 
### After The Fire

by

Meredith Rae Morgan

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Meredith Morgan

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1

Bev pulled up to the curb across the street from the gutted restaurant and parked behind the fire chief. The local volunteer fire-fighters had brought the blaze under control, but the building was still smoldering. Firefighters from neighboring towns were still hooking up their hoses to help with the mopping up. She heard a cop yelling at a firefighter to call for ambulances, as many as could be rounded up. The police chief and the ranking firefighter on the crew that had responded first to the alarm provided a quick update to the chief. Bev stood back far enough not to get into trouble, but close enough to hear what they said.

"This one's bad, sir. There was a big crowd in the restaurant tonight. A wedding rehearsal party was the biggest group, but it was a pretty full house. The fire spread fast. As far as we can tell it looks like the only people who got out were the ones in the bar waiting for tables and the people in the kitchen. Looks like most of the people in the dining room were trapped. We gotta get in there quick and see if there are any survivors."

The chief nodded and waved his hand, "Do it."

He pulled out a cell phone and made a call, "Dan, this is Ed Casey in Stanforth. I've got a serious situation, and I need help. We're responding to a restaurant fire with a lot of casualties. I need as many firefighters and EMT's as you can spare. I got a feeling I'm also gonna need some higher powered fire investigation technology than I have available here. Can you help me?"

After a few seconds, he nodded and said, "Thanks."

Then he turned to Bev and tried to smile but didn't quite succeed. "I suppose you're here for the insurance company."

"Yes, sir. I'm the adjuster assigned to handle the claim, but I have to tell you as a preliminary matter, I have EMT training. With your permission, I'd like to help with the rescue operation."

"Sure. We need all the help I can get. I don't like the idea of letting an adjuster get inside the fire site before my investigators do, but if there are survivors, we need to get them out. Get some protective gear from the truck and go ahead." He put one hand on her shoulder and shook the index finger of his other hand under her nose. "Don't you touch anything you don't need to touch and you'd better share with me anything you think you discover in there. This is a potential crime scene and I won't have anybody fuck it up. You got that?"

She reached out and patted his chest, "Yes, sir. I understand the rules. Trust me, you and I are on the same side here. First we get the people out, then we figure out what started the fire and how much damage there is."

He pointed her in the direction of the nearest fire truck. The local firefighters knew her and nobody stopped her when she started pulling out protective gear.

A few minutes later, Bev stepped into hell. Firefighters were battling hot spots at various places around the room. The entire inside of the restaurant was gutted. Bev was glad she'd had the presence of mind to grab a bandanna to cover her mouth and nose for what little protection it would provide against the smoke and ash. The smell of burnt flesh was nauseating.

A firefighter touched her arm and asked her to help him turn over a table: there were human legs sticking out from underneath it. They moved the table and found four people who had crawled underneath it in an effort to stay low and away from the inferno. Three of them were dead. A lady who lay on the bottom of the pile, underneath a man's body, was still alive.

Bev helped the firefighter pull the man's body off the woman. The firefighter called for a stretcher. They helped the EMT's get the lady onto the stretcher. Bev hoped they didn't hurt the woman too much by touching her burned legs, although from the looks of the woman's injuries an the shallowness of her breathing, Bev thought she was probably a goner anyway. Considering how badly she was burned, Bev thought that might be a blessing.

They turned to the next table. Two people. Both dead.

Slowly Bev, and the other EMTs worked their way around the room. There were perhaps eighty or so people in the main dining room, both customers and wait staff. They found fewer than a dozen survivors. Most of those who were alive were badly burned over most of their bodies. If they lived, their recovery would be a hellish ordeal of multiple skin grafts.

Behind the leading line of of search and rescue workers, the volunteer firefighters and police officers hauled out bodies. They ran out of body bags and simply lined the bodies up on the sidewalk, covering them with table cloths someone had located in a storage closet off the bar.

Bev had no idea how long the initial rescue operation had taken. She emerged from the building and gulped the relatively clean air outside. She accepted a bottle of water from a Red Cross worker and sat down on the bumper of an emergency response vehicle to catch her breath. Helicopters and car sirens were approaching from different directions.

Soon, fire investigators from Cincinnati and Dayton hopped off the chopper and huddled with the fire chief. In only a few minutes they began processing the scene. There were some bitter words about the chief letting EMT's -- not to mention a god-damned civilian, and an insurance adjuster at that -- into the crime scene, but that was all for show. Everybody knew looking for survivors was, appropriately, the first priority.

Bev's cell phone rang. Her boss's number appeared on the screen. She was not ready to talk to him, so she ignored the call. She placed an outgoing call to her daughter, who was obviously sleeping, her "hello" was muffled and indistinct. "Emily, it's Mom. I was called out on a fire. I may not be home when you get up in the morning. I'm just letting you know not to worry if I'm not there when you get up. You will hear about the fire on the news. I'm okay, but I can tell you, I'm gonna be real busy for a while. Talk to you tomorrow. Love you." Emily murmured something unintelligible, but it was at least an acknowledgment that she was awake enough to hear Bev's message.

A few minutes later the arson investigator and the ranking officer from the crime lab approached Bev, with Ed Casey right behind them.

"You the adjuster?" She took an immediate dislike to the arson investigator from Cincinnati. His tone and posture made it clear he thought the folks from this small town were a bunch of rubes, and he was a big-city guy who knew it all.

"Yeah."

"You wanna tell me what you saw inside?"

She stood up and looked at him, matching his contempt and his swagger, "Not really because I don't like dealing with condescending assholes, but in view of the fact that you're a cop and I'm a witness to a potential crime scene, I'll cooperate." She described in as much detail as she could remember everything she saw inside. As she began speaking, she reached in her pocket and turned on the voice record feature of her phone. It occurred to her she might as well make her statement to the police count as her preliminary draft of an initial report to her employer.

The fire inspector and the crime lab guy asked a lot of questions, but eventually they were done.

The guy from the crime lab looked at his notes and whistled, "Thanks, Ms. Deller, you're very observant. I think you gave us a lot of good information. May I have your card in case we need to follow up?"

She handed him the card, and ignored the fire investigator. The two cops walked away to interview some of the other EMT's and local firefighters who had been inside the building. Other cops were interviewing the people who had escaped the blaze and some witnesses who had been in the neighborhood. Bev poured the last of her bottle of water on her bandanna and wiped her face with it.

Ed Casey chuckled. "First of all, that only just smeared the soot around on your face. You might want to get an clean hankie and try again. Second of all, I want to thank you for your help tonight. I also want to thank you for calling Bill Burnside an asshole. I've been wanting to do that for decades, but I have to work with him occasionally so I don't dare."

She held up her hand indicating she'd be right back. In a minute she came back with two bottles of water from the Red Cross truck and a bunch of wet paper towels. She handed him a bottle, and wiped her face with the towels.

Casey said, "That's better. You don't look quite as much like Al Jolson." He moved in close and asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper, "What do you think about the fire?"

She shook her head in dismay, raised her eyebrows and then nodded, acknowledging what he already feared, "It sure as heck looks like arson, all right. Obviously, we're going to have to get experts and study it carefully, but I think the fire started in the far rear corner. It doesn't look like a professional job, but sometimes pros like to make it look sloppy to throw us off. The accelerant was assisted by the fact that the dining room had wood beams and support posts. Old wood. Dry, old wood salvaged from a couple of barns. I know because I eat here -- or I guess more accurately -- I used to eat here quite often. The whole place went up like a torch."

"No sprinkler, I imagine."

"I doubt it. I'll pull the policy and the application tomorrow, but this place had been in business for decades. Hell, they didn't even have a computerized cash register. I'm guessing they had the minimum amount of safety devices that was legal. Maybe less than that."

He nodded and cocked his head to one side. "How well do you know Ron Mazzoli?

"I don't know Ron very well, personally. I went to school with one of his sisters. Actually, when I was in high school I worked at The Barn for a few weeks, busing tables and washing dishes. At that time Ron's mother still ran the place. He worked there, tending bar and occasionally working the front of the house. Mrs. Mazzoli was the brains behind the operation, and the chief cook."

"Is the one you knew the sister who's the cook now?"

"No. The one I knew moved to California right after college. She works in Silicon valley and makes a zillion bucks a year. I get Christmas cards from her, but I don't think she comes home to visit very often. The sister who works in the kitchen now is the youngest. I don't know her other than to speak to her on the street."

He scratched his head. "You think Ron would torch his place?"

She shook her head and slammed the paper towels into a trash can for emphasis, "Absolutely not! That restaurant has been his family's livelihood for generations. His grandmother started it in the 1950's. I can't see him destroying it."

"Had you been there lately?"

She didn't look at him and shuffled her feet. She knew perfectly well where he was headed. "No. We both know the place has kind of gone down hill in recent years." She ran her fingers through her hair and looked sad, "I'm guessing that when we look closer we will find that the restaurant was having financial problems, not unlike a lot of businesses in this shitty economy. I'm guessing that Ron will have all kinds of motive. We will both probably have to ask him a lot of really uncomfortable questions."

"You going to turn this over to your company's fraud unit?"

"Not yet. At least I'm going to try to get the company to let me investigate a bit more first. I'll need some expert fire investigators to look at causation and to assess damages. I'm going to hire a herd of lawyers to defend Ron in the lawsuits that will be filed against him by the families of all the dead folks. Initially I plan to proceed as though this is a covered claim.

"If we uncover evidence that Ron did it, at that point I'll turn it over to the fraud unit and turn my file over to the prosecutor. Then, I'll hire more lawyers to defend the lawsuits that will be filed against my company by Ron and by the families of the dead people. Hopefully by then my legal department will have taken the claim over and I'll be out of it."

"Sounds like a bunch of lawyers will do okay on this deal."

She put her hands in her pockets and looked toward the smoldering building, crawling with cops taking pictures and measurements. "Lawyers are the only people who benefit from a tragedy like this." She started to walk away, then she turned around and walked up to him. "There's one thing that occurred to me in there which I didn't mention to Mr. Fancy-Pants-From-Cincinnati."

"What?"

"The place that I think was the source of origin for the fire was in one corner of the room near a bunch of diners. If Ron were going to burn the place, I'd think, as an amateur arsonist, he would have started the fire either in one obvious place, like the kitchen, or he would have started it in several places around the room. Why only in one corner?"

"Sounds like you have a theory."

"I'd be interested to know a little about the people who were seated in the area where the fire started."

He reached out to shake her hand, and said, "It appears we'll be seeing more of each other for a while."

She shook his hand and smiled, "We'll be either best friends or bitter enemies before this is all over."

"Have you ever worked a claim this big before?"

"Never in my own back yard, but yes. Big fires are my specialty. Usually I handle fires in other places. This is my first big fire in my home town. Come to think of it, it's the only really big fire in this town as long as I can remember." She handed him the protective gear and added, "Thanks for letting me help with the rescue ops. I'd feel like a jerk standing by and not doing anything."

Someone yelled for Ed and he turned to go, waving in her direction.

She knew she couldn't put off calling her boss forever. Her car was surrounded by firetrucks and cop cars, so she went across the street and sat down on a bus-stop bench. Someone had arrived with more body bags. Staff members from the coroner's office and cops were loading bodies into a van.

She dialed her boss's number and he answered on the first ring. "Where have you been?"

"Sorry. I was helping with search and rescue inside the restaurant."

"How bad is it?"

"This one's bad, Dave. We pulled out maybe a dozen people who were still alive, but most of them were hanging on by a thread. There were maybe fifty or sixty fatalities. The building is a total loss."

"Causation?"

"More than likely arson."

"You want me to call the fraud unit?"

"I'd rather you wait. I think the fire was set, but I'm not prepared to accuse the insured yet. You have to understand that this is my home town. Both the insured and probably most if not all of the victims are my neighbors. There's a good chance that at least a few local families were all but wiped out tonight. I don't want to be too hasty to make things worse by raising the specter of insurance fraud too soon. The Mazzolis are a respectable and well-liked family."

The line was silent for a long time and Bev knew her boss was torn between ordering her to turn over the investigation to someone else who could be more objective and trusting the judgment of his most experienced fire adjuster. Eventually, he said, "Okay. I won't turn this over to special investigations, yet. But, I mean it Bev, the minute you have one inkling the insured was involved, I want you to relinquish that file."

"I promise I will, Dave. For one thing, if I think the insured is involved, I don't want to be the one making that accusation. I live here, remember."

"What's your plan?"

"I need to get some experts in here. Cops and CSI's have been all over the place, but I would like to get Ben Tucker on board early. I've worked with him before and he does a good job. I also think we should hire counsel. There are a lot of dead people. I know this restaurant. It was a bit of a fire trap on its best day and everybody in town knows it. I expect the first lawsuits to be filed about the time they start digging graves."

"Okay. Go ahead and get Ben on board. Who do you want for counsel?"

"I have to think about that. I would prefer to have a local guy as lead counsel, but I'll need some bigger firepower for later when the national plaintiff's lawyers start arriving."

"Do you have any idea what we should set for reserves?"

"Put up policy limits on both the property and the liability. In the unlikely event there's any excess coverage, go ahead and tell them to reserve at limits, too. While you're at it put up a couple of million for defense costs as well. There is no way we're going to get out of this without multiple lawsuits. I'd frankly almost consider simply tendering limits and walking away now -- except for that arson element."

"Understood. Keep me closely informed. When can I expect your initial evaluation?"

Asshole!!!! She struggled to keep her voice calm. It was five-thirty in the morning, smoke was still rising from the ruin and the coroner was loading bodies in the back of a third van -- and this jerk-weed was asking for a written report. "I'll email you a preliminary report by the end of the day. Right now, I'm going to go home and get some sleep."

She paused and added, "Would you do me a favor and call Ben Tucker this morning. Ask him to come as quickly as he can."

"Sure. Go get some rest."

"I'll do that. There won't be much rest for me for a while."

"Do you want me to reassign your other cases?"

"Yeah. I think so. Cassandra can babysit the small stuff, but that hotel thing in Dallas will have to go."

"I'll give that to Steve. He's fine with all that damages negotiating stuff."

"Actually, he's better than me at that stuff. I've been meaning to talk to you about that one. We're going to need a forensic accountant for the business interruption part of that claim."

"I gotcha. Steve works with a guy on that kind of thing already. Don't give it another thought. You concentrate on getting a handle on this one." He was quiet for a while, then he said, "Are you sure you are okay about handling this one yourself. The insureds and the victims are your neighbors. Any relatives or friends among them?"

She shook her head, "I have no idea. The bodies were so badly burned I wouldn't have recognized anyone. If it turns out there's somebody I know personally among the victims, I'll let you know immediately. You'll need to reassign it. While we're talking about potential conflicts and shit, I guess I do need to disclose that I worked at this restaurant when I was in high school, for about a month. I don't feel that's a conflict, but you might want to run that by legal."

"Why are you, my biggest rogue adjuster, all of a sudden getting all legal and above-board on me?"

"Because the fire marshal let me go inside the restaurant to help look for survivors. I'm definitely going to be a witness in whatever lawsuits and or prosecutions come out of this. For once in my life I'm going to have to go strictly by the book."

Jamison tried -- without success -- to stifle a laugh, "It'll be interesting to see if you can pull that off. I'm not putting any money on it."

"You're an ass. I'm going to bed."

She hung up the phone and asked a police officer if she could move her car. They had to move several emergency vehicles, but they let her out.

Chapter 2

She arrived home just as Emily came out of the shower in the morning. Her daughter looked at her and said, "My God, Mom, where have you been? You're filthy."

"The Barn restaurant burned down last night. My company insured it."

"Since when do insurance adjusters help put out fires?"

"I didn't help put out the fire, but they were short handed for the search and rescue part. They let me help with that."

"There were people inside?"

"The place was packed."

Bev watched Emily's face as the reality of what happened dawned on her. "Were there people hurt?"

"There were actually a lot of people who died in the fire. We pulled out a few who were still alive, but barely. I have to warn you, things could be very weird at school today."

Tears filled Emily's eyes and she walked over to give her mother a hug. Bev backed up, "Thanks for the thought, but you're already clean and I smell like the bottom of an ash tray. We'll hug and cry later. You get ready for school. I'm going to take a shower and go to bed for a while after I drop you off."

"I'll take the bus, Mom. You're a wreck. Take your shower and go on to bed. You think you could pick me up this afternoon, though?"

"Sure."

Emily started to go into her bedroom, but she turned back to her mother. "I guess this means that for once I'll get to see you at work in person instead of over the phone from some hotel far away."

Bev blew her a kiss, "It's not that exciting."

Somehow she made it into the bathroom and turned on the shower before the sobbing started. Eventually, she pulled herself together, finished her shower and fell into bed. Several hours later she woke to the ringing of her cell phone, "Mom, it's me. Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"Oh my God! What time is it? Am I late to pick you up?"

"No. I'm sneaking a call between classes. I want to tell you that I've got a ride home so you don't need to pick me up. Also, I want you to know that weird is not the word for what's going on here today. There were a lot of people killed in that fire, and at least a dozen of them were kids from my school. It's crazy here. But, that's not why I called. I want you to know there are all kinds of rumors going around."

Bev sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. "What kind of rumors?"

"Crazy shit. They're saying it was arson. Some people are saying that Mr. Mazzoli burned his place for the insurance money. Others are saying that he had some kind of Mafia ties that went bad and somebody burned it as a warning to him. I thought you should know."

"Thanks, hon. That's interesting. Do not say anything to anybody about me being inside the building last night."

"You were inside!?"

"How the hell do you think I took part in rescuing victims if I wasn't inside?"

"Was it arson?"

"It's too soon to know, and I couldn't tell you if I did."

"I know. All that confidentiality stuff."

"That confidentiality stuff is going to be really important on this job because it's in my back yard. Actually, they may take the claim away from me for that reason. Go back to class. Love you."

"Love you, too. I'll talk to you later."

Bev didn't bother to dress. She made coffee and took her laptop and mug into the bedroom where she sat in bed typing her report. Most of the time she handled fire losses out of hotel rooms. She was accustomed to working from bed. She transcribed the statement she gave the police and saved it to a disc. Then she used that for an outline of her preliminary report to Midwestern Casualty Insurance Company.

Just about the time she completed her first draft, Emily returned from school. She asked if Bev had eaten anything. She had not, so they decided to eat a very early supper before Emily had to go back to school for cheer-leading tryout practice. They chatted while they made dinner. Emily knew a couple of the kids who had been killed in the fire, but they were not close friends. She said that, based upon what she had heard, it did not appear that any of their relatives were among the victims.

That did not surprise Bev. Their relatives were Mennonites who rarely patronized restaurants, and certainly not restaurants that served alcohol. For once in her life she was grateful for that. While they were eating, Bev's phone rang. She laughed, "It's your grandma."

Emily looked at the clock, "Gram and Aunt Paula must have just come back from their daily shopping and three martini lunch and tuned into the news."

"That would be my guess."

Bev picked up the phone and said, "Hi, Mom. Before you ask, we're fine." She held the phone out from her ear and took a bite of her soup, while her mother talked, loud and fast. After swallowing her food, Bev interrupted, "Well, Mom, you see, I can't really talk about the investigation, but I can tell you that none of our relatives was in the restaurant, at least not as far as I know. They haven't published a list of the victims, but when they do, I'll let you know if any of your friends were in the restaurant. Yeah, for now they're going to let me handle the claim. Okay, you go ahead. Tell Aunt Paula I said hi. I'll call you soon."

Emily shook her head, "I hate to say this about your mother, but Gram is kind of a hoot."

"Kind of? My mother is just plain nuts!" She paused and said, "I think you're about old enough to hear some of that story, but I don't have the energy to tell it today. Tell me about the cheer-leading tryouts."

"It seems kind of wrong to go to cheer-leading tryouts under these circumstances."

"Any chance they will cancel the practice?"

"No. The principal said he wanted everyone who can manage it to try to stick with their normal routines. They're going to bring in counselors tomorrow for those kids and teachers who need it."

"You okay?"

"I think so. We went by the restaurant on the way home it was horrible. I can't imagine that it's gone. It must have been awful in there last night."

"Awful's barely the word for it, but I don't have a better one. Do you need a ride to cheer-leading camp?"

"Nah. Christina got a car for her birthday. She's going to pick me up."

"You know I don't like you riding with new drivers."

"Actually she's not a new driver. She's seventeen. She's been driving her mom's car for a year. Her parents just bought her a car because she totally aced her SATs and she's gotten straight A's on her report card to boot. She's very responsible."

"Okay. I'll take your word for it, but come straight home afterwards."

"Alright."

Bev's phone rang again. She recognized the number and said to Emily, "This is my fire expert. I gotta take this call."

Emily kissed her mother on the cheek and went into her room to do homework. Bev went into her room and answered the phone. "Hey, Bev, it's Ben. Did I wait long enough? Dave said you were up all night. I hope I didn't wake you."

"I've been up for a while. Are you on your way?"

"I'll arrive tomorrow. I'm flying into Cincinnati in the morning. Can you get me a room somewhere close to Stanforth?"

"Well, there's only one motel in Stanforth. It's probably fairly nice because it's mainly used by families of the college students when they visit. If you don't like it you can stay in Dayton or you could bunk in my den."

"I don't want to put you out. What's the story? The word on the wire is that you got a suspiciously hot fire in a local institution and a bunch of dead people."

"That's pretty much the size of it. I have to check in with the fire chief today to get some more details, if he's inclined to share them with me. I can tell you that it appeared to me the source of origin was all in one corner of the building. The inside of the restaurant was all wood, so the blaze spread..."

"What! You were in the building?"

"Yeah. I helped with the rescue operations."

"How do you get away with that?"

"I'm a certified EMT and I've been trained in search and rescue."

"Is the building still standing?"

"Was as of five thirty this morning, but it's so badly damaged, I think a good puff of wind would blow it over. You need to get here ASAP."

"You gonna take care of the cops for me?"

"Yeah, I'll go see the fire chief today."

After that she called her assistant, and explained that she would probably not be coming into the office anytime soon. "I'll be at home, but other than that, it'll be just like an out-of-town job. You hold down the fort in the office and I'll work remotely."

"Understood. I've pulled the policy and the underwriting file and scanned it. You can access it on the network."

"Good. Was the building sprinklered?"

"What do you think?"

"I think not, but I had to ask. Do we have any documentation of recommendations about sprinklers?"

"Actually, we have some damned fine documentation on that. The last time the building was inspected the inspector called the fire department and asked them about the need to sprinkler the building. The fire chief came out and did a special inspection. Said he thought the place was close enough to the fire department and they had enough fire extinguishers. He didn't think they needed to go to the expense of having the building sprinklered."

"He put that in writing?"

"Well not exactly, but the inspector made a dated and timed note in his file. What is more, the building has been regularly inspected by the fire department and has never failed."

"I'm shocked. How long ago was that inspection?"

"About four years."

"Does it give the name of the fire chief?"

"Yeah. Name of Clarence Sanders. Why?"

Bev sighed, "There's a new fire chief now. Sanders was an old guy who was kind of a nut. The current chief is going to freak when he finds out about this."

"You gonna tell him?"

"Sure. This is my home town. I'm playing this one totally by the book. .... Oh, quit laughing!

"In case Dave hasn't told you, he's off-loading all my other stuff. Give the file on the Dallas hotel fire to Steve. And good riddance. I hate arguing over all that financial business interruption crap anyway. You'll need to take care of everything else you can. If something blows up let me know and I'll do what I can or I'll ask Dave to transfer it."

"I know the drill."

Bev dressed and called Ed Casey. He said he was in his office and welcomed her to join him. She pulled into the parking lot at the fire station in fifteen minutes. Casey offered her coffee and filled her in on the cleanup.

"You got a casualty list yet?"

"It's just about finished but I can't release it to you yet because there are still a few unidentified people and some more whose families still need to be notified."

"Can you give me the names of the ones who've already been ID'd and claimed."

"Nope. Coroner will do that when he's all done."

"Okay. I guess I don't really have a claim on that information until the lawsuits start coming in. By the way my fire expert will be here tomorrow. Name is Ben Tucker. He's a former fire marshal from California and has been doing special fire investigations for twenty years. You'll like him. You gonna give us a hard time?"

"Heck no. I'm familiar with Tucker's work. He's good. I figure if you're picking up the tab for him, I'm saving the town money and getting the best investigator money can buy. I'm good with that."

"I was hoping you'd say that. Can we manage not to knock down the building between now and tomorrow."

"If the weather cooperates. I don't think the wind is supposed to blow. We will preserve the evidence until Tucker can get here. Did you find out about the sprinkler system?"

"Yeah. I've got some bad news about that...." She told him what her file indicated about the fire inspections.

"That doesn't surprise me. Chief Sanders hated to ask the local businesses to spend any money. I checked out our inspection records. They've never failed an inspection. Since I've been in this job, I've recommended every business in town that didn't have sprinklers to get them. We use volunteer firefighters. I think businesses should spend the money for sprinklers. But, you're right. I've never failed an inspection solely because a business didn't have sprinklers."

"You'll testify to that?"

"I don't think I want to get into the specifics with you about what I'll testify to, if you don't mind."

She grinned into the phone. "Okay. We'll both play it straight." She sighed and stared at the ceiling for a long time. "This is gonna be bad for this town, isn't it?"

"Yeah. You'll understand when you see the casualty list, but there are a couple of local families who were all but wiped out and a bunch of our prominent citizens were killed as well." He paused and narrowed his eyes. "Have you checked in with all your friends and relatives."

Bev waved her hand in the air and made a face, "I travel all the time and I'm an unsocial recluse when I'm home, so I don't have many friends. My daughter was safe at home. My father's dead. My mother lives in Chicago. All the rest of my relatives are Mennonite farmers. We are not close, but I'm pretty sure none of them would patronize an establishment like The Barn."

He made an interested face, "You don't act like a Mennonite."

She laughed, "Long story short: I'm the hell-bent spawn of the shunned black sheep of the family."

He nodded. "Even so, this is going to be bad for the whole community. The coroner told me that the casualties amount to a little more than 1% of the town's total population. The rest of the community is going to demand answers from us -- fast."

"I know that drill. The insured is going to want money, also fast. And everybody is going to want to tear down that building immediately. I've been down this road before. We will take the time necessary to do our investigation. I promise you we won't drag our feet, but I will not be rushed nor will I pressure Ben Tucker to rush. You understand?"

"I understand. And I agree with you. We're together on this, but I've got more bad news."

"Oh, let me guess. Since there are dead people and possible arson, the FBI wants to treat this as a murder investigation."

"How'd you know?"

"I've been down that road before, too. My position is that just because somebody burns down a building intentionally doesn't mean he or she intends to kill people. I've paid claims for injuries and deaths that we deemed incidental even if I denied coverage for the building when my insured burned it. It's a fine distinction, but my position is that this is not a murder case until/unless we discover evidence that the target was people and not property."

"Tell that to the FBI."

"Oh, I will. Give me the name of the agent."

"You ever win those arguments?"

"Once or twice. I usually can at least fend them off until we finish the fire investigation. FBI agents don't like to get their shiny wingtips dirty by digging around in the ashes of a burned out building."

"That would buy us a little time."

"Have you called Ron Mazzoli in for an interview?"

"I talked to him today. He's coming in tomorrow morning. I'm assuming you will want to be there."

"You got it. If you'll permit me to participate, we can put him through the statement process together."

"You want a statement under oath?"

"Probably before it's over. For now I think we should just talk. Is he bringing a lawyer?"

"He didn't say. Are you bringing a lawyer?"

"Not for this round. I'll catch hell for taking the insured's statement without my lawyer present, but whenever possible I like to avoid lawyering up too soon."

"Who are you thinking about hiring?"

"I haven't decided. I want a local guy to be the out-front person. I'll probably have to get a big firm from Cincinnati or Columbus to manage the lawsuits. None of my regular insurance defense guys are right for this one. You got anybody in mind?"

"Actually, I think I do. There's a kid in town who's in private practice. As in solo. He's from one of the old families in town, fortunately it doesn't appear any of his relatives were in the restaurant. He does mostly family law and some criminal work, but he's local. He's very smart and he's connected in the Kiwanis and Rotary. He a deacon in the Presbyterian church. People trust him."

"I'll talk to him. Who's the city attorney?"

"Fred Sizemore."

She laughed. "The city might want to rethink that arrangement."

"There's nothing I can do. He's been the city attorney for twenty-five years."

"I'll interview the kid lawyer. What's his name?"

"Paul Morehouse."

"What time is Mr. Mazzoli coming in tomorrow?"

"Ten."

"I'll be there at 9:30. I'll go see Mr. Morehouse after we talk to Mr. Mazzoli."

Chapter 3

Bev stopped at the grocery store on the way home. People clustered in small groups talking excitedly. Some of them were crying. Bev made her purchases and spoke as little as possible. The people in town who knew her were aware she worked for an insurance company and traveled a lot. She didn't want the word to get out that she was working on this claim any sooner than necessary.

By the time Bev arrived, Emily was home, watching TV and doing homework. Bev thought about delivering her standard lecture about concentrating on one thing at a time, but she didn't have the energy. Instead she curled up next to Emily and asked how practice had gone.

Emily looked suspicious. "Why so interested? I thought you didn't want me to be a cheer-leader."

"It's complicated. I am interested in your experience. I want to be supportive, even if I would rather you were a braniac nerd than a cheer-leader."

Emily laughed. "You know, Mom. I'd like to be mad at you for being such a fuddy-duddy, but it's hard because you're so damned honest."

"Quit swearing in my presence, dammit. Makes me feel bad because I know you got it from me."

Emily looked at her mother out of the corner of her eye and said, "You're really rattled, aren't you?"

Bev nodded. "I've handled worse fires. Bigger losses. More fatalities, even. I've just never handled anything this close to home. There's going to be a lot of pressure on Chief Casey and me over the next few weeks. I can handle that kind of pressure from strangers. I'm not sure how I'll react when the pressure is coming from my neighbors, looking to me for answers."

"Answers you may not be able to give."

"Or worse: answers they don't want to hear."

"How in the hell did you get into the fire investigation business in the first place, Mom? It seems to be a kind of odd job for a woman, and especially one from out here in the sticks."

Bev put her arms around her daughter. "The whole story is long and involved, but the short version is that your grandpa was a firefighter in Dayton. I wanted to be a firefighter, too, but Dad put his foot down and insisted that I go to college and get a job suitable for a woman, like teaching or secretarial work. It never would have occurred to me to defy my dad. After college, I got a job as a secretary in an insurance agency. One of the companies we represented was hiring adjusters for more money than I was making. I applied, got the job and took the training. I was good investigator and gradually worked my way up to being the company's number one fire investigator. That gave me the opportunity to come back here to live, because it sort of doesn't matter where I live when I travel all the time."

"Daddy didn't like you traveling?"

"No, he didn't. He wanted me to quit traveling after you were born."

"Why didn't you?"

"I liked my job better than I liked your father."

Emily put her head on her mother's shoulder and said, "You know, I understand that. I love my dad. And his new wife is perfect for him. They have a couple of perfect kids and a perfect home. He goes to work and she takes care of everything at the house. They are deliriously happy."

"I hear a BUT."

"But, they are so unbelievably boring, I go out of my mind when I go visit them. What did you see in him?"

"He was the only guy I ever met who was interested in me."

"Why? You're kind of pretty and you can be funny. You're really smart. Why didn't guys like you?"

"Because until a few years ago, I was way too impressed with my brains. I didn't wear makeup. I dressed really bad. And I kind of made it difficult for guys to express any interest."

"What changed?"

"The only thing that changed was that I realized if I didn't present a better appearance my career would go nowhere, so I had a makeover and had a consultation with a fashion person at a department store. I guess I'm also not as impressed with my smarts as I used to be because I work with a lot of other really smart people."

"Have you ever dated after you and Daddy got divorced?"

"I've gone out to dinner a few times with men. Mostly lawyers and cops."

"Maybe after this is over, we can do something about your social life."

"My social life is just fine. How's yours, by the way? Is Rob Sanders still nosing around?"

"Yeah. Kinda. That's sort of why I want to be a cheer-leader. He's on the football team."

Bev leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She was so not ready for her daughter to start dating. Emily read her mind, and patted her hand.

"G'night, Mom. I gotta get up early for a student government meeting." Bev kissed her daughter and went to bed herself.

The next morning, she took Emily to school and then drove by the ruins of The Barn. She was glad to see that the cops had posted a guard to keep curiosity seekers out. She stopped for coffee and a bagel, and glanced through the newspaper at a local coffee shop. A man at the next table said, "It's terrible about the fire, isn't it."

"Yes. It's a tragedy."

"They're saying that the owner of the restaurant torched it for the insurance money."

Bev wanted to smack him, but forced herself to say, "The fire department will need to finish its investigation, and even if someone did set the fire, that doesn't mean it was the owner of the restaurant."

"Why would anybody else burn down the restaurant besides the owner?"

"I don't know, but that's what we need to find out!" She got up and left the coffee shop before he could ask her to elaborate.

She arrived at the fire department early, and hung out in the conference room until the chief was ready for her. He said that he would let her ask most of the questions since she had much more experience than he did, but he would ask enough questions so he could say he'd done his job.

Mazzoli arrived a few minutes before ten. Bev was a little surprised that he didn't have a lawyer with him. He was accompanied by his wife and his sister. Bev whispered to the chief, "Let's separate them and get statements from the wife and sister, too."

"Okay."

Ron Mazzoli looked like a man haunted by demons. He clearly had not slept, and was the walking picture of shock and grief. He laid his hands in front of him on the table. They trembled like an eighty-year old man. He looked from Bev to the chief and said, "Okay, I know you have a lot of questions and I'll do my best to answer them, but I'll tell you straight up right now. Yes, I was having financial problems. The restaurant was not as profitable as it used to be and we actually had months recently when we didn't break even. I have put some of my own money into keeping the business afloat."

He laid an expandable folder on the table. "Those are the last years bank statements and tax returns for the restaurant. It's pretty pitiful reading."

He laid his hands flat on the table and looked at them with tears in his eyes, saying, "I did not burn down my business and kill all those people! My grandmother started that restaurant. It's been the family's livelihood for three generations. Our customers were our friends and neighbors ....and relatives." He put his face in his hands and sobbed, "My own granddaughter and her boyfriend were celebrating his birthday. I gave them a table near the kitchen and comped the meal." It took him a long time to compose himself, and Bev had to struggle to avoid breaking down. Casey was clenching his jaw and biting his lips.

When he could finally speak again, Mazzoli looked directly at Bev, "Mrs. Deller, I don't care about the money for the building. There is no way I'd have the heart to reopen that place after all those people died there. It would be haunted by their ghosts forever. Everybody is telling me that I'm going to be sued. I don't have the money for a lawyer. I need you to help me."

Bev reached across the table and patted his hand. "At this point, the fire is under investigation. Until an official determination is made, we will proceed as though this is a covered loss." She slid her card across the table. "If anyone from any of the victims families contact you or if you hear from any attorneys, refer them to me. When you are served with lawsuits, notify me immediately."

"You will help me?"

"Even if the fire was set, that doesn't mean you set it. We will investigate fully and we will proceed as if it is a covered loss until and unless we turn up evidence against you. If you set the fire, we will turn the matter over to our fraud unit and we will not defend you further. If someone else set it, we will defend you and pay the claim up to the limits of your policy. We will assist the cops in prosecuting the perpetrator.

"I do have to warn you. Your policy only has $1 million in liability limits. If you have any other insurance, such as excess liability insurance or homeowners insurance, please notify your insurers and have the adjusters contact me. I can tell you right now $1 million will not be enough to cover this loss. If you have any other policies of insurance that might respond, let's get them on notice right away."

"What does that mean for me?"

"Let's cross one bridge at a time. Right now, we have to investigate. That means Chief Casey and I will want your statement, as well as those of everyone who worked in the restaurant. We will expect your full cooperation."

"We will all cooperate. I swear to you, I didn't burn my business."

She looked at him for a long time. She'd interviewed a lot of people in his situation. She knew in her heart he was telling the truth. She also knew the facts looked bad for him. One million dollars would not begin to satisfy the claims that were going to be made against him. This was going to be tough. She said, "I believe you. Now we have to find out who did it."

They spent the next few hours taking his statement as well as those of his wife and sister. The chief asked him for a list of the contact information for all his employees.

After they were finished, Bev went to meet Paul Morehouse.

She walked into the office and told the secretary she didn't have an appointment but urgently needed to make one. The secretary told her to wait. She went into his office and came out a second later with Morehouse behind her. He reached out to take her hand and said, with an undertaker's expression, "How can I help you?" He was in his late twenties and looked very serious.

Bev wanted to smack him for being condescending. Instead, she said, "I'm the adjuster for Midwestern Indemnity responsible for the fire claim at The Barn. I need a local lawyer to be the face and voice of the investigation. Hear me: I will be running the show and I will have big city litigators managing the lawsuits. We need a local guy to manage the press and be the spokesperson."

He looked offended. "You want a PR guy, get a PR guy."

"I need local counsel to work on the biggest case you'll ever see, Mr. Morehouse."

"What firm will be managing the litigation?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"You're hiring local counsel, not your attorneys? Isn't that a bit unusual?"

"It's highly unusual. This is my home town. This is my show. We'll all do it my way."

"I would like to be present when you have this conversation with your big-city litigator."

"Oh, you probably will be because you're going to be lead counsel and my big-city litigator will be providing aerial support."

He laughed and said, "I don't like your attitude, and I'm not really interested in being your spokes-model, but you're right, this will be the biggest case I'll ever see. I'll no doubt learn a lot. Besides, I'm inclined to sign up for the entertainment value of that meeting alone."

"Whatever your reason, I'm glad you see it that way."

"When are you taking Mazzoli's statement?"

"Chief Casey and I took his statement this morning. I want you to make arrangements with a court reporter to get a Statement Under Oath as soon as possible."

"You already took his statement before you hired me?"

"Yes. I did that on purpose. I didn't want to get lawyers involved until after I had spoken directly to my insured."

"He doesn't have a lawyer yet?"

"He does now. You're it. Your job is to babysit him and keep the press the hell away from him." She looked at him, "Mr. Morehouse, your client is a man whose life has just imploded. He lost his business, and a lot of his customers and friends were killed. At least one member of his immediate family died in the fire. He needs all the help he can get. He needs you in his corner. Let me investigate the claim. Let the hot-shot litigators manage the lawsuits. You take care of your client."

He smiled at her. "Ms. Deller, you surprise me. I would not have expected such compassion from an adjuster."

"Then you've been watching too many ads on TV from ambulance chasers." She paused, "I'll pay you $150 an hour. I want your bills in tenths of an hour, submitted monthly by the tenth of the month. Let me see your standard engagement letter."

He handed it to her. "Are you a lawyer?"

"No. But I've been doing this for a long time." She ran her fingers through her hair, "Today it feels like too long." She glanced through the agreement and said, "This is fine. Here's my card. Set up the letter and I'll sign your engagement letter with no changes. Please reach out to Mr. Mazzoli today. He's desperate to know that somebody is going to help him."

He furrowed his brows, "How does this work. The word on the street is that the fire was set. Why would you hire a lawyer for him if he torched the building? Wouldn't that be insurance fraud?"

She smacked her hands on his desk, "Mr. Morehouse, we do not know that the fire was set. The investigation is ongoing. And, even if it was set by someone, that doesn't mean that Mr. Mazzoli set it. I, for one, do not believe he burned down his business. I intend to handle this under a reservation of rights and defend and indemnify him until I turn up evidence -- as in hard, scientific evidence -- that he committed insurance fraud. If that happens, I'll turn the matter over to the prosecutor and withdraw defense." She looked at him for a long time, "I don't expect that to happen, and after you talk to your client, I think you will agree with me."

