredible. What’s the other info?”
    â€œIn 1998, Collier Denton’s ‘roommate’ died in a mysterious fall at his house in Stone Ridge. There was a police investigation and a manslaughter charge was under consideration, but never filed.”
    â€œAny other details?”
    â€œThe deceased’s name was Tony Ramirez. He was twenty-two years old, Dominican, unemployed, he and Denton had met in Miami Beach the year before. He fell down the house’s back stairs, which are very steep, and died of a cerebral hemorrhage. Denton didn’t call the police for two hours.”
    â€œHe was probably waiting to sober up.”
    â€œThat’s just what I was thinking.”
    â€œGood work, Josie.”
    â€œTalk to you later.”
    So Collier Denton was not only a sleazebag, he might be capable of manslaughter or even murder. I went back to my workroom and started to wax a table, physical work tends to clear my head, which needed it, cluttered as it was with information, innuendo, and suspicion. The bell rang out in the shop and since my wheels were spinning in place I welcomed the interruption.
    I went out to find Julia Wolfson looking around. She was wearing a tight black skirt, black ankle boots, a shimmery purple blouse, too much make-up—she was way overdressed for Sawyerville. She was a little less jittery, but not much, gave me a too-big smile and said, “You’ve got some really cool stuff. And chill town, so authentic. Oh look!” she said, her attention ricocheting to Bub. She went over and scratched his chest, he smiled in delight.
    â€œThat’s Bub.”
    â€œI’ve never had a bird.” Sputnik approached her. “We had a dog when we were little but it shit in the kitchen and Sally sent it back. Can I smoke in here?”
    I shrugged.
    She took out some hip English brand and lit up. “I don’t smoke. Boy, yesterday was a freak show. My parents just push every button I have, all at once.”
    â€œThey’re dynamic people.”
    â€œThey’re self-obsessed freaks. Every time I see them on television I get nauseous. I can’t believe anyone buys their bullshit. That was the first time I’d been in their house in two years.” She walked around the store, eyeing stuff, picking up stuff, putting it back, ADHD in overdrive.
    â€œThey’re busy people.”
    â€œNot as busy as they used to be, ha-ha. Their books don’t sell like they used to and the TV gigs are drying up; they’re kind of bugging out about it, especially Sally, plus you know she’s getting old and I think Dad is fucking someone on the side.”
    â€œIs it serious?”
    â€œWho knows. I wish Sally would get some on the side herself, but she’s still bug-eyed for the old man. It’s hitting her hard, she’s even more tense than she used to be. Suddenly she wants to be my ‘friend.’I mean how sick is that, she was barely my mother, and now she wants to be my friend .” She gave a bitter snort of a laugh.
    â€œDid she and Natasha get along?”
    â€œNot really. Sally put on a good game when people were around, but it was all playacting. Hey look, I’ve been in rehab, I know the drill: she had a traumatic childhood, was never really parented herself, she did her best blah-blah-blah.”
    â€œWhat was traumatic about her childhood?”
    She turned away from me, examined a chrome lamp, “I don’t know the details.” She took a deep pull on her cigarette. “I mean at this point who really gives a fuck, right?”
    â€œWere you and Natasha close when you were little?”
    â€œI never really knew her too well, isn’t that weird, I mean I’m four