"Does he have sufficient limits of insurance?"

"No."

"What does that mean?"

"For you it means that you'd better do everything in your power to make nice with this town so the families of the victims will be satisfied with the paltry one million dollars he has available. And for me it means that I need to find who set this fire and hope that person has some money."

"You think it was set?"

"Not sure, but if it was, I hope to hell our firebug has a nice, fat bank account."

She turned to go, saying, "I'll stop by later to sign the engagement letter and drop off a copy of the insurance policy. Please call your client as soon as you can."

As she walked to her car, Ben Tucker called her to tell her he was on his way from the airport. She suggested he check into the hotel, change and then meet her at the restaurant. Next she called Chief Casey. He told her the FBI wanted the Cincinnati crime lab people to be on the scene when her investigator went through the scene.

She asked, "The FBI's not planning to be here are they?"

"No. I gave them your argument that we are operating under the assumption the deaths were incidental to the property crime. He said he'd stay in the background, but that's why he wants the crime lab folks to come back."

"I'm okay with that. I'll meet you at the restaurant in an hour. By the way, I hired Paul Morehouse to represent Mr. Mazzoli."

"He's not representing the insurance company?"

"Oh, no. My Company will have much better lawyers than that. Trust me. He seems like a nice enough kid. His main job is to babysit Mr. Mazzoli and make nice with the town. I wasn't very nice to him. You should be the good cop with him."

He laughed. "I wish I had seen that exchange."

"I'm glad there were no witnesses."

She went home and changed into jeans and a tee shirt, and dug out her rubber boots and tossed a packet of latex gloves into her bag. She sent a text message to Emily to the effect that she'd need to ride the bus home from school. Then Bev drove to the restaurant and parked across the street, munching peanut butter crackers, waiting. A man approached her car and laughed, "You'd make a good cop with that diet. I'm Tom Jackson, Cincinnati Crime Lab."

She got out of the car and shook his hand. "Your buddies in the FBI wanted you here?"

"Yeah. Only they're usually not so buddy-like. I'm not sure what got into them."

"They don't trust small town investigators and they really don't trust insurance experts."

"Usually that's wise. In this case, I think they're out of line. Ben Tucker's the best in the business. Hell, the FBI uses him as an expert from time to time."

"Yeah, but I'm paying for him, and that automatically makes him a whore as far as they're concerned."

Tucker pulled up and parked behind Bev and Chief Casey joined them a few minutes later. The four of them entered the building together. Bev explained to them what she had seen the night of the fire. Tom Jackson summarized what little data they had already compiled from processing the scene. Ben went through the building with swabs and plastic bags, collecting samples and taking photos. Jackson watched him, but did not interfere. Every now and then Jackson made note or took a picture of something his guys had evidently missed. Tucker was thorough, and it was almost dark by the time he finished.

He ended up with a box of samples. He asked the CSI if he could overnight the samples to a lab in California to preserve the chain of evidence. The CSI looked at Bev, "You picking up the tab for this?"

"Send me the bill."

Tucker said, "This is going to be expensive."

Bev said, "Cha-ching!" After Casey and the CSI left, Bev asked Tucker if he wanted to get dinner. Then a kind of confused look came over her face and she said, "Actually, without The Barn, there really there isn't any place other than chains and fast food places, neither of which appeal to me. Come to my house and we'll do pot luck."

They discussed the case while Bev made dinner. Then they took a break from business when Emily came in and the three of them ate supper together. Emily asked, "Mr. Tucker, have you worked with my mom before?"

"Yes. We've worked together on several cases. Actually, I guess I should say a lot of cases."

"My mom's good at what she does, isn't she?"

He grinned and nodded, "I'd say your mom's one of the best there is at what she does."

"It's cool to see her in action." Her face clouded and she looked as though she might cry, "But I hate that this is happening in my town."

Bev said, "That makes two of us."

Chapter 4

Over the next few days, Casey and Bev worked their way through the list of restaurant employees and patrons who had survived the fire. They took statements, which all told virtually the same story: it was a very festive night. The attendees at a wedding rehearsal dinner were getting loud and inebriated in one corner of the building and other celebrations were going on around the room. Italian music played in the background. The dining room smelled of garlic and tomato sauce and was filled with the sounds of laughter and and boisterous talk. The restaurant was noisy because of the high ceilings and poor acoustics.

All of a sudden somebody screamed and then someone else yelled that there was a fire. People started running for the exit, which was on the end of the building where the fire started. The only other exit was through the kitchen but very few people went out that way. The fire was too hot near the exit. The people inside the dining room could not get out.

Several of the witnesses said that Mazzoli and his son, who was the bartender, both tried to go into the dining room, but the fire and smoke were too hot. Instead they stood in the doorway screaming for people to go out through the kitchen. Kitchen workers said that they went into the dining room and pulled out a few people who were near the doors to the kitchen, but when they opened the back door, the fresh air caused the fire to burn even hotter, and the room filled with smoke so the patrons who were trapped in the dining room couldn't see.

The stories all told of a pleasant evening out that turned into a hellish nightmare in a matter minutes.

Five days after the fire, Bev, Tucker and Casey sat in Casey's office poring through the statements. Ben said, "They're all remarkably consistent."

Bev said, "The fire started in the corner of the building where the wedding party was sitting. Ed, what do we know about them?"

Casey looked at his notes. "The groom's father is a local guy. He owns a car dealership. He's an ass by everyone's testimony, and I'll vouch for that because, after one miserable experience dealing with him years ago, I buy my cars in Dayton. The groom was a typical local kid. When he was in high school he played on the football team and was considered kind of the local chick magnet at least for certain kinds of girls. Went to college at the University of Cincinnati and, until recently, worked as a pharmacist in a hospital. No arrests. No lawsuits.

"Bride's family is from Cincinnati. Her dad's a plastic surgeon. She was also a pharmacist, worked at a CVS drugstore. I'm guessing she and the groom met in pharmacy school."

Bev made a note on her pad, "You know any good PI's? I think we want to know more about the bride and groom and their families." Ed gave her the name of a PI in Dayton. She sent an email to Cassandra asking her to hire the PI and have him call her later in the day to discuss the engagement.

They worked their way through the statements and Bev made a list of details she wanted the PI to check out.

By the end of the first week, the funerals began. Press from Cincinnati and Dayton as well as some national news agencies picked up the stories and reporters showed up at the funerals. Bev ranted about that, but Casey and Morehouse both told her there was nothing they could do to keep the press from covering a story.

The day after the first funeral, Morehouse called Bev, "Bad news."

"Oh, let me take a wild guess. You got your first call from an attorney."

"Yep. He's not a local guy, either. He's Timothy Peters..."

"Oh, shit!"

"You know of him?"

"Yeah, I not only know of him. I've been up against him before. Twice. Actually, come to think of it, this may not be a bad thing. Tim knows what he's doing. He may end up as lead plaintiff's counsel which may give us a prayer of getting out of this without destroying Ron's entire life."

Paul laughed, "You know, Bev, you give every appearance of being a really decent person for an adjuster."

"Oh, quit watching that damned TV!" She chuckled and asked, "What did you tell him?"

"Basically, I told him that the fire was still under investigation and we are not in a position to discuss settlement until we know the facts and until all the damages are evaluated. I told him to send me a letter of representation and get in line."

"Good. Stick to that line with all the other lawyers who call you." There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, "Is there something else?"

"Yeah. Ron's granddaughter's funeral is tomorrow. I'm planning to go. I'm wondering if you would be able to attend as a show of support."

She thought about it. "I'd like to. I really would. I believe him and I want to support him. I'll have to check with my boss to make sure it's okay. I have to maintain some distance and I don't want to piss off my legal department and have them jerk this case from me. Some of the evidence is stacking up pretty heavily against Mr. Mazzoli. I don't want them to turn this over to the fraud unit prematurely. I'm afraid they will do that if they assign the claim to another adjuster. Tell the insured I will attend if my company will permit me. If it turns out I am not able to attend in person, it's because I can help him more by staying away."

"Are you losing your objectivity?"

"No. I'm going with my gut here. I believe Mr. Mazzoli is telling us the truth. He did not burn that building. I just have to prove it. There are other issues, however. Even if we prove that it was an accident or that someone else set the fire, there are negligence issues. The place was a fire trap. The tables were too close together. I am afraid that there might have been too many people in the building that night. What I'm telling you, Counselor, is that even if this is a covered loss, Mr. Mazzoli has significant exposure beyond the limits of his insurance coverage.

"By the way, do you have copies of his homeowners policy and those of his other siblings who are partners in the business?"

"Yes, there are three siblings who are partners in the business. All have homeowners policies with $300,000 liability limits. All carriers are on notice and I have contact information for all the adjusters. None of them has assigned counsel yet."

"I'd like to have a conference call with all the adjusters. Would you mind setting that up?"

"Not at all. Oh, and there is no umbrella or excess coverage."

Bev sighed. That was not surprising, but it was disappointing. "So. We have $1.9 million to work with. Fifty-two dead people and fourteen more seriously burned people who are racking up medical costs by the tens of thousands every day they live. Mr. Mazzoli and his siblings face a serious excess exposure."

"You gonna tender limits and walk away?"

"I'm not tendering anything until the fire investigation has been concluded. I can't pay anything until we can establish that this isn't insurance fraud. That will buy us some time."

"What is your game plan?"

"I want to hold onto the claim long enough to establish that the insured didn't set the fire and then try to negotiate some kind of settlement with the money that we have to work with."

She paused for a long time, chewing on a pencil and staring at the ceiling. Eventually, she said, "I want you to float something by the insured. To be clear, I am not making any commitments to pay anything at this point. My company will not pay a dime if there is any chance that the insured set that fire. However, if we can establish that it was an accident or that someone else set it, the building is insured for $2.5 million. Mr. Mazzoli has indicated he does not intend to rebuild. I believe there is no mortgage on the property and Mr. Mazzoli and his partners would be entitled to receive that amount in a cash settlement. I want to know if they would be willing to throw that money in the settlement pot. If I tender limits and walk away, the piranhas will gobble up everything they have. If you and I have a big enough pot to work with, maybe we can reach a global settlement that will leave the insured a roof over his head and a car to drive if nothing else. What do you think?"

"I think that he'd happily go for that."

"Keep in mind, we can't make any commitment to pay anything, but I think you should gently float that by him if for no other reason than to impress upon the Mazzolis that they have a huge personal exposure here, even if the loss is insured."

"I understand. I think he knows it, too, but I'll spell it out to make it clear to him."

"Much as I hate it, I think you should remind him he is entitled to have his own attorney on board."

"We already talked about that. I'm going to represent him even if you pull the plug."

"Okay. I'll let you know what my company says about me attending the funeral."

Bev tried to go out as little as possible. Word was out that she was the adjuster. When she went into stores and businesses, people asked questions she couldn't answer or they made remarks she didn't appreciate. Therefore, Emily did most of the shopping and Bev laid low. It occurred to her that handling claims out of hotel rooms in faraway places where she was a stranger had certain personal advantages.

The legal department sent word that there was no way in hell she should attend Mazzoli's granddaughter's funeral or any of the other funerals. She was ordered to stay away from events where the press would be gathered. She agreed and sent word to the insured through Paul that she was sorry but she would not be in attendance.

By the time the funerals were over, the reporters moved on to Cincinnati where they camped outside the Shriner's Burns Hospital harassing the doctors about the condition of the survivors. Bev shuddered to think how much those claims would be worth.

The accountant to whom Bev had sent the insured's financial records reported that the business had been teetering on the brink of bankruptcy for months and Ron Mazzoli, along with his brother and sister, had invested a significant portion of their personal savings to shore it up, and they had lost it all. They owed money to everybody in town and had defaulted on a loan to an uncle in Cleveland. Based on receipts for the two weeks before the fire, the restaurant would not have been able to meets it next payroll. She thanked the guy and asked him to submit his written report. She told him she'd be in touch if it came time for him to testify. She put down the phone and stared out the window, pounding her pen against the table, fast at first and gradually slowing as she managed to calm herself. She decided to keep that information to herself as long as she could justify doing so.

Ben called early one morning, "I have some interesting lab results. Want to meet me at the fire chief's office?"

"You not going to tell me first? I'm paying the bills."

"I know, but it's ambiguous information. Nothing that will cause you to have to turn it over to your fraud unit. I want you and Casey to hear it first before I give it to the crime lab in Cincinnati."

"I'll meet you at Casey's office in fifteen minutes." She sent a text message to Emily to the effect that she'd have to take the bus home, and headed for her car.

A half hour later, the three of them sat in the lunchroom at the fire department, with reports and photos spread out on the table. Bev stood up to get a better look. "Okay, so the fire started in the corner where the wedding party was seated. The accelerant was gin and the fire seems to have been ignited by a butane cigarette lighter. It flared and then really went out of control when the kitchen workers opened the back door." She rearranged some pictures and looked up at Tucker with her eyes wide and something bordering on a smile, "Could this be an accident? A sloppy drunk spills a drink and then drops a lighter?"

He patted her hand and shook his head, pointing at a series of photos, "I think it's a torch job that's supposed to look like an accident. The fire started in a corner. A sloppy drunk moving around would have spilled the drink on the table or on a walkway to somewhere."

She moved some photos around in a different order and said, "But, what if somebody seated at the table dropped a glass of gin on the floor. It shattered and splashed, then the lighter somehow ignited the alcohol?"

"Maybe, except that we found no broken glass at the place you would expect it to be in that scenario."

Casey was digging through a file, apparently ignoring their conversation. After a few minutes he pulled out a sheet. "Here's their tab for the night. The cash register in the bar was not damaged and I had them print out all the tabs for the night. No one in that party was drinking gin. They were drinking wine, champagne, a few beers and two people were drinking bourbon. No gin."

Tucker walked over and looked over Casey's shoulder, "Was anybody drinking gin that night?"

They ran their fingers down the columns on the report. Two people in the restaurant ordered gin drinks that evening. One lady had a martini before dinner earlier in the evening; she and her husband left the restaurant 30 minutes before the fire started. A patron at the bar ordered a gin and tonic fifteen minutes before the fire started.

Casey said, "I'll find that guy."

Tucker made a face. "Yeah, you should for the sake of thoroughness, but a gin and tonic would not have ignited that fire. It would have taken a fairly large dose of straight liquor."

Bev stood looking at the photos, moving things around as if rearranging the papers would help her to see the picture more clearly. "The amount of alcohol it would have taken to start a fire that hot would be more than one drink. Somebody dropped or splashed the alcohol, probably directly from the bottle or at least a large glass with no mixer in it, and then ignited it. Did the fire start along a pathway where someone might be carrying a bottle of liquor to or from the kitchen or another location? Maybe someone tripped and dropped a whole bottle."

Tucker shook his head and said, "That's unlikely. Remember we found no glass, but I suppose there could be an explanation for that. I'll run some computer models to see, but that area looks like it would not be a pathway to or from any other place in the restaurant. I think it's a torch job."

Bev said, "Where were the owners at the time the fire started?"

Casey consulted his notes, "Ron was at the reception desk in the front of the bar. His son and brother were tending bar. Sister was in the kitchen."

Bev held out her hands over the table in a blessing gesture. "None of the principals were in a position to actually start the fire."

Tucker said, "True, but there were other family members waiting tables and working inside the restaurant."

Casey said, "Mazzoli's wife was waiting on the wedding party."

Bev put her hands over her face, "Shit." She turned to look at Casey, "She survived, though. Where was she when the fire started?"

"In the kitchen."

"Then she didn't start it!"

"What if she doused the area with alcohol and then walked away?"

"Were people in the wedding party smokers?"

Casey raised his eyebrows, "How would we tell?"

Tucker rummaged through the photos. "We found no butane lighters anywhere except for the remains of a butane lighter at the location where the fire started."

Bev held her hands out to Tucker in a begging gesture, "Okay, what's your conclusion?"

"At this point, it's inconclusive. I don't think it's an accident. None of the insured individuals was in a position to actually ignite the fire as far as I can see, but that doesn't mean that one of them didn't douse the area." He paused and added, "Plus any one of them could have tossed the lighter from a short distance and made it to the kitchen or the bar before the flames got out of control."

Bev sat down, "Okay. Our preliminary finding is that the fire was not an accident. Somebody torched the place. We do not have evidence that clearly implicates the insured at this point. Are we agreed on that?" She stared at Tucker.

He sat for a long time looking at the pictures, consulting his notes and reviewing some of the reports. A lot of peoples' futures hung in the balance, and everyone in the room knew he was choosing his words carefully. He said, "At this point, I can only say that the cause is still undetermined. I don't think it's an accident, but it is possible that it could turn out to be a freak accident. The evidence leans towards arson, and my gut agrees. Based on the evidence it could have been the insured, who we know had motive. However, it is also possible that someone else set the fire for their own reasons."

He looked at Bev and lifted his hands, palms up. "That's all I can give you now. I'll go home and start running computer models."

"This is enough to keep this out of the hands of the fraud unit and the FBI. I'll take it."

They sat for a while contemplating the pictures. Tucker asked, "So what are you guys going to do now?"

Bev said, more to her self than to the men, "We need to run every computer model imaginable to figure out who might have been in that corner of the room in the last fifteen minutes before the fire started. We need to know everything we can about the people in that wedding party." She looked up as though she were waking from a nap. "I haven't had a report from our PI friend. I think I'll pay him a visit."

Tucker said, "I'll report in to the crime lab in Cincinnati and then go home and start running computer models."

Bev nodded. "Excellent. My boss has been on my ass wondering when you're going home. He hates to pay hotel bills. See if you can get any information from the boys in the crime lab as to what they are thinking."

"Will do. I'll be in touch." He shook their hands and left.

At dinner, Emily said, "I heard that Mr. Tucker checked out of the motel today. Is he finished with his investigation?"

Bev thought for a long time before she answered. "No. He has completed his on site investigation, but he is going back home to work on computer models and complete his report."

"Do you think Mr. Mazzoli burned his restaurant?"

"No, I don't. Can I prove it? Not yet, but I'm working on it."

"People are starting to get antsy for something official."

"I know. We are all eager to know what caused this fire, but I'm telling you that we won't rush our investigation. There is too much at stake to come to any kind of hasty conclusion."

Emily studied her mother's face for a long time. "This is hard on you, isn't it, Mom?"

"Yes."

"Is it always so tough?"

Bev thought about that. "When people die or are badly burned, it's always tough. I want to get it right because everybody involved deserves for me to get it right. When the fire turns out to be set by the insured it's hard because I have to walk away and there are usually a lot of lawsuits. Often I have to testify in criminal proceedings which could result in my insured going to jail. If I'm sending a guy to prison, I sure as hell want to get it right.

"When the fire turns out to be an accident, I want to be sure that I'm fair in evaluating the liability situation so I don't pay claims I don't owe but I do treat everyone fairly. There are usually lawsuits over that as well, and I often have to testify."

"Mom, how long do one of these claims last?"

"Sometimes they're over relatively quickly if they just turn out to be a covered fire loss with either no injuries or minor injuries. We can settle those sometimes in a few months. On the other hand, if there are a lot of complexities and litigation, it can take years. I closed a claim earlier this year that had been in litigation for more than a decade."

"Will this one end up in court."

Bev hesitated, but finally said, "I can't really discuss this too much, but I will tell you -- for your ears only, and don't spread this around -- I can barely imagine a scenario for this claim that will not involve lawsuits, probably a bunch of them." She sighed and tried to smile, but it turned out to be more of a grimace, "Can we talk about something else, please."

Emily launched into a detailed account of the minutia of her day, which was precisely what Bev wanted to hear.

Before she went to bed, Emily knocked on Bev's door. Bev called for her to come in. She was sitting in bed reading, and invited Emily to crawl into bed with her. They simply hugged for a while. Bev leaned back and asked, "What's up with you?"

"Well I was worried enough about you but Gram called me today and got me really worried."

"In what way?"

"Well, we both know that Gram is a little unusual and I know you two don't really get along but she does love you, in her own weird way, and she called me to ask about you because she says she doesn't think you'd tell her the truth if you were having trouble with this." Emily tilted her head back and asked, "Is that true?"

"You're damn right, it's true. The last thing I need in my life right now is my mother arriving from Chicago to 'take care of us'. God help us."

"Why don't you and Gram get along?"

"Well, mainly because we have absolutely nothing in common except some genes and we have completely different world views, goals and purposes in life. My mother doesn't approve of my lifestyle, and I don't approve of hers."

Emily laughed. "Your mother thinks you work too hard and you're too intense."

"That's right."

"What kind of mom disapproves of that?"

"The kind of mom whose entire life is about shopping, dressing up pretty and having fun."

"How in the world did Gram ever get hooked up with Grampy?"

"I have never heard the whole story, but I think it was a case of opposites attracting and getting married before they realized how utterly unsuited they were for each other. Unfortunately they had me before they came to that awareness, and they fought over me forever after."

"How did you and Dad manage to be so nice about your divorce?"

"I didn't run off to Chicago with my baby and refuse to let him see you. The problem between my parents was that they were so opposite they had nothing in common and they ended up hating each other. The problem between your dad and me was that we were too much alike. We are both kind of workaholics who never had a lot of time for each other or anything but work. We both love you and wanted what was best for you. Our break-up was amicable. Perhaps most of all, I was determined never to do to you what my parents did to me."

They were quiet for a while. Emily got out of bed and kissed her mother. "Good-night, Mom. I love you."

"Love you, too, Sweetheart. We'll get through this."

"I know we will. It just kinda sucks."

"I sucks big time."

"How do you do it so often?"

"Until now, I've dealt with fires in other peoples' neighborhoods. That's often difficult. It is proving much harder to handle a claim in my home town, involving people I know. Maybe hardest of all has been having to do it while trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy in our home."

Emily kissed her mother's forehead and whispered, "You don't have to always be so strong."

Bev smiled and patted her daughter's cheek, "Yes, I do."

"Why?"

"Because if I didn't maintain some level of control over myself, I'd go completely to pieces over all the people who have been killed and the ones who are suffering unimaginable torture in the hospital. I can't let myself do that. I'd be no good to you, me or anybody else if I let go and fell apart."

"You may have a point, but I guess it feels important to me to say, it's okay if you can't be that strong in every possible situation."

Chapter 5

The next day, Bev called the PI in Dayton and asked when he could meet with her. He said he was planning to be in his office the entire day working on his report to her. He asked if she wanted to meet somewhere in between. She said she needed to stop in her office in Dayton anyway and suggested she meet him just after lunch. He asked if they could order lunch. She laughed, "Sure, I'll buy you lunch."

"I think you may find what I have to tell you worth the price of a pizza."

"You have my attention. Order lunch for us and I'll meet you at your office by 12:30."

She stopped by her office and chatted with Cassandra for a few minutes. Steve stopped by with a question about the Dallas fire, and they talked for a little while. Then she stopped at the door of her manager's office. "Hey, I stopped in to check on Cassandra and Steve. I'm on my way to a lunch appointment with the PI, but I wanted to say hi."

Her boss motioned her into his office and buzzed his secretary. "Hold my calls." He shut the door. "I know you don't have much time nor do you have the patience for this kind of bullshit, but I gotta tell you, Bev, we need to wrap this one up quickly. It's in our backyard and there is a lot of pressure to make an assessment of the cause of the fire. Oddly, I'm getting pressure from unexpected places."

"Like where?"

"Like the higher ups in the company who are complaining they're hearing from politicians."

"That's weird."

"What's Tucker's assessment?"

"Inconclusive. Ben thinks it's a torch job that was supposed to look like an accident, but it could also actually be an accident. Insured has serious motive, but nobody who has talked to him believes he did it. In the interest of full disclosure, Ron Mazzoli's wife was waiting on the table nearest to where the fire started. I don't know yet exactly where she was when the fire started. I plan to take her statement again. I've had a PI looking into the background of the people in the wedding party."

"What do you know about them so far."

"Not much. I'm meeting with the PI today. I'll send you an update later."

"You holding up okay? This is the first time you've handled a fire so close to home. You know any of those victims?"

"I was acquainted with many of them. Remember, I travel a lot, and when I'm home I'm a virtual recluse. I grew up in Stanforth but lived in Dayton for a long time after I went away to college. After my divorce, I moved back home with my Dad, but I never plugged back into the community for a lot of reasons, most especially the aforementioned travel. The most difficult thing for me is that my daughter is taking a lot of the public flak because she's in school and she's 'out there' in the community.  
The locals want answers."

"How many lawyers have you heard from?"

"Paul Morehouse got a call from Timothy Peters the other day."

He whistled, "What's his demand?"

"No demand yet. We don't even know who he represents. It's possible he's still trolling for clients."

"What have you heard from the people who are still in the hospital?"

"Not a word. It's too soon, I guess. Most of those people had family members who were killed. Virtually all of the funerals were over this past weekend. I'm guessing that now everyone's attention will turn to the survivors, if you can call what those poor bastards are going through survival...." She shuddered, blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over and cleared her throat. "I expect to start receiving demands soon."

"How's Paul Morehouse working out."

"Actually, very well. He's young and inexperienced, but he's smart enough to know that he is involved in something that is beyond his present experience. He's willing to play it my way. The most important thing is that he's taking good care of the insured and he's attempting to keep a lid on the growing turmoil in the community."

"You given any thought to who you want for litigation counsel?"

"If I'm up against Timothy Peters, I'm going to have to have some heavy fire-power. I like Christopher Parker in Dayton a lot. He'd be my first choice, but my gut is telling me that I may need to go with a higher profile firm. Maybe Richard Elliot in Cincinnati. He's a condescending bastard and I can't stand him personally, but he's a good lawyer and, more importantly, he's managed a lot of very large litigation and he has an experienced trial team of attorneys and paralegals who know the drill and do it efficiently -- if you can call anything about the litigation process efficient."

"Let me see. Last conversation I had with him on the subject of you, he told me he thought you were, quote 'a high-handed bitch who thinks she's knows more about the law than she does, but she's smart and she's the best fire investigator I've ever seen. She's also got the most reliable gut in the business.'"

"My fans are legion!"

Dave laughed, "Actually they are."

"I have fans?"

"You do for a fact. Don't blow this one and make our faith in you appear misplaced."

"I promise I won't."

"I think you should at least meet with our fraud investigator to go over what you have."

"I will. I promise. I'm waiting for Ben's written report and I want to get this report from the PI. I should have a preliminary workup early next week. My fear is that if we don't come up with some hard evidence soon, we may be in for a rough ride. Right now, everything is still very ambiguous and inconclusive. I want to have some other eyes on this before the FBI takes it over. If you don't mind, I'd like to meet with you, the fraud unit investigator and somebody from Legal next week. I should have the preliminary reports in by then."

"You must be worried if you are asking to get legal involved in this now."

"I am worried. I can't see any scenario here where the Company won't get sued. If it's arson and we prosecute the insured, I'm sure the family will sue the company, and probably so will some of the victims. No matter how the fire started if the insured didn't do it, we have some pretty clear negligence on the part of the insured that the claimants will want to capitalize on. The limits are not even close to being adequate to the horrible damages, so everybody will sue everybody and the insured will probably sue us for selling him inadequate limits. Worst of all we've got a dozen seriously injured people in the hospital racking up bills and who will need medical care for years. The claimants are going to be scrapping over the paltry amount we have to spend, and we'll probably get sued by some of them as well, if they can legally do it.

"So, yes, as amazing as it may be coming from me, I want the boys in Legal to get involved early."

"The general counsel will probably have a coronary when he hears that. If I recall correctly the Dallas hotel fire involved a conversation between you and the legal department that ended with the general counsel calling the senior vice president of claims and asking for your head on a platter on account of he'd never had an employee tell one of our lawyers to 'butt the fuck out until I need you'."

She laughed and pretended to be embarrassed. "For the record, the person I told off was not one of our lawyers. I happen to like most of our in-house lawyers. The person I told off was some intern law student who came off like she was the God's gift to the legal profession. If I recall correctly, they got rid of her shortly thereafter for reasons I never heard."

Dave leaned forward, "They got rid of her because immediately after the conversation you had with her, she complained about you to the legal department administrator. Caroline Ingram told the girl you were our best adjuster and generally the more senior lawyers trusted your judgment as to when you needed their help. The girl evidently mouthed off to the administrator and said something demeaning about non-lawyers presuming to tell lawyers what to to. The administrator said, 'I'm not a lawyer, but I'm telling you this: you're dismissed from this internship.'"

They both laughed. She said, "What did the general counsel say about that?"

"Nobody has ever said. He and Caroline evidently spent some time behind closed doors. It has always been ambiguous whether Caroline had the authority to fire the intern. Nobody has questioned the actual decision."

"So I was vindicated."

"You were vindicated only to the extent that legal gives you a lot of latitude, but to be clear: if legal wants to look over your shoulder, they have the authority to do it whether you invite them in or not."

"I know that. I just want them to send their good lawyers, or Caroline Ingram, to review my work not some wet-behind-the-ears baby lawyer who thinks she's all that and a bag of chips."

"We all understand each other. This time, you're inviting them in?"

"Yeah. Do you have any sway with who gets assigned?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure there will be lawsuits and probably we'll get sued for bad faith by somebody if not everybody because the insurance company's pocket is the only place where there is any real money in this case. I'd love it if you could arrange to have Marshall Callahan assigned to this case. We've worked together before. We understand and trust each other."

"Understood. I'll put in the request."

She drove to the PI's office, which was located in a suburban office complex. She walked in the door and was greeted by a pleasant young woman who stood up from her desk and shook Bev's hand. "Ms. Deller, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Cecelia Rittenhaus. My dad's waiting for you in the conference room," she turned slightly and motioned toward and open door, "I'll join you shortly. I'm waiting for lunch to arrive."

Bev walked into the small conference room, impressed by the surroundings. Unlike the seedy, grungy PI offices of Hollywood fame, this was an immaculate, if rather sterile, office environment tastefully decorated in neutral colors and Office Depot modular furniture. Frank Rittenhaus was sitting at the table making notes on a pad. He stood and shook her hand, inviting her to sit. They made small talk for a few minutes. He was in his late fifties, with close cropped grey hair and startling blue eyes. He was wearing a charcoal colored suit. Bev thought he made a professional appearance and was actually quite handsome.

A few minutes later, his daughter brought in a tray of assorted sandwiches, a pot of coffee and some cookies. "I ordered a selection of half sandwiches. Wasn't sure what you'd want. Dad and I will eat anything. Hopefully you can find something here you like."

While they ate their lunch, Bev asked them a little about their background. She knew Cassandra would not have hired this firm if they didn't check out, but Bev liked to have PI's give their background verbally so she could see how they might sound of the witness stand. This guy was the best she'd ever seen. He was professional and personable. She liked what she saw on that score. Soon she found herself eying the pile of folders that lay on the table at his right hand.

Cecelia chuckled, "I think we should take your expression as an indication it's time we got down to talking turkey."

Frank nodded, pushed his plate aside and pulled his note pad in front of him. Cecelia cleaned off the table and started to leave. Frank said, "Cici, I would like you to stay here. For one thing, you did as much of this research as I did. For another, I'm thinking that Ms. Deller may want to consider making you the person who will testify about this case when it gets to court."

Bev put her brows together and asked, "Why would I want to do that?"

He smiled, "Well, for one thing, she'd damned good on the stand. For another, I'm trying to build her business so I can retire. For a third, you will see as we get into this, you may want a woman on this one."

Bev nodded and looked from the father to the daughter. He was distinguished and almost professorial. She knew he'd be fantastic on the stand. His daughter was petite and dark. Bev guessed her mother was of Greek or Italian descent. She was dressed in a conservative pantsuit and wore professional and very flattering makeup. She was younger and prettier than Bev thought would be effective for a PI, but something told her to go with Frank's recommendation. "In that case, perhaps Ms. Rittenhaus should be the person to tell me what you've discovered."

Frank nodded and passed the folders to his daughter, keeping his notes. Cecelia opened the top folder and took out her notes. She glanced down the page, refreshing her recollection. She picked up a mechanical pencil from a cup on the table and smiled at Bev, "Please call me Cici.

"Okay, we have turned up some very interesting things. I have to tell you by way of background that both Dad and I have intentionally refrained from following the news stories about the fire. We're assuming you're pursuing an arson investigation, but we have focused only on obtaining information about the people you asked about, without cluttering up our minds with other details from the press, which might or might not be accurate."

Bev nodded and smiled at both of them, "Thank you for that. Tell me your story."

Cici spent the next two hours relaying details about both the groom's family from Stanforth and the bride's family from Cincinnati. Occasionally, her father filled in a detail here and there, but Cici related the information clearly, concisely and in a very organized manner. Bev listened without taking notes. She knew that she would pore over their written report and take many notes, but in the initial meeting she wanted to watch and listen. Bev liked the fact that Cici had a sheet of talking points to keep her on track and she checked off each point when she finished it. After she checked off the last line on her paper, Cici looked up at Bev and raised her eyebrows, "How does that jibe with the information your fire investigator uncovered?"

Bev thought for a while before she trusted her voice to answer. "This may change everything. I am not sure what to make of it, but you certainly have uncovered some interesting stuff, which, as I'm sure you have figured out, will no doubt alter the direction of our investigation."

They were all quiet for a while. Bev asked, "Is there a Cincinnati criminal attorney you particularly like to work with?"

Cici deferred to her father. He shook his head, "No. For stuff like this, I prefer to work with a guy from Columbus. He's actually a former FBI agent who went to law school. First he was a prosecutor for a while. Then he went into private practice. He generally works for companies and individuals who have been the victims of crimes in an effort to help them cooperate with the prosecutors."

Bev interrupted, "And help keep the prosecutors on track."

"Exactly."

"What's his hourly rate?"

"He's not cheap: $350 an hour."

"Ouch. I'd like you to call him. Find out first of all if he'd be willing to work for insurance company rates. Also, I'll need a commitment that he won't charge us for travel time. My company will never approve me to pay travel time for a Columbus lawyer to go to Cincinnati where the trials will probably take place."

"Understood. I'll check it out. I won't hire him or give him any information yet. I'll make sure he's able to take this case and get back to you."

Cici asked, "Do you want us to keep digging?"

"Oh, yes, I most certainly do! There appears to be enough here to at least make it appear possible that there could be a third party who came to the restaurant that night with criminal intent. Both the groom's father and the bride's father appear to be men with enemies. The question is: how far might those enemies be willing to go to get revenge? I want you to keep digging into both the car dealer and the surgeon, although I'm most interested in those malpractice lawsuits."

Frank nodded. "We thought you might be. I propose to focus on the car dealer. Cici will focus on the plastic surgeon."

Bev nodded and drummed her fingers on the table. "I agree that Cici should focus on Dr. Prescott. My gut tells me that there's a mother lode there." She winked. "You just have to find it, dear."

She looked at Frank, "But I think I want you to widen your scope. Dig around a little more into the Sonderland family and their car dealership. I'm guessing what you will find is just a jerk-weed car salesman who cheats his customers and treats his employees like crap. Question is: does he have any hot-headed disgruntled customers or employees who might want to kill him? It seems unlikely to me that a resident of Stanforth would torch The Barn with all those people inside, people he or she would be acquainted with. Check it out, anyway.

"And, while you're in Stanforth, I want you to look at all the other people in the restaurant that night. Who had ties to either of the families? Were there any people in the restaurant who were not from Stanforth?

"Let's assume no one from the Mazzoli family torched the place. Then who did? Did the Mazzoli's have any disgruntled present or former employees? Or people to whom they owed money? Were there enemies of the Sonderlands present, either as patrons or employees? Anybody in the house with ties to the Prescotts?

"You see where I'm going with this?"

Both the investigators nodded and made notes. Frank said, "We got it." He leaned forward and looked at her over his glasses, "I have to ask this. At what point do we notify the police?"

"We're getting close to that, but I don't think we're quite there yet. The FBI is already interested. Let's dig just a little further so we will have enough to get them fully engaged. I plan to meet with my fraud unit and legal department next week. By then I should have a full report from my fire investigator. I'd like to have as much as you can give me by then."

Frank said, "I'll focus on the people who were in the house th night of the fire. I think I'll start with some records research and online stuff. I'll probably pay a visit over the weekend. I may not stand out so much then. I'm guessing you're getting your share of tourists on the weekends." Bev nodded and Frank went on, "Cici can focus on research in Cincinnati, maybe pay a visit to the courthouse and get a peek at the case files for those malpractice cases if they're not sealed."

Cici said, "Do you want to schedule another meeting Monday?"

"Yes. Let's plan on 9:00 AM Monday. Give me all you've got. I'll schedule the meeting with my superiors that afternoon. I'm guessing within a day or so after that, we'll have pay a call to our federal brothers. I think I'll want one or both of you to be present for that meeting."

They shook hands and Bev left. She called David Jamison from the parking lot before she even started the car. "I just got out of my meeting with the PI.

"Oh my God. I don't know what to think! First of all, this is a great PI firm and we should use them a lot. Second, it appears that both the father of the groom and the father of the bride had enemies. Potentially a lot of enemies. Perhaps a few enemies who might think they have motive to want to kill them. Frank and Cici are still investigating, but the way it's looking, this may not be a case of burning a building in an act of insurance fraud; it may be a homicide."

Jamison didn't say anything for a long time. Then he whistled. Very softly. "Do not delay turning this over to the cops if you think this is a murder."

"It's all speculation at this point. Right now all we have are some people who are arrogant and treat other people badly. And a surgeon who's a bit sloppy with the scalpel. Both may have some enemies. What we don't have yet is any known enemies of either of them in the restaurant. Frank Rittenhaus is pursuing that. Cici is looking into a couple of malpractice claims against Dr. Prescott."

"What kind of doctor his he?"

"Plastic surgeon. Works mainly on cosmetic surgery."

"Jesus!"

"I think you have the picture. Stay tuned. I'll be in touch."

"You put a potential murderer in that room, and you let me know immediately; do you hear me? If we don't report this soon enough to the cops ...."

"I know. I know. Believe me. Once I've got anything, you'll be the first person I call and the FBI will be next. By the way if you had any doubt that we needed Marshall Callahan on this one, please get rid of it, and beg the general counsel to assign this to him. If you have to do it, you can promise I'll never drop an F-bomb in front of anyone in the legal department again."

Dave laughed, "Let's not get carried away and make promises we know you can't keep. I'll take care of my end. You keep all your balls in the air and let me know as soon as you have anything even leaning in the direction of concrete."

"Yes, sir."

Chapter 6

Bev drove back toward Stanforth, and called Ed Casey from the car. She said she knew it was late but wondered if he'd mind if she stopped by. He said he had gone all day without eating and wondered if she'd mind meeting at either the coffee shop of the motel or the restaurant at the student union of the college. She thought about that for a while and said, more or less against her better judgment, "I don't want to discuss this in in public place. Meet me at my house at 6:00 PM. I'll feed you and fill you in on what I learned today."

After assuring himself it was no imposition, he agreed and hung up. Bev called Emily to tell her what was up for dinner. They took inventory of the contents of the fridge and Bev made a mental note of the items she'd need from the grocery store. She braved the grocery, hurrying through the aisles at just before 5:00 PM, when few people were around. She brushed off questions from those customers who recognized her, muttering something she hoped would be unintelligible but which essentially meant that they were working diligently on the investigation and they would announce the results when they were damned good and ready.

The three of them sat down to dinner and ate relatively quickly. Emily filled them in on the school gossip. Bev was eager to be finished with dinner and talk to Casey alone. The minute it appeared to her that he was finished, she suggested that the two of them take their coffee into the den. She asked Emily to see to the dishes. Emily gave her mother a look that at any other time would have kicked off a battle, but Bev chose to ignore it. She took the coffee pot and led Casey into the den, while Emily stood in the middle of the floor, looking irritated.

As soon as she had closed the door behind her, Bev said, "I met with Frank Rittenhaus and his daughter today. You're right, they are very good."

"Something tells me they came up with something that may help vindicate Ron Mazzoli."

"Not exactly. I only asked them to look into the background of the wedding party. They did come up with some interesting stuff." She took out a copy of Cici's talking points and handed it to him. He read it once quickly, taking time to look up at her and smile. Then he read it through more closely. He put down the paper and said, "Okay, so this may not vindicate Mazzoli exactly but it certainly muddies the waters. Makes it possible that someone else had motive."

"Right."

"Problem is that if this is correct, we just switched from a case that is either insurance fraud or a crime against property with incidental casualties, to a potential murder with incidental property damage.

"What do you make of it?"

She leaned back in her chair, sipped her coffee and said, "I have sent the PI's back to dig deeper. Cici is going to Cincinnati to look into the two malpractice claims against Dr. Prescott. We will want to know what the nature of the injuries were and something about the patients and their families.

"I asked Frank to dig around in Stanforth and start going through the list of all the people who were in the restaurant to to see if we could connect any of them to either Sonderland or Prescott.

"The question is: who was in that restaurant who might have had motive to burn it other than the owner?"

She pushed a copy of the file over to him and he paged through it, not reading it in depth, skimming. After a while, she leaned forward and asked, "What is your gut telling you?"

He said, "Well, I don't think its Sonderland. He's an ass and most people around here can't stand him, but he's not enough of an ass for people to want to kill him. Actually, he's a pretty good employer from what they say. He's fired a few people for cause but he has some employees who have been with him for decades. I just don't think his actions rise to the level of what people would kill for. Besides, his customers and employees would be locals. I can't imagine a local burning The Barn with all those people inside."

She nodded and said, "That is totally consistent with what I think. Of course, it's possible we could have a nut on our hands who took a small slight and turned it into a big deal. Sort of the Columbine syndrome, you know?"

He nodded and told her that he had considered exactly that. He told her that he'd already asked the police chief to poll his staff to see if there was anybody in the community who was unbalanced or potentially under so much personal stress they might snap. He said he was waiting for a response. Bev made a note in her notebook.

She asked, "What about a vendetta against Prescott?"

"That's possible. What if it turns out he's kind of a butcher, disfiguring women. Families rich enough for cosmetic surgery may have money to hire firebug. It doesn't make sense, especially if the people are already suing the doctor."

"You're right, but I think we have to investigate the possibility that this is a crime that is not about money or property."

He interrupted, "Somebody wants revenge?"

"Could be."

"You taking this to the cops?"

"Not yet. I asked for an update from the Rittenhaus's on Monday morning. I'm meeting with the fraud unit and legal department on Monday afternoon. I'm guessing we will notify law enforcement of what we have at that point."

"Will that be enough to get them to let you tender limits?"

"I'm not sure. I'm waiting for Ben's computer models on probable movements of the Mazzoli family members just before the fire. I don't think they're out of it...."

He poured her more coffee and said, "I've got some news for you on that front. The police and my staff have been working their way through interviews with the survivors as well as employees of the restaurant who weren't on duty that night. One of the questions we asked all of them was about the smoking habits of the employees and customers. We have learned that Mrs. Mazzoli, who was waiting on the wedding party, was a closet smoker who used cheap butane lighters like the one that ignited the blaze."

Bev leaned forward and whispered, "Oh, my. That's bad."

"It gets worse. Evidently she and her husband were not on good terms in the weeks leading up to the fire. The uncle in Cleveland from whom he borrowed money and defaulted was her family. She was very vocal to almost anyone who would listen about her opinion the restaurant was a money pit that was going to take the whole family down with it."

"Ouch! You gonna share with me those interviews."

"Yeah. How about I send them directly to Frank Rittenhaus. He's the one who needs them."

"Fine. I'm pretty sure that will be enough to keep my company from simply paying the claim." She ran her fingers through her hair and made a face that looked like she had tasted something sour, "And so it appears we will proceed with our investigation in conjunction with the FBI."

He wrinkled his nose and said, "That's always fun. NOT."

She shook her head and held her hands palms up, in a gesture of surrender. He stood up. "Thanks for dinner, Bev. I wish the conversation could have been more pleasant."

"Yeah. Send those files to Frank. You wanna come with me to the meeting with him on Monday?"

"I think so. I'll find something to do in Dayton while you're meeting with your folks. Then we can go to the cops together."

"That sounds like a plan."

She led him to the front door and they shook hands, both promising to be in touch. Bev went into the kitchen and finished cleaning up. Emily had done the dishes, but she never wiped down the stove and cabinets to Bev's satisfaction, nor did she let out the dish water and clean the sink. Bev went through the motions of cleaning up automatically, her mind racing through the random "facts" about the case, mentally shuffling and re-shuffling them, trying to make some sense of what they might tell her. When the kitchen was operating-room clean, she poured herself a glass of juice and decided to turn in early.

She stopped by Emily's room first and knocked. Emily was sitting at her computer, supposedly doing homework, but Bev saw the My Space page before Emily switched screens. She decided to ignore it. She did not have the energy to get into an argument about Cyber safety. Besides she knew that Emily's My Space page fell within the boundaries she had set. She knew because she checked it periodically. "I'm going to read in bed for a while before I pass out from exhaustion. You need anything? Help with homework or something?"

"No. I'm good. I know you're really busy these days and the subject I'm having the most trouble with this term is calculus. You suck at math, so I arranged for an after school tutor once a week. It's really helping. I started out with a grade that was a low C, almost a D. Now I've got a high B, and an A is not totally out of the question."

"Wow! I am truly impressed. I never took calculus at all. I got low B's in algebra. I am very proud of you."

"Thanks."

Bev looked at her daughter with love and pride and all the bittersweet feelings mothers experience when their little girls start showing signs of turning into young women. Then she noticed the red rims around Emily's eyes. "Is something wrong, hon?"

Emily turned to face her mother, her body curving in a "C" that Bev ordinarily would have criticized as a slouch but which appeared to be more of a miserable slump. Her eyes were red and her face blotchy from crying. "Yeah."

Bev sat down on Emily's bed and patted the mattress beside her. Emily got up and sat next to her mother. She rested her head on Bev's shoulder and they put their arms around each other, without saying anything for a long time. Eventually, Emily said, "Well, it's a couple of things. With all you've got going on, I didn't want to bother you with it, but since you asked, I'll tell you.

"First of all, I don't know if you know this or not, but the people in the town are getting antsy for this investigation to be done. There seem to be two sides. Some of the people are convinced Mr. Mazzoli burned down the restaurant and killed those people, and they are eager to see him in jail -- or in hell, maybe. That may actually be the majority of people, or maybe they're just the loudest and nastiest talkers. The other group thinks that it was an accident and that the insurance company -- meaning you in particular -- are just dragging out the investigation as a way of jerking Mr. Mazzoli around and avoiding paying the claim."

"Are people saying stuff to you?"

"Some are. Mostly it's just talk, and I'm not sure a lot of the adults in town know I'm your daughter. At school it's a different situation. They know I'm your daughter and both the kids and some of the teachers (especially the ones who had friends or family who were in the building) have been giving me a hard time. I don't know what to say because I don't know anything."

Bev kissed the top of Emily's head and stroked her hair. She struggled for control, somewhat undecided whether to collapse in sobs over her daughter's pain or to throw a tantrum at the unfairness of the townspeople for putting Emily in such an awkward spot. Neither of those emotional outbursts would have been helpful. She blinked away the tears and ground her teeth for a minute until she could safely talk. "I am so sorry this is happening, although I have to tell you it is not surprising to me. This is typical and understandable. People in the town want to put this behind them and move on. As long as the matter is still under investigation, they can't tear down the building and it sits there as a reminder of the horrible thing that happened there. It is also common for situations like this to bring out the worst in some people. They think the worst of the business owner and jump to the conclusion that he did something wrong when we don't know that he did.

"Almost always they think we should be able to conclude our investigation sooner than we do, and they blame the insurance company for dragging its feet and jerking people around." She sighed, "Sometimes it seems to me that bashing insurance companies is kind of a national sport. Unfortunately, the insurance companies hardly ever do anything to help their cause. Even I hate dealing with us!

"I can't and won't tell you any of the details of our investigation. I can tell you this: I am doing the best I can. I am not going to accuse Ron Mazzoli of arson and insurance fraud -- which could put him in jail on top of losing his family's business -- unless I turn up hard evidence to implicate him in the crime. On the other hand, I will continue to investigate to find out what caused the fire and to defend my insured from the lawsuits that will soon be filed. The results of my investigation are confidential and I can't discuss it with you or anyone other than my superiors at the company or the fire chief.

"I will tell you, not that this is going to help, but this will get worse before it gets better. The more we investigate this fire, the less certain we are of what, or who, may have started it."

Emily raised her head, took her mom's chin in her hand and looked into her mother's eyes, "How do you do it? I would think you'd be a wreck."

"I do what I do because it's my job. A lot of other adjusters might have turned this over to the fraud unit immediately and let them figure it out. Maybe I should have done that, but I didn't. I do what I do because I love investigating mysteries. And this one is for sure a mystery. I do what I do because it pays the bills and will give you the opportunity to go to college and me the opportunity to retire someday. I do it in spite of the fact that a lot of people talk a lot of trash about insurance investigators."

Emily smiled. "I think you're amazing. I can tell that you're really trying to do the right thing." She sighed. "This is selfish but I just hope this doesn't screw up the cheer-leading thing for me."

"Why would it do that?"

"Oh, it shouldn't, but we're down to making the final cuts. There are three positions open and eight candidates. The claws are coming out. A couple of the girls think they should make the selection based on factors other than athletic ability and perkiness."

"Things such as what your parents do? That's nuts!"

"Mom! Didn't you ever participate in any extra curricular activities at school?"

Bev shook her head and closed her eyes to block out the miserable memories of her school experience. "No. As a matter of fact I didn't. I started high school in Chicago. I went to a fancy private school with a bunch of rich kids. I hated it, and I spent all my spare time and energy scheming and plotting how to get away and back to Ohio to live with Daddy. I never made any friends partly because I didn't plan to stick around and partly because the girls in my school were such snobby bitches I didn't want to be friends with them anyway. Then, when I was sixteen, I came here to live. Before I ever had a chance to say anything or let anybody know who I was, I was pegged as Stephanie Deller's daughter. That meant that I must be wild and crazy and nobody any respectable kid would want to hang out with. A few guys asked me out at first, but when they found out that I was not going to 'put out' as we used to say then, nobody ever asked me out again. I never even attempted to participate in any school activities."

Emily said, "I guess things haven't changed much. I'm involved in a lot of stuff, but you're kind of an unknown person around town, which is a problem, as even you must understand." She shook her head and waved her hands in front of her face as if erasing the thoughts. "It's okay, Mom. It's just what I think they call teen-age angst."

Bev held her daughter tight and kissed her again, whispering, "There's no 'just' about teen-age angst. It hurts. Unfortunately, it's something you have to learn to live with." She smiled and kissed the tears from Emily's cheeks, "Get's you ready for adult angst."

"Good-night, Mom."

"Sleep tight."

Bev went to bed, and instead of reading, she cried herself to sleep wondering how on earth she would manage to muscle through the next few months emotionally.

Chapter 7

The days that followed dragged. Bev had little to do until she received updates from the various investigators. She checked in with each of them and they basically told her to leave them alone to finish their reports. She stopped into the fire department to find out what information Ed Casey might have turned up. He was in the same waiting-on-other-people mode as Bev.

She cleaned her house when it didn't need it. Did laundry, including washing the bedspreads and pillows. She made elaborate dinners which both she and Emily pushed around on their plates without enjoyment.

On Friday, she received a report from Ben Tucker. His computer models showed that Mazzoli's wife had delivered a round of drinks to the table closest to the points of origin for the fire approximately five minutes before the blaze erupted. According to the models, the timing was perfect for her to have spilled alcohol in the corner, delivered the drinks to let it soak in and spread a bit, then to toss the lighter into the corner, and move away to the kitchen. It was a stretch, but it was, at least theoretically possible. Bev reviewed Mrs. Mazzoli's initial statement and called Casey, saying she'd like to talk to Mrs. Mazzoli again before Monday if possible. "I want one more shot at her before the cops get involved."

On Saturday, Frank Rittenhaus called, inviting her to meet him for coffee at the motel. She said, "I'm laying low these days. Don't want to have to face the growing wrath of the locals. I also don't want to risk being overheard and having confidential information leak out. Come to my house. I'll make the coffee and we can talk without running the risk of being overheard by a plaintiff's attorney trolling for dirt."

Emily walked into the living room as Bev was speaking. She grinned and said, "I was going to ask if I could go to the movies with some of the girls from the cheer squad. I'm thinking I should ask if you want me to clear out now?"

Bev laughed. "You don't have to clear out. I trust you to keep confidential matters to yourself, but you've been working hard and I think you should go to the movies and have fun." They went through the 'who's driving' and 'keep in touch' routine.

Just before she left, Emily turned and said to her mother, "I appreciate the fact that you trust me to keep things to myself, but I'm under a lot of pressure at school to tell people things I hear at home. I'd just as soon not be told anything that I shouldn't know."

Bev nodded and winked. "That's probably a good plan."

Emily's friends pulled out of the driveway as Frank Rittenhaus pulled in. Bev waited by the front door. Rittenhaus handed her a bag of scones from the bakery. "These go good with coffee."

They sat at the kitchen table and ate the scones while splitting a pot of coffee, reviewing one by one, the whereabouts and background information on everyone who had been in the restaurant, at least as far as they could tell in view of the fact that the coroner had not released an official list, which was deeply troubling to Bev.

Tucker had made a graphic model of where the dead and injured people were found. Rittenhaus added the locations of the staff and other patrons who survived, filling in details about them. Virtually all of the employees of the restaurant were locals. There were a few people on the wait staff who were students at the university. One of the bartenders was a former employee of Sonderland's car dealership; he had been fired for poor sales. Frank had not been able to establish any connection between anyone in the restaurant and the Prescott family. He ended by saying, "There is one odd thing. A week before the fire, the restaurant hired a new waiter. He told them he was a grad student. He said he had just moved to Stanforth from Dayton. He was evidently a good waiter, and he was assigned to work on the team that was serving the wedding party. Name given was Ryan Denworth. Turns out he's not a student. No such person lived in Stanforth that I could tell, nor Dayton either. What we don't know is who he really is. What is interesting is that there is one body that is still unidentified. "Crime lab is working on that. They're supposed to call me when they come up with something."

Bev didn't say anything. She flipped through some of the files jotting notes here and there.

"Did you speak with Claudia Mazzoli?"

"Yes."

"What did she tell you about the last few minutes before the fire?"

"Said she delivered a round of drinks to the wedding party. Evidently Sonderland was hitting the bottle pretty hard that night. Then she went to the kitchen to pick up some dessert orders."

"Did she say anything about the financial straits of the restaurant or about her relationship with her husband?"

"She's sticking to their party line: yes, they were having financial problems and, yes, they fought about it at home, but it was the family business which they loved. She says she would not have done anything to harm the business, and especially not to have physically harmed her customers. She volunteered that if she or Ron were going to burn it, they'd have done it in the wee hours when no one would have been inside."

"That's a more typical MO for insurance fraud cases."

"My gut tells me the Mazzoli's are innocent."

"Mine, too. Unfortunately, we can't use our guts in a court of a law. Who else had motive? What about the bartender. Disgruntled former employee?"

"Yes and no. He hated Sonderland alright. He went on for five minutes about what a loud-mouthed lying son of a bitch he was, but, in the next breath he told me he hated selling cars, and was much happier as a bartender. He liked working for the Mazzolis and said he loved working at The Barn because it had been his family's favorite place to celebrate happy occasions for generations. He came across as totally sincere. In fact, he said he was thinking about trying to get together with a couple of people to open a new place."

"You think he might have been planning to start a new business and torched The Barn to eliminate competition?"

"I suppose a good attorney could twist the story that way, but he struck me as a nice guy. A real straight shooter."

"Then our only remaining question mark is the waiter who lied about his identity. When will we know about him."

"I asked the crime lab to put a rush on it. Maybe later today. Could be Monday. Hopefully, I'll have that information when you come in on Monday."

"Okay. This is good stuff. Send your data regarding where the people were in the room to Ben Tucker. He can build that into his computer models. We'll need it for courtroom exhibits."

He was preparing to leave just as Emily's friends dropped her off. Emily walked in the door and said, "Looks like my timing was perfect on both ends."

Frank quipped, "I never met a teenager with such impeccable timing."

Bev grinned and put her arm around Emily. "That's my girl!"

On Sunday, Bev suggested they ride their bikes to a nearby state park and hang out there for a while. Emily agreed, saying, "Let's pack a picnic for after our ride." They spent several hours riding and talking. Then they pulled into a picnic area and gorged on grilled chicken sandwiches and raw veggies. After that, they went for a walk on one of the trails. It was late when they arrived home. Emily went to her room to catch up with her friends online. Bev took a shower and stretched out on her bed basking in the increasingly rare glow of a wonderful day spent alone in the company of the light of her life.

Chapter 8

Ed Casey called Bev early on Monday and offered to pick her up for the meeting. She accepted and said she'd bring coffee for both of them. A few minutes later he pulled into the driveway. Bev stuck her head in Emily's door and said, "I'm leaving, if you're late for the bus, you'll be hoofing it to school." Emily mumbled something from under the covers.

Bev slid into the passenger's seat and leaned back, sipping her coffee and smiling. Casey cocked his head to the side and smiled. "I can't say that I've ever seen you look quite so relaxed."

"I'll start to get nervous when we get closer to Dayton, but right now I'm going to enjoy being a passenger. I'm a single mom. I don't remember the last time I was a passenger in somebody else's car, other than taxi cabs -- which don't count because those rides are usually anything but relaxing. This is wonderful."

He said, "Anytime you want to go for a ride, let me know. My favorite form of relaxation is taking long drives in the country."

"Let me know the next time you do that. If I'm free, I might want to tag along."

They were quiet for a while after that. Bev wondered if he were as freaked out by the direction that conversation seemed to be going as she was. She hoped so.

The Rittenhauses greeted them with coffee, fruit and muffins. They ate breakfast and chatted for a few minutes, then Bev pushed aside her plate and said, "Okay, we have a lot of territory to cover, let's get started."

Frank went first, reviewing much of the information he had given Bev on Saturday for Casey's benefit and then adding some new material he had pieced together on Sunday. He concluded, "Mazzoli's business was teetering on the brink and his marriage was evidently on the rocks largely due to the financial pressures. His brother and sister were partners in the business. Both of them were aware of the problems with the restaurant, but their personal financial situation was not as bad as Ron and Claudia's because each of them have spouses who work at other jobs and neither of them has plowed so much of their own money into the business. Ron Mazzoli is suspect Number One, but none of us working on the investigation thinks he's guilty.

"Suspect Number Two would be a disgruntled employee or former employee of The Barn. Couldn't find a one. The only person Mazzoli ever fired was a former bartender who he fired for drinking the bar profits. I found the guy. He said Mazzoli's firing him was the best thing that ever happened, it forced him to go to AA and get sober. He's a fan of Mazzoli and told me repeatedly Mazzoli's a good and decent man. The rest of the employees are for the most part long-time folks. One of the waitresses who was not on duty the night of the fire has worked in the restaurant for forty years. She'd make a good witness on the subject of the Mazzoli family; she's worked for three generations of Mazzolis. Rest of the living employees have nothing but wonderful things to say about their employer. I think we can eliminate all of them.

"Suspect Number Three would be an enemy of Sonderland, the father of the groom. Lord knows, he had enemies. I didn't find anybody in town who had a good word to say about him. But it didn't seem that anybody hated him enough to want to kill him and take out half the town in the process. As we discussed, the bartender on duty that night was a former employee Sonderland had fired. He said he was very happy working at the restaurant.

"Suspect Number Four would be an enemy of Dr. Prescott. We haven't been able to place anyone with connections to him in the restaurant other than the possibility of the as-yet-unidentified waiter. We're waiting for an ID with dental records, but the guy appeared in town about three weeks before the fire, got a job as a waiter, telling Mazzoli he was a grad student at the university. That turns out not to be true and it also does not appear he lived in Stanforth. He was commuting from someplace. The cops had impounded an abandoned car parked near the restaurant. I suggested it might be a good idea to have the crime lab folks check it out. Turns out it was his car. I'm going to let Cici report on that.

"I'm sorry to be so loosey-goosey here with my opinions, but based on what I have been able to dig up, I think we can't point the finger at any one person yet."

Bev tapped the table with the eraser of a pencil as she glanced over her notes. She looked at Casey and raised her eyebrows, "You got any questions for Frank?"

"Nope. That's very thorough. I'm good."

She said, "Okay. I agree with your conclusions. Keep digging." She turned to Cici and held out her hand, "You're up."

Cici consulted her bulleted talking points sheet and launched into a detailed and organized story that muddied the waters even further. "Prescott married a rich woman while he was in medical school. At the time they met, she was recently divorced from a surgeon and she'd received a large divorce settlement. She funded Prescott's education and paid the bills for a number of years. They lived well beyond his means for many years.

"In recent years, his practice took off and he started making serious money. The bulk of his practice was facial surgery for rich women. He charged a bloody fortune and a lot of people didn't think his work was worth the price. I think it may be significant that I have been told (but have not been able to confirm) that his malpractice insurance company sent him notice of its intent to non-renew his policy at the end of the policy period \-- which is this coming July -- because he had reported two significant claims, both of which are now in litigation. I called two different insurance agents who sell medical malpractice insurance. They both told me that if they could even find a market at all for an account like that, the premium would be astronomical. They estimated his premium was probably in the range of $100,000 a year now. If he could replace the coverage, the premium would go up to the $300,000 to $400,000 range, if he could even get insurance for facial surgery. He'd have to do a lot of nose jobs to make up that kind of increase. I'm not sure that has anything to do with the fire, but it may be important to know that this man, like Mazzoli, was on the brink of a professional and financial meltdown.

"His employees were generally happy with their jobs. He paid them fairly and gave them benefits that were as good or better than they'd have received from other solo practitioners. None of his employees had anything bad to say about him. Significantly, none of them spoke particularly highly of him either.

"His reputation in the medical community was that he was a generally competent surgeon but he was not the artist with a knife he thought himself to be.

"Family was generally happy. The daughter was a pharmacist. Wife was a socialite of sorts and kind of charity do-gooder, like many doctors' wives. I didn't sniff out any scandal there. Interestingly, or maybe not, it appears that Dr. and Mrs. Prescott were happily married, and both seemed to be faithful to one another. From what I learned, that seems to be somewhat unusual in the community of plastic surgeons. Three people mentioned it as though it were somewhat amazing."

She took a sip of water and checked off several points on her paper. "He didn't seem to have personal enemies that I could tell. He did have those two claims hanging over his head.

"The first one involved breast implants that went bad. Patient was a middle-aged rich woman whose breasts had begun to sag a bit. The implants evidently leaked or she was allergic to the silicon or something. She almost died from the reaction, had to have the implants removed. She ended up having a different surgeon do a breast reduction. She was left with significant scarring, a compromised immune system and really tiny boobs. She and her husband sued Prescott for several million dollars. Case is pending. Prescott's carrier has offered to settle for $650,000, but the plaintiffs have rejected the offer. The case was set for trial in August. It's been taken off the docket in the wake of Prescott's death."

"The other case involved a face lift for a rich old lady who is the widow of a prominent lawyer and the current wife of an even richer businessman. Infection ensued after the surgery and she was left with disfiguring facial scars. A lawsuit has been filed, but has not progressed very far. Insurance companies for the doctor and the hospital are negotiating. That one should settle in the range of $200,000 or so."

Casey looked puzzled, "Only $200,000 for permanent facial disfigurement?"

Cici nodded and winked, "The claimant is 78 years old and she was not exactly Sophia Loren to begin with."

They all laughed without any real humor. Bev ran her pencil down her notes. "It wouldn't make sense for either of the plaintiffs to want to kill Prescott. They were already pursuing their claims legally. Malpractice claims can wreck a doctor's career. These folks were in the process of getting their revenge the appropriate way. I think we're in the right church, but the wrong pew. Do some more digging. Have there been other malpractice claims that were dismissed? Claims where the person didn't feel vindicated? Is there any way to find out about unfortunate outcomes of recent surgeries that may not have resulted in a claim yet?"

Cici made a couple of notes. "I've got a good source in the hospital where Prescott operates. I think I can find out about his recent cases. There were two prior malpractice claims, both settled some time ago."

Bev chewed her lip. "Check out the older claims just to make sure they were settled for an amount that was appropriate and not for some paltry, insulting amount that somebody might stew about for years before they go nuts. But, focus on the recent patients.

"I think we're through here." She looked at her watch and said, "Anybody want to join me for a quick lunch?"

Cici said, "We go to a place a couple of blocks down the road. You can call ahead and they'll have your food ready." She reached into the drawer of a credenza behind her and pulled out a couple of menus, pushing them across the table to Bev and Ed. She added, "Dad and I always get the blackened mahi mahi sandwich. It's as good as any fish sandwich around."

Bev said, "Works for me. Excuse me. I think I'll hit the ladies'."

Ed said, "Sorry. I'm an old fashioned midwestern meat and 'taters guy. I'll have a burger and fries."

After lunch Casey drove Bev to Midwestern Indemnity's home office in downtown Dayton. He pulled up in front and asked, "You want me to go with you?"

"No, thanks. I doubt Dave would let you in the meeting anyway. Confidentiality and all that. Do you have a blackberry? I can email you when we're about to wrap up."

"No. I don't carry a blackberry. I have a cell phone. Call me when you're finished. I'll go hang out at the library. It's not far away."

A few minutes later she walked into David Jamison's office. He stood up and said, "Punctual as always! Let's go get comfortable in the conference room. If we get there first we can get our preferred seats."

The fraud investigator and the in-house attorney were already in the conference room. Bev could tell Dave was annoyed that the attorney had taken the seat at the end of the table and gave every appearance of intending to run the meeting. She knew Dave thought this was his meeting, but he was wrong. She had not met the lawyer before, so she put out her hand and said, "Bev Deller."

He stood up and smiled. His handshake was both warm and firm and his smile seemed genuine. "It's a pleasure to met you, Bev. You have fans in the legal department. I happen to be one of them. I'm Russell McGavin."

Bev was surprised the company had sent its head claims counsel to the meeting. Maybe this claim was a bigger deal than she had guessed. She mumbled something pleasant and then turned to the fraud investigator who was standing next to her obviously trying not to laugh. She grinned and gave him a hug. He hugged her back and said, "We just can't keep out of each others' way!"

McGavin looked confused, Peter Dietz said, "I came through the claim department. In fact, Bev was my mentor. She trained me." He laughed, "She taught me everything I know about investigating."

Bev said, "Pete's too modest. I taught him everything I knew about investigating. He added that to his brilliant instincts and natural curiosity which made him an amazing investigator. That's why you promoted him over me, and now pay him the big bucks."

They sat down. Dave took the chair at the opposite end of the oval table from McGavin. Bev and the fraud investigator sat across from one another. McGavin waved his index finger back and forth between Bev and Peter and said, "Why don't the two of you just talk. If Dave or I have questions, we'll chime in."

Peter said to Bev, "Dave has shared your preliminary reports with me. I've also reviewed Ben Tucker's initial report, and I've brought Mr. McGavin up to speed as to where we are at least as of your last report to Dave. Why don't you start by filling us in with new stuff."

"Okay." Bev pulled out her own sheet of bulleted talking points and, like Cici, checked them off as she covered each of them, reviewing generally the thrust of their investigation and finishing with the most recent developments as to causation. She said, "I realize this is not where we want to be at this point. The people in town are getting very antsy for us to make a determination as to causation. Reporters and attorneys are circling. They'll pounce as soon as we give an indication of which way we are headed."

McGavin asked, "How's Mazzoli handling this?"

"He's being cooperative and amazingly patient. Paul Morehouse is doing a good job of babysitting him. We've made it clear to him that if he set the fire, we'll prosecute him. We've also made it clear to him that if he didn't set the fire we'll defend him but he has a serious limits problem."

Dave asked, "Assuming for a moment that he didn't set the fire, what's your assessment of our exposure?"

"He has $1million liability limits. No excess coverage. The three partners in the restaurant have a combined total of $900,000 in personal liability insurance. We have fifty three dead and about a dozen people in various burns units in Cincinnati and Dayton. Quite honestly, I have not even begun to try to do any kind of assessment of what the actual damages may be. I can't count that high. I asked Paul to float the idea to the insured that if this turns out to be a covered claim he might consider throwing the $2.5 million he has the restaurant insured for into the settlement pot. I'd be inclined to put it all on the table and try to get a release so the insured can avoid losing everything else he has."

"What was Mazzoli's reaction to that?"

"Haven't heard back from Paul yet. I don't think we're there yet anyway."

"Do we have any actual demands?"

"Not as of Friday when I last spoke with Paul. A couple of attorneys have contacted him, one of them a nationally known plaintiff's lawyer."

McGavin said, "Swell!"

"Actually, I've been up against the guy before. He's good. He understands insurance, which is going to be important in this case. I can deal reasonably with Tim Peters. The ones who give me trouble are the guys who won't take into consideration the limits of insurance."

Dietz flipped through the file in front of him, "This is so confusing! There is no question in my mind this fire was set. The insured had financial motive and opportunity to set it. But it doesn't make sense that the insured would torch the building when it was full of his neighbors and long-time customers."

Bev interjected, "His own granddaughter was having dinner with her fiance. She died in the fire. I cannot believe Mazzoli, or anyone in his family, set that fire. I won't say it might not have been an idea they were kicking around. Their financial situation is dire. He might have been desperate enough to try to get away with burning the building, but he'd have done it at night when there was no one inside."

All three of the others at the table nodded.

Dietz asked, "Then who's our firebug?"

"We don't think its a local. We're looking into the possibility that it could be a disgruntled patient of Dr. Prescott. The fire started directly behind where he was sitting. Turns out he's a plastic surgeon of only moderate skill. He's evidently made a few mistakes. I have my PI looking into the possibility that he may have botched a recent surgery and someone decided not to wait for the courts to mete out justice."

Dietz and McGavin both nodded and made a note. McGavin asked, "How long do you think it will take Ms. Rittenhaus to dig through that."

"Shouldn't be long. She has a source at the hospital. I'll fill you in as soon as I hear back from her."

They were all quiet for a while, looking at their notes. Bev looked at her watch and asked the question nobody wanted to hear, "I hate to say this, but I think we have to go to the cops with what we know. First of all, this is looking like a murder not insurance fraud, despite the damning evidence we have against our insured. Second, we need the crime lab folks to investigate this angle."

Dave said, "I know how you prefer to work with the cops on your investigations, but I'm afraid if we turn it over to them too soon, they'll take the easy way and go after Mazzoli."

"I agree, which is why I've tried to keep them away until now. Ed Casey, Ben Tucker, both of the Rittenhauses and I have interviewed Mazzoli and none of us think he did it. I can produce character witnesses out the wazoo. I'm prepared to fight for the insured. But, I don't want to wait too long and risk having the FBI accuse us of obstruction of justice. I would not look good in an orange jumpsuit. Besides," she made a nasty face, "I just love working with the feds."

They all laughed. McGavin looked at Dietz and said, "Your call. Do you want to take over the claim?"

"No. I trust Bev's instincts. She's got enough evidence that will at least allow us to proceed as though this may not be insurance fraud. I know she'll turn it over to me if and when it becomes appropriate to do so."

Bev stuck out her tongue and said, "Bastard!" Dietz responded with a crude gesture.

McGavin pretended not to notice. He looked at Bev. "I agree that you should go to the cops. Have you hired a lawyer for the company?"

"No. I hired counsel for the insured. I've been dragging my feet on hiring coverage counsel for the company because I really don't know a lawyer who can do what I think we need."

McGavin said, "For now, I'm taking this over. You will still handle the claim, but you'll report to me as opposed to Dave. I'll keep Peter in the loop."

"Ed Casey is with me today. We're prepared to visit our good friends at the FBI this afternoon if you think that's appropriate. You want to go with us?"

"No. I prefer to keep in the background for now. Call me on my cell phone after your meeting. I want you to keep me informed, on a daily basis if necessary of all developments. If this is a murder investigation, that changes everything."

Bev said, "Yeah. I think I need to go now, but I'd like for us to meet again soon to discuss strategy. If we're going to handle this as a covered loss, we've got serious limits problems. I have believed all along there was some negligence on the part of our insured: for one thing, the building was a fire trap. But, if the fire was not an accident, that will be a big mitigating factor. I'd like to get a lawyer and a damages expert in early to start crunching numbers."

McGavin said, "I think that's a good idea. I like to work with Bob Rayburn from Stuart Lytle in Columbus. Do you know him?"

"I've heard of him. I'll trust your judgment on that. Can he handle the litigation?"

"Don't think so. He's mainly coverage counsel and a background advisor. I think you'll like him. He actually started out as an adjuster."

"We'll see about whether or not I like him. I'm not crazy about most adjusters I know because I think most of them think the know more about the law than they do. And I'm not crazy about most lawyers I know because, while they. may know the law, they don't know a lot about much else. And both species tend to score very high on the arrogance meter."

She stood up and added, tossing her head and laughing, "And, of course, you all know know humble and self-effacing I am." She shook hands all around and told McGavin she'd call him later. She asked Jamison if he had a minute. They got in the elevator together and headed for his office, "You okay with McGavin taking this over?"

He said, "He told me he was going to do it. Anyway. I'm okay with Legal taking over if this is going to be the litigation nightmare that I think it could turn into. McGavin was a litigator who handled insurance defense work before he came to work for the company, so he knows what he's doing. You'll be in good hands, and I'm here if you need me."

"OK. I guess that helps. I've worked for you for a long time and I guess I'm a little nervous about reporting to somebody new in the middle of such a big deal."

"We all understand that and I think McGavin would be okay if you want to bounce stuff off me. I'll make sure of that."

"Thanks. I'd appreciate that. McGavin's probably a great guy and all, but I'm used to dealing with you." She hung her head for a minute, her whole body sagging. Then she straightened and put on a cheer-leader grin. "And now I get to go visit my dear friends at the FBI. I am just soooo excited."

Chapter 9

She called Casey from the lobby of the building. He was at a coffee shop across the street from the library. That was two blocks from where she was. "Stay put. Please order me a cup of coffee, black, and a slice of apple pie."

By the time she walked into the diner, the pie and an empty cup were on the table. The minute she sat down, the waitress appeared to pour the coffee. Bev looked up into the waitress's eyes and smiled, "Bless you!"

While she wolfed down the pie -- which was so good she would have loved to savor it slowly -- they discussed what they would say to the police. She agreed to let Casey do the talking. While she finished her pie, Casey called the FBI to ask for an appointment. The agent in charge was in and agreed to wait for them. They drove to Cincinnati and parked in a garage near the FBI office.

A receptionist escorted them to a conference room where the agent in charge was waiting with two other people, Tom Jackson from the crime lab and a man who identified himself as a fire expert. The FBI agent introduced himself as Ramon Anderson. He invited them to sit and, with no preliminaries, tell what they had come up with.

Casey said, "We don't have anything concrete. Most of what we have is a lot of very confusing evidence and very similar gut feelings on the part of a number of experienced investigators ..."

Anderson interrupted, "I know Ben Tucker's your fire investigator. I'm sure you have a PI. Who is it?"

"Frank and Cecelia Rittenhaus from Dayton. They are very good."

Jackson nodded and commented in the general direction of the FBI agent, "They are the best there is."

Anderson motioned with his index finger, directing Casey to continue. Bev was impressed that Casey managed not to show any irritation. She was already gritting her teeth and thanking the stars that Casey was doing the talking and not her. Anderson was one of those superior, condescending asshole bureaucrats who pushed all her buttons.

Casey laid out for the investigators the information they had, ending with, "It's not enough to make a determination either way, but we're coming to you for two reasons. One, we want you to know about the fact that this could be something completely other than either insurance fraud or an accident. We don't think it's an accident. Nobody who's talked to Mazzoli thinks he did it. I think we need to focus our investigation on other people, perhaps someone who may have had reason to want to hurt Prescott."

Anderson asked, "What about Mrs. Mazzoli. She had motive and opportunity. She served drinks to the table at the exact time the accelerant would have been introduced. She is a smoker who used a butane lighter. Why not her?"

Casey considered his answer for a while. "I wondered about that, but I'm satisfied she didn't do it. I went to the funerals of both Mazzoli's granddaughter and her fiance. I talked with a lot of members of both families. And a day or so later, I talked to Mrs. Mazzoli again." He looked at Bev and smiled, "Bev's going to kill me when she finds out that I took a second statement from Mrs. Mazzoli. I accused her of setting the fire. Her reaction convinced me she didn't do it.

"Here's why: While Mr. and Mrs. Mazzoli may have been a bit on the outs over money, the family is a very close one. Mrs. Mazzoli is the mother of seven grown children, the grandmother of seventeen. She loves her kids and adores her grandchildren. She rattled off for me all their names, birth dates and their current grade in school as well as extracurricular activities. She's very involved in their lives.

"The night of the fire, in addition to her husband working the front of the house, one son, a son-in-law and one of her daughters were working in the kitchen. One granddaughter was waiting tables. A grandson was busing tables. And one granddaughter was eating in the restaurant; she died."

"Where were the other two grandchildren when the fire started?"

"The bus-boy was in the linen closet in the front of the restaurant getting clean linen and napkins because somebody spilled a glass of wine." He looked at his notes. "The waitress was in the kitchen picking up an order."

He laid his hands on the table and leaned forward, "You can read their statements. Both Mazzolis admit that they considered and even discussed several desperate actions including but not limited to burning the building -- in the middle of the night when it was closed. Neither of them would not have set a fire with a restaurant full of people, who included six members of their immediate family."

Jackson nodded and so did the fire investigator. Anderson didn't react.

The fire investigator asked some technical questions, which Casey answered. He asked, "Do you have a copy of Ben Tucker's report?"

"Yeah. I'd like to get him back here to sit down and work through the data. I know it's been a few weeks but I'd like to go back into the building. I'm assuming you'll want Tucker to go with me." He looked at Bev, "You got a problem with bringing him back here to babysit me going through the building?"

She wanted to make a smart remark to the effect that if the FBI wanted Tucker on the scene the FBI should pay for him, but she also didn't want the FBI to take total control of the investigation. "Not a problem. I'll pick up the tab as long as he stays at the motel in Stanforth and not the Omni in Cincy." She winked.

The investigator laughed, "I'm staying at the Holiday Inn Express. Uncle Sam's generous expense reimbursement policies, you know." There were a few smiles, but Anderson's dour expression prevented anyone from laughing out loud.

Tom Jackson asked, "Bev, why are you coming to us with this now. You don't have anything concrete. In my experience, adjusters generally want to maintain total control of their investigations until and unless they uncover actual evidence of a crime."

She smiled, "Ordinarily I am that kind of control freak adjuster, too. But in this case, we're bringing it to you because our investigation is taking too long. People in Stanforth are starting to get squirrelly. The plaintiff's lawyers are circling, but they're waiting to see which way we are going to lean. As soon as I give an indication one way or the other, a bunch of lawsuits will be filed. The town is starting to divide into camps between those who think Mazzoli killed all those people and should be in jail already and those who think it was an accident and the insurance company is dragging its feet and trying to figure out a way not to pay the claim. I fear for my insured's safety, on the one hand. On the other, I fear for his financial future if we simply throw out policy limits and let the vultures pick the bones of the Mazzoli family's assets.

"I need to show we're actively investigating. Bringing the FBI in will at least show that we are doing that.

"Secondly, Cici Rittenhaus is good, but we need to be able to investigate medical records and confidential insurance information pertaining to Prescott. She may be able to find out some information to point us in a certain direction, but it won't be through the proper channels. I don't have subpoena power at this point, at least not until somebody sues my company. You do. I want you to take a close look a Prescott.

"Thirdly, we also need to find out more about the waiter whose identity turns out not to check out. Again, you can do that. I can't."

Jackson nodded and made a note.

She added, "We need to know if there was anybody in the restaurant, outside of the wedding party, with any connections to Prescott."

Jackson nodded again and said, "Sure. We can look a little more closely at the people in the room."

Anderson scrunched up his face and said, "Perhaps we might want to look at the members of the wedding party as well. Were both families happy about the match? Could there have been somebody in the party with a grudge?"

Bev made a note. "I'll add that to the list of things for the Rittenhauses to check out."

Jackson said, "I'll do the same."

Anderson looked at Bev, "Have you issued a reservation of rights letter?"

She shook her head, "I have it written. Actually I have several versions drafted. I haven't mailed it because we're still actively investigating."

"How long can you hold out?"

"There's no set time. I don't want to send it too soon because it will invite the plaintiffs' attorneys to run to the courthouse. But, I dare not delay too long once we have a good idea of what we are up against. We have verbally told the insured he has a serious limits problem, but I have to get that in writing as soon as possible."

Anderson nodded, "I'd appreciate it if you'd drag your feet on that as long as possible. Are you able to give me a heads-up before you send it?"

Bev thought about making a smart remark, but she needed to stay on his good side. She simply nodded.

Anderson asked, "You got lawyers involved yet?"

"So far we've been handling this in house. My legal department is going to retain coverage counsel soon."

"Who?"

"I'm not sure. I think they're running conflicts checks now."

Everyone was quiet for a few minutes, consulting notes. The fire investigator said, "I'll call Tucker and get him back here." He looked at Casey and raised his eyebrows. "We'll pay you a visit."

Casey nodded. Jackson asked if his folks could tag along on that second pass through the scene, and both Casey and the FBI's investigator nodded.

Bev closed her portfolio, and looked at Anderson, "I know the FBI doesn't like to share information, but in this case, Mr. Anderson, I would really appreciate it if we could work together. I've got a whole town on pins and needles, an insured whose entire future hangs in the balance and a multitude of lawsuits about to rain down on my head. I need to be kept in the loop if you don't mind."

For the first time during the meeting Anderson showed a glimmer of humanity: he smiled. "I understand your predicament, Ms. Deller. I agree with you that this one is complex enough and has so many arms and legs, we need a whole team on board. I think we should approach it in that way. To that end, I'd like to schedule another meeting next week. I'd like for your PI's to be present at that meeting."

Bev nodded, "You got it."

The meeting broke up about 6:30 PM. Casey drove in silence. Bev leaned back in the passenger's seat, feeling grateful for his presence. She was so exhausted she didn't think she could have driven home. She said, "Pick your favorite restaurant and let's grab dinner. On me."

They had a quick dinner and Casey pulled in the driveway at nearly 10:00 PM. "We've had a long day. Your daughter will be worried."

"I've been keeping her informed of my whereabouts by text message. That being the only effective way to communicate with a teenager."

He sighed, "I think I'm glad my only son is a priest. I don't have to worry about trying to learn to type with my thumbs in order to keep up with grandchildren."

Bev got out of the car and walked around to the driver's side. She shook his hand and thanked him again for playing chauffeur. "I'm sleeping in tomorrow. If you need me, don't call too early."

Emily was in the living room, sprawled out on the couch watching TV. Bev said, "You waiting up for me?"

"Yep. And before you ask, yes, I finished my homework."

Bev smiled and sat down beside her daughter, putting Emily's feet in her lap. "How was your day?"

"Totally sucky."

"Care to explain?"

"Well it's looking more and more like I'm not going to make the cheer-leading squad."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Why?"

"Well, it evidently has nothing to do with my abilities. I've picked up all the routines really fast and I'm doing great with improving my athletics. It's all catty 'mean girls' shit." She sighed and closed her eyes. Bev noticed the puffiness and redness around Emily's lashes and the redness around her nostrils. She massaged her daughter's feet and felt first a wave of sympathy pain followed immediately by the stabbing hurt of being unable to protect her child. She said nothing.

Emily opened one eye and looked at her mother. "You are not going to say 'screw them' or something like that?"

"Would it help if I did?"

Emily thought about that. "Probably not."

"I didn't think so. Therefore, I thought it better to just be with you while you figure out a way to cope with your feelings."

They talked about Emily's feelings for a while and then, realizing they were powerless to control the forces working behind the scenes, they ventured into other subjects.

A little after eleven, Bev yawned and leaned back against the couch. Emily said, "God, Mom, you look whipped. Go to bed."

"I think I will. You should do the same. Our problems will still be with us in the morning, but maybe they won't look so awful if we're not so tired."

The next morning after dropping Emily at school Bev was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the paper when the phone rang. Paul Morehouse wanted to know if she had time to see him. She didn't want to talk to him, but she knew she had to face him sooner or later. She promised to stop by his office in an hour.

Chapter 10

Bev pulled up in front of Morehouse's office and parked behind Ron Mazzoli's SUV. She took a deep breath. This was not likely to be a pleasant meeting.

Morehouse's secretary was on the phone when she walked in. Morehouse came out of his small conference room and beckoned her to join him. Ron and Claudia Mazzoli were seated at the table, with cups of coffee in front of them. Bev poured herself a cup from the coffee pot on the credenza and sat down, across from the insureds. She greeted them. They responded but with very guarded words and expressions.

Paul said, "I'll get right to the point. The sharks are circling. Ron has not been served with any lawsuits and we're checking all the nearby court dockets for new filings. To my knowledge nothing has been filed and no specific demands have been made, but a lot of people are demanding to know what's up and who they need to speak to about their claims."

"People being individual claimants or their attorneys?"

"Both. Some of the families do not appear to have lawyers yet. That is likely to change soon. We understand that there is to be a meeting at the AmVets tonight. Timothy Peters will be the speaker."

"Why the AmVets?"

"It's the only place in town big enough to accommodate a crowd the size that this meeting will draw."

Bev tried not to let the insureds see her reaction. On the one hand, a nationally known plaintiff's attorney would draw attention to the case. That would be bad. On the other hand, having all the cases in the hands of one attorney would make her negotiating much easier. Besides, she knew Tim to be a reasonable guy, for a plaintiff's lawyer. She'd rather deal with him than some local attorneys who might not understand the enormity of the problems the claim presented.

"Peters wants the Mazzoli's to attend the meeting."

Bev laughed, "I hope you told him to do something anatomically impossible."

He made a face, "I told him I did not think it was wise to expose my clients directly to the claimants. That's what I'm here for."

"At which point, he suggested that you be present."

"Right."

She sipped her coffee and stared at the table. This was tricky, but it could be a good opportunity. After a few minutes she nodded. "Okay. We'll both go."

Both the Mazzoli's sighed loud enough for her to hear. Morehouse visibly relaxed as well. Bev shook her head and smiled. "I would not have sent you into the lion's den alone." She looked at the Mazzoli's and said, "I would be willing to bet that both of you want to go to that meeting if only to express your sorrow at the loss those families face. I am sure Paul has impressed upon you the importance of not making any statements on the subject of this matter to anybody, most especially anybody who had a family member in The Barn the night of the fire. I hope you will cooperate in that respect."

Claudia said, "We will. It's hard because we see these people every day. But, we are not discussing the case."

Ron asked, "What will you say to them?"

"I will tell them the fire is still under investigation. We have no basis on which to agree to settle any claims for damages until we know what caused the fire and whether you were negligent in some way that caused or contributed to the injuries."

Paul asked, "What's your assessment as to liability."

Bev answered very carefully, looking at the Mazzoli's not Paul, "Keep in mind, we still are not sure how the fire started. Until we can establish that, we can't make any commitments to pay anything." Then she looked back at Paul, "Let's assume that the insured did not set the fire. You believe that. I believe it. We can't prove it yet, but solely for the sake of this discussion, let's take insurance fraud off the table. There are two other scenarios.

"One is that the fire was an accident. Frankly, the evidence weighs against that, but let's say we ultimately can't conclusively prove that someone set the fire. If it's an accidental fire, we do have a problem. Here's why:

"The place was not sprinklered, despite repeated suggestions from Chief Casey that they should sprinkler it. Granted, the fire department never failed the fire inspections and my company never ordered them to sprinkler it. Still, I guarantee you that Tim Peters will be able to provide ample testimony that would tend to convince a jury that it is negligent for the owner of a business that is constructed of wood not to install sprinklers. He'll call it gross negligence so he can ask for punitive damages.

"Secondly, there were a dozen more people in the restaurant that night than the fire code allowed for.

"Thirdly, when the people in the kitchen opened the door, the fresh air that came into the dining room caused the fire to flare. I'm not sure what Peters will do with that, but I'm pretty sure he'll try to make out that there was something that could have and should have been done to prevent that from happening.

"That's a long way of saying that this is not a case I want to put in front of a jury. I will hire good lawyers and we'll do the best we can, but I'm presently evaluating this as a case I'd rather settle."

Ron Mazzoli said, "But there isn't enough money for that, is there?"

Bev looked him in the eye and said, "No, sir. There isn't nearly enough money for that. If this turns out to be a covered loss, which -- I hate to keep repeating it but I have to be clear --, is not yet determined, you and your siblings have $1.9 million dollars of insurance limits. That won't take care of the claims of the people who are still in the hospital, without anything at all for the families of the people who died."

"What can we do?"

"Did Mr. Morehouse mention to you the possibility that if I pay you for the building you put that money into the settlement pot?"

The Mazzoli's nodded and Claudia wiped her eyes. She looked at Bev and said, "Ms. Deller, our only income right now is a little bit of money I am bringing in from a job I just got cooking at the nursing home. Ron's looking for a job, but nobody will hire somebody who might be going to jail soon. Our kids are giving us money to pay our bills. The insurance money is supposed to be for us, so we can either rebuild or at least live on the money, right?"

Bev nodded, "Yes, ma'am. The proceeds from the property claim, if I am able to pay it, would be your money. You can do with it as you please. But, I caution you, and I'm sure Paul has talked to you about this, after the insurance money is used up, I'm finished. Once I pay the million in limits I have, the company's duties to you will end. The plaintiffs will sue you personally, and I won't be paying Mr. Morehouse's bills any more. The simple truth is that if we can't get this settled and releases from all the potential plaintiffs before I tender my limits, I'm very afraid they will take everything you've got or ever might have.

"I will be honest with you. I'm doing a delicate dance here. On the one hand, if any evidence turns up that you had anything to do with the fire, I will deny coverage and turn the matter over for prosecution. You have known that from the beginning. I don't think you did it, but there's a lot of circumstantial evidence against you. I'm doing my best to keep the file out of the hands of the fraud investigators.

"On the other hand, the evidence indicates that somebody probably set the fire. I'm trying to find out who it was. And why. If you have any ideas about that, I'd love to hear them."

Nobody said a word. Ron and Claudia were both silently weeping. Paul Morehouse looked like a man in shock. Bev forced herself to maintain eye contact with Ron Mazzoli. Paul said, "You said there were two scenarios if Ron didn't set the fire. What's the other."

Bev tried to smile, "The other is that we prove that somebody else set the fire, with criminal intent. In that case, your exposure goes way down. I might be able to settle your portion of the claim and you can keep all or at least most of the $2.5 million."

For the first time both Mazzoli's looked at her with a glimmer of hope in their eyes. "How will you do that?"

Bev looked at them, glanced at Paul and then looked back into Ron Mazzoli's eyes. She said, "I turned the matter over to the FBI yesterday."

Claudia gasped. Paul looked at her with something like horror. Ron Mazzoli nodded and looked into her eyes for a long time. He said, "If I set the fire, I'll be in jail soon."

Bev didn't blink, "Since you and I both know you didn't set the fire, I wouldn't worry too much about that. We are bringing our fire investigator back and the FBI is going to bring in a guy to look at it also. I think somebody other than you set the fire. I can't prove it with the resources I have. The FBI is our only other option."

Claudia asked, "How long will it take?"

"We are going to try to work fast, but I'm warning you, these things take time. You will see no money from the insurance company until the investigation is concluded."

Paul asked, "What will you tell Peters."

Bev said, "I will tell Peters that the matter is under investigation and that I will not discuss it until the investigation is completed."

She turned to the Mazzoli's and pointed her index finger, "Please keep in mind. Everything that has transpired in this room today is privileged communication. Nothing we have discussed here should leave this room. If anybody asks you about what is going on, tell them you don't know. All you can say is the insurance company is investigating. Period. Understood?"

They both nodded.

Bev stood up and said, "I have to run. Paul, I'll talk to you later and we can strategize about who will say what at the meeting." She shook hands with both the Mazzolis and mumbled something about keeping their chins up.

Paul walked her to the door and said, "I'm not so sure that direct communications between you and your insured are privileged."

"I'm not positive of that either, but you're the one who invited them to the meeting so you'd better damned well better convince them to keep their mouths shut. In the future, you and I need to speak privately and then you should speak privately to them. That will avoid any problems with privilege."

"Okay."

She got in her car and drove home on auto pilot, barely noticing her surroundings. She went inside and leaned against the inside of the front door, where she sobbed out loud for several minutes. Then she went into the bathroom and threw up. After that, she undressed and went to bed, seeking the solace of unconsciousness. She was still sleeping when Emily came in from school.

"Mom, are you okay?"

Bev sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Oh, my God, what time is it?"

"Three thirty. Mom, what's the matter. You've been crying and you smell like you've been sick?"

Bev jumped out of bed, grabbed a robe and ran into the living room, digging around in her purse, "Pay no attention to that. I fall apart sometimes when I have really bad claims like this one. First I cry. Then I puke. Then I sleep." She had three missed calls from Paul Morehouse and a bunch of others. She clicked on the first missed call from Paul.

He picked up on the first ring and said, "Where the hell have you been?"

"Sorry. I was indisposed. What time is the meeting?"

"Seven."

"Okay. I'll meet you at your office at six."

"Who's going to do the talking?"

"You are."

"You going to tell me what to say?"

"I already did. You are going to say that the matter is under investigation by the insurance company and that is all there is to it. I've got a bunch of calls to make. I'll see you at six." She hung up.

Emily was standing in the middle of the room. "What the heck is going on, Mom. Are you sick?"

"No. I told you. This has happened before. It's how I handle stress. Weep. Vomit. Then sleep. After that, I'm ready to get back into action." She made a face, "I don't particularly recommend it as a coping mechanism, but it works for me." She said, "I haven't eaten anything today and I'm starving. Do you suppose you could make us a sandwich and maybe some soup? I have to shower and get ready for a meeting. I also have to call the legal department at my company. I promise to fill you in while we eat."

She went back into the bedroom and called Russel McGavin. She filled him in briefly on the meeting and her plan of action. She asked if he wanted to attend or send a lawyer for the company. He said he thought she should go alone with Morehouse. He said he didn't think they wanted a legal team involved yet.

"I told Paul, he should do the talking. Do you agree?"

He was quiet for a while. "I think you should do the talking for the Company. Paul is Mazzoli's lawyer. He should speak only for Mazzoli. His story is that he believes his client did nothing wrong, period. You're the company spokesperson. Your story is that you have no conclusive evidence as to the cause of the fire. Until you do you can make no commitments one way or the other. The matter is under investigation. Period."

"Got it. You want me to call you tonight after the meeting or come into the office tomorrow."

"Both. Call me tonight but plan to come in tomorrow. I've got Rita Wentzel on board as coverage counsel. I want you to meet her and you can fill us in on your meeting with the FBI."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow."

"David Jameson told me to give you a message. He said if you throw up more than three times, he wants you off of this case."

"Understood."

"How many times have you thrown up already?"

She didn't respond. He said, "Answer me."

"Twice."

"Third time and you're done."

"I hear you."

She showered and dressed for the meeting. By the time she was finished Emily had a place set for her with a sandwich, a bowl of tomato soup and a glass of tea. "You're not joining me?"

"I had pizza for lunch. I'm not hungry. I'll eat dinner later. What's up with you?"

"Things are about to come to a head. I had a meeting this morning with Mr. and Mrs. Mazzoli. I had to tell them some very hard truths."

"They're saying that you are going to put Mr. Mazzoli in jail."

"No. I'm not. I believe he is innocent, and I intend to prove it. That doesn't mean his troubles will be over, but at least he won't have the specter of jail hanging over his head. I'm sorry. I can't discuss this."

"How come you got sick?"

"You know that happens when I get upset. It is very upsetting to have to stand by while a family's whole world is crashing around them and not be able to help them."

Emily smiled, "I think you may be too softhearted for the business you're in."

"My boss thinks so, too. Problem is, it's the only thing I know how to do that will pay the bills. So I melt down occasionally. Life sometimes sucks. It's important to deal with it and move on."

Emily squinted her eyes and wrinkled her nose, "I think I'm going to work on learning to deal with problems in some way other than vomiting."

"Take it from me, that's a really good idea."

Bev drove to the AmVets hall. The parking lot was already full and she had to park down the block. There were clumps of people standing around on the sidewalk in front of the building. They parted for her to pass, but no one spoke to her. Paul Morehouse had not yet arrived. She walked up to the table in front and greeted Tim Peters. He smiled and shook her hands, "This is getting to be a habit with us."

"I'd say you were stalking me except that I know you're simply stalking the victims of these crimes."

"You think this is a crime?"

"I do."

"Can you prove it?"

"Not yet."

"So, what are you going to do about that?"

"I'm going to finish my investigation."

"How long will that take?"

"Until I'm finished."

"You're dragging your feet."

"I'm investigating a complicated fire."

"Nothing complicated about a fire in a restaurant that left dozens dead and another dozen in the burns unit."

"The complicated part is how the fire started. You know that I can't make any commitments to anybody until I know the answer to that question."

"Was it your insured?"

"I don't know."'

"Could it have been?"

"Coulda been a lot of people."

"You're not being very cooperative."

"It's not my job to cooperate with you. It's my job to investigate the fire. Once I finish my investigation, you and I can have another conversation. Who hired you, by the way?"

"I represent the estates of Dr. Prescott, his wife and their children."

"They had two children present in the restaurant."

"Yes. The bride and her older sister."

"Who's handling the estate?"

"The family was essentially wiped out. There is a baby granddaughter who was with a babysitter. She will inherit everything it appears."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"She will inherit a bundle without any insurance money, right?"

"Right."

"Lotta people in the hospital need money more than she will."

"That will be a conversation for another day."

Their words were carefully chosen and their body language was almost combative, but they were both smiling.

Paul Morehouse joined them. Peters looked at his watch, "Time to get started."

Paul and Bev started to move to the front row. Tim held out his hand in the direction of the front table, "Please join me. I'm sure the audience will want to hear from you."

Bev made a face and sat down at the head table, "You know we don't have much to say."

"You still gotta say it."

Bev sighed and tried to think of something else as Tim addressed the crowd and gave them a plaintiff's attorney's version of how and insurance claim works. It was all she could do not to conk him on the head a few times when he almost misrepresented her role. She didn't interrupt and tried not to look too annoyed. A couple of times Paul looked at her and furrowed his brow. She shook her head ever so slightly. Mercifully, Tim had finished his spiel. He invited questions.

Most of the questions had to do with how much money the families could expect out of the lawsuits he proposed filing. Bev hated the fact that families tended to get greedy after a tragedy. Some people think that by extracting money out of the person they think was responsible for injury or death, they can diminish their own grief. In her experience it didn't work that way. For one thing, the money generally came from the insurance company, not the individual and, for another, money does not cure grief. Often the ordeal of going through a lawsuit that drags on for years keeps the wounds fresh and impedes the healing process. She knew that to be true, but she wasn't going to say that to the angry mob in that hall. She wanted to get out of there without injury.

Her daydreaming was interrupted when one of the victim's father asked Paul, "Where the hell is Mazzoli? He didn't have the decency to come here and apologize to us in person."

Paul started to answer, but Bev held up her hand and said, "Mr. and Mrs. Mazzoli wanted to be here tonight. Not to apologize, but to stand with you in your grief and pain. Recall that their granddaughter was among the casualties, along with a number of their long-time employees. All of the victims were their customers and friends. I asked them not to come because, frankly, I did not want them to have to face accusations such as the one you are making. This event is a tragedy for them as much as anyone."

Someone else jumped up and said, "Did Mazzoli set the fire?"

"I can't make any speculations about the origin of the fire. That is still under investigation. I will tell you that I personally do not believe Mr. Mazzoli or anyone in his family set the fire. I cannot, however, make any commitments about the claim until our investigation is concluded and we know for sure." She was so glad McGavin let her come to this meeting without a company lawyer. The guy would clobber her for that statement. She hoped to hell there were no reporters in the crowd. She didn't see anybody she didn't recognize.

It worked. The crowd quieted noticeably.

"So what are you doing to investigate?" Peters' voice sounded accusatory but there was laughter in his eyes. Bev wanted to smack him.

"You know I can't discuss the details, but I can tell you I hired an expert fire investigator, the crime lab in Cincinnati sent in a team because the local police don't have a CSI unit. Forensic investigation takes a lot longer in reality than it does on TV, but the process is similar. We dig through the ashes for clues and then add up the clues until a picture emerges."

Someone asked Paul what his role was. He said, "I represent the Mazzoli's."

A woman in the front row said, "I thought you represent the insurance company."

"The insurance company is paying my bills, but the Mazzoli's are my clients."

An angry voice from the rear of the room, "What happens when the insurance company finally figures out that Mazzoli set the fire?"

Paul said, "I will continue to represent Mr. Mazzoli, who would be subject to prosecution."

A different voice said, "The insurance company won't pay you for that."

"That is correct."

The angry man in the back said, "Mazzoli sure as hell doesn't have any money. He owes everybody in town and our last paychecks have bounced. Who's going to pay your bills then."

"That will be between me and Mr. Mazzoli, but I assure you I will not let him be thrown to the wolves without representation."

Bev tried not to smile.

Peters asked, "Why would you do that?"

Paul looked him straight in the eye and said, "Because I believe that whether it turns out the fire was arson or accidental, Mr. Mazzoli had nothing to do with it. I believe that he is in no way responsible for the horrible things that happened to his business and the lives of his employees and his customers, not to mention the utter implosion of his own family's world."

Bev wanted to stand up and cheer, but she settled for turning to face Peters. She winked with the eye that was turned away from the crowd. He didn't laugh, but she could see a slight twitch at the corner of his lips. This entire part of the meeting was pure theater and Paul had just stolen the show. She knew that Peters was going to try to steal it back, so she stood up and announced, "I think that Mr. Morehouse and I have said all we can say to you at this point. Once our investigation has been concluded, we will take the next step, whatever it may be.

"Mr. Peters is going to tell you that you need to hire him and you need to sue. He will tell you that you should do that quickly. I want to remind you that an attorney will take approximately 40% of any money you would ever get from a claim settlement negotiated by that attorney; you do not need to hire a lawyer to settle your claim. I also want to remind you that you have a year from the date of the accident to sue. You do not need to rush to do that.

"If you choose to hire an attorney, I strongly encourage you to choose carefully. I have known Mr. Peters for a number of years. I can tell you, he's a good attorney who does an excellent job for his clients. There are a lot of piranhas out there; I do not believe Mr. Peters is one of them. You should make sure, however, that whoever you choose to hire, your attorney is someone you like and trust because you're going to spend a lot of time with that person over the next few years.

"Mr. Morehouse and I will leave you to your private conversation with Mr. Peters."

When she turned to shake Peters' hand he was smiling. He shook her hand and leaned close, whispering, "You win this round, Babe. Good show."

She raised her eyebrows and whispered back, "How many times have I told you not to call me 'babe'."

As they walked down the center aisle between the rows, she felt angry eyes boring into her back.

Morehouse stopped on the sidewalk as soon as the doors closed and whirled on her, "Why in the hell did you endorse Peters?"

"Quite honestly because I think he is as decent a guy as a plaintiff's lawyer can be. He does a good job for his clients. He understands the process. I think the more of those people he can sign up the better our chances of achieving a global settlement. What I don't want to have to do is sit across a table from a dozen or more lawyers, half of whom will be looking for the big score that will make their reputations."

She let him think about that for a minute while he calmed down, then she added, "You did a great job in there tonight."

"Thanks. Am I wrong in thinking that if your boss had heard what you said, he would not be very happy."

"You are not wrong about that. I'm just hoping there were no reporters in the room that might quote me in the papers." She shook her head as if to clear away cobwebs, "I'm too damned close to this one."

Chapter 11

The next day Bev drove to her office in Dayton. She stopped first to check in with Cassandra. "Hey, what's up around here. What are you doing for excitement without me around?"

"I don't need excitement, and, frankly, you're not very exciting. You're mainly a pain in the ass when you're here."

"Thanks for making me feel needed and appreciated."

Cassie had everything under control on Bev's other matters so she went down the hall and stuck her head in Jamison's office. He looked up and said, "Hey, there, Stranger. What brings you to town?"

"Meeting with lawyers. Are you invited?"

"Yep." He stood up and put on his suit jacket. As they walked down the hall he asked, "How'd the meeting go last night."

"I didn't throw up."

"I guess that's a good thing." He stopped her in the middle of the hall, "I want you to level with me. If this gets too bad for you, I'll take you off it."

"You know, before yesterday I'd have told you to go to hell for making that suggestion. However, after my meeting with the Mazzoli's yesterday morning and then my encounter with the lynch mob of my neighbors last night, I'll be honest with you and tell you if I need you to let me out from under this. Right now, I think if any other adjuster had this claim, it would be in the hands of the fraud unit. I want to at least hang onto it until I get a conclusive result as to causation. At that point, I'll either turn it over to the fraud unit or you and I can have a conversation about who should handle Phase Two."

"That is all I can ask. If you need relief before then, let me know."

"I promise I will."

"You've lied to me about that before."

"This time I'm not lying."

Minutes later they stepped off the elevator in the executive suite. The receptionist directed them to the conference room in the legal department. McGavin offered coffee and pastries and then he introduced Bev to Rita Wentzel. The women sized each other up. Bev liked what she saw. Rita was much younger than she would have expected, perhaps in her mid to late thirties. She was stocky without being fat, and severely professional in her navy suit, white blouse and plain navy pumps. Bev smiled and held out her hand, "It's nice to have another woman on this case, I've been inhabiting an all-male world lately and I'm about to succumb to testosterone toxicity."

Rita laughed. "I totally understand. The world of insurance coverage attorneys is overwhelmingly male. I will add that the world of property adjusters is generally pretty macho as well."

"I've noticed that, too. Sometimes my gender helps me because people will open up and talk to me. With investigators and other adjusters it's generally a liability, however."

Rita winked and said softly, "When we wrap this one up what do you say we go out for beer and share the stories of how we ended up in this last bastion of male domination."

"Deal. I'll put the beer on my expense account and we'll let Midwestern pay for it."

David Jamison was not even pretending not to eaves-drop, he said, "We don't reimburse for alcohol."

Having decided that Rita was somebody she could work with, Bev poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. Peter Dietz joined them in a few minutes and McGavin called the meeting to order. He turned the floor over to Bev. She gave them an update on the meeting (leaving out the part about telling the crowd her personal opinions about the insureds' innocence and her endorsement of Peters). She also told them that Tucker was coming back to visit the scene again with the FBI investigator.

Jamison said, "Is it really necessary to bring Tucker back again?"

Bev started to say something, but McGavin and Dietz both cut her off. Dietz said, "I think he should come back. If there's anything he overlooked the last time, maybe he'll find it now. Besides, the last time we didn't know to look for clues about people in the restaurant who were not locals. What is more, I don't want the FBI's investigator digging around in there with out Tucker knowing what they're doing." He made a face, "I know it's contrary to usual expense protocols, but I think you should authorize the expense."

Jamison's face registered his displeasure but he didn't argue.

When Bev finished her summary, the others consulted their notes. McGavin looked at Rita and held out his hand, palm up, giving her the floor.

She said, "I've read the file and I've collected all the news articles I could find both about the fire and about the history of the business. Bev, I think you've got a good handle on the investigation. I also think you did the right thing by bringing in the feds sooner rather than later. Usually, I fight tooth and nail to keep them out of my yard, but in this case, my gut tells me that you're right to want to dig around in Prescott's patient files."

She rifled through some papers. "The damages will be enormous. It seems to me that the plaintiff's will be able to argue that the building was a fire trap. If it were sprinklered, more people would have been able to get out. The wood was old and dry. Too many people in the building. Yada yada. How do you propose to respond to that?"

"I agree with you that there's definitely some negligence and I propose and will request authority to put up money, up to policy limits, to settle the claims. However, at the same time I will deny liability until the cows come home and I will point the finger at whoever set the fire. Hopefully that person will have some assets."

"What about using the property portion of the loss to boost your pot of money? It doesn't appear that Mazzoli intends to rebuild."

"I floated that by him." She responded to the panicked looks on the faces of Jamison and McGavin by adding, "Without making any commitment!"

Rita asked, "What was his reaction?"

"He didn't reject the idea, but Mrs. Mazzoli reminded me that they have no income now other than her minimum wage job as a cook in a nursing home. They really need as much of that money as we can protect."

McGavin asked, "Isn't Mazzoli working?"

"Evidently he owes money to half the town. If he went to work for some of those people they wouldn't pay him anything until he worked off his debt. Besides, there seems to be the general impression that he's our firebug and he'll be in jail soon, so employers are not exactly lining up to hire him."

Rita closed her portfolio. "My initial impression is that there is no bar to coverage if Mazzoli didn't set the fire. Therefore, I think you should proceed on the course you're on. Find the cause of the fire, and then let's figure out how the hell to settle the claims without putting your insured in the poorhouse."

Bev tapped her finger on the table and scrunched up her lips. She said, "Along those lines, I have to make a confession. Tim Peters is representing the Prescott family. He is the one who called the meeting last night to recruit other clients. Tim's a reasonable sort (for his ilk anyway), and he understands insurance. I think we might have a better chance of arriving at a global settlement if he's representing all or most of the claimants. I sort of told the crowd last night that I knew Tim and I thought they could do worse than him."

The men looked apoplectic; Rita threw back her head and laughed out loud. "How long did it take him to recover from the shock of such an endorsement from an adjuster?"

"Actually, he handled it pretty well at the time. We might want to check the cardiac unit this morning."

McGavin said, "Why in the sam hell would you endorse an attorney?"

Rita answered, "She did it because she's right. Our only prayer to get this settled without exposing our insured to a horrendous excess exposure is to keep in out of the hands of wackadoo local lawyers who are trying to make a big score. Peters already has a national reputation. He doesn't need the publicity. It was kind of a crazy thing to do, but I think your instincts were probably right."

The last of Bev's reservations about working with coverage counsel breathing down her neck evaporated. Rita was not only smart and professional. She was reasonable. Bev asked, "How closely do you want to be involved?"

"The investigation itself is your bailiwick. Proceed with that under Russ's direction. Once you determine the cause of the fire, if it looks like Mazzoli set it, we'll let Pete take the hot potato. If it's due to any other cause, we'll get busy and try to negotiate the best deal we can for our insured. In the meantime, I'm going to line up some damages experts to start crunching numbers, not that we have any hard information yet. You got any demands?"

"Not yet. Peters generally doesn't send demand letters. He files suit. Then he gives an unlimited extension of time to answer while squeezing every possible source for as much money as he can."

"Okay. Keep me posted on all the information you come up with about the claimants."

"Will do."

Rita looked at McGavin and said, "I'm done."

McGavin asked Dietz and Jamison if either of them had any questions. There being none, he adjourned the meeting. Jamison had another meeting with the claims VP, so Rita and Bev walked to the elevator together. Rita looked at her watch, "It's a little early but do you want to grab lunch?"

"Sure."

Rita was older than she looked, but still a decade younger than Bev. She was married to another attorney and had two kids in elementary school. The women confined their conversation to the universal contemporary girl-talk about the difficulties of juggling home, family and work. Bev was satisfied that Rita was somebody she would enjoy working with. She sensed that Rita felt the same about her.

As she was driving back toward Stanforth, Ben Tucker called her to let her know that he and the FBI investigator were on their way to Stanforth. She said, "You didn't tell me you were here already."

"I was a sudden thing. I was trying to drag it out to get you cheaper tickets but the FBI threatened to go in with out me if I didn't high-tail it."

"No problem. I'll try to get a exception for that expense. How far away are you?"

"'bout twenty minutes."

"See if you can stall. Tell them you want coffee or have to go to the bathroom. I'm about a half an hour away. I want to meet you there. Is Jackson with you?"

"Yes."

"Good. Stall."

"Okey dokey."

Bev pushed down harder on the accelerator and called Casey's office to tip him off. She told him she wanted to go in with the investigators and asked him to stall them if they beat her there and to bring her some protective gear. He agreed to do both.

Paul called her a few minutes later. He said that the Mazzoli's were very appreciative that she talked them out of going to the meeting. They weren't up for the kind of accusations that were being made. He added, "Peters called me this morning. Evidently your endorsement paid off big time. He signed up most of the people in the room as clients. He said to relay his thanks but you can forget about him paying you a referral fee."

She laughed, "Hey, you might want to put a word out on the grapevine wire that investigators are going to show up in town very soon. We got quite a team. Ben's back from California. CSI from Cincinnati. The FBI."

"If nothing else, the folks in town will know that you deliver on your promises."

"Paul, Mr. Mazzoli's entire future depends on the people in the town trusting me to do just that."

"The Mazzoli's and I are aware of that. We also all know you're doing the best you can."

"Let's all hope and pray it's good enough. I'll talk to you later."

She called Casey, "Hey, I just crossed the county line, what are the chances of me getting away with speeding?"

"Police scanner tells me that the radar traps are on the other side of town today. I don't think there are any cops between you and me. You don't have a radar detector?"

"Those things are illegal."

"That doesn't mean people don't have them."

"I don't have one. I'm going to put the pedal to the metal. I'll be there directly."

A few minutes later, she pulled up behind a nondescript car with government plates. She dialed Ben's number. "Is that you in front of me?"

"Yeah. You scared the bejesus out of the driver the way you came up on us so fast."

"Tell him to relax. I'll stay behind you. I don't want to get a ticket for passing a bunch of cops."

"FBI dude says to tell you he don't fool with traffic violations."

She flipped her middle finger at the driver of the car in front of her. She heard them all laughing as she hung up the phone.

Casey was waiting for them he said, "Geez, Bev, you disappoint me. I thought you could go faster than that."

She grinned at Anderson and said, "I got behind a car that was driving like somebody's granny."

The investigators took protective clothing from the trunk. Casey handed Bev a suit. Anderson said, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Bev replied, "I'm going in with you."

"Like hell you are."

"I was in there the night of the fire. I may be helpful to you and your investigator."

"How is it that you were inside?"

She explained her role on the night of the fire. Anderson glared at Casey and groused not totally under his breath about the inappropriateness of letting an adjuster go inside a burning building. He agreed to let her go inside with them.

Once inside, they circled the outside of the room along much the same path as she had followed with the EMT's on the night of the fire. They stopped for a long time in the corner of the room where the fire apparently started. The FBI investigator took a bunch of samples, and asked Ben and the CSI to share the samples they had collected. They agreed to do so, provided he shared his new samples with them. They spent quite a lot of time digging through the ashes on the floor near the ignition point. The FBI guy pulled out a bunch of tiny glass and a few metal fragments that had not been previously collected.

When they got back to the entrance, Bev asked Tucker, "Where was the unidentified body found?"

He consulted his notes and pointed to the corner of the table closest to the ignition point. He pulled some grisly photos out of his pocket, showing the the body as it was lying before the coroner moved it. The body was turned away from the table as though the person was trying to run away. Bev couldn't tell if the person was male or female. She also couldn't tell if the person had been seated at the table or had been behind the table, in the corner where the fire started. She looked at the body wondering if it were the arsonist or the most badly burned of all his victims.

Anderson asked the guard if the building had been protected without any gaps.

"Yes, sir. Both the front and back entrances have had round-the-clock police protection. We can look at their logs, but to my knowledge, nobody has been in here since Ben's visit."

They bagged the glass and the metal fragments and then made another pass through the room looking for anything else they may have missed. Satisfied that they had collected all the evidence they needed, they went back out toward the street. In the bar, Anderson said, "Is it odd that there is no smoke damage at all here in the bar?"

Tucker said, "That's because there's a fire wall between the dining room and the bar which prevented the fire from spreading to this room. When the kitchen staff opened the back door, the smoke went in that direction, and away from the bar."

Bev said, "That has troubled me all along. One of the fire exits is through the kitchen. How come the opening of the fire exit was the thing that caused the fire to go crazy? Somebody screwed up the fire exits?"

Jackson asked, "Who might that have been?"

Bev shook her head, "I don't know. Who's responsible for designating the fire exits?"

Anderson said, "The fire department."

Bev said softly, "We have a former fire chief who never recommended that any business in town get sprinklers; the current staff of the fire department has recommended sprinklers, but has never failed a fire inspection for any business that didn't install sprinklers. Now, it appears that the kitchen was designated as a fire exit, despite the fact that opening that door acted like a flue, feeding air to the fire. I like Chief Casey, but I'm thinking the local fire department has some skin in this game."

Anderson said, "They have governmental immunity."

"That means that they don't have to kick in any money, but it doesn't mean I can't argue they were partly responsible for the damages and claim an offset. You gonna have a problem with that?"

Anderson shook his head, "No. Especially not when you produce the stuff about the former fire chief telling your company that he didn't think the restaurant needed a sprinkler."

Tucker and the FBI expert were talking with their heads together. After a few minutes they approached Anderson and Bev. The FBI expert said, "We're going to divide up these samples in thirds. One for me. One for Ben. One for the CSI's. After we're done with our analysis, we'll compare results. You okay with that?"

Bev nodded. Anderson shrugged. The scientists huddled. They decided to send all the samples to the Cincinnati crime lab. They would divide them and overnight the samples to Tucker on the west coast and the FBI in Washington.

Bev ran her hands through her hair and yawned. She turned to Anderson and said, "I think we're about done here. I've had a long day and my kid is home by herself. I think I'll pack it in for the night."

Anderson shook her hand and said he'd be in touch. She said good-bye to Tucker and got into her car. She drove home in an exhausted fog. When she pulled into her driveway, she could barely recall how she got there.

Emily was doing homework, with both the TV and the radio blaring. For perhaps the only time in her life, Bev didn't bitch about that. She kissed her daughter good-night and said, "I'm going to bed."

A few minutes later, Emily came into Bev's room and sat on the edge of the bed, brushing back her mother's hair in exactly the same gesture Bev usually used when Emily was troubled. "You okay, Mom?"

"Yes. I'm just tired."

"You didn't even yell at me for doing homework while watching TV and listening to the radio."

"What's your GPA?"

"3.8."

"I guess I don't have a lotta room to bitch. Huh?"

"That's never stopped you before."

"I'm sorry about that."

"This is hard for you, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It's always hard, but this is the first time I've ever handled a claim that involved people I know." She scooted over and Emily crawled in bed beside her mother, putting her head on Bev's shoulder. Bev held her daughter more for her own benefit than the other way around. "What was the buzz at school about the meeting."

Emily chuckled, "Well, it really depended on who you talked to. Some people said that you are dragging your feet to try to keep Mr. Mazzoli out of jail as long as possible, and they are not happy about that. They would have him strung up in front of city hall. Others say that you and Mr. Morehouse are trying very hard to be fair and to help the Mazzolis; people have mixed feelings about that. A couple of people said that Mr. Morehouse was very impressive. Mr. Peters is evidently very sexy and convincing. One kid told me his mom and dad thought you were magnificent."

"Who was that?"

"I don't know. He was a kid I never talked to before. I don't even know his name."

Bev kissed Emily on the top of the head and smoothed her hair back, "I guess that's a mixed bag, but it's not too bad. Please don't take any of this to heart."

Emily sat up and kissed her mom on the cheek. "I'm not the one who's not eating half the time, puking when she does eat, and sleeping more than I've ever known you to do."

"I hear you. You should know that David Jamison may take this claim away from me."

"The sooner the better."

"I want to finish the fire investigation first."

Emily stood up and tucked her mother in. "You like to portray yourself as a hard-assed adjuster whose seen it all, heard it all and are not impressed by any of it. The fact is, Mom, you're a marshmallow."

Bev smiled with her eyes already half closed, "For God's sake, don't tell anybody that!"

Chapter 12

A few days later, Morehouse notified Bev that the first lawsuit had been filed. Peters filed one lawsuit on behalf of more than forty deceased customers. Bev spent the day creating a spreadsheet of victims, categorizing them as employees or customers, alive and dead. She filled in the case information for the ones who had filed suit, and forwarded it by email to Rita Wentzel and Russ McGavin, with the message, "Looks like we're off to the races. We need to discuss litigation counsel."

Rita responded about a half hour later, "The suit was filed in Dayton. I recommend Dominic Pariente. I know he's done a lot of work for your company so he'll satisfy Dave Jamison on the billing guidelines. He has a great litigation team that can handle large, complex litigation. His team includes one lawyer who's a doctor and two paralegals who are nurses. They'll be good with the medical aspects of these cases."

McGavin chimed in, "That's fine with me. Bev, you make the call so he'll know you're in charge."

Bev had never worked directly with Pariente before, but she was familiar with his reputation. She called his office. He was in trial, so she sent his secretary a copy of the complaint as well as the full list of victims so they could run a conflicts check. The woman said, "I'll get right on it, but I gotta warn you with this many parties, the conflicts check could take a couple of days."

"I understand. No sweat. I'm pretty sure I can get an extension anyway."

"Okay. We'll run the check and get back to you. Mr. Pariente's trial is due to wrap up on Thursday. Do you want to go ahead and schedule a call with him for Friday?"

"Yes. I think that's a good idea."

Next she put in a call to Peters. "What are you doing, filing your complaints in batches?"

"Actually, I'm grouping them according to similarity of circumstance. Dead customers came first. Next will be dead employees. After that injured customers. Injured employees will come last because I've got to figure out how to work through the Comp issues. Ohio's workers' comp system is about as bad as I've ever seen."

She laughed, "Yep. It's a total nightmare. About ten years ago, I fell in the lobby of the building. It was winter and snowy. The floor was wet. I submitted it as a comp claim. It was a nightmare. I finally withdrew the claim because it wasn't worth the hassle. I paid the bills out of my pocket.

"I heard a couple more of the people in the hospital died."

"Yeah. I'm waiting for details, but that's my understanding."

"How many people have you signed up."

"I've got sixty-two."

"Out of, what is it, eighty-four."

"Yeah."

"Any chance you'll get the rest of them?"

"I'm working on it. But, I gotta tell you there are a few other lawyers working on it, too."

"That doesn't surprise me. Sharks circle where there's blood."

"You know we'll get along better if you would minimize the editorializing."

"Okay. Anyway, I called to ask for an extension of time to respond to the complaint. For one thing it's gonna take some time for the lawyers to run conflicts checks on all those people."

"I understand. I'll give you an indefinite extension. I'm not ready to proceed yet anyway."

"Will you confirm that in writing or shall I?"

"Sending you an email right now."

"Okay. Also, do me a favor and send me a courtesy copy of your complaints when you file them. I can't accept service on behalf of the insured, but I'd like to have the heads up."

"Sure, no problem. What else would you like me to do for your convenience?"

"You can cut the sarcasm, too."

"Okay. Truce."

They made small talk for a few minutes by way of proving that they could each play nice, and then hung up.

She called Paul and gave him an update. He asked, "What will my role be in the litigation?"

"You are lead counsel. At least you are until and unless we have to go to trial. Our litigation counsel will work in the background and keep the case file. They'll handle the discovery and all that. They will handle the trials if it comes to that. You are Mazzoli's lawyer, so you'll be the spokesperson. By the way, if Peters or any other lawyer asks if you'll accept service, tell them no. They have to serve Mazzoli personally. Tell Mazzoli not to play games with process servers. He should accept whatever they bring him and get it to you immediately."

"Okay. I'm feeling very in-over-my-head."

"Don't sweat it. At least as long as I don't have enough evidence to incriminate Mr. Mazzoli, I've got plenty of lawyers backing you up."

The next few days each brought a new lawsuit from Peters, as well as some demand letters from a few local lawyers. Pariente cleared conflicts and agreed to serve as litigation counsel. He was not happy about the fact that Morehouse was still to be designated as lead counsel, but he understood the reason for having the home-town lawyer be the front man. The turf wars between the lawyers started almost immediately, when Pariente called Morehouse and asked for a copy of his file and also asked him to arrange for space in his office for some of Pariente's team when they would be in town interviewing witnesses. Morehouse didn't appreciate being dictated to, and Pariente didn't like it when people didn't jump instantly when he gave a order. Bev got them both on the phone and gave them strict orders to play nice or she'd find attorneys else who would.

After that, things quieted down for a little while. Bev worked on paperwork and putzed around, but there was little for her to do other than funnel information from Pariente and/or Morehouse to Russ and Rita. Beyond that, there was nothing to do but wait for the next round of reports from the investigators.

Bev took the opportunity to clean her house, get caught up on laundry and stock the freezer with pre-made meals.

Emily said, "You usually do that when you're going to be out of town for a while. What's up?"

"Well, for one thing there's nothing for me to do right now, so it's a good time to get caught up on my housework. For another, once we get the investigation report, it will be like I'm out of town because I'll be really busy."

"So this is the calm before the storm?"

"Yeah. And this isn't just any old storm. This one is going to be the litigation equivalent of a hurricane."

"Yikes!"

The phone rang. Bev picked it up and greeted Frank Rittenhaus. He didn't bother with preliminaries. "I'm on my way to your house. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. I just came across some information which may or may not be material to the claim, but it's not good for your insured."

"I'll be here."

She looked up at Emily and said, "Looks like the first squall is about to arrive. Would you mind making yourself scarce?"

"I'll go clean my room."

"Voluntarily? Please put in a call to 9-1-1. I feel faint."

"Oh, hush, Mom."

Rittenhaus arrived a few minutes later and they went into the den to talk. He didn't waste time on any preliminaries. "Your notes of the meeting indicated that somebody mentioned the fact that they were afraid that Mazzoli was not going to be able to meet the payroll. Those fears were well founded. Mazzoli's finances were in worse shape than we knew. He and his family had stopped taking salaries months ago. They and a few long-time, trusted employees were being paid cash under the table to avoid the payroll taxes."

"Dammit. So even if he isn't guilty of arson-slash-insurance fraud, he's guilty of tax fraud."

"Yes. Where does that leave your claim."

"I'll run it by the lawyers, but I don't think it changes things unless it turns out that he set the fire. For me it adds another huge motive for us to argue away. And this one is bad. It shows that Mazzoli can and will commit a crime to serve his purposes. If he could screw with the IRS, he wouldn't hesitate to try to screw with Midwestern Casualty."

"What do you want from me on this?"

"Send me the raw data for starters. I want to get that to my peeps immediately."

"You can follow it up with a file memo regarding how you found this information and who the potential witnesses may be."

He pulled a manila folder from his briefcase. It was about three quarters of an inch thick. "I'll have Cici scan this. We might have to send it to you in batches."

Bev stood up and said, "I can do better than that. I have a scanner here." She opened a sliding door that looked like a closet, but which revealed a fully tricked out professional workstation with a laser printer, fax and scanner. She scanned the file and handed it back to him, saying "I'll forward you an electronic copy to save Cici the hassle."

He left. Bev sat at her desk staring at the ceiling for several minutes. Eventually she rubbed her face and turned to her computer. She sent an email to Rita and McGavin briefly explaining what she had learned from Rittenhaus and cautioning that she had not yet read the documents. She forwarded the documents as attachments to three encrypted emails. The fourth message said, That's all, folks. I know I have to share this information with the cops. I am waiting until I've had the chance to review them and satisfy myself that Frank's conclusion is correct. That will give you time to review them as well. Maybe we can talk in about an hour.

She called each of them to ask that they attend to her email as soon as they could. She reviewed the first few documents which clearly showed that Mazzoli, his wife and his sister were not receiving regular payroll checks, according to the company's own payroll records. However, they were making irregular deposits to their bank accounts. Those deposits to the bank accounts coincided almost perfectly with "good days" at the restaurant. She didn't bother to read the rest of the documents. That was enough.

Then she went back to the kitchen and put on a pot of soup for dinner.

McGavin called her a little more than an hour later, with Rita Wentzel on the phone. They told her to go ahead and provide the information to the law enforcement agencies that were investigating the crime.

"Have you told Dietz about this?"

McGavin said, "No. Fortunately for us he's on vacation. He'll be back Monday. By then we will have either figured out a way around this, or we'll turn it over to him then."

Bev sent the documents to the FBI and the crime lab in Cincinnati, with a copy to Ed Casey and Paul Morehouse. She immediately dialed Morehouse's number. "If you haven't seen the email I just sent you, go read it right away. Then please call your client and tell him that if he has any more of these little skeletons in his closet he needs to come clean right now. I don't want to get any further down the road and come up with more surprises like this. I'd like confirmation from you that you have had that conversation with him by noon tomorrow."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yep."

She hung up and tried with all her might to put on a cheery face for Emily at dinner.

Paul called her about nine in the evening. "I'm on my way home from my visit to the Mazzoli's."

"I'm guessing that was not a fun visit."

"Not at all. I still believe that they didn't set the fire. I can tell you they were both remorseful over this lapse in judgment..."

"Stop! First of all, tax fraud is not a lapse in judgment, it's a freaking crime. Everybody else in this world may prefer to use euphemisms. I don't play that game. It may have been a serious error in judgment for them to think they could fuck the IRS. It became a crime when they decided to actually try to do it. Mazzoli might as well go ahead and pack his toothbrush. The IRS doesn't take kindly to this."

"You think the FBI will share the information with the IRS?"

"Theoretically Anderson should be on the phone with them now, but fortunately the FBI likes to play cowboy occasionally, so he may delay in the hopes that he can bust Mazzoli for arson and manslaughter before the IRS can prosecute him for violations of the tax code. I think the first one to put a guy in jail gets the bragging rights."

"What are you talking about manslaughter? I thought you were going to prosecute him for insurance fraud."

"My company will seek an indictment for insurance fraud. We will also sue him in civil court for breach of contract. The FBI will go after him for arson if he burned the building and manslaughter due to all the people who are dead. Even if he didn't burn the building which I still don't think he did, I am pretty sure jail time is one option for such flagrant tax fraud. Maybe a good criminal lawyer could get him probation. I recommend that if you don't do criminal work, you find a criminal lawyer to serve as co-counsel."

"You gonna pay for that?"

"Nope."

"Mazzoli has no money."

"Then you better study up on criminal procedures really fast. I won't pay you for specific time spent strictly on defending any criminal prosecutions but for now it'll all come under the heading of investigation and I will pay the bills. Be careful how you describe the work, though, my assistant reviews the bills and my boss is the one who approves them."

She cleared her throat and tried to take on a less strident tone in her voice."By the way, tell him you want his copies of all his personal and business tax records. All of them. Back as far as he has them. I'm going to hire an accountant to go through them. He needs to be able to come up with the money to pay the IRS every nickel he may owe. I don't know where he's going to get money from. Looks like the amount of the immediate fraud is a couple of thousand dollars. Let's go back through his records and make sure there's nothing else. Maybe if he self-reports to the IRS, pays the back taxes plus interest and penalties, we can get this nipped in the bud before the FBI shares what it knows with their brethren."

"I hear you. I'll get on that first thing in the morning."

"Keep me posted."

Bev went to bed early and fell asleep instantly.

The next morning Paul called. "I have Mazzoli's tax records. I haven't gone through them in any detail, but it appears to me that he's always been very careful. Until this year he used an accountant. This year he did his own taxes to save money. I think we may be able to argue to the IRS that it was stupid and wrong, but it was somebody who didn't know what they were doing. I'm meeting with his accountant this morning. We're going to go over the books this year, figure out what he owes and he's going to call a friend of his at the IRS."

"Send me a copy of the records. All of them. Scan it to me and email it."

"Keep me posted."

"Okay. Hey, is this accounting work investigation?"

She paused for a long time. "Put it on your bill as a disbursement for his assistance in gathering documents. I will admit, I can't say for sure that it'll fly, but that's the only way it might."

He laughed. "Do other adjusters counsel attorneys on how to get bills paid."

"At one point in time I'm sure we've all done it. We know better than anyone what a pain in the ass our companies are about paying lawyers. Lawyers don't help their own cases by some of the stupid shit they do in billing. But the worse offenders are large firms that have a lot of employees and overhead expenses. I like to work with small firms. Anyway, get to work." She hung up.

She sat on her bed and fired up her laptop. She'd decided to spend the day working on her second report to the company. That would serve three good purposes: it would score points with McGavin for somebody from claims to turn in a written report without being harassed and hounded for it; it would give Jamison a heart attack for the same reason; and, it would keep her occupied and give her the opportunity to review the details of all the information she had.

When Paul's email came through, she switched gears and forwarded it to Rita and McGavin with an update on what Morehouse and Mazzoli were up to.

McGavin responded asking her what her plans were for the day. She replied that while she was waiting to hear back from the various investigators she was working on a second preliminary written report to him. Rita chimed in with a quip about hell freezing over when an adjuster writes a report without being asked.

The next few days dragged. She called all her investigators to make sure they were giving her case the full attention it deserved. They basically all told her to get off the phone and let them get back to work. On Friday, she asked Emily what her plans were for the weekend. She had none, so Bev suggested they go for a long bike ride on Saturday. Emily added, "Let's pack something and stay overnight someplace."

Bev clapped, "Great idea. You look at the map and figure out a route. I'll get out the packs. You want to camp or stay in a motel?"

"How about a bed and breakfast? You need some pampering and I really don't like sleeping on the ground but I also don't like crummy motels. They always make me feel like I'm gonna get cooties."

"You have someplace in mind."

"Yes. I do. It'll be fun."

"Will it be expensive?"

"Sort of. At least by your standards."

"How did you hear about this place?"

"It's a bed and breakfast and spa out in the country. It's very popular with women. Some of the girls at school have talked about their mom's going there with their girlfriends. They drink wine and get massages and pedicures and what-not. Since you don't have any girlfriends, I'll have to do. We can drink juice and get massages."

Bev grinned. "That sounds like fun. Will we need fancy clothes?"

"That's the cool thing. It's a spa, so you kind of spend the day in a bathrobe. All we'll need is a change of undies and maybe tee shirts to sleep in."

"I'll get the backpacks down."

Bev let everyone know that she was getting away for the weekend. She said she was taking her phone but not her laptop and would appreciate it if they would hold all messages except anything screamingly urgent until Monday.

Saturday dawned bright and clear. It was springtime in Ohio, which generally meant long, dreary, damp days, interspersed with the occasional sunny day with temperatures in the low seventies that seemed to make the grass greener, the flowers brighter and the air smell like perfume. Emily said she thought they could get to the inn in about six hours. Both Bev and Emily knew they'd be bored out of their minds sitting around being pampered, so they decided to take their time with their ride. Emily scheduled massages for 4:00. Emily wanted to get a manicure, but Bev didn't. Emily said, "Why don't you get a haircut, Mom? You've worn your hair the same way as long as I remember. You would look so much better with something less severe."

"You are right. However, I travel a lot. I don't have time to keep regular hair appointments. My hair looks plain and dull, but I can cut it myself. I'll stick with this. I would like to have a facial, however."

Emily made the appointments and they loaded their packs on the backs of their bikes and took off.

About ten miles out, they stopped at a stop sign and sipped water. Emily showed her mom the route on her GPS. She looked at the farmhouse on the other side of the T-shaped intersection. "I have always loved that house. It's so pretty and well maintained. Even the cows on that farm always look happy to me."

When Bev didn't respond, Emily looked at her. Bev blinked away tears and cleared her throat, "That's the farm where your grandfather grew up."

"You're kidding!"

"I think you're right about it being a happy place. At least it's a very happy place for the people whose personalities can tolerate the lifestyle. Your uncles and aunts all generally seemed to be happy and extremely well-adjusted people. Your dad, however, could never fit in there. Unfortunately, there was no middle ground with his family. They expected their kids to buy into the full program. Going off and finding yourself was not an option. Well, actually, going off to find yourself was always an option. Coming home afterwards was the problem."

"They're Amish?"

"No. Mennonite."

"Did you ever meet them?"

"I have met some of the family. Dad went to his father's funeral and I went with him. That was very uncomfortable. None of them spoke to him, but a few of them let me know that they understood and appreciated the respect that he intended to show for his father. His mother died a couple of years ago. Daddy was already dead, but I went to her funeral. They were actually very nice to me."

"Why did Gramps leave?"

"I don't know the whole story. Dad was curious about the world and wanted to explore. He liked jazz music and fiction stories. He wanted to go to college. All of that was not what they had planned for him."

"There are some Mennonites in my school. Do you think some of them might be my cousins."

"It's possible, but I don't know. As I understand it some of the more progressive Mennonites send their kids to public schools. Most of them home school. I was always given to understand that Dad's family was among the most conservative of the old-guard. I'd be surprised if any of them send their kids to school. But, then, the world is changing, even among the Mennonites."

As they rode on Bev noticed that Emily kept turning around looking back toward the house. She asked, "Do you want to meet them?"

Emily thought about it as she rode along. "A part of me does. But, a part of me is scared that it would be worse to meet them and have it be a bad experience."

Bev nodded, "I can't guarantee that I could make it happen, but if you decide you want to meet them, let me know. I'll see if they would be willing to get together."

"I probably wouldn't be very acceptable to them."

"I would recommend that you consider cleaning up your language and dispensing with the black nail polish if we went that route."

Emily laughed, "I guess I would want to not go when I'm in my Goth mood."

"Right. I've noticed that you've moderated your appearance since you've decided to become a cheer-leader."

"Yeah. I guess I'm kind of over Goth. I really did it to get a rise out of you, but it never really worked. I think I look better dressing a little less severely. I certainly get treated better at school."

Bev rode along in silence for a while. She said, "Just for the record, I really, really hated your Goth thing."

"How come you never let me know?"

"I figured it was my problem not yours."

"It's no fun to rebel against a parent who's going to be all freaking reasonable about it."

"Good."

Emily threw back her head and laughed, then she took off on her bike at about three times the speed they had been traveling. Bev didn't even try to keep up with her. She continued to ride along at about 20 miles an hour. About a half hour later she caught up with Emily, who was sitting on a roadside picnic table drinking a bottle of water. Bev stopped for a drink as well. After that, they rode together to the inn, where they allowed themselves to be pampered and coddled. The inn had a very beautiful dining room which they decided would be fun to visit for a dress-up occasion sometime, but they ordered room service because they had brought only bike shorts. The next morning they went for a walk on the grounds and each had a second massage.

As they dressed to leave Bev laughed, "We may have to ride home separately. As relaxed as I am, I know I'm not going to be able to keep up with you. I feel like lolly gagging along and smelling the daisies."

"Fortunately for you, Mom, so do I. Let's leave a little earlier than we had planned and just mosey along."

"You think we can do it?"

"I doubt it. We're usually full-speed-ahead kinda gals. But, hey, this whole weekend is about getting out of our rut. How about we try to keep on slow time for a few more hours."

"Works for me. No sprints on the way home?"

"Not unless I get a cramp in my leg from going too slow."

"Fine."

It took them several hours longer to get home than it took them to get to the inn, but they arrived still rested and relaxed. The other advantage to traveling slowly was that they talked all the way home. It had been years since she and Emily had spent so many concentrated hours together just girl-talking.

They were both ready for bed almost immediately after dinner. Emily went to bed first, and was sitting up in bed reading when Bev stuck her head in to say goodnight. Bev said, "Thanks for suggesting this weekend. I really needed it and I had a blast spending time with you. What do you say when I get this claim headed in the right direction we go on a little trip. Maybe just a long weekend. If you like, we could go to Chicago to visit Mom. She'd love to take us shopping and to the theater."

Emily thought about that for a minute, "A trip sounds great. Really. I don't know about Chicago, though. For one thing Gram and Aunt Paula wear me out. They both talk too much and they talk too loud. It's kind of exhausting. I'll tell you one thing I'd love to do, but it's such an old fart thing even you'll probably laugh."

"What?"

"I'd like to go on the Delta Queen. I'd be bored out of my mind if we spent more than maybe one or two nights, but I did a report on river boating a year or so ago, and then remember when my class took that field trip to the Tall Stacks festival in Cincinnati where they had all the paddle wheel boats? I wanted to go on a ride. The guy who was giving out literature on the Delta Queen said that you can get on and off wherever you want. I thought it would be fun to get on the boat at Maysville, Kentucky and ride to, maybe Louisville. I just can't figure out what we'd do with our car."

"That sounds like fun. We should do it in the fall when the leaves have turned, if that's possible. Let's both do some research on it. What is there to do on the boat? It's not like a cruise ship with pools and entertainment."

"Well, as I understand it, the customers are mostly old people. They have a dining room and I think maybe a theater of some sort. There is music and what not. I think there's a gym. Personally, I think I'd like to pack a big bag of books, spend a little extra for a balcony room and totally veg for a couple of days watching the world go by."

Bev leaned over and kissed her daughter and said, "I'll never tell anybody but you've got all the makings of a really boring adult."

"I know. I think that's why I tried out for cheer-leading. What I really like to do best is sit in my room and read. I thought it would be good for me to get out and be with people and try to be enthusiastic."

"That sounds good in theory. How's it working for you?"

"Frankly, I'm kinda hoping they cut me. Problem is all of a sudden I'm getting much better vibes from the coaches. I think I may make it."

Bev laughed and chewed on her lips.

Emily narrowed her eyes and tried not to grin. "And I will thank you not to make any remarks about the cheerleaders being known as the Whore Corps."

Bev winked and made a zipping motion across her lips. She kissed Emily on the forehead and left the room. Then she stuck her head back in the door, "Actually in my day they were called the Pussy Posse."

Emily threw a pillow at the door, but Bev was gone.

Chapter 13

On Monday morning, Bev logged onto her email and discovered that while she had been exploring the back roads of Ohio, her investigators had been busy. She had receive emails from all of them. She spent most of the day reviewing the investigators notes and fleshing out her written report to the company. By three o'clock she had a 10 page memo containing seven pages summarizing the facts they knew, and three pages of bulleted issues that were still under investigation, with notes regarding her ideas as to what they needed to do to do next and who should undertake those tasks.

She proofed it quickly one last time and sent it to McGavin and Wentzel with an email indicating it was her intention to beat on the investigators for some results during the week. She suggested scheduling a meeting on Friday if that were convenient. Both attorneys responded immediately in the affirmative. Rita added a note to McGavin that she was going to be in Dayton on Thursday; she'd plan on spending the night so she would be available whenever he was free. McGavin didn't even make any remarks about holding down the hotel expense.

All the investigators checked in during the week, but none of them had anything conclusive. Paul reported that Mazzoli and his accountant had scheduled met with the IRS on Tuesday during which Mazzoli paid the back taxes plus interest. The IRS told them they would get back to Mazzoli regarding any penalties or fines. Bev made sure the FBI knew about that. She did not expect, nor did she receive any response from the FBI.

Paul sent her six more lawsuits. One filed by Peters on behalf of about half of the surviving customers, one on behalf of some of the deceased employees and one on behalf of all of the employees who survived with injuries. Several other lawyers surfaced. A couple of them filed suit right away. A couple more sent letters of representation advising that demands would be forthcoming. Bev told Paul to dig up all he could on those lawyers. She forwarded the complaints and letters of representation to Pariente's office for handling. She noticed that Paul had not copied Pariente on his email to her. She decided to force a meeting between the two of them. She couldn't afford for her legal team to get sideways of each other this early in the game.

Tucker reported that the second pass through the building had yielded nothing new for him. Of course, the FBI was not sharing the results of its investigation, but he said the CSI told him they didn't find anything new, either.

On Wednesday she sent an email to both Frank and Cici Rittenhaus advising that she wanted to meet with them on Thursday. Cici responded a few minutes later with a phone call, "Bev, I have a couple of appointments with folks in Cincinnati tomorrow. Dad's going to be in Stanforth in the morning. He has a breakfast appointment with a new source he came up with who might be able to help with some background on the Mystery Waiter. He can see you after that. Would you mind if I just fill you in on where I am over the phone right now."

Bev laughed, "Any day I don't have to drive into Dayton, is a good day. What do you have?"

"Well, the short version is that I'm almost certain that the people who were actually engaged in litigation over their surgeries are not the people we're looking for. The don't fit the profile. They're rich people who let lawyers handle their affairs and they're after money, not vengeance. I decided to focus on other patients who might not have been happy with the results of the surgery but who didn't file a claim, or maybe those who filed claims and were unhappy with the outcome."

"So far, I'm with you. How are you obtaining this information?"

"I have a friend who's a surgical nurse at the hospital where Prescott worked. She's been very cooperative because she basically thinks Prescott was a very substandard surgeon who was also an ass to the hospital staff. She's been willing to feed me names of people to talk to. My other source is actually an employee of Prescott's. I have to admit that she, too, is a someone with an ax to grind, but she's giving me names not evidence, so I'm feeling okay about her, too."

Bev said, "Just a minute, let me get a pen and paper." A few minutes later she put on her headset, picked up the phone and said, "Okay, go."

Cici launched into a long narrative ticking off names and details of surgeries. Prescott seemed to do okay on breast implants and liposuction, but he wasn't very good with facial surgeries. A significant number of patients for whom he did facial surgery ended up having the work redone, most often by a doctor other than Prescott. "One surgical nurse I talked to told me that Prescott's insurance company told him that they were going to exclude coverage for facial surgery at his next renewal. Can they do that? If so, how can we find out?"

"Yes, they absolutely can do that. I'm not sure how we can find that out without a subpoena, but his insurance records will be the first thing we'll subpoena when we get into discovery. I'm not sure that is germane to the issue of the arsonist, but his claims history will of course speak volumes about his surgical skill. Have you discovered anything specific?"

"I'm starting to zero in on some patients who are most likely to have a reason to be spiteful. So far, I've got a model who had a nose job that went really bad and she lost an opportunity for a magazine cover because of it, a rich old lady whose face lift was so bad she had to go to Los Angeles to have it redone at considerable expense and a young woman who had a nose job before her wedding and got a staph infection that caused them to have to remove her nose altogether."

"The staph infection wouldn't be Prescott's fault. Usually that's the hospital's issue."

"I don't know the details yet, but I'm thinking that a young woman who's vain enough to have a nose job so her wedding pictures will look good is not likely to be too happy about ending up with no nose at all."

"You have a point. Have any of these people filed malpractice claims?"

"I don't know. Obviously I don't have access to his insurance files. I'm talking to medical folks at the hospital. My next step is to interview the people directly."

"What reason are you going to give them for your inquiry?"

"I'm working on my cover story. How about something like this: at the request of the insurance company I'm doing research into the outcomes of some of Dr. Prescott's recent surgeries."

"That may be close. Work on it a bit. Be very careful not to misrepresent yourself."

Cici said, "Bev, I know I'm young, but I started working for Dad when I was 14. I've been a licensed PI since I turned 21. He's the best you'll ever find and I've learned a lot from him. I know what I can and can't do. I also know that whatever I do or say will come out in court, and the last thing I want to do is to show myself to a jury as a liar. That'll kill your case -- and torpedo my career, to boot. Neither of those would be good things."

"Sorry. Not all of the PI's I've worked with have your ethical sensibilities."

Bev had to hold the headset away from her ear while Cici laughed, "I just can't imagine PI's without ethical sensibilities!"

Bev changed the subject, "You got anything else? Anything on the mystery waiter."

"I don't but Dad told me he thinks he might be onto something there. He'll let you know in the morning. I will call you tomorrow night when I get back, or Friday at the latest."

"Okay. Talk to you soon."

On a hunch she called the cell number of the investigator in the Cincinnati crime lab. "Tom Jackson."

"Hey, Tom. Bev Deller here. I know this is a little out of the ordinary, but I have a meeting on Friday with the company and a slew of lawyers. I'm wondering if you can share anything at all with me about what you may have found out."

"Bev, you know I can't talk about an ongoing investigation."

"I know that and I am not asking you to give me any specific confidential information. What I want to know is if you have uncovered any evidence that may point to the identity of the person who set the fire, assuming that it was not an accident."

He paused for a long time. She prompted him, "It is getting very close to the time when my company is going to have to either start paying out some serious money or withdraw. If I'm going to accuse my insured of arson and deny coverage, I want to do it before I spend a ton of money defending him. On the other hand, if you have uncovered information that would tend to exonerate the insured, then I will ramp up into full battle mode to defend him for all I'm worth. I don't need specifics. I just need an indication of which way you're leaning."

Jackson still didn't answer for a while. Eventually he said, "Well, you see, there seems to be a slight disagreement on that between my guys and the FBI, if you can imagine such a thing." When he laughed he kind of snorted. "Only this time it's bass-ackwards from the way those things usually go. The FBI has sort of summarily decided that Mazzoli's the arsonist and that's that. Takes it out of their yard. They're busy. I think they are about to close their file. My guys aren't so convinced. In fact my team is divided. I have one investigator who thinks it's an accident; she's got a cool computer model that can make a pretty solid case for this being a totally freak accident.

"Another one has put together a model of the people traffic that I think demonstrates that none of the Mazzoli family -- including Claudia -- was in the right position to set the fire. I clued Tucker in on the information we came up with on Claudia's movements. He's redoing his models. The bottom line is that for her to have set the fire, she'd have had to pass behind the table in back of the patrons. However, they had the table set up in a U-shape and Claudia was serving from the inside of the U. That's probably improper from the standpoint of protocols for serving food, but it was very practical and less intrusive to the customers.

"Is that enough of an indication for you?"

"Oh, yeah. How much of that did you give Ben?"

"Ben and I are best buds. We talk all the time."

"So if you've got all this information and computer models showing the Mazzoli's couldn't have done it and it may even be an accident, on what is the FBI basing its conclusion that Mazzoli's guilty."

"My opinion? I think they're basing it purely on circumstantial evidence with no real investigation. Ramon Anderson's a good guy and a decent cop, but his forte is white collar crime, bank fraud and money laundering. He's really good at that. This is not something he cares to mess with, so he's shoving it aside based on circumstantial evidence."

"Maybe that's good."

"It's very good as long as he closes his investigation as 'inconclusive' as opposed to turning it over to the DA for prosecution."

"When will we know what he's going to do?"

"When the cops arrest Mazzoli."

"Thank you. You've been very helpful. I shall sleep soundly tonight."

"Attending to the peace of mind of insurance adjusters is what I live for."

Next she called Tucker, asking about his new models. He said, "This is good stuff. Of course, it isn't proof positive that Mazzoli wasn't behind the setting of the fire, but it demonstrates that none of the Mazzoli family started the fire."

"How did Jackson come up with the information?"

"Somebody in the crime lab pieced together the statements of all the survivors as to where people were in the room just before the fire. We knew Claudia was on her way from the bar to the kitchen, and if she had passed behind the table she'd have been in the perfect spot at the very moment the fire was set. But, she said that she was in front of the table -- inside the U. Other staff and some customers corroborated that. Evidently they often set up special tables in a U shape off in the corner. Claudia served from the inside of the U."

"Wait a minute! Claudia was inside the U when the fire started. Right?"

"We think so."

"What exactly was she doing?"

She could hear him clicking keys on his computer. "She was serving drinks to Prescott and his wife. Then she picked up a bunch of dishes and headed for the kitchen."

"Prescott was sitting about five feet from where the fire started. Right?"

"Yep."

"Then Claudia may have seen the person who set the fire. She would have been facing in that direction, only a few feet away. Maybe she was focused on chatting up the customers and didn't consciously notice anything, but she may know who was behind the table."

"Let me know what you find out after you talk to her."

"Okay. Good work, Ben. Stay friends with the boys in the crime lab."

"We're working on a TV deal."

She laughed, "Don't quit your day job! Jackson's no Gary Sinese."

"Maybe not, but I look a little like the bald guy on CSI Miami."

Bev laughed, said something rude and hung up.

It was late, but she called Rita Wentzel, who picked up the phone saying, "Hey, Bev. You must have something very interesting to be calling so late."

"Actually, I'm calling with a question to make sure I'm not out of bounds with what I intend to do."

"You're asking for guidance from me?"

"Isn't that what the company hired you for?"

"Yes it is, but they warned me you never ask for advice or listen to instructions when somebody offers them."

"Oh, screw them. I want to interview Claudia Mazzoli again. I think she may have seen the person who set the fire, without even being aware of it. I propose to call Paul Morehouse and ask to take a supplemental statement. I'm willing to have Ed Casey present. I don't want to have to bring in the FBI or the crime lab. Am I okay to do that?"

Rita thought about it for a while. "As long as her attorney and the local law enforcement people are present, I think you're okay. It will be up to Ed Casey to decide what he want to share with the other law enforcement folks."

"You rock!"

"That's something I don't often hear from adjusters."

"It's true today, anyway. Tomorrow I may feel differently. I'll see you on Friday."

She sent an email to Morehouse and Casey requesting Paul to set up an interview with Claudia as soon as it could be arranged.

Then she spend a couple of hours working on the preliminary outline of her third detailed report to the company and a bulleted list of the items she wanted to cover in her meeting with McGavin and Wentzel on Friday. About eleven, Emily knocked on the door and peeked in, "I just wanted to say goodnight, Mom."

"Good-night, sweetheart. I'm sorry I was so busy tonight I didn't even have time to visit with you. Anything up with you I should know about?"

"It's no problem, Mom. Usually you're out of town and I don't get to see you at all. Did you eat dinner."

"Um. No. I forgot."

Emily pursed her lips and drew her brows together in a comical effort to look stern, "Mom!"

"I'll eat a big breakfast."

"I do have a couple of bits of news. For one thing, Mom, is there any way you can make some kind of decision on this fire? You're not out there talking to the people but I'm telling you, it's getting really ugly. About half the town is ready to lynch Mr. Mazzoli for being a moocher, an arsonist and a murderer. The other half is ready to march on the department of insurance and raise hell about the big, bad insurance company jerking around its insured and all the poor claimants who aren't getting any money. I gotta tell you, it's hard to take."

"Do you want to take some time off school? I am sure I could work that out with the principal. I don't want you to have to be the brunt of any of that bullshit and I most especially don't want you to feel as though you are in any personal danger. Has anybody threatened you?"

"No. Of course not. Would they do that?"

"I sincerely hope not, but this kind of thing brings out the crazy in people. I've received several threats. So far I haven't told anybody about that because I know as soon as I do the company will make me give that information to the cops and then I'll have to have a body-guard and maybe even go stay in a hotel. If you want to take some time off, that can be arranged. How about going to stay with your dad until this blows over?"

"No! I don't want to go to Dad's. Let me think about taking some time off. I hadn't thought about that. I wouldn't mind hiding in the house.

"Do you get threats often?"

Bev made a face and shrugged. "Sometimes. Usually when there's a big fire in a small community and people die.

"What's your other piece of news."

"I made the squad."

Bev jumped out of bed and hugged her daughter. "Congratulations."

"You mean that?"

"Yes, I do. It's something you wanted, and you worked hard for it. Good job."

Emily smiled. "I love how you can appear to be so genuinely happy about something you think is so stupid."

"You know I don't care one way or the other about the cheer leading squad. I am happy to see you set goals and achieve them. I'm proud of you. Go to bed. You want me to take you to school tomorrow and talk to the principal?"

"No. I have a really good relationship with my English teacher. I think I'd like to run the idea by him and see what he thinks. I don't want to be a chicken and I don't want it to look like we feel guilty about something. I think that could be bad for both of us. Let me talk to Mr. Simonton. You and I can talk again tomorrow night."

"Okay. Goodnight." She kissed her daughter and patted her butt.

Chapter 14

Paul called early in the day to tell Bev that he'd arranged for her to talk to Claudia Mazzoli in the early afternoon. She asked if she could use his conference room for a meeting with Rittenhaus. He agreed, and added, "I have kind of committed the conference room to Pariente's team for the long haul, but I actually have a very small office I don't use. There's a desk and a guest chair. It's not hooked up for Internet use, but I'd be glad to let you use it as your temporary office instead of having to work out of your house."

"That is very kind of you. I may take you up on that. I'm not thrilled about meeting with the investigators at my house, especially not when Emily is home."

"I understand."

"Speaking of which. Have the Mazzoli's received any threats?"

"Not that they've mentioned to me. Do you know something?"

"Only that Emily tells me it's getting very ugly out there."

"Have you received threats?"

"A couple that I'm not taking seriously."

"You should never discount a threat."

"I know. It is something you should discuss with the Mazzoli's. If we need to get them out of town, let's do it."

"What about your daughter."

"We're considering options. I think she's inclined to want to tough it out."

"She takes after her mother."

"You mean a stubborn bitch?"

"No. I mean a woman of amazing strength."

Bev ignored that. "I'm meeting Rittenhaus at 10:00. I'll be there by 9:30."

"Sounds good. I'll give you a set of keys. Feel free to use the space whenever you need it."

When Bev arrived, Paul showed her to the office which was little bigger than a closet, tucked away at the end of the hall next to the bathroom. "It's not the Oval Office, but it's yours whenever you need it."

Bev put her laptop on the desk and said, "I'm in business!"

"You need me to get the cable people to hook you up for access?"

"No. I have wireless access through my cell phone service."

"Cool."

"Oh you have no idea!"

She worked at the desk until Rittenhaus arrived. They met in the conference room, and he filled her in on what he had learned about the staff who were on duty the night of the fire. There were a couple of them who disliked Sonderland for various reasons, mostly having to do with car problems. She already knew about the bartender. None of the locals seemed to have any connection with Prescott or anyone in his party.

Bev said, "We're back to the mystery waiter. Who is he?"

Rittenhaus said, "As I understand it, there's still one unidentified body. Until recently I thought that the unidentified body must be him."

"What the hell is the problem with identifying that body?"

"As I understand it, the body was the person sitting closest to where the fire started. Based on the seating chart and the family's headcount, we believe it was Sonderland's daughter, the groom's sister. The lab has not definitively identified the body because it was so badly burned there's little to work with."

"Wait a minute. I thought the unidentified body was probably the mystery waiter."

"That's what we all thought until we realized that Sonderland's family all says that Donna Sonderland was sitting where that body was found. Donna Sonderland has not been identified as a victim, but she didn't make it out of that building. The family is adamant the only unidentified body is hers. I will tell you that the Sonderland's attorney is raising holy hell over the fact that they can't get a death certificate so they can add her to their lawsuit."

"Are you telling me that the mystery waiter got out alive?"

"So it would appear."

"Who is he?"

"Don't know."

Bev studied her notes and bounced her pencil on the table. She looked at Paul. "Do you have the original personnel files from the restaurant?"

"Yes. I had Ron give me all his original files for safekeeping. I had them scanned and provided copies to the cops and to your investigator."

She looked at Rittenhaus, "What's the chance of finding a fingerprint on the pages of his personnel file?"

"It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. So many people may have handled those pages."

Bev shook her head, refusing to take no for an answer. "Who did the scanning?"

"The print shop next door."

"Okay. Get the prints of the person who did the scanning. We can eliminate that person. The only other prints in the file should be whichever Mazzoli hired the guy and his." She looked at Paul, "Have the Mazzoli's been finger printed?"

"Yes. The cops took their fingerprints early on." Paul nodded and said, "I think it's worth a shot to try to get prints. I'll see the print shop people later today. You want to give the original to Casey when he's here this afternoon?"

"Yeah."

Paul left the room. Bev looked at Rittenhaus and asked, "What's your gut telling you?"

"My gut is telling me that your insured definitely did not set that fire. I think that the person who identified himself as Ryan Denworth did it. Unfortunately, my gut has no idea who the hell he is or why he might have done it."

"Find him. Preferably before the cops do."

"Yes, ma'am. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to meet with my people tomorrow and tell them that I have at least enough evidence to confuse the issue of causation. I have good evidence that no one in the Mazzoli family actually set the fire. I'm going to recommend we proceed as though this is a covered loss."

"How long will it be between then and when you tender your limits and walk away?"

Bev didn't answer for a long time, rolling her pencil back and forth between her palm and the table. She looked up at him and said, very quietly, "Not very long."

He inclined his head to one side, "Long enough for us to find the guy who set the fire in order to have someone for the claimants to go after other than Mazzoli?"

"Only if you move very fast."

"I guess I know what I have to do, then."

"Make some friends in law enforcement and find the guy that did this."

Bev and Paul ordered sandwiches for lunch, delivered from the deli across the street. Casey arrived while they were still eating. Bev shared her sandwich with him. Ron and Claudia Mazzoli arrived a few minutes before 1:00 PM. At first Bev wanted to talk to Claudia alone, but that scared Claudia. Bev needed Claudia to be calm, so she agreed to let Ron stay in the room during the interview. Bev said, "Okay, I'm going to take you through the last few minutes before the fire started. I know it will be hard. As I understand it, you delivered drinks from the bar to the wedding party. Tell me everything you remember from the time you left the bar until you got into the kitchen."

Claudia closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Her hands were lying on the table in front of her; they trembled but she laced her fingers together and held on tight. Ron put his hand over hers. She started speaking slowly, "When I left the bar, I was laughing because the bartender made a crack about how I should dump a drink on Mr. Sonderland because he was such an ass. That conversation started because I had complained about how drunk and rude Mr. Sonderland was that night (he was a regular customer, and that behavior was not unusual for him). I came into the dining room from the service door behind the bar. I was carrying a tray with drinks. Dr. Prescott and his wife were drinking pretty heavily, too. I was waiting on the Prescott side of the table. Ryan Denworth was waiting on the other side of the table, where the Sonderlands were sitting.

"I put down the drinks in front of Dr. Prescott, Mrs. Prescott and their daughter."

Bev asked, "What were they drinking?"

"The parents were drinking bourbon. The bride was drinking white wine."

"Did you have any other drinks on the tray?"

"I had two glasses of bourbon and a bottle of wine. I dropped off the drinks to the Prescott's and then filled their daughter's glass. I topped off a few other wine glasses, until the bottle was empty. There were a bunch of dishes on the table, so I picked them up and headed for the kitchen."

Bev asked, "Was anybody else waiting on the wedding party besides yourself and Denworth?"

"No."

Paul and Ed Casey both leaned forward, knowing what Bev's next question was going to be. She swallowed and asked, "Where was Denworth when you were serving the drinks?"

"I don't remember."

"Think. Close your eyes. Go through it again. You came out of the bar. You delivered bourbons to the Prescotts and poured wine for their daughter. Who else did you serve? What was Denworth doing?"

Claudia closed her eyes and was quiet for a long time, "I poured wine for Miss Prescott, then I poured wine for a couple of the bridesmaids. I noticed there were a bunch of plates on the Sonderland side of the table. That kind of made me mad because Ryan was supposed to be handling that side of the table. I started picking up the plates." She squeezed her eyes closed and scrunched up her brow as though it would help her inner vision. "Wait a minute! I picked up the dishes and looked around to see where he was. He was serving a tray of drinks to Mr. Sonderland and his immediate family. They were drinking very heavily and Mr. Sonderland was always a very demanding customer. I sort of calmed down about the plates when I realized they were probably keeping Ryan running back and forth to the bar. Then I went into the kitchen."

Bev leaned forward and laid her hands flat on the table, keeping her voice as soft and even as she could make it, "Where was Ryan standing as he served those drinks?"

"He was in back of the table. There wasn't much room between the seats and the wall back in that corner, so I usually served from the inside of the U of the tables. Ryan was serving in the correct manner, from behind the people."

Bev was glad that Claudia's eyes were still closed. She closed her own to calm herself, "Do you remember where he was and who he was serving?"

"He was back in the corner. He was serving drinks to Mr. and Mrs. Sonderland."

"What were they drinking?"

"I don't know."

"Close your eyes again and see if you can remember what was on the tray he was holding."

Claudia closed her eyes and was quiet for a long time. Everybody else in the room was holding their breath. "There were several glasses of beer. A wine bottle. A couple of other glasses."

"Where was he just before you turned away from the table?"

"In the corner serving Mr. Sonderland's daughter."

"What was she drinking?"

"White wine, I think."

"Can you remember exactly what he was doing?"

"He was leaning forward pouring wine. He was smiling and talking to her."

"What was she doing?"

"I don't know. His arm was kind of in front of her face."

"Then what did he do?"

"He finished pouring the wine and turned around. I think the bottle was empty. Yes, he turned around and I had the impression he was going to go back to the bar. I think he must have turned in that direction."

"Which direction?"

"Back towards the corner to go around the table to the bar."

"What was he doing the last thing before you turned to go to the kitchen."

"He had his back to me walking toward the corner."

"Did he have anything in his hands?"

"I assume the tray and the empty wine bottle, but his hands were in front of him."

"Where was he?"

"In the corner." Her eyes flew open in horror and gasped. "He was in the corner where you said the fire started."

Bev didn't follow up on that. She shifted in her chair and asked in an almost conversational tone, "Do you know if Ryan Denworth was a smoker?"

"Yes. He and I had just been outside for a smoke break a few minutes before."

"What kind of a lighter did he use?"

"He used matches, but he was out. I gave him my .... Oh, my God in heaven. I gave him my cigarette lighter."

She put her head down on the table and sobbed. Ron put his arms around her and looked up at Bev, asking, "Can we go home?"

"Yes, and thank you for your cooperation."

Nobody said anything as the Mazzolis left the room. Claudia continued to cry and Ron talked softly to her. After they were gone, Paul looked at Bev and said, "Jesus, Bev, you should have been a lawyer."

Casey added, "Or a cop!"

Bev's hands were shaking. "Did anybody record that?"

Casey said. "I did."

"Play it back. I want to transcribe it."

Casey played the tape and Bev typed, occasionally requesting him to back up the recording. In less time than anyone would have expected, she had the transcript done. She printed three copies and they all read through it together, looking for typos and checking to make sure she had understood everything correctly. Casey said to Paul, "And she can type!"

Paul winked, "But can she cook?"

Casey said, "Actually she's an excellent cook."

"The perfect woman."

Bev stuck her tongue out at him, "Unfortunately for you, Counselor, I am not a cougar. You are way too young for me."

Paul winked at Casey and said, "I defer to your age and wisdom."

Bev snorted, "Shut up. Both of you."

She stared at Casey for a long time. He held up his hands in a stop sign and said, "You know I know this very important information and I am obligated to share it with the FBI and with the crime lab folks, but I have a very busy schedule today. I'm thinking that I want to give this to my law enforcement buddies in person. I will drive down to Cincinnati tomorrow and pass it along."

Bev stood up and said, "Well, since you have such a busy schedule, we will leave you to your work. I have some correspondence to attend to and a meeting to prepare for. If you gentlemen will excuse me." She whirled around at the door and snapped her fingers. "Paul, don't forget to give that personnel file to Ed." She looked at Ed and said, "Denworth's original personnel file. For fingerprinting."

Casey grinned and gave her the thumbs up.

She went into her cubby-hole/office and sent an email to Rita Wentzel and Russ McGavin:

Attached is a transcript of a supplemental statement we just took from Claudia Mazzoli today. I will fill in some details on our investigation tomorrow, but I wanted to get this in your hands soonest. Ed Casey is providing this and "Denworth's" original personnel file (for fingerprinting) to the FBI et al tomorrow.

It appears Denworth survived the fire. The one remaining unidentified body that we thought was the mystery waiter is now believed to be Sonderland's daughter -- she was sitting closest to the ignition point. We have no other unidentified bodies. Denworth must have made it out of the building.

On top of all our other problems we now have a manhunt on our hands.

See you tomorrow.

Next she phoned Rittenhaus and filled him in one the high spots. He said, "Okay so we know now who set the fire. We just have to find out why."

"We also don't know where he is or his actual identity. That's kind of a problem. I'm sending the original personnel file to the crime lab for prints. If you have any friends in that department I suggest you reach out to them."

"Sucking up to the crime lab boys is Cici's department. They're all hot for her."

"Tell her to wear her tightest sweater the next time she visits."

"I will not!" He laughed, "I will suggest that she make some friendly calls in a day or so."

Bev left for home about 3:30 and pulled in the driveway as Emily arrived from the bus stop. She said, "Where have you been, Mom? I've been calling the house for hours."

"I have been at Paul Morehouse's office. Actually he has provided me with office space. I'll probably work from there quite a bit. Beats working from my bedroom."

"That's cool. You want to go for a walk before I start my homework?"

"Yeah. Let's do that."

They walked and talked for an hour or so. When they got home, they ate an early dinner. Emily went into her room to work on homework and Bev went into her room to prepare for her meeting the next day.

Somewhat to Bev's surprise, the meeting did not last long. McGavin and Wentzel both agreed that they had enough evidence to proceed with defending Mazzoli. Bev said, "We can't just tender limits and walk."

McGavin leaned forward and said, "Why not?"

"Two reasons. One, the FBI could still turn the matter over for prosecution. If we tender limits and then it turns out that Mazzoli is guilty of arson, we will have paid a million dollars of the company's money unnecessarily. I don't want to have to explain that to upper management, and I doubt you do either. I think we have to hold open the possibility that this could still be fraud.

"Second, I believe we owe it to our insured to hang in there long enough to find out why the waiter set the fire. Maybe we can point the claimants at some other source of money besides Mazzoli."

Wentzel closed one eye and tilted her head. "You mean like some rich patient of Prescott's?"

"If that's who is responsible for setting the fire."

McGavin nodded. "I understand, and you're probably right. How many lawyers are involved at this point."

Bev pushed printout of a spreadsheet towards each of the lawyers. "That's a list of the people who were in the building the night of the fire showing their status and their representation."

Wentzel studied the list and said, "Peters has about 60% of them. A few local lawyers, a couple of whom I can tell you will give us trouble. There are still a dozen or so unrepresented claimants. Negotiating a settlement is going to be tough, particularly in view of the fact that there are some survivors who are going to have horrendous medical bills."

McGavin asked Wentzel if her damages experts had returned any figures. She nodded and said, "You're not going to like it."

"How bad is it."

"Looks like the total amount of the potential claim could be somewhere in the neighborhood of $27 million."

"We have $1.9 million to work with."

Bev added, "Or $4.5 if the insured throws in the money for the building."

McGavin said, "Bev, you're a good negotiator, but I don't think even you can pull this off."

Wentzel said, "I actually think that if Peters was the only attorney we had to deal with, we might have a chance. The fact that there are unrepresented claimants and a few local lawyers who will want to use this as their springboard into the big time may be an impediment."

McGavin asked Bev what her course of action was. She told him that Frank Rittenhaus was looking for "Denworth", Casey was going to the FBI with the information about the waiter and turning over the original personnel file for prints and Cici was still digging into Prescott's patients.

Wentzel asked, "You got any likely candidates?"

"Actually, there are several. Prescott was evidently not exactly Michaelangelo with a scalpel. Cici Rittenhaus has done a great job of getting information. Prescott was apparently a second or third tier surgeon. He left unhappy patients in his wake whenever he cut on somebody's face. He has had several malpractice claims and there are two pending lawsuits right now. Rumor is that his malpractice carrier had informed him of its intention to exclude facial surgery at his next renewal."

Wentzel looked confused, "What?"

Bev explained, "Evidently he did okay on boob jobs and tummy tucks, but had a problem with face lifts and nose jobs."

McGavin shook his head and said, "The most likely kind of thing to make a person go crazy."

"That's my thought, but then I'm not the kind of person who would even consider plastic surgery, so I don't get the mind set of those people."

Wentzel said, "Okay, I think what we need to do right now is to continue our investigation, focusing on cooperating with law enforcement in trying to find Denworth. Bev, you make nice with Peters and the lawyers and start gathering damages information. I'll work with my experts to see if we can come up with some kind of miracle, Does the insured have any other sources of money?"

Bev shook her head, "No. He's tapped all his resources. Owes money to everybody in town and Claudia's relatives in Cleveland."

McGavin asked, "What are the chances the local claimants might give him a break?"

Bev made a face and shook her head, "Maybe a few would do that if there weren't outsiders involved, but now that there are lawyers involved and the Prescott family is going to ask for the moon. I think the locals will be in there rooting at the trough just as vigorously as the rest of them."

McGavin sighed. "Okay, then. I guess we're done. Good work, Bev."

She laughed, "Thanks, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. In a way, I'm a bit afraid our troubles are just starting."

Chapter 15

Before leaving Dayton, Bev called Cici Rittenhaus and asked if she had time for lunch. Cici said she had just put in an order for Chinese food and could add another lunch if Bev were interested. Bev asked for kung pao chicken and said she'd be there in twenty minutes. Bev arrived at the PI's office at the same time as the delivery person. She paid for the lunches in the parking lot and walked into the office holding out the sack, "Lunch has arrived!"

Frank was passing through the foyer and said, "Wow, a full service adjuster!"

They ate in the conference room, making small talk. Bev hated to talk business while eating. When they had finished eating, Cici cleared the table and left the room for a minute. She came back with coffee and a "talking points" list. Bev watched her without saying anything for a few minutes, then she cocked her head to one side and said, "Why do I have the feeling you've got something."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I have some information on some of Prescott's patients, but in a way it almost confuses the issue more than ever. We know about the two lawsuits. There were also several claims that were settled by his insurance company. I don't know how much they settled for. I do know the settlement amounts left a bad taste in everybody's mouth. Prescott was pissed because the carrier paid the claims; the claimants were unhappy with the amount of the settlements. As I said, I have been told – but I haven't been able to verify it – that his malpractice carrier recently notified him that it would no longer insure him for facial surgery. He could still do boobs and liposuction, etc., but no face lifts or nose jobs. I think that may have been a compromise after the company's initial threat to non-renew the policy."

Bev nodded and made a note to follow up with Casey on whether or not the cops had verified that.

Cici continued, "Prescott has quite a collection of unhappy patients and evidently his practice was suffering from the bad buzz. I think that is not necessarily related to the fire, but it's certainly an interesting point. Prescott may have had some financial problems. Maybe he owed somebody money. I'm looking into that.

"Looking at his list of unhappy patients who had not made any claims or filed any lawsuits, I came up with two interesting cases. One is a model for whom Prescott did an eye job. She's oriental and she wanted her eyes to look a little more round. Prescott botched the job and she ended up looking a little pop-eyed. Needless to say, her career suffered as a result. She now does hand modeling and other photo modeling that show parts of her body other than her face. She consulted an attorney but has not filed anything, nor has she even made a demand to the insurance company. The reason I mention her is because her family has some interesting contacts with Chinese people on the west coast. I haven't dug into it very deeply yet, but if she were interested in going after Prescott outside the insurance/legal arena, I think her family might have the contacts to do it.

"The other interesting case that has not progressed in the way I would have expected is the daughter of a prominent obstetrician. She went to Prescott for a nose-job, against her father's wishes. Prescott not only botched the nose, but she ended up with an infection that required lengthy treatment before she could even have surgery to correct the original mess. Her parents sent her to LA for treatment by one of the plastic-surgeons-to-the-stars. That course of treatment took more than a year, and they say her nose still isn't quite right. As far as I can tell, they have not consulted an attorney or contacted Prescott's malpractice carrier. That seems odd to me. They would not be the kind of people who would ordinarily let such a thing go without at least seeking payment for the medical bills."

Bev and Frank both nodded. Frank leaned forward, "Any indication that Daddy has any friends in low places?"

Cici shook her head and doodled on her paper, "Haven't got that far yet, but evidently the mother was heard to say, while slightly tipsy at a charity luncheon, that she would see Prescott in hell for what he did to her daughter. She evidently told someone that she wasn't interested in money. She had plenty of money and insurance to pay for her daughter's bills. She wanted revenge."

Bev tapped her pencil eraser on the table and scrunched her nose, "That might bear looking into a little, but I'm guessing that tipsy doctor's wives make all kinds of outrageous statements at charity functions."

Cici nodded, "I know they do. I've done enough marital investigations to know that you do not want to even know the kinds of things rich people threaten to do, especially when there's alcohol involved. Anyway, I'm going to dig a little deeper."

Bev made some notes, "Here's the thing: even if it turns out that none of Prescott's patients is behind this fire, by raising that issue and casting some questions as to Prescott's character and potential involvement, we can maybe buy some time to find out who really set this fire. For now, let's just keep stirring the pot."

Cici nodded. Bev asked, "You got anything from the cops?"

Cici shook her head and made a disgusted gesture with her hand, "Nada. They're playing this one very close to the chest. The local crime lab guys, who are usually very cooperative with me, are intimidated by the FBI and the insurance company both breathing down their necks. They've clammed up completely."

Bev made another note. "I'll see if Ed Casey will have better luck."

Frank said, "I'm done with my part. Later this week, I will send you a report with a brief profile of each of the people who was in the building the night of the fire. You didn't ask for that, but while I was investigating, I compiled all that information. You're going to need it for settlement and/or trial purposes anyway, so I will provide you what I know."

"Good. My coverage counsel is working with some forensic bean counters to try to conjure up some kind of settlement that might stick. They'll like that. Now, I want you to focus totally on finding Denworth. I want to know everything about him. Most importantly, I want to know where he is."

They stood up and shook hands all around.

While driving home, Bev called Emily. "Hey, there. What are you up to?"

"Doing homework."

"Homework? Immediately after school. Excuse me, do I know you. May I please talk to Emily?"

"Very funny, Mom. Actually, I'm trying to get better about doing my homework right after school because I'm going to have so many evenings when I'll have practice or games or whatnot. I'm starting to get worried that I've bitten off more than I can chew here."

Bev laughed, "I feel that way most of the time! Since you're cheerleader and you need to stay in shape and since I feel like a slug from sitting on my butt in meetings and in the car all day, I was wondering if you have time for a bike ride when I get home before dinner."

"Sounds good. When will you be home?"

"Forty-five minutes. It'll take me a few minutes to change. Can you make a decent dent in your homework in an hour? Do you have practice tonight?"

"Actually, I'm almost finished with the homework. I want to start studying for my midterms in a couple of weeks. I'm already stressing about the chemistry exam. I'll be ready for a break in an hour. I have practice at 7:00, which should give us a couple of hours to ride. Instead of a regular dinner, I think I'll have a power bar and some milk. I'll eat some carbs later when I get home."

"Carbs as in rice or pasta as opposed to french fries or chips?"

"Yes, ma'am. With all the exercise I'm getting, I'm going to concentrate on my diet. I know it pisses you off – and everybody else I know – but you know I'm one of those people who has trouble keeping my weight up. I'm going to be careful to eat well so I can built muscle and not lose weight."

"I hate you."

"You and everybody else. All the other girls on the squad are dieting and obsessing over the size of their butts. I'm eating like a horse."

"You know that you have to eat protein to build muscle and you have to eat carbs for energy. All that crash dieting is bullshit."

"I know. I also know that we are the only people of any of my friends who consult with a nutritionist."

"Becca is my friend, but she is also a great resource."

"Beats getting your diet information from teen magazines."

"I shudder to think what kind of advice you get from those magazines."

"Basically as I understand it, the message is that you should eat nothing, wear skimpy clothes, put on makeup with a putty knife and be as sexy as possible to attract boys."

"Spare me the details."

"Trust me, I don't waste my time on that crap. I'll be ready when you get home."

Bev turned off her phone and turned up the music in the car, enjoying the ride home through the serene western Ohio countryside, which was just beginning to show the first indications of the glorious fall that was to come. The trees were beginning to turn yellow and bronze. In about three weeks, they would be at the peak of their color. She made a note to see if Emily would have time to do another weekend bike ride at the end of the month.

Emily was ready when she got home. Bev changed quickly and they rode hard for an hour, concentrating on keeping up a fast pace. For the first time, Bev found herself struggling a little to keep up with Emily; Bev had always been the stronger rider. She rather liked Emily's new focus on health and fitness. It would be a good habit for her to get into. It would also push Bev to work harder. On the way home, they slowed down and rode side-by-side. Emily chatted about school and the cheer leaders. Bev was amused to notice that Emily was actually quite objective on the subject of the cheerleaders. She did not seem to be overly impressed with any of the girls on the squad, and in fact seemed to dislike most of them.

Bev listened and finally interrupted Emily, "I'm sorry to ask this, but I'm curious. Why did you go out for the squad? You're not really the type. You don't seem to be on board with the program or even particularly like the girls? What's up with that?"

Emily thought about it for a while, "Well it was kind of something that started as a sort of joke, and then got out of hand. When I decided to move out of my Goth mode and start looking like a normal kid, I thought it would be a good idea to get involved in some activities at school. You know I always loved gymnastics, but I quit when I hit puberty and grew six inches in one year. I'm too tall for competitive gymnastics, so I gave it up. I was watching the cheerleaders practice one day and realized that a lot of what they do are really cool gymnastics mixed with some dance stuff that I thought might be fun. I actually went to the tryouts mainly to learn the routines. I never expected to make the squad. My Goth and nerd friends are all aghast at the very idea, but they all think it's joke.

"As it turns out, I've decided it's not a joke. Yeah, I'm not too crazy about most of the girls on the squad. They're silly and giggly and they do all the things that give teen-aged girls the bad reputation we have. They are also catty, mean and backstabbing bitches at times. I'm trying to steer a careful course that is friendly without being too familiar, if you know what I mean. But, I'm going to stick with it for a couple of reasons. First of all, the routines are just too much fun! I love doing the jumps and the dance routines. I think it might be fun to enjoy football games from the sidelines instead of the stands. I'm having a ball with that part of it.

"The second reason is one of the assistant coaches. The main coach is the PE teacher. She's really a good choreographer and she's a good dance teacher. I'm learning a lot from her. The assistant is a lady with an interesting story. She was a cheerleader in high school and in college. She owned a studio where she taught dance and cheer. I think she even had some squads that competed nationally. Now, her kids are grown. She sold the business and she retired. After a few years of playing with her grandchildren and putzing around the house, she came back and started working with Ms. Price on training the squad. She's a great gymnastics teacher. She's also a really nice lady who's very inspiring and encouraging. She kind of picked me and a couple of other kids for special help. It paid off. All three of us made the squad. I like her. I think she'll be one of those teachers I'll keep in touch with."

Bev cleared her throat and smiled, keeping her eyes on the road, "You are so lucky to have found a teacher/coach who inspires you. They are rare indeed these days."

"Yeah. I know. Most of my teachers are ... well, the less said about them the better. Anyway, are you okay with me doing this?"

Bev made a face and nodded, "I didn't like the idea at first. I came away from high school with a bad taste in my mouth about cheerleaders and the rah-rah school-spirit girls in general. In the olden days, cheerleaders were not really athletes; they were just a bunch of snobby girls who went out on Friday nights to shake their booties in front of boys. It was kind of disgusting. As a book-nerd, social outcast, I was not impressed. These days, however, the cheer squads are actually made up of athletes who contribute something to the entertainment and excitement of the football games. I'm okay with that. I like the fact that you're getting such great exercise and I can tell you're getting stronger already. I just don't want you to get caught up in it too much."

"I don't think you need to worry about that. Having spent the last two years as a social outcast with the Goths and computer nerds, I'm not likely to become Homecoming Queen any time soon."

Bev laughed, "You never know!"

As they rode by Bev's dad's family farm, a truck turned into the driveway and stopped. An old man got out and walked to the mailbox. He tipped his hat at Bev and Emily, then he did a double-take and put out his hand in a gesture asking them to stop. Bev pulled over to the side of the road and stopped, saying, "Hank?"

He nodded, standing awkwardly with the mail in his hand. Bev realized that their biking attire was not something he would have considered appropriate. He said, "You're Beverly, aren't you?"

"Yes. This is my daughter, Emily." She turned to Emily saying, "This is my dad's younger brother, Henry. Dad called him Hank."

Emily said she was pleased to meet him and called him "Uncle Hank." He seemed both pleased and embarrassed by that familiarity.

There were a few more awkward moments. Hank filled Bev in on the family. He didn't ask about her life. After a few minutes, Bev put her foot back on the peddle and prepared to resume her ride. He stepped towards her and said, "It's probably kind of forward of me to say this, but I want you to know that we have been very interested in how you are have been handling this fire investigation." He laughed and made a silly face, "We had a barn fire a few years ago and the insurance company gave us a really hard time and never actually paid the whole claim. Left a bad taste in everybody's mouth about insurance companies." He shook his head, and went on, "I know Ron Mazzoli. I never ate in his restaurant, but we used to buy Claudia's homemade Italian sausage and Claudia sometimes asked Betty to bake special cakes for anniversaries and birthdays at the restaurant. The Mazzolis are good people who are down on their luck. I'm glad you are treating them fairly."

Bev smiled and said, "I agree with you. I think they're nice people. I'm doing my best to be fair to everybody."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled at her with her father's robin's-egg blue eyes with the crinkly smile lines at the outer corners. "Just thought you should know that it's been noticed."

"Thanks." That was all she could say around the lump in her throat. Looking into her uncle's eyes was comforting, but it kicked up a wave of grief for her father that almost overwhelmed her. They rode away, waving back at him. He stood by the mailbox watching them.

After they were well out of ear-shot, Emily asked, "Was that weird, or what?"

Bev replied, "That was too strange to even try to figure out right now."

"I didn't think any of that family had anything to do with you."

"They never have. Who knows? Maybe the old generation that was so angry with my dad is all gone now. Maybe the bitterness has abated a little in the last sixty years. Then again, maybe that was not so much about me as a family member but about Uncle Hank supporting his friend, Mr. Mazzoli. Either way, I thought it was very nice of him."

"He looks like Grandpa."

"So much that it was hard for me to look him in the eye." Bev cleared her throat and picked up the pace to a speed that prevented further conversation.

When they got home, Emily changed for practice. Bev dropped her at the school, stopped by the grocery store for some odds and ends, and tried to ignore the looks from some of the other customers and employees that ranged from the impatiently curious to openly hostile.

The next day Bev went to Morehouse's office and attended to her email for a while. Ben Tucker reported that the cops were no closer to finding Denworth than Bev was. He did say that she soon could expect a formal identification of the last body as Donna Sonderland. Dominic Pariente wanted to schedule a meeting with her and Paul in order to get ramped up to defend the lawsuits that were piling up. Peters had given her an unlimited extension on the lawsuits he had filed. Some of the other attorneys were not being so cooperative.

She walked down the hall to Paul's office and leaned against the door. "Mornin'. You got a second?"

He looked up from his mail. "Yeah. Actually I need to talk to you." He held up a stack of letters, "The demand letters and lawsuits continue to roll in."

She took the stack and shuffled through it. "Okay. We're going to need to have a meeting with Pariente. I know that's not going to be easy for you, but he is a good litigator and his office has the staff and resources to run litigation on the scale we're facing. You're going to be the out-front guy, but he'll be running things from behind the curtain."

"I understand. I don't like it, but we both know I don't have the litigation experience to handle this." He smiled, raised his eyebrows and winked, "If I play my cards right, I might actually learn something."

"Oh, my God, an attorney who can admit that there may be something he doesn't know? How is that possible?"

He flipped her off and told her to get out of his office. She asked him to send her his availability for the meeting with Pariente. He said, "Bev, I'm available whenever and wherever you need me to be. I'm putting nearly everything else aside to work on this case. The more I get to know Ron and Claudia Mazzoli, the better I like them. I know that you may very quickly tender your limits and then you'll be out of the whole thing. I'm in this for the long haul."

She smiled and said, "I plan to be in it as long as I can justify it to my company. You're right, that may not be very long. I'm glad you're going to stick with them. In the long run, I think that will help your career in this town. I know a lot of people – especially people to whom the Mazzolis owe money – think that he's guilty and should go to jail. Even more people think that the Mazzolis are good, upstanding people who got caught in an economic downturn but who did not set the fire that burned their family business and killed their neighbors, employees and some of their own family members. I happen to agree with the latter group. I think as time goes on, the community will rally around them. Your business will benefit from your loyalty, I think."

He curled his lip and said, "I sure hope so because Ron and Claudia can't pay me anything."

Chapter 16

Bev went back into her tiny office and sorted through the demand letters and new lawsuits. She took them to the copier and scanned each of them separately, then she emailed the batch of documents to Pariente and to Rita Wentzel. She said she agreed that they needed to have a meeting as soon as it could be arranged. She suggested Pariente come to Stanforth to see the restaurant and get a feel for the town – and meet the Mazzolis. She asked if Rita wanted to be involved with that. Rita begged off, saying she wanted to stay one step removed from the day-to-day litigation. Pariente suggested a meeting on Tuesday.

Bev asked Paul to block out the day and to find out when the Mazzolis would be available to meet with Pariente. Paul was reluctant to subject them to a meeting with yet another outsider. She said it couldn't be avoided. Pariente had to build a rapport with Mazzoli in the event any of the cases did go to trial. Paul said he understood, but it was clear he would have a difficult time making Mazzoli understand.

Pariente said he would be there by 9:30 AM the next day, and he'd need most of the day. He would be bringing an associate and two paralegals, and asked for the use of Paul's conference room when they were in Stanforth.

After hanging up from that call, Bev placed a call to Tim Peters. They chatted about the weather for a few minutes. As soon as politeness allowed, Bev said, "Tim, is there any way you can reign in some of the other lawyers? I think you and I could do business together, and believe me we appreciate your willingness to be accommodating on the litigation front. Nobody is ready to move forward with that. Unfortunately, some of the other attorneys seem to have other opinions. I think a couple of them are going to try to build a career on this claim. Simply put, that's not going to happen and you and I both know it."

He didn't answer right away. Finally, he said, "I know. You're right. It would be much easier for everybody if they would all let me handle the claims. Frankly, I'd take your million-plus and tell my clients that's all there is. I don't see any point in putting the Mazzoli's in the poor house. Most of my clients are insured for their medical expenses. The ones who are from Stanforth understand the situation. I think most of them would be inclined not to be punitive. The ones who are giving us problems are people who were in the Prescott's party. Their family attorney is an ass and he's stirring the pot among the relatives."

"Who is there to inherit the estate?"

"The bride's older brother has a kid who's three. Kid was with a babysitter in Cincinnati on the night of the fire."

"Don't tell me, let me guess. The family attorney is the trustee."

"Yup. He thinks he can make a big score."

"Have you explained to him the reality of the situation?"

"I have tried, but he's a family lawyer. He does estates, wills, trusts and what not. He's seeing dollar signs to put into the trust, taking his cut, of course."

"But there are people in the hospital who need the money more than the Prescott family. I'm sure they are well insured and have plenty of investments."

"Well, the way I hear it the Prescott's were living in a financial house of cards. As I'm sure you've figured out by now, Dr. Prescott was a so-so surgeon. His malpractice carrier had paid a couple of big claims. He has a couple pending and at least two more that might make claims against the estate in the near future. Between his exorbitant insurance premiums and his dwindling clientèle due to the bad publicity, his estate is not what you would expect. Add to that a wife who liked to shop and a daughter who, together with her mother, was planning a wedding only slightly less grandiose than the marriage of Charles and Diana."

"Whoa. Poor Dr. Prescott."

"Literally."

"Is the family attorney representing the Prescott family?"

"No. I am, but I can tell you the family attorney is my client and he's already showing signs of being seriously uncontrollable."

"Who else is going to give me problems."

"Couple of Prescott's relatives who survived and are in the burns unit are represented by Sid Carmichael."

"I thought he was retired."

"He is. Lives part time in Miami and part time in the Bahamas. Somebody who knew somebody called him and he decided to come out from retirement for this one."

"This is not big enough for him."

"I tried to tell him that when we spoke. He's digging around to see if he can come up with a bigger pot."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fire department that didn't shut the restaurant down due to lack of smoke detectors. The people who installed all that old barn-wood, maybe. I don't know, the people who vented the kitchen causing the fire to flame when they opened the door. Have you ever worked with Sid before? He'll sue everybody who ever did any work on that restaurant, down to the the produce supplier."

"I've come up against Sid a few times. He's a slimy bastard, but he's actually not a bad lawyer. Or, more accurately, he had a pretty good staff. You're right, he's very good at dragging in as many people as necessary to a lawsuit in order to have more pickets to get his hands into. I have to admit, in this case, that's not a bad idea ... except for the fact that I can't see that there's anybody at fault here other than the person who set the fire."

Peters paused and then asked, with a casual tone that both of them knew was forced, "And who might that be?"

"You tell me."

"You mean you haven't figured out yet that Denworth set the fire."

"I'm not going to comment on my investigation. What do you know about Denworth?"

"Probably not much more than you do. My PI keeps tripping over Frank Rittenhaus, so I'm thinking we're both barking up the same tree. We think Denworth got out of the building. Can you comment on that? What do you know about the crime lab's intentions about identifying that last body?"

Bev chewed on her lip for a minute and then said, "My understanding is that the cops are going to identify that body as Donna Sonderland."

"That's good. The Sonderland family has been up in arms about that. They'll be glad to get that out of the way."

"You representing the Sonderlands also?"

"Yes."

"Are you and Sid working together?"

He laughed, "Sid works alone. He only cooperates with other lawyers when he can be lead counsel."

"You have a similar reputation."

"So it would appear that you are dealing with two plaintiff's prima donnas and a few small fry who smell a big score."

"Lucky me."

"How much do you have to work with?"

"I think you already have a good idea about that. I will tell you, it isn't enough for you by yourself much less you and Sid. Never mind the local lawyers trying to score big; they worry me most. You and Sid know how to do the math. If you can bring in more parties to sit on my side of the table, fine. I don't think you're going to get far with that, but it could muddy the waters, which may help in the long run."

"What about the agent who sold them such a paltry policy for the huge exposure."

"You can try it, but I've seen the guy's file. It's clean. He has good documentation that year in and year out he recommended the Mazzolis buy higher limits and sprinkler the building. They refused. In fact, as you will no doubt know, they were paying a higher rate than they would have if they sprinklered the building, and the agent made them specifically sign an acknowledgment of that."

"So we've got a lot of dead and badly hurt people and not much money to work with."

"Unless Sid can get very creative very fast."

"This is going to be a bitch."

"Yep."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm still investigating the cause, remember?"

"Oh. I see."

"I have very few actual demands on hand. I'm not going to throw in my limits and walk away to let you guys pick my insureds' bones clean unless I have to. I'd rather get a global release."

"I don't see how you're going to get that."

"I'm thinking I can get it from a judge."

"You going to file a dec action?"

"I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I'm still investigating the cause of the fire. I do know that things would go more smoothly if you and or Sid can reign in your pack of wolves and get them to listen to reason."

"That won't be easy."

"I understand, but I'm telling you I want to get a global release for the Mazzoli family."

"I don't see that happening."

"At least discuss it with your buddies."

"How much are you prepared to put on the table."

"I'm not putting anything on the table. As I told you, I'm still investigating. I'm simply telling you that if I do make an offer, in response to a global demand, it will be for a number that will be substantially less than any one of your clients want and way the hell less than all of them combined probably deserve."

He laughed, "I never in my life thought I'd hear an adjuster say a thing like that."

"Hear me. I'm not saying that the Mazzolis were negligent in any way. As a matter of fact, to be honest, I'd feel perfectly within my rights to deny all of the claims. As far as I know, the Mazzolis did not set the fire. They passed all their fire inspections. They passed their insurance inspections. Maybe they should have sprinklered the building. If it comes to that, I might consider putting some money on the table for that to avoid the cost of litigation, but by and large, the cause of the deaths and horrible injuries to the victims was the fire, that was evidently set by a waiter.

"I'll add one more thing in support of my contention that the Mazzoli's ran a clean shop. The restaurant had been open for fifty years, and they had one claim. A lady broke a tooth on an olive pit. That claim happened more than thirty years ago. They go through the olives and beans and anything else that could cause a similar injury by hand every day. These people were committed to the safety and comfort of their customers."

"That will play well in front of a jury."

"Don't get your hopes up. This will never see a jury, at least not while I'm still involved."

"I hear your message. I'll see if I manage the expectations of my clients as well as the other attorneys."

"Tell Sid this is not the Rockingham Hotel chain he's dealing with."

"How much did you pay him for that one?"

"I'm not saying but I think I deserve an invitation to his house in the Bahamas. I pretty much paid for the damned thing."

"I hear you."

"Good. We understand each other."

"Yes. We understand each other, and neither of us is making any admissions or waiving any rights or defenses."

"Exactly."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Bev."

"I hope it stays that way."

She reviewed her notes from her conversation and put them in her file. She decided to hold off on updating Pariente or Wentzel about that conversation. With luck, they'd never have to know. She checked in with her assistant who told her everything was under control back at the ranch. She not-so-respectfully told Bev to go out an solve the mystery of the fire, and leave her the hell alone. Bev said, "It's so nice to be loved by your staff."

"Yeah, we do love you and we miss you. Get this one done so you can get back to business."

"You got anything else hot for me?"

"Nothing you need to be concerned with right now."

There were still a few hours before she'd have to pick up Emily at school. She decided to go for a bike ride to clear her mind and work the kinks out of her back. She rode hard and fast for more than an hour and managed to get to school just in time for Emily to call her on the phone to tell her she was staying after school to work on a science project and she'd get a ride home.

Chapter 17

Pariente and his team arrived right on time the next morning. Bev and Paul were waiting for them. She could tell that Paul was nervous, but she was gratified to know that he hid it well and she didn't think Pariente would notice. Pariente's group made themselves at home in the conference room, and Pariente made something of a show of being the man in charge. Bev could tell that Paul got the message loud and clear. She was pleased to see that, while he didn't like having the other attorney lord it over him in his own office, he accepted the situation with grace. When Pariente's team was distracted digging out their laptops, Bev winked at Paul and smiled. He made a face and stuck out his tongue.

First they spent a couple of hours reviewing the file, asking questions and making notes on further investigation needed or experts that might be required to testify on certain points.

Then they took a ride around the town. Paul drove his SUV and he and Bev took turns narrating the story of history and culture the community, which would be an important part of the story they would have to tell at any trials.

Finally, at the end of their tour, Paul pulled up in front of the restaurant, which still had a guard posted in front. Bev told them what she had seen the night of the fire. She had told that story so many times to so many people, she had the narration down pat. She noticed that both Pariente and one of his paralegals made a note when she finished. She guessed she had just landed a spot on the witness list.

After that, they went back to the office where lunch was delivered. The Mazzoli's joined them at that point. Bev had suggested that perhaps they would feel more comfortable if they had the chance to warm up to Pariente and his team over food and chit-chat instead of diving right into the story of the fire.

As it turned out Dominic Pariente grew up in an Italian family that ran a restaurant in Pittsburgh. He and the Mazzolis hit it off so well that Claudia told them the next time they were going to have a meeting not to mess around with ordering lunch from the deli across the street. She said she'd cater the luncheon with some good old home-made Italian fare. Bev and Paul both relaxed. She knew that the two of them would probably often feel left out as the Mazzolis bonded with Pariente. That was as it should be. The Mazzolis already knew, liked and trusted Paul. But, they needed to be able to put their entire future into Pariente's hands if any of the cases went to trial. Bev figured that an added side benefit to the Italian connection was that they'd eat well as they prepared for trial.

Bev liked the way Pariente had divided up responsibility for the case. One of the paralegals was evidently in charge of the paper trail. Her laptop contained a database that indexed the file materials any which way might prove necessary. The other paralegal was evidently in charge of the care and feeding of the insured. She made sure to make friends with Claudia at the very outset. She did a great job of expressing solidarity and sympathy as well as projecting strength and encouragement. She would be the rock for Claudia to lean on. Bev noticed that her last name was Fracelli; she was pretty sure that was not coincidental.

There was still a bit of prickly-ness in the relationship between Paul and Pariente, but Bev expected that to ease when Pariente convinced Paul that he, too, had the clients' best interests at heart.

By the time the meeting broke up in the late afternoon, Bev knew that Pariente was absolutely the man for the job if any of these cases was going to go to trial. She could tell by his demeanor as they parted that Paul thought so as well. All in all, the meeting had been a smashing success.

Rita wanted a report on the meeting. Bev called her as soon as Pariente's team had left to ask if she wanted to set up a meeting in Dayton.

"I don't think that's necessary. Let me get Russ on the phone and we can just chat." Rita located Russ and in only a few minutes the three of them were on the line together. Bev filled them in on the meeting with the insureds and Pariente. After she gave the rundown on that, McGavin said, "I think somebody needs to talk to Tim Peters. We need to establish a line of communication with him."

Bev said, "I already did that. I've worked with Tim before. He's a solid guy."

Rita said, "Don't you think Dominic should handle those communications?"

"I am sure he will once he gets his arms around this, but I think I'm on good ground for now. I want Tim to know that Dominic is our trial guy and that he will put on a very good case. I also want him to know that I'm holding the checkbook."

"Is there any chance that Peters will be able to reign in all the claimants and their lawyers."

"He knows it's going to be important to do that, but it won't be easy. One of his clients is the Prescott estate. Most of the family was wiped out but there's a toddler grand baby who's going to inherit the whole estate. The family attorney's in charge, and he's a greedy bastard, according to Peters. I want to underscore the irony of a plaintiff's lawyer calling another attorney a greedy bastard." They all laughed, but without any real amusement.

"To make matters worse – or maybe better, I'm not sure: Sid Carmichael represents certain of the claimants who are in the hospital."

Rita interjected, "I thought that asshole was retired!"

McGavin laughed, "What rock did he crawl out from under?"

"According to Tim, Sid lives part time in Miami and part time in the Islands somewhere, so he's evidently sunning himself on a lotta rocks like all his other iguana kinfolk. We all know that Sid can be a jerk. I have to tell you, I rather like the guy. He's funny as hell, and for all his pretense of being a slimy lawyer, he's actually pretty good at what he does. His specialty is getting absolutely as many people to the table as he can in order to get his hands in every possible pocket. He'll dream up all kinds of product liability claims to file. He may even try to file medical malpractice claims against doctors and hospitals if there are any complications with the victims' course of treatment. In this case, inviting more people to the settlement party will benefit us."

Rita made a derisive noise that was somewhere between a moan and a snort, "Yeah, you're right but keep him away from me, and don't tell him I'm involved in this case at all. There is ancient bad blood between us."

Bev smiled into the air and said, "I'll buy the beer when you get ready to tell that story."

McGavin chimed in, "I'd like to be there."

Both women said, "No boys at girl beer bashes."

McGavin asked, "How many plaintiff's attorney's are there, and can Tim and Sid control them?"

"There are six besides Tim and Sid. I don't think that Tim or Sid or any combination of the two of them can control anything. What they can do is to explain the situation and educate the pups about how these things work once somebody puts some money on the table."

"That means Tim and Sid will get the biggest bite."

"Personally, the way I see it, the people who are in the hospital should get the lion's share of the money. They are the ones with the ongoing bills."

"It's no accident that Sid's only representing clients who survived the fire and are undergoing burn treatment."

"Of course, Sid's going to only take cases where he can make money. He'll do okay for his clients."

There was a long silence. Nobody wanted to raise the question of when they would offer up its limits. Rita asked, "Exactly where did you leave it with Peters?"

"I told him that I would entertain reasonable settlement offers, but that officially I am still investigating the fire and I am not prepared to put any money on the table. Furthermore, I told him that once I believe the cops will exonerate Mazzoli completely as a suspect in the fire, I'm prepared to argue that Mazzoli has minimal exposure from a liability standpoint. He never failed a fire inspection. While his agent repeatedly recommended that he sprinkler the place and buy umbrella coverage, the carrier never required him to do so. I told him that I see Mazzoli as a victim here. If he is guilty of anything at all, it's simple negligence, which pales in comparison with whatever the hell was going on in the mind of the person who set the fire."

McGavin laughed, "You told him that you might out and out deny the claims on the basis of no legal liability on the part of the insured."

"I didn't say I was going to do that, but I left the door open to get him thinking along the lines that any portion of the damages attributable to Mazzoli must be a very small percentage of the total."

"Bev, if you can pull that off, I'll give you a raise."

Bev said, "Rita, you're my witness." She said, "I don't know that I can pull it off, but it's the only hope I have to get the plaintiff's to take the small amount of money we have to offer and give us a full release."

Rita said, "Actually, it seems to me that it's a very good argument."

Bev said, "It's a damned good argument. The Mazzoli's didn't set the fire. Somebody else did. The Mazzoli's ran a clean operation. Did you know they only had one claim in more than fifty years? They were in financial trouble not because they are bad business people. They were victims of the bad economy that left their customers without the money to eat out as often as they had in the past. They were victims of the person who set the fire and burned down the business that had supported their family for half a century. They lost their livelihood along with family members, employees and friends in the fire. They are not responsible for the injuries and deaths that took place in that restaurant, and I've so successfully convinced myself of that, I'll be arguing that point during every conversation I have with Tim. The Mazzolis lost more in that fire than anybody. We absolutely cannot let the plaintiff's take the high ground."

"Dammit, Bev, you'd have made a great lawyer."

"Russ, I wish I had a nickel for every time somebody has told me that. The people who have said it have almost always been lawyers, which gives the compliment some meaning. My response is that, while I might be smart enough, I'd never make it as a lawyer if I had to spend all my time with others of the same ilk. Personally, I prefer hanging out with cops, PI's and forensics investigators."

Rita laughed, "Geez, Russ, I think we were just insulted."

"Perhaps we should change the subject."

Bev said, "Let's just end the whole conversation. I'll keep you posted on my conversations with Peters. For now I think I'll control that conversation, at least until Dominic finds out its happening and puts a stop to it. I think I'll keep in very close touch with Mr. Peters from here on out."

Rita said, "That sounds like a plan. You keep him thinking about how little legal liability your insured has for this claim."

Bev chuckled, "I'm kind of leaning towards getting him in the mood to offer to represent the Mazzolis in any civil actions that might be filed against Denworth if and when we find him. That would be just delicious."

Rita said, "That would be a conflict of interest."

"Not if I have a full and final release and you agree to waive the conflict."

Rita said, "Don't make any promises, but that's an interesting option."

"Peters is in it for the money. If Denworth has any, I say we point all the claimants at him."

"As I said, tread lightly around that, but by all means keep hammering away at the no-liability line."

They clicked off and Bev looked around her office: there were no papers anywhere, just her laptop on the desk. She shut it down and headed for the door. Paul was reading something on his computer. He looked up at her and grinned. "You were talking kind of loud and I was eavesdropping, so I heard every word. I'm going to toodle around in the Ohio statutes and case law and look at what defenses we could use if we want to argue Ron and Claudia were not negligent."

"Any luck?"

"Maybe. I found a case that held that the insured's decision not to purchase additional coverages recommended by his agent could be considered a business decision, not negligence. That case is kind of old, and I have to follow up to see if it's been overturned or modified. I'll do some digging. I really don't have that much else to do. There aren't any clients beating down my door."

"Don't worry about it. They think you're very busy now. They'll come back when this is all over. I think you'll do very well in this town when all is said and done."

"I hope so. Right now the money you're paying me is keeping me off the streets. I'm not sure what I'm going to do when you pull the plug."

"Worry about that later. Right now, I think you'd do very well to spend all the time you need on Westlaw. And I'll authorize payment for the research costs."

"How will we present that to Pariente?"

"I think you give it to him telling him that I asked you to do the research before he was on board. Share it with him as a professional courtesy."

She went home and put on dinner. Emily came in, distracted and withdrawn. Over dinner, Bev asked her what was the matter. Emily told her that she had had a bad day. She'd had a test in biology and she didn't think she did well. On top of that a couple of the football players hassled her about being the "weird cheerleader". And, as if that weren't enough to totally ruin the day, on the bus home several students near her hassled her about the inordinate amount of time her mother was taking on settling the claim. They regurgitated the anti-insurance company rot that they evidently heard from their parents and/or from TV commercials of plaintiffs' attorneys.

"Mom, aren't you finished investigating yet? What's taking so long?"

"You know I can't discuss the details. I can tell you that I am essentially finished with my investigation, but we're waiting for the cops to make the results of their investigation public. I'll pay the claim based on the results of my investigation, but the lawsuits will be filed and indictments will be handed down based on what the cops conclude. They will not be rushed. I don't dare put up my money until they announce the results of their investigation. They have investigative powers I don't have."

Emily nodded and pushed her food around on the plate, "That's what I thought. I didn't say anything to the kids. I pretended I didn't hear them. But, they knew I heard them. I think that kind of thing is going to get worse."

"It shouldn't be much longer now. I think we're getting close."

"Can't be too soon for me."

"Are you sure you feel safe? If you don't want to go stay with your dad, we could arrange a visit to Chicago to stay with your Gram and Aunt Paula."

Emily laughed, "Thanks, Mom, but the truth of the matter is that I don't feel I'm in danger. I don't want to go to Dad's house. Those little kids drive me nuts. And, as much fun as Gram and Aunt Paula can be, to be honest they make me feel like the mature old lady in the crowd, and I'm not up for that right now, either. I think I'd rather stay here with you."

"I understand. The other option might be for you to go visit Becca in Phoenix."

"Why would your best friend who's hardly seen me since I was a baby be willing to let me come and stay with her?"

"Because she's my best friend and she cares about our well-being. She's not as boring as your dad. She's way more mature and grounded in reality than my mother and Aunt Paula. She also has a rich husband and a big, fancy house in a gated community in Scottsdale. You might have a really nice time."

"I'll keep it in mind if things get any worse at school. Could you work it out with the principal?"

"I'm sure I could. You could keep up with your assignments and turn them in by email, like a kid who's sick. Think about it."

"I will."

Cici called after dinner to report that the obstetrician whose daughter's nose Prescott had botched evidently had a patient with connections to organized crime in Cleveland. She thought that might be significant in that he certainly had motive to try to hurt Prescott and his family. She thought maybe he had the opportunity to do something about it, as well. Bev made a note of that information to feed to the cops, and thanked Cici. After she clicked off, she went straight to bed.

Bev lay in bed listening to the sound of a distant train whistle, pondering the few facts she knew for sure and the variety of potential tentacles of inquiry that had grown out of all the questions that had been raised. Most of the time she loved her job. This was not one of them. It was too close to home. She found herself caring too much about the people. She knew she was dangerously close to losing her objectivity and she should ask MCIC to reassign the claim. However, she feared that if another adjuster took control at this delicate juncture, the whole thing would go to hell. For now, she believed she had to stick with it. She believed that she was uniquely qualified to finish the dance with Peters and bring this one home without litigation against her company. Even if she ultimately failed to settle the claim, she wanted to try.

Chapter 18

The next morning was Saturday. Bev decided not to go to Paul Morehouse's office. The truth was she didn't have anything to do. There was nothing for her to do until the police issued the official report. She would need to stay in touch with the attorneys and decided to call on each of them over the next few days. That might piss off Peters, who was trying to position himself as "lead counsel," but she had to at least acknowledge their involvement. She made a note to make those calls on Monday. In the meantime she puttered around the house, trying to be quiet until Emily got up.

Once Emily was awake – although not yet out of bed where she was curled up watching TV – Bev did some cleaning. Then she stuck her head in Emily's door and said, "Okay, sleepyhead, are you going to stay in bed all day?"

"Yep. I have a free weekend for the last time until football season is over. I'm hanging around the house all day, and I might not even get dressed. I have a paper to write and I want to get it out of the way."

"I feel like getting some exercise. I think I'll go for a ride."

"Okay. Don't go on a real long one. It's supposed to be really nice tomorrow. Save some energy and let's go to the park tomorrow for a ride and a picnic."

"Deal."

While she was riding, her cell phone rang. She didn't answer it, but found a roadside pull off with a picnic table and a trash barrel. She returned the call to Frank Rittenhaus. He said, "You are not checking your emails today?"

"No, I haven't. I'm actually sort of taking the day off. What have you got?"

"I sent you a long email sort of filling out the bios on all the people who were in the building the night of the fire. I also sent a copy to Ben. You should probably get it to Ed Casey as soon as possible. I don't know how much time the cops have spent on learning about the victims. Some interesting stuff."

"Such as."

"Such as my gut all of a sudden perked up. I looked at Sonderland again, and I found some interesting things. Sonderland's got a very interesting family. They're all a bunch of yin and yang opposites. Sonderland's a loud obnoxious car-salesman type of guy. His wife is quiet. She does charity work and she's kind of a church lady. As you know the son is a pharmacist and seemed to be living his life at some distance from his coarse car dealership family. I think he was kind of a social climber.

"Sonderland's dealership always did okay, but in recent years, it's been doing extremely well, on account of the most interesting member of the Sonderland family, Donna. When we first started hearing about the Sonderland daughter, I thought she was a kid, the baby sister of the groom. In fact, Donna Sonderland is the older of the two. She was 32 years old.

"The old man started out in the car business as a 14 year old kid working as a runner in the service department at a dealership in Toledo. By the time he graduated from high school, he had worked his way up to a shift manager in the service department. Occasionally when people came in with cars that weren't worth fixing, he'd steer them in the direction of a good used car. Eventually he was selling as many used cars out of the service department as some of the salesmen. They put him in sales, and before he was 25 he was the top selling guy in the dealership, and well on his way to being sales manager. By the time he was 30, the manufacturer had offered him the dealership in Stanforth if he would move. He was reasonably successful.

"Donna started working in the accounting department at the dealership when she was in high school. When she graduated from high school, she worked part time at the dealership and lived at home while majoring in finance at Shawnee U. When she graduated three years later, with perfect grades, she went to the Carnegie Mellon school of business where she took an MBA, finishing the whole program in one calendar year. She had beaucoup job offers from much bigger companies, but she came home and went to work for her dad.

"She turned the business around. Updated systems and technology. Opened a relationship with other dealerships in the Midwest which made it easier to move cars around from one dealership to another in order to fill special orders without waiting for Detroit. Sonderland promoted her to General Manager. He came in a few days a week as a sort of figurehead, but Donna was the Boss.

"Donna Sonderland also owed three other dealerships on her own. One in Dayton, one in Akron and one in Bellefontaine. She's very successful with all of them. She is the darling of the manufacturer in Detroit.

"I thought that was interesting and decided to dig a little more. Women in the car business have to be tough. Tough women make enemies. I decided to look into who might have an ax to grind against her."

Bev chuckled and interrupted, "Don't tell me: there's a line."

"Oh, yeah. A long line, but it's not what you'd think. It's not car people; in the car business she's known as a stand-up gal and everybody loves her. Her problems are on a personal level. Donna lives at home with her parents when she's in town, but she has a condo near her dealership in Dayton. As I said, she's never been married. She's one of those women who refuses to be tied down in a one-on-one relationship with a man. She never had any trouble getting a date. In fact, the guys she dated tended to really fall for her. Who wouldn't? She was very pretty. Extremely smart. Well off financially. And they tell me the girl was a barrel of fun. She liked to gamble and went frequently to both Vegas and Atlantic City, where she often won, sometimes big. She was a great girlfriend. Problem was she was never willing to be anything more than a girlfriend, although often the guys she was seeing wanted a more permanent relationship.

"For all her talents and abilities, breaking up with guys was not her strong suit. She left a string of scorned lovers across the Midwest for the last seven or eight years."

Bev looked at her watch. This was taking too long. "Any connection between anyone in the restaurant and one of those jilted sad-sacks?"

"I'm working on that."

"Good. Keep me posted. This is an interesting turn of events. My gut's not reacting yet, but let me think about it."

"I'll be in touch next week."

Bev clicked off the phone and started to get back on her bike, but then decided to have a snack first. She sat on the picnic table, with her feet on the bench watching a family of birds working on their winter nest. A vehicle pulled into the apron and parked beside her bike. She turned around and saw her uncle Hank's pickup truck. For a moment she was irritated. Those people had not had anything to do with her in her entire life, and she had too much going on to want to make nice now. She hesitated to blow him off, however, because she knew Emily was curious about her family. If there was any possibility for Emily to get to know the Dellers, Bev didn't want to screw it up for her daughter.

She walked over to the passenger's side of the truck. Hank was driving. There was a woman in the passenger's seat whom she took to be Hank's wife. The woman said, "We have never met. I'm Betty, your dad's youngest sister. Hank and I are both widowed now, so we're living in the family home together. One of his sons and his family live there too and run the farm."

Bev shook her hand and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you. Do you want me to call you Aunt Betty?"

"You can if you want, but it's not necessary. We will understand if you're a little suspicious of us."

"I don't think suspicious is the word. Confused might be a better one."

"We've discussed it. We think that our parents were unfair with your dad. Times were different then and the leadership of our community was much more conservative and isolationist than our new leadership. We now manage to continue to have relationship with some of our kin who go away. I have to confess to you that most of the ones who go away and live in ways we don't approve of are still shunned. But, kids go away to school and come back. Some people work in town for wages. We are not as hard nosed about it as they were when Aaron went away. If your dad were a kid today, we'd let him go to school and be a fireman and still be in relationship with the family.

"I know that there may be way too much water over the dam for you to feel kindly towards us. But, we want you to know that we're aware you're going through a really hard time right now and we believe that your daughter is struggling with it also. We want you to know that we're here for you and/or for her if you need us."

Bev started to cry, which embarrassed her, but it seemed like the appropriate response. She wiped her eyes on the back of her arm and nodded, "That may be one of the kindest things anybody has ever done. I'm doing okay but Emily is struggling and she's trying not to lean on me too much because she knows I'm up to my eyeballs in stress. She's also very curious about her family. She's asked a lot of questions I can't answer. I'd like for you to meet her." She shook her head and held up her hands in a surrendering gesture, "I'll confess she's a modern kid who will get on your last Mennonite nerve, but she's basically a good kid who's totally rootless and wants to know something of her heritage."

"Maybe we can help with that. Would you like to come to dinner tomorrow? Say around 2:00 in the afternoon?"

"Let me talk to Emily." She paused. "Do you have a phone?"

The woman leaned back and laughed with a high, tinkling, delighted sound, "Yes, we have a phone. One big old black one in the kitchen. Still has a rotary dial. We're very modern folks."

Bev laughed. "I guess we'll leave our smart phones at home."

Hank leaned over and said, "Oh, no. Bring them. I think our kids are as curious about you as your daughter is about us. We will not tell our pastor, but we'd all like to get a look at one of those phones."

Betty gave her the number which Bev stored in her phone. They waved and pulled back out on the road.

Bev rode home in something like a fog. Emily was on the telephone, so Bev puttered around the house doing some cleaning. When Emily came out of the bedroom, Bev offered her some fruit and granola. She mentioned her encounter with Hank and Betty. Emily smiled and said, "That's odd, but kinda nice. Do you want to go to dinner?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah. Let's go. What should I wear?"

"What's the most conservative thing you have?"

"How about that dress you made me wear to Grampy's funeral?"

"Does it still fit?"

"I'm not sure."

It turned out that Emily had grown a few inches in height since her grandfather's death. The dress still fit, but it was unacceptably short. They dug around in the closet for a skirt that would not be too short and found a loose Indian style skirt that fell to the mid-calf. With a long sleeve pullover and a cardigan, that would be perfect. Bev looked at Emily and laughed, "If you replaced the cardigan with a fringed jacket, you look like a hippie."

"Let's not get insulting, Mom."

"Do you feel okay in that?"

Emily looked at herself in the mirror, turned one way and then the other and nodded slightly, "Actually, I think it's cute. I'd never have put this outfit together, but I kinda like it. What are you going to wear?"

"A suit."

"God, Mom, you're so damned boring."

"Yeah. Do I need to remind you that you will need to watch you language tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah. I guess I'd better pretend I'm at school or something."

"Considering the trash you kids talk at school, you'd better go with 'or something'."

Bev called the number Betty had given her and informed the person who answered the phone that she and Emily would be delighted to come to dinner. She asked if there was anything they could bring and she was told to just bring an appetite because the women were cooking up a storm.

The next day they got up early and rode to the park, took one spin around the loop and rode home where they ate breakfast and showered. They lounged around the house reading books until it was time to get dressed to go to Sunday dinner with their family for the first time ever.

Bev knew she should take some kind of gift with her, and had been racking her brain all day over what to offer. As she was getting dressed, the perfect thing hit her. Her dad had been a nut for hot peppers and he grew all kinds of them, some in the garden, but most in a corner of their glassed in back porch. Bev had continued to cultivate them because she had learned to cook with a lot of spice to suit her dad's taste. She found a small basket which she lined with a tea towel and filled with an assortment of peppers, ranging from mild banana peppers to a couple of scotch bonnets that she wrapped separately and labeled as extra hot.

Both Bev and Emily were nervous when they pulled into the driveway, but the each took deep breaths and hid their nerves behind pleasant smiles. Bev winked at Emily who gave her the thumbs up, "We can do this!"

Betty opened the door when they knocked. Bev offered her the gift and was pleased to see the genuine pleasure in her smile as she accepted the gift with thanks. Hank joined them and said, "Wow, peppers! Did you grow those yourself?"

"Yes, I have quite an assortment of pepper plants. My dad was kind of a hot pepper nut. I inherited both his love of hot foods and a whole bunch of his plants."

Betty asked Emily if she liked spicy food. Emily scrunched up her face and said, "I am not a fan of food you have to wear gloves and a mask to handle."

Betty raised her eyebrows, "Habaneros?"

Bev pointed at the small packet, "Dad called them Scotch bonnets, but I think it's basically the same thing. Use with caution, but let me tell you, if you are careful with them and don't use too much they can totally make a fish chowder or a stew."

Hank rolled his eyes at Emily and said, "Well, they'll probably spend the day trading recipes. You don't have to worry about hot stuff at this meal. Betty made pot roast and vegetables. That's kind of a safe meal."

A horrified look suddenly washed over Betty's face. She asked, "You're not vegetarians are you?"

They both shook their heads. Emily said, "We eat very little meat at home because Mom's a cheapskate and we're both obsessed with calories. When we have meat at home, it's usually chicken. When I eat out, I always go for beef."

Betty visibly relaxed. They went into the kitchen and were greeted by the rest of clan, or at least the part of it assembled for that dinner. Hanks son and his wife had four children ranging from a three-year old to a seventeen year old, whose name was Rachel. She offered to show Emily around the farm while the adults talked. Emily accepted and the two of them were off with a couple of the younger children tagging along.

Bev offered to help with the final preparations for dinner, but she was told that, as company, her help was not necessary. She sat at the table and talked to Hank and his son, Jerry. They told her a little about their lives. Hank asked about her job. His daughter-in-law called, "Please save that story until we get to the table. We all want to hear it."

At precisely two o'clock the women put dinner on the table, the kids came in and went to the bathroom to wash their hands. By 2:05 they were seated around the huge round table in the kitchen holding hands while Hank said grace. Bev was seated next to Emily and at the end of the prayer she squeezed Emily's hand. Emily squeezed back and patted the back of her mother's hand as she let go.

The conversation at dinner bounced around from the kids school -- contrasting Emily's experience at public school with her cousins' experience as home-schooled kids. Bev thought there were pros and cons to each of those choices.

Each of the adults shared information about their jobs Emily asked question after question about what the family did for entertainment without TV, DVD or computers.

Jerry said, "We actually have a computer. We use it in our business. We don't bring it in the house nor do we use it for entertainment. It is strictly a work tool, although we do occasionally let the kids use it for research if they're writing a paper for school. In this world, it's important for our children to know how to use computers. They're used in almost every job there is today. We just try to limit how much time they spend on the computer and what we use it for. We think of it as a tool and a library but not a toy."

He said, "Dad mentioned you have one of those smart phones. Do you like it? We're actually considering getting one of those for the business. We have customers all over the place and we thought it might be convenient to communicate with them even if we're out in the fields."

Bev asked, "What kind of business do you have?"

"We sell home canned foods and also carved wooden items, mostly hobby horses and baby cradles. We sell everything online."

Bev laughed, "That's awesome. Do you make chow-chow?"

Jerry put his arm around his wife's shoulder, "Grace here has been the reigning queen of chow-chow at the county fair for five years in a row."

She grinned, "All my friends are gunning for me this year. Maybe I'll try just a tiny bit of Scotch bonnet in my batch this year. That might help me hold onto my crown."

Bev said, "I'll buy a couple of jars."

Emily was trying not to make a face. Rachel leaned forward and said in a stage whisper, "It is not necessary to try to hide your disgust. All of us kids think that stuff is just nasty. The old people love it, but I don't know of a kid anywhere around here – Mennonite, Amish or otherwise – who will eat the stuff."

Grace shot her daughter a look that was supposed to be withering but it was so comical everybody laughed.

Emily reached in her purse and took out her I-phone and handed it to Jerry. He put it on the table next to his plate and said, "I'd like for you to show me how to work it after we eat." The phone immediately started buzzing. He handed it back to Emily. She glanced at the screen, tapped out a few letters and then turned it off. She looked around with a sheepish expression. "That was rude. I apologize."

Bev said, "Actually, Jerry, that was a good example of the downside of those things. I have one for work. I keep it with me 24/7. I can tell you that I've received three or four emails and a couple of phone calls since we've been here. In my business, I have to attend to those messages on the weekends and evenings. With your kind of business, I think if you let your customers know you'll respond within 24 hours, you can probably get away with checking email once or twice a day. That would let you control your time rather than letting your customers invade your space whenever they take a notion."

Jerry nodded and Bev could tell that the idea of buying a smart phone would be permanently tabled.

Emily cocked her head and said, "That's interesting. I never looked at it that way, but it's true. We walk around reading email and surfing the internet and getting bombarded with stupid text messages and Tweets. It is kind of an invasion."

Bev said, "When I was growing up we had a phone. Like yours. One phone, hanging on the wall in the kitchen. My mom talked on it when Dad was at work. When Dad was at home he turned the ringer off. He only used the phone for outgoing calls. When I went away to college, Dad still left his phone off most of the time except between seven and seven-thirty PM during the week and on the weekends from about eight-thirty to nine-thirty AM. If I needed him, I had to call during those times. If I had an emergency, I was to call his pager. It was probably part of his upbringing, but he did not like the idea of having technology control his time."

Emily laughed, "He took to computers pretty fast."

Bev nodded, "Dad was a computer whiz, but he saw computers like you do, as a tool. He used the tool, masterfully, but he didn't let it control him. A year or so before he died, we got him a cell phone so he wouldn't have to get up to go in the kitchen to answer the phone. He left it turned off most of the time and only used it for outgoing calls. That drove me nuts when I was out of town and wanted to call to check up on him. I'd have to call Emily and tell her to ask him to call me or turn on his phone."

They all chuckled. Bev said, "I have to tell you that living simply is a great goal, and it's getting harder and harder to do. I admire your discipline."

After dinner, the men showed Bev and Emily the workshop where they built hobby horses, cradles and other hand-crafted children's furniture and toys. The craftsmanship was amazing. Bev noted that the house and the workshop and all the outbuildings were immaculate and everything appeared to be in perfect repair. She said, "You guys ought to hire out as maintenance people and yard workers."

Hank said, "Actually there's a family up the road that does that. They have eight sons and a couple of sons-in-law. They've been doing lawn maintenance and house repairs for mostly elderly people in the area for a long time. Recently, they started working for some people in town. It's a pretty good supplement to the farm income."

Emily asked, "Do all of you have side jobs or businesses?"

Jerry nodded, "It's getting harder and harder to survive on only the produce and income from farming. Almost every farmer we know has someone in the family who works at a job for wages and a lot of the families run businesses." He grinned, "We may be simple and live a weird lifestyle by most peoples' standards, but we're hard-working and creative."

One of his sons piped up and said, "Besides we have to find something to do with all the hours in the day that other people spend watching TV."

They all laughed. Soon Bev sensed it was time for them to go. They shook hands all around, and were rewarded with warm hugs from Betty and Grace. Betty walked them to the door alone. "Please come back and see us whenever you want. Call first so we'll know to put an extra potato in the soup." She winked. Then she looked at Emily, "We know this business with the fire is difficult, probably more difficult that you've let on to your Mom. If you need to talk to someone other than her, call me or Gracie. If you need a place to go to get out of town, come stay with us. I'll be honest and tell you that you'd have to live in our way, but it will be safe place for you."

Emily blinked back tears, but a couple escaped and coursed down her cheeks. She smiled, "I doubt I'll have to take you up on that offer, but I have to tell you just knowing I have an option is a huge help."

Emily hopped in the car and attended to the email and text messages that had piled up over the last couple of hours. Bev turned to Betty and didn't try to hide or stem her tears, "Oh, thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me to know that she has a family to take care of her if I'm not around."

"Your mother is no longer living?"

Bev wiped her face and tried to laugh, "My mother is a long story. She's still alive but she's not much of a success in the grand-parenting department ... or parenting for that matter."

"What about Emily's father?"

"He's remarried and has a new family. They are nice people and he loves Emily. Problem is that she thinks her dad and his family are the most boring people on the planet. He's willing to have her visit any time and I make her go occasionally, but she feels very out of place there. I think his wife and kids are pleasant to her because they have to be, but they don't go out of their way to include her."

"I understand. Well, we're incredibly boring, too, but we're nearby, and we're here for either or both of you if you need us."

Bev started to cry again but shook her head and reined in her emotions, "Thank you. That means so very much to both of us" She started to walk away and then she turned back and added, "I'm sure that I don't know even the half of it, but I suspect that this afternoon is the culmination of a long process that has not been easy for you. I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am for it."

It was Betty's turn to look up and blink furiously. "The fact that you understand that makes me know for sure we did the right thing."

They hugged and Bev got in the car. Neither Bev nor Emily said anything until they were almost home. Bev asked, "Do you want to talk about that?"

"Not really. We'll just have to see where it goes. I have my doubts about being an acceptable member of their family even if they think they're willing to try. I have a question for you. After being shunned by your dad's family your whole life, how do you feel about all of a sudden them wanting to be so chummy?"

"I'm prepared to accept their explanation that the Old Guard that was responsible for that behavior is all gone, and the younger people are more open. I think that's true. It doesn't eliminate the scars from a childhood spent in a town where certain people would literally turn their back or cross the street to avoid talking to me. I've seen most of those people around town, but didn't know who they were. I don't think they knew who I was either, so there was never any awkwardness. Hank must stay away from town. I'd have recognized him."

"I guess if you are okay with it, then I'm okay with it, but I want you to know that if you prefer keep things the way they have been, I'm okay with that."

"I want you to see what kind of relationship you might be able to build with them. I think I could be friends with Betty."

"Okay. We'll let it play out however it does. It was a really good lunch in any case."

Chapter 19

On Sunday Emily and Bev went for a long bike ride and picnic in the park. After lunch they went to the the pavilion by the lake where the park district rented paddle boats and sail boats. Each of them always carried a book. Since they were going to get more exercise on the way home, they decided to sit on a bench and read instead of renting a paddle boat. Neither of them read very much. They had way too much fun watching people who didn't know what they were doing trying to operate sailboats.

In the afternoon, they cleaned the house and, in the evening, they ordered pizza and – after some negotiation – they agreed on a chick flick they both wanted to see, so they curled up on the couch and watched the movie, alternately laughing and crying.

Early Monday morning, Frank Rittenhaus called and didn't beat around the bush for a second, "Bev, we need to talk right away. In fact, I think we need to get Ed Casey and the Cincinnati cops involved in the conversation early. With your permission, I'd like to go ahead and set up a meeting this morning with everybody. Are you free?"

"Absolutely. Should I have Rita there?"

"Don't think that's necessary. This comes under the heading of the investigation of the claim. You might want your claims guy involved."

"Okay let me know when and where."

She called McGavin to find out his schedule. He promised to make himself available whenever and wherever. A half hour later Frank called back and said that the cops suggested meeting at a central location and he had offered his office and said that the meeting was set for 10:00 or earlier if everybody could get there.

Bev looked at her watch. "I can be there by 9:00. Will you give me a preview?"

"I'll have the coffee on."

For the millionth time in her life Bev was grateful to have inherited from her father the fireman's the ability to get dressed in a flash. She was out the door in less than half an hour. She called McGavin from the road with the time and the location of the meeting. He wanted to know what was up. She said she didn't know, but based on Frank's behavior and the undertone of excitement in his voice, she believed it was significant. McGavin asked what time the meeting was scheduled. She told him ten o'clock. He said, "No. I mean the pre-meeting meeting between you and Frank."

"Nine."

"I'll be there."

She pulled in Frank's parking lot just as McGavin turned off his car. They walked into the office together. Cici greeted them, offered coffee and ushered them into the conference room where Frank was already waiting. There was a manila folder with about a quarter of an inch of documents at each of the seats at the table. McGavin asked, "What's the guest list?"

"You two. Ed Casey. Tom Jackson and two other people from his staff. Ramon Anderson and one other person from his team."

They sat down at their assigned seats. McGavin started paging through the folder. Bev folded her hands on top of her unopened folder, raised her eyebrows and said, "Start with the short version."

McGavin chuckled and Bev gave him a dirty look. Frank said, "I found our mystery waiter and he has quite a story to tell."

Bev looked alarmed. "Where is he? Is he somewhere he won't bolt?"

"He's actually at my house being fed pancakes by my wife who is under orders not to let him leave and if he does the local cops are on alert to pick him up. That's why Anderson is bringing an extra person with him. They're going to take Denworth into custody this morning."

McGavin asked, "He's voluntarily turning himself in."

"Yeah. He's an idiot who got into something over his head and he's been consumed with guilt over it ever since. Frankly, I think I got to him just as he was about to become suicidal. I've let Jackson know that, as well. They're going to take precautions."

Bev asked, "You left a suicidal murderer at home alone with your wife?"

Frank grinned a crooked grin, "It's not as bad as it sounds. For one thing, I think the kid's only potentially a danger to himself, and my wife is a psychiatric nurse. She works in a mental hospital. It was her suggestion that I bring him to our house. Actually, she got a doctor to give her a script for a strong sedative. She can protect herself with a needle if she has to."

Bev nodded and relaxed a little, but she still looked concerned. Before Frank could continue the others started arriving. By 9:20 the room was full. Jackson said, "I think I'd feel better if we went ahead and made the arrest. I'll stay here, my colleague will handle the arrest along with one of the Cincinnati cops."

Cici said, "I'll take you to Frank's house."

Anderson raised his eyebrows, "You licensed to carry a weapon?"

"Yes, sir."

"You got it on you?"

"Not right now."

"Take it with you."

"Yes, sir."

Cici left the room with the two cops. A few minutes later the FBI car and Cici's car pulled out of the driveway. The rest of the group finished pouring coffee and sat down to listen to Frank's story.

Frank laid his hands on top of the folder in front of him. "The details are all laid out in here, so I'll just hit the high spots. We were on the right track when we started looking for the arsonist among enemies of someone who was at the wedding rehearsal dinner. We were focusing on the obvious: people whose plastic surgeries Prescott had botched. When I did my preliminary investigation into the Sonderlands, Donna Sonderland's name wasn't on my list because her body had not yet been identified. Initially, I looked only at Sonderland, the father.

"After Donna's body was identified, I looped back and looked more carefully at her. A full bio is included in your packet. She was one sharp cookie. Smart. Savvy. A great businesswoman. She was also a bit of a party girl. She liked to gamble and she was a bit of a predator in the dating department. My guess is that if she'd lived out her life, she'd have been a regular Cougar someday. In any case, she was very attractive to men, who tended to fall in love with her. Once that happened, she dumped them, not always very nicely.

"Donna went to Carnegie Mellon School of Business where she met and dated a guy who's dad was an executive at General Motors. Her family was in the car business. She'd worked in the dealership. They were kind of natural buddies. They started working on projects together. All of their projects tended to involve ways to make the American automobile industry more competitive and to improve business practices for both manufacturers and dealers." He paused and shrugged. "It is my understanding that some of their professors believed that if anybody had actually tried to implement some of those ideas, the American automobile business would not be in the shape it's in today. They were evidently that creative and bright.

"The boy's name was Elliot Jimmerson. He and Donna were buddies, partners and they dated throughout graduate school. Jimmerson evidently had the expectation that after they graduated, they'd get married. He would go to work at GM and become the Golden Boy there. She would implement their plans for making dealerships more profitable and she would become a female Roger Penske, with a string of dealerships throughout the Midwest, if not the whole country.

"Donna had a different plan. Instead of attending the commencement ceremony, she took a three month trip to Europe where she evidently had a series of love affairs with a string of guys, mostly race car drivers. Then she came back to Ohio and proceeded to turn her dad's business around, after which she bought a couple of dealerships of her own, which she operated with a higher profit margin than almost any other GM dealerships in the region. She didn't return Jimmerson's calls and she blocked his email address.

"She had moved on.

"Jimmerson was not used to being treated like that. To make matters worse, his job at GM involved establishing and massaging relationships with the dealerships. Another marketing rep was assigned to Donna's dealerships, but Jimmerson heard about her amazing successes at every departmental meeting. It evidently ate at him. He was not someone who was used to failure, especially with women. He also didn't like the fact that she was putting into practice business plans they had created together, and she, alone, was reaping all the profits and the accolades.

"Jimmerson had an old buddy, his college room-mate from Michigan State, named Samuel Broadridge. Broadridge was from a family that had always been on the verge of success, but which had never quite been able to make the final step into the financially successful world. After college, Broadridge worked in a series of marketing jobs and PR jobs, but never quite found his niche. He and Jimmerson kept in touch.

"A few months ago, Broadridge was laid off from his job and reached out to Jimmerson, looking for a job at GM. Of course, GM was not hiring, but Jimmerson offered him a deal that would make Broadrisge enough money to tide him over. It would require him to probably leave the country for a while, maybe go to Canada or Australia, and would stake him in that relocation. Broadridge agreed. Jimmerson said he wanted him to ruin Donna Sonderland. He didn't care how he did it. He wanted her business destroyed. Note: he didn't say he wanted her to be physically injured much less murdered. He wanted her business destroyed.

"Broadridge got a job in Donna's dealership in Toledo, working in the finance department.

"He figured out her secrets and was very impressed. He was evidently working on a plan to plant rumors about her honesty and integrity to undermine her credibility in the business world. Somehow, Donna found out about some of the things he was saying to customers and she ordered the general manager to can him.

"That was about a month before the fire. It was well known around the dealerships that Sonderland's brother was getting married, because she had booked herself and her parents on a cruise after the wedding, telling everybody that after the ordeal of marrying her baby brother off to the bitch daughter of an uppity plastic surgeon the family would need a safe place to drink for a few days.

"Broadridge came to Stanforth and got a job at The Barn. He volunteered to work the night of the wedding. He did not plan to torch the restaurant. His plan actually was to beat up Donna in the parking lot after the party, or possibly to take her home and rape her and then beat her up. He did not intend to kill her or anybody else.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Broadridge suffers from a bad temper along with all his other character flaws. Donna recognized him when he served her drink order. Evidently she said something to the effect that she hoped he was more loyal and decent to his new employers, who were nice people, than he had been to her. That pissed him off. He tossed a drink in the corner behind Donna's chair and then ignited it with a butane lighter he had borrowed from Claudia Mazzoli. He immediately went out through the bar, which would not have been noticed because (a) that's where the employees went to smoke and he was a known fiend and (b) by then the fire had started and there was a lot of confusion.

"He got in his car and drove straight up I-75 to Toronto. He called Jimmerson and told him that he'd taken care of Sonderland and he wanted his money.

"Jimmerson freaked out when Broadridge told him what he had done and Jimmerson told him hell would freeze over before he'd give Broadridge a dime.

"Broadridge got a job tending bar in Toronto and began the process of drinking himself to death or otherwise destroying what was left of his life.

"When I caught up with him, he seemed relieved. He returned with me voluntarily and promised to turn himself in to the FBI.

"As I said, your packets contain the details, including the transcribed version of the statement that Broadridge gave to me when we first met. I have turned the original recording over to the FBI. I have a copy to provide to the insurance company.

"In my opinion, this settles once and for all the issue of causation of the fire."

After that the only sound in the room was paper shuffling as the attendees flipped through the file. Jackson's phone beeped. He glanced at the screen and said, "Broadridge is in custody. He turned himself in with no drama. They're taking him to Dayton for processing."

Frank looked around, "Any questions?"

Jackson looked at his colleagues; they shook their heads. Jackson said, "We're good."

Anderson said, "I want to congratulate you on a job well done, Mr. Rittenhaus." He turned to McGavin and added, "And thanks to both you and the Company for your cooperation."

The cops got up to leave and Frank showed them to the door. McGavin and Bev remained seated. McGavin said softly, "We need to call Rita."

"Yeah. The rest of this is going to go fast. You want to go back to your office where we can strategize?"

"Okay."

They gathered up their papers and walked out to the lobby. Cici was just returning. She told them Broadridge was cooperative and seemed coherent. Bev's phone rang. Ramon Anderson was calling to tell her that the FBI intended to issue a press release later that day regarding the arrest of the suspect. Bev asked if there would be any way he could sit on that announcement until the following day. She said she had a lot of work to do and people to talk to. He laughed, "You mean you want to be the one to tell Peters and Carmichael as opposed to them hearing it on the news."

"Yes, sir. I think you can appreciate why I want to do that."

"I do, but I want to be the one to make the public announcement NOT Peters."

"I'll shoot you an email as soon as I've talked to Peters. You can have your press release ready to go. I have to talk to my lawyer first. Then I'll call Peters. I promise I'll get this done today. You can make your announcement either late this afternoon or first thing in the morning."

"I'll give you 24 hours max. Let me know if I should move sooner than that."

"I will. Thank you very much."

"It's the least I can do. Will this information help or hurt you with your claim?"

"I'm not sure. The next couple of days will be pretty wild."

He said, "Good luck."

Chapter 20

Bev said to McGavin, "I have to get back to Stanforth. Can we talk to Rita on the phone?"

McGavin nodded and asked Cici if they could use the phone in the conference room. She told them to make themselves at home. McGavin placed the call to Rita on the speaker phone while Bev called Paul Morehouse on her cell. He picked up on the second ring. Bev didn't waste time with chit-chat. She simply told them that Denworth/Broadridge had been arrested and asked him to make arrangements to meet with the Mazzolis about midday, preferably at their house. Nobody else was to know. She instructed him to send her an email with the time because she was going to be on the phone.

Then she stepped out in the hall and asked Cici if she could use her office for a minute. Cici motioned toward the room across the hall. Bev went inside, closed the door and called Betty. One of the kids answered the phone. Bev asked them to get one of the adults urgently. Betty picked up the phone in a few seconds asking what was wrong. Bev said, "I'm sorry to impose like this. I'm in Dayton. The whole fire investigation thing is about to come to a head. I think there is a good possibility that rumors are going to start flying and craziness will follow. Would one of you be able to go to the school and pick up Emily. I don't know what's going to happen, but I want her out of the way."

"Of course. Hank is in the shop. He can leave in a few minutes. She goes to the high school out on Princeton Road, right?"

"Yes. I'll tell her to look for you in the front. Thank you so much."

"It's our pleasure."

Next Bev called the principal of the school and asked him to call Emily to the office and excuse her for the day. She asked if Emily might be allowed to phone her, despite the ban on cell phone use in school. The principal asked if everything was okay. Bev answered that no one was hurt or ill, but there was a bit of an emergency and she needed Emily to come home. The principal agreed. Bev returned to the conference room where McGavin and Rita were chatting. She apologized and explained she had been making arrangements to get Emily out of school before the rumor mill got cranked up.

Rita said, "I think we're about through here. I'll call Pariente and tell him to stand down on all work. You're at bat, Bev. I think you are the best person to try to handle the settlement negotiations."

"I know. I'm not sure I can get it done with a full release, but I'm gonna try. I'll meet with the Mazzolis today. I'm going to call Peters when we're through here to arrange a meeting with him and Sid this afternoon. I'll also call the adjusters for the two homeowners carriers. They have already both told me that if and when I needed them, they'd give me their policy limits to avoid litigation. That gives me $1.9 to work with. I've already primed Mazzoli to throw in most of the money he'll get for the property claim. Rita, I told him he'd get nothing for business interruption because his business was doing poorly. Do you think we could justify a small BI payment that might help the Mazzolis get started again if they give us the money for the property."

"Absolutely. We'll do that after the fact. Get your release on the liability claims first. Then we can probably pay the Mazzolis maybe $25,000 or so on the business interruption claim. Let me put my guy on that. We'll have a few days on that. Keep me posted by email."

Bev's phone rang. "Rita, my daughter's calling. I gotta take this." She went across the hall. Emily's voice was shaking, "Mom what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Either Aunt Betty or Uncle Hank is going to pick you up from school. Please wait out front of the school until they get there and then go to their house until I come for you. The cops arrested the person who set the fire. I expect there will be a lot of commotion among the victims until we can put together a meeting to explain what this means. I want you out of the way of the rumor mill today."

"Who did it?"

"Nobody we ever suspected. That's for sure. The good news is that it was nobody connected to the Mazzolis. They will be totally exonerated."

"That's good."

"I think so, too. Now go wait by the front door for Uncle Hank. Do NOT breathe a word of this to anybody while you're waiting."

"Trust me, Mom, I've heard enough of the buzz going around this town for the last few weeks to know that I want to be out in the country today."

"I'll let you know when I'll come for you."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Good luck today."

"Thanks. I'm going to need luck, and maybe a little divine intervention."

"The good news is that I have a feeling the family will be praying for you."

"I'll take any help I can get today. I love you."

"Love you, too, Mom."

Bev went back into the conference room and apologized to McGavin for the interruption. He had already ended the call with Rita. He waved both hands in the air and shook his head. "No problem, Bev. It was wise to get your daughter out of school today. There's likely to be a shit-storm for a while until the lawyers can corral all their clients."

"Right. In many ways Emily has taken the brunt of this whole thing because she's the one in school and out there dealing with the townspeople every day."

"When this is over, the two of you should take a vacation."

"I've been thinking along those lines. But first I have to get through today. Are we done here?"

"Yes. What's your agenda?"

"My next call will be to Peters. I'll try to meet with him and Sid this afternoon, preferably soon after I meet with the Mazzolis."

"Get going."

They shook hands. In the lobby, they said good-bye to Cici. Frank had left to work on another case. McGavin pulled out of the parking lot. Bev received an email from Paul to the effect that he and the Mazzolis were ready to meet with her as soon as she could get back to town. She replied instructing him to meet her at the Mazzoli's house at noon. Next she called Peters before she started the car. She told him that she urgently needed to talk to him and Sid Carmichael and asked if they could meet her at Paul Morehouse's office that afternoon.

"What do you have, Bev?"

"I have completed my investigation and I want to discuss the outcome with you and Sid."

"Should we round up the other lawyers?"

"I will need you to do that. We should probably have a meeting with all the lawyers and all the clients as soon as it can be arranged. I thought that it might be helpful if I talked to you and Sid first since you represent most of the clients and you're the two lawyers on your team who actually understand how this kind of thing works."

"Understood. I'll get with Sid. I think we could probably get to Stanforth by about three o'clock. Will that work?"

"Yeah. If you can get there sooner, let me know."

"We have arrangements in place for getting the lawyers and clients together on fairly short notice. I think I could arrange a general meeting for as early as this evening. Will that work?"

"The sooner the better. Stanforth has been on pins and needles for weeks. Everybody needs some closure. Once the rumors start flying today, things may get ugly."

"I understand. When is the FBI going to announce the arrest of the perp?"

"Either in 24 hours or when I tell them that I've met with you."

"I'm assuming that the deal is the FBI gets to make the announcement, not you or me."

"That's right, and I will greatly appreciate it if you would help me keep that promise."

He laughed, "Bev, I understand how this works. I'll let Ramon Anderson have his moment on the TV. I'll get my turn later."

"Thanks. I'll see you this afternoon."

Bev called Ramon Anderson and told him her schedule for the day. She suggested that he should be able to arrange his press conference for about 4:00 in the afternoon, which should give him plenty of time to make the evening news and the morning papers. He thanked her for her cooperation.

She pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Stanforth, using her cruise control to avoid speeding. She called Rita to tell her the schedule for the day, and asking if Rita wanted to be present for the settlement meeting. The attorney asked Bev if she thought she would need the moral support. Bev sighed and said she believed that she would do better if she walked into that lion's den alone and unarmed. Rita agreed and told Bev she'd recommend that McGavin stay away as well.

"To be clear, I want you to send me an email spelling out my exact settlement authority here. I assume I have the full $1,000,000 on the liability side plus the $2.5 million on the property side to offer the Mazzolis. I need that authority in writing from Russ. Preferably within the next hour or so, before I meet with the insureds. We'll deal with the BI claim at a later time."

"I'll call Russ now. You'll have written settlement authority by the time you get to Stanforth. Keep in touch."

"I'll do that."

Rita added, "I called the adjusters for the homeowners' carriers and got their verbal commitment for their limits. We should have that in writing within the next couple of hours."

"Thanks. I hope so."

She turned off her phone and slid a CD of native American flute music in the player. She had worked on a fire at a casino in South Dakota a few years before and had become enchanted with native American music. She found that it both calmed her and bolstered her courage for difficult meetings. She spent the rest of the drive home concentrating on the glorious beauty of autumn in Ohio and the haunting sounds of the bone flute. By the time she reached the Mazzoli's home, she was calm, focused and she thought that she just might make it through the day without a meltdown. Possibly.

She clicked on her phone when she pulled in the driveway and parked behind Paul Morehouse's car. Emily had emailed to say she was safely away at the farm where she was helping Aunt Betty and Grace make pickles. Rita forwarded emails from the three homeowners adjusters confirming their authority for Bev to include their limits in her offer to the claimants. McGavin sent her an email, which he copied to her assistant for the file, confirming her authority to tender the limits of the liability and the property coverages. Peters confirmed he and Sid would meet her between two and three.

Bev closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Then she got out of the car and walked to the door with what she hoped looked like a whole lot more confidence than she felt.

In greeting, Claudia asked Bev if she'd like some lunch. Bev said she might enjoy a bite when they were finished, but she thought they should talk first. They sat in the living room. The Mazzoli's were eager and nervous. Morehouse was fidgety. Bev leaned forward and touched Claudia's hand, "This has been a tough time for you. I'm here today to tell you that this morning the FBI arrested the man who set the fire."

Claudia started to cry. Ron put his arm around his wife and laid his head on her shoulder, burying his face in her hair. Bev was pretty sure he was crying, too.

Paul asked, "Who was it and why did he do it?"

"It was the waiter that the Mazzoli's knew as Ryan Denworth. His name is actually Samuel Broadridge. He had an ax to grind with Donna Sonderland. That's a long, complicated story that you can read in the papers in coming days and weeks. I'm sure every last sordid detail will be hashed over a hundred ways."

Ron regained his composure and asked, "What does this mean for us now."

"Well, I'll be honest, I'm not sure what will happen tomorrow, but here's what's going to happen today. I'm prepared to pay you $2.5 million for the building and its contents. The safest way to do that would be for me to make a wire transfer to your bank. I also have authority from the company to tender the full liability limits of $1 million to the claimants. Your homeowners insurer, as well as the company that provides insurance for your sister and your brother have all agreed to tender their limits as well. You each have limits of $300,000. That gives us a pot of $1.9 million to pay on the liability claims. It's not enough, but it's all we've got. I'm going to do my best to get a full and final release from the claimants. I will level with you and tell you I don't know if I can get that, but I promise you I'll try."

"What happens to us if you fail?"

"The claimants will all continue their lawsuits against you."

Claudia asked, "Will you pay the legal bills?"

"No. Once I pay the limits of my policy, I'm finished. I have no further duty to defend you after that point."

Paul prompted, "You mentioned once that you might be able to get something done if Ron and Claudia were willing to put in the money they are getting for the building, since we've all agreed they don't intend to rebuild the restaurant."

"That would certainly help. If you are willing to put in that money, too, it may help. You'd end up paying most of it to lawyers anyway. I told you before that I didn't think you were entitled to anything for business interruption because the business was doing so poorly, but I've asked the company to take another look at that to see if they can justify a small payment to you, after we get a release from the claimants. That may help you to get started over with your lives."

Ron and Claudia looked at one another. Bev held up her hands. "Don't answer me now. Talk about it. Talk to Paul. I'm meeting with the lead lawyers in a little while. They're going to try to put together a meeting with the claimants and the other lawyers as early as tonight. Maybe tomorrow. I'll need your answer before that meeting takes place."

She looked at her watch and stood up. Both Claudia and Ron hugged her and thanked her for believing in them. Bev found herself choking up and extricated herself from the scene before she lost her composure. She knew that an emotional catharsis would come later, but she couldn't afford to let down yet.

The Mazzoli's offered to feed her lunch, but she said she wasn't hungry and had to go prepare for her next meeting. She hugged both of her insureds. Paul walked her out to her car and opened the door for her. She got in behind the wheel, closed the door and rolled down the window. Paul leaned over and smiled at her, "You know you're way too nice a person for the line of work you're in."

"I guess that's a compliment."

"It most certainly is. But, it's also kind of a friendly offer that if you need to talk, vent or cry, I'm available to listen."

"Thanks. I'll get through today on pure adrenalin. Tomorrow will be the day for tears, if I get the settlement done, or for being sick in bed all day if I don't get a release from the claimants."

"Do you want me at the meeting with Peters?"

"You can be there if you want to. You probably should be since the future of your clients hangs in the balance. You'll want to make sure that I don't cut a deal with the claimants and throw the Mazzolis under the bus."

"I know you won't do that, but I'd like to be at the meeting. Let me talk to them for a little while and I'll meet you back at the ranch. What time is Peters arriving."

"Peters and Sid Carmichael will be arriving between two and three."

"I should be interesting to meet the great Sid Carmichael."

"He's not that impressive."

He winked and patted the car door. She waved and rolled up the window. On the way to the office she stopped at a convenience store and picked up a pre-made turkey sandwich. She wasn't hungry but she knew it would be a good thing to have something in her stomach because she was pretty sure that she was going to be sick at some point during the day. She could tell by the way the clerk looked at her that word was out that something was up. She parked in front of Morehouse's office and noticed that several people on the sidewalk stopped to look at her. She decided to hide in the office for the rest of the day.

Ed Casey walked up beside her as she was unlocking the door. He didn't say anything until they were inside. Then he said, "Just so you know, the fact that you had your daughter leave school suddenly in the middle of the morning set off alarm bells that something is up. I will add as a side note that the fact that she was picked up by Hank Deller did not go unnoticed. The old timers around here whose memories for gossip are long will be yammering to everybody who hasn't heard the story about the estrangement between the Weigle family and your father. The word is that you have had no contact with that family your entire life. Now, all of a sudden, they're picking Emily up from school. Inquiring minds will want to know."

"Nosy bastards can fuck off." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Sorry. That was uncalled for."

He laughed, "Actually I thought you used amazing restraint. In your situation, I think I'd have reacted like the kid in the movie The Exorcist."

She giggled. "Nah. I'm going to save that for later, in private. Anyway, thanks for the warning. I had a pretty good idea that would happen, but once the attorneys start calling their clients to set up a meeting, I knew the shit would hit the fan, and I wanted her out of the way."

"That was wise. When is the meeting?"

"Not sure. Peters and Carmichael should be here in an hour or so. They're trying to set up a meeting as soon as tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"When is Anderson going to have his press conference."

"This afternoon at about 4:00."

"It was nice of him to give you so much time."

"Actually he offered me 24 hours. I called him back after I talked to Peters. I don't trust the lawyers not to jump in and steal Anderson's thunder. Anderson's been pretty decent on this gig, and I thought he earned his moment in front of the TV cameras."

"What are you going to do now?"

She held up her sack, "I'm going to eat lunch so I'll have something to throw up later. He held up a bag from the deli. "Care for some company?"

"Actually, I'd love company and I'd love to talk about anything other than this claim. How about you fill me in on what's going on in the world. I have not looked at a newspaper or watched the TV news in days."

They took their lunches into the conference room and spread them out. Casey had a large container of clam chowder which he divided between two coffee cups, pushing one in front of her. "My mother always said that any problem could be dealt with after eating soup."

They ate their sandwiches and shared the soup, making small talk about the weather and town gossip. They finished lunch but Casey made no move to leave. Bev made a face, "You don't need to babysit me."

"Yes I do. Paul told me to stay here until he arrives."

"You guys ganging up on me?"

"We like to think of it as having your back."

Bev closed her eyes to hold back the tears that she could feel building. She gritted her teeth until she found her control. Then she smiled at him and said, "Thanks."

A few minutes later Paul came in and Casey got up to leave. Bev winked and said to Paul, "He's a good babysitter. He even fed me."

Paul laughed and said, "Good. On a day like today I think you may need some extra TLC."

She looked from one to the other, "We've been like the Three Musketeers since the beginning. I really appreciate your support."

Casey left. Bev cleaned up the conference room and put on a pot of coffee. Paul went into his office. She followed him and leaned against the door. "How are Ron and Claudia?"

"They want to be relieved now that they are no longer looking at possible jail time, but they are very afraid about what might happen next."

"That's perfectly understandable, and probably a good idea. The next part of this is very dangerous for them."

"Here's the question. If you put up the $2.5 million and still can't get a release, they won't have a war chest to use to defend themselves."

"To be clear, I will not do that to them. I'll put up the $2.5 only on the condition that I get a full and final release of all claims from all the claimants. Otherwise, I'll put up my million and they'll have $2.5 million to pay to you and trial counsel. I recommend you stick with Pariente since he's already done the initial preparation of the file and I can probably justify paying some runoff expenses for transitioning the file to your watch. I can probably also get him to continue to give you the rates he was charging me."

Paul looked puzzled. Bev made a face essentially accusing him of being a idiot, "Insurance companies extract special billing concessions from lawyers. Pariente bills at $225 per hour for work done for Midwest. His rack rate is $350 an hour."

"That makes sense. I feel like and idiot that I didn't know that."

"It's kind of a volume discount arrangement. Companies hire the same lawyers over and over. They cut us a deal on their rate. Everybody benefits, including the insureds who get pretty decent representation most of the time for bargain rates, relatively speaking, of course."

"I'm guessing you pay Rita Wentzel more. "

"Rita's expensive. But, she's worth it."

She paused again. "So, what's the answer."

"Let me call them back. That was their main question. I'm pretty sure that with that answer they'll say yes. I'll get with you in a minute."

The front door opened. Bev backed out of Paul's office, closing the door behind her. She greeted Tim Peters and Sid Carmichael in the lobby. They shook hands. Sid said, "Long time no see, Bev."

"It has been. I understand you've been lolly-gagging around in the Bahamas, living in that house I bought for you after the Rockingham Hotel fire, while some of the rest of us working stiffs have been busting our asses." She winked at Peters.

Carmichael made a face and said, "I know you bust your ass constantly all the time. Tim's never done an honest day's work in his life."

Bev laughed out loud, "You will perhaps forgive me if I say that appears to be a serious case of the pot calling the kettle black."

Sid looked as sheepish as was possible for a multi-millionaire attorney wearing a custom made suit, a Rolex watch and a ring with a diamond the size of a marble. Bev thought that even with all that the fancy duds and bling, Sid still looked like a troll. She knew, however, that underneath all that plaintiff's attorney veneer, he was a decent guy. She was actually rather glad he was on the team. She thought he might be able to maintain control over the other lawyers, even if Tim couldn't. Sid was a Southern Ohio native who'd built a national reputation as a plaintiff's attorney. He was the hero of all the would-be hotshot lawyers in the Tri-State area. That gave him credibility with the local lawyers that even a hot shot like Peters didn't have.

Bev escorted them into the conference room and offered coffee. They declined and sat down. Paul walked in the room and Bev introduced Sid. Sid and Peters looked confused. Bev explained, "Paul is representing Mr. and Mrs. Mazzoli. I asked him to be here."

Peters looked a bit perturbed, but Sid nodded with a kind of half smile.

Bev said, "I'll cut to the chase. This morning the cops arrested the guy who started the fire. I'll send you the details later by email, and I'm sure the papers will provide full and gory coverage. The bottom line is that the fire was set by a guy who had a serious grudge against Donna Sonderland. The Mazzolis had nothing to do with it. As I have told you all along, the Mazzolis were victims here as much as your clients were victims."

Peters leaned forward, "Are you ready to tender your limits and cut your losses."

"I told you already that I'm frankly inclined to deny liability and resist the claim. Obviously, there might be some room for compromise considering the costs of defending so many lawsuits. I'm not going to simply tell you to go to hell, but I am telling you that I don't view this as a case of liability on the part of my insured."

Peters exploded, "Oh, come on, Bev! That restaurant was a God-damned fire trap and you know it! People died because the fire spread so fast. There was no sprinkler."

Bev held up her hands. "The restaurant never failed a fire inspection. There were fire extinguishers all over the place; in fact, they had more fire extinguishers than the fire code required. They were never denied insurance. They never had a claim in more than thirty years, and that one claim involved a patron who broke a tooth. You show me another restaurant in America with a safety record like that."

Sid patted Peters on the arm and asked Bev, "What are you offering?"

"I'm offering my policy limits for a full and final release of my insureds from all claimants."

Sid said, "Policy limits being $1 million."

"Yes."

Peters said. "It isn't enough."

"It's what I have."

Sid said, "You have to do better than that."

Bev leaned forward, "Here's my deal. This is my only deal. If I can cobble together a little more from homeowners policies and the Mazzoli's themselves, I will do so. But, it is conditioned upon a full and final from all claimants or there's no deal. I want to be very clear about that. I'll get what I can for you, but I don't want you to take my million and spend it wrecking the financial future of the entire Mazzoli family.

"I also want to remind you that my insured is a victim here -- meaning if there are other liability claims you might be able to pursue against the person who set the fire, you might consider signing my insured up as a client. You might actually end up making more money in the long run."

Peters leaned forward. "How much do you think you can get from the Mazzolis?"

"I don't know. They're crunching numbers."

Sid asked, "How much will they get for the building and contents."

"A couple of million and change."

"Would they put that up?"

Bev raised her eyebrows, "Maybe yes. Maybe no. But only for a full and final release of all claims."

Peters said, "We hear you, dammit."

Bev ignored him and looked at Sid, "I know we need to have a meeting with all the claimants and I know you don't control the other lawyers. You have the most experience here. You know how it works. You are also the most brilliant attorney I've ever seen at dragging lots of entities to the table. I think there are potential civil claims you can pursue against the person who set the fire and perhaps other involved parties who may have assets. My insured is not responsible for this loss and I will not let you or any other attorney destroy their lives -- which are already in shambles -- over a few dollars. You hear me?"

Sid raised his hand, "I hear you loud and clear. I will talk to the other counsel. You talk to your insured. Can you be at the AmVets tonight at 7:00?"

"I'll be there."

Peters asked, "Will you have your checkbook?"

"Yes."

The lawyers stood up. Bev and Paul walked them to the door. They shook hands. Peters left and Carmichael turned back to Bev, saying, "You're too close to this one, Bev. You're losing your objectivity."

"This one's in my back yard, Sid. These people are my neighbors. They're nice folks. I don't want them to suffer any more than they already have."

"Understood. Do you really think the guy who set the fire has assets."

"I think there are assets to be pursued."

"He worked with somebody else?"

"Listen carefully to what the FBI says."

"Understood. Do you really think the Mazzolis might throw in with the rest of the claimants?"

"They lost more than anybody. They lost family, property and their entire livelihood. I think you could do a whole lot with their story in front of a jury."

Carmichael looked at Paul and said, "Maybe we can talk."

Bev stepped in front of Paul, "Only after all of the claimants sign that release."

Carmichael smiled, "Dammit, Bev, you sound like a stuck record."

"Just making sure you understand where I'm coming from, Sid."

He waved and followed Peters out the door.

It was three-thirty PM.

Bev asked Paul if he had a TV in the office. He did not. She called Casey to ask if he had a TV in his office. He didn't. She suggested they go to her house, pronto. They arrived at ten till four. She turned on the TV and saw the announcement scrolling across the bottom of the screen that the FBI was expected to make an announcement at 4:00 PM. They sat down and waited, watching a series of commercials and the end of a talk show.

At four o'clock the station cut away to the front of the FBI office in Cincinnati. Ramon Anderson stood erect and calm in front of an array of microphones, surrounded by a gaggle of other cops and lawyers. He said, "The FBI has concluded its investigation and made an arrest in the tragic fire at The Barn restaurant in Stanforth. We have taken into custody one Samuel Broadridge who has confessed to setting the fire that killed more than fifty people and more than a dozen others seriously injured. That is the extent of our statement. We will take no questions." He paused and then added, "I want to be clear that the FBI has determined that the owners of the restaurant appear to have been in no way involved with this crime."

Bev blew a kiss toward the TV yelling, "Thank you, Mr. Anderson!" The three of them stood in the middle of Bev's living room laughing and hugging. Bev suggested that Paul should go visit with the Mazzolis and then meet her at the AmVets later.

"Do you think the Mazzolis should be there."

"I personally think they should not be there, but I have a strong feeling they'll want to come. If they insist, and if they're up to sitting through what may be a riot, bring them along. Frankly, I think the people of this town owe them an apology."

A few minutes later Emily called to ask when Bev was going to pick her up. Bev explained about the FBI's announcement, knowing the Dellers didn't have a TV. Emily interrupted her. "They don't have a TV, but they have a radio. We heard it. Aunt Betty wants to know if you want to come for supper."

Bev explained about the meeting at the AmVets, saying that she could pick Emily up before hand and bring her home, or, better, perhaps Emily could spend the night and Bev would pick her up in the morning. "You can stay home from school again tomorrow. Frankly, I think I'll appreciate the company tomorrow."

Emily said she'd probably just spend the night with the Dellers, but she repeated the offer for Bev to come for supper. Bev said she really didn't have much of an appetite and thought it would be better if she ate a bowl of soup and relaxed at home before the meeting. In reality she took a shower and then lay down for a nap. She got up at six and dressed carefully.

At six fifteen Carmichael called her. "I'm calling to let you know that the lawyers just got off a conference call with Ramon Anderson. He didn't tell us a lot of details, but he told us enough to get the general picture. He said you knew the whole story. We want to know if you will tell the story at the meeting."

"What I will say is that our investigation has been concluded. The Mazzolis did not set the fire or have anything to do with it. I will say that it is our understanding the fire was set by a person who was evidently a disgruntled former employee of one of Donna Sonderland's dealerships. He got a job at The Barn, giving a fake name and posing as a grad student with the intent of doing harm to Donna Sonderland. He deceived the Mazzolis and everybody else he came into contact with in Stanforth. Then he set the restaurant on fire during a busy night. The fire started in the corner where Donna Sonderland was sitting. I think that's enough."

"What about Jimmerson."

"I'm not going to go there. For one thing, all we know about Jimmerson's involvement is hearsay from Broadridge. He's a sack of shit, so I'm not prepared to believe that Jimmerson actually put him up to it. What if he's trying to drag Jimmerson into this by way of getting even for Jimmerson not helping him directly? I think the less we say at this point the better." She laughed. "If you can establish a link between Jimmerson and Broadridge, have at him!"

"Okay. I'll go along with that. Our plan is for Peters to start the meeting. He'll turn it over to me. I'll give a general rundown on how a claim like this works. Then I'll turn it over to you to report on the outcome of your investigation."

"Are we going to be able to settle this?"

"I think we will. The claimants who live in Stanforth all know the Mazzolis. Most of the claimants are locals. A couple of them are employees whose claims are being paid under workers' compensation. I am almost 100% sure my clients will sign a release for the Mazzolis, if you can make a decent offer. The unknown quantity are Peters' clients. The Prescott estate is being handled by an out-of-control asshole who even Peters can't control. He's also got one client in the hospital with serious burns. She's a friend of Prescott's daughter; the maid of honor, I think. Her injuries are very serious. She could be a problem."

"Okay. Is her family going to be at the meeting."

"Both of her parents will be there."

"You think I could get away with my sob story about how the Mazzolis are victims."

He laughed, "You'd better tell that story with every bit of detail you can pack it with. Your only hope is to make everybody in the room cry. Better yet, it would be good if you could get Claudia Mazzoli to be sitting in the audience sobbing."

"What if I have her sitting next to her daughter – the one who's kid died in the fire."

"Even better."

"Do you have any idea how much I hate you and all your ilk right now."

"Yeah. To be honest, this particular deal makes me feel kind of disgusted myself. I feel bad for these people. Honest. Maybe this will help you. Your speech today got to me. That's never happened before. Maybe I've gone soft since I retired and I'm losing my edge. Then again, maybe, you were right. I will also tell you I'm going to try to sign the Mazzolis up as a client, and I'm going after Jimmerson if he was really behind this."

"I'll do this for you. If my insureds ask my opinion, I'll tell them that what they need in this situation is an absolute prick for an attorney, and you'd be the guy."

He laughed. "Thank you. I guess."

She said, "I have to finish getting dressed. I'll see you later. Keep Peters and the pups in line, will you?"

"That's easier said than done."

A half hour later Bev pulled into the parking lot of the AmVets hall. The place was as packed as the last time. The claimants had all brought their relatives and neighbors, and it looked to Bev as though a lot of uninvolved people were there out of curiosity. Bev feared the meeting was going to turn into a circus.

Paul and the Mazzolis were waiting for her in in the cloakroom. Claudia and Ron were visibly shaking. Bev's heart wanted to try to calm them down, but her head knew that the worse they looked and the more terrified they acted, the better the evening would go. She had the sense that Paul had intentionally scared them a little.

Bev asked, "What's the situation in there?"

Paul answered, "They've got it set up almost like a courtroom. The lawyers are at one table. They want you and me to sit at the other table with Ron and Claudia...."

"No, fucking possible way!!!" Bev stormed out of the cloak room and found Carmichael. "This is not acceptable! Push those tables together. The claimants lawyers along with Paul and I will all sit at the same table. The Mazzolis will sit in the audience like all the other victims in the room. You got that?"

Carmichael laughed. "I didn't think you'd go for it. That was the idea of one of the pups. I'm trying to keep on their good side. I knew you'd fix this so I didn't argue."

"Well, argue now, god-dammit!" She turned on her heel and marched out into the vestibule, where she fumed for a few minutes before she joined Paul and the insureds. She suggested they join the rest of their family. Claudia looked at her with tears in her eyes and heartfelt relief in her voice, "You mean we don't have to sit in front?"

"No. You will sit with your family and all the other victims of this terrible tragedy – I mean, crime."

Claudia hugged her and thanked her. Bev waved Claudia and Ron into the room, where they joined their family. The last thing she said to them was, "No matter what happens or what anybody says or what your heart wants you to do, do not say a word. Not a peep. Is that clear? You have to let Paul do all the talking for you. Do you understand?"

They both agreed and went into the meeting room, holding hands.

Paul looked around, "Where's your lawyer?"

Bev made a face and held out her hands, palms up, "I am unarmed."

"You facing these wolves alone."

"Just you and me, babe."

"I'm going to let you do the talking."

"Good. Just nod and say yes and/or no when appropriate."

They took their seats at the table with the lawyers. Peters made some opening remarks, then turned the floor over to Carmichael. Bev thought he did a creditable job of describing the process of claims settlement and negotiation. He then asked her to give a report on the investigation. She stood at her place. She asked if the crowd could hear her without using the mike. People in the back said they couldn't hear her. She hated speaking from a podium, but she wanted to be heard.

She stepped behind the podium at the center of the table, adjusted the mike and said, "When we met the last time the cause of the fire was still under investigation. I was unable to make any assurances to anyone, including my insureds, whether or not my company would pay anything at all on this claim.

"The company's investigation is now concluded. I am happy to report that the police investigation concurs with our own investigation. The Mazzoli family had nothing to do with the fire. Nothing. No one in the Mazzoli family is responsible in any way for the damage or the injuries that resulted from it."

The attorneys and some of the more savvy people in the audience grumbled and there were some shouts of protest. Bev held up her hand in a stop sign. "Let me finish. The Mazzolis did not set the fire. The person who set the fire has confessed and is in police custody." There was some applause. Bev finished by saying, "Therefore, my company is prepared to proceed with handling the claim on its merits."

She paused to let that sink in for a minute. "As I said, my investigation has concluded that the Mazzolis are in no way responsible for the fire or the injuries that resulted from it." The protests erupted again, but Bev spoke over them, "However, your attorneys are prepared to argue that even if my insureds didn't set the fire, more people would have escaped if there had been sprinklers or if somebody hadn't opened the kitchen door, or if they had done something to fireproof the wood, or if they had had a crystal ball to know that there was a crazy man who had deceived them as to his identity and got a job in their restaurant in order to carry out a vendetta against a former employer, Donna Sonderland.

"I could and would refute each and every one of those allegations in court if I had to. The insurance company has engaged a small army of lawyers to defend the lawsuits you have filed against the Mazzolis. I think we could at least make your attorneys work hard to get any of their insurance money.

"But, I don't think it has to come to that.

"My company has agreed that it would be more efficient and equitable to settle your claims now. To put it bluntly, I'd rather put the money in your hands than in the hands of my attorneys." She smiled, "I didn't invite my attorneys here tonight so I could say that without ticking anybody off." There was polite laughter.

"The Mazzoli's policy provides $1,000,000 liability limits for this claim. Mr. & Mrs. Mazzoli also have a homeowners policy with $300,000 in limits. Each of their siblings who are partners in the business also have homeowners policies with $300,000 limits. I am authorized by those carriers to tender those limits as well. That makes $1.9 million. I readily admit that it is a drop in the bucket of what the total claims are worth. You are all suing a variety of defendants. No doubt you will pursue civil claims against the person who set the fire. I sincerely hope Mr. and Mrs. Mazzoli join you in pursuing claims against that person, because they lost a lot more in this fire than their insurance will pay for.

"I am offering $1.9 million in exchange for a full and final release of my insureds by every single claimant."

The room was silent. One of the lawyers said, "That's not good enough. The word around town is that they're not going to rebuild. What are you paying them for the building and contents and their business interruption claim?"

Bev made a note on a piece of paper. She said, "The building and contents were insured for a little over $2,000,000. The business interruption claim is pending and unresolved. It's hard to evaluate a business interruption claim for a business that was failing. If we pay anything on that claim, it won't be much. I have offered policy limits on the building." She surreptitiously moved the paper so Paul could see it.

"Keep in mind, even if they don't rebuild the restaurant, the money the company is offering the Mazzolis for the property is theirs. I have no claim on it. Their family operated that business in this town for more than fifty years. They reported exactly one claim during that entire time. The business has supported two generations of their family and the Mazzolis expected it to continue to support this generation as well and they planned to pass it along to their children. The business was the Mazzoli family's heritage and their children's inheritance. Contractually and equitably, they are entitled to keep that money.

"However, if they are willing to contribute something to the pot of money to keep your lawsuits from bankrupting them after they have lost their business, their friends, their employees and at least one family member, that is their choice. I personally recommend against it, but if you want a pound of their flesh on top of everything else they've lost, that is up to them."

She looked at Paul. She noticed with gratitude that he did not look back down at the paper she had passed to him. He locked eyes with her for a second and then he stood up and looked at the crowd, "The Mazzolis are willing to contribute $1.1 million to the settlement offer."

Bev said, "That's an even $3,000,000. That's all we've got."

Someone said, "That means they will keep a million dollars."

Bev responded, "One measly million dollars for fifty years of hard work on the part of an entire family. There are three siblings all of whom are married, who now have no income. They have children to put through college. That doesn't strike me as unfair or unjust. In today's dollars, one million dollars is not going to make them rich. It will barely keep them afloat until the next generation can find a new way of making a living."

No one said anything. Peters said, "I think they should make it an even two million."

Bev shot him a withering look, but didn't say anything. There was a long an intense silence. Bev waited. People seemed to expect her to argue. Paul started to say something, and she kicked him under the table. She saw Ron raise his head as though he were going to say something. She glared at Claudia, who motioned her husband to be still. The silence went on for several minutes. Bev stood behind the podium simply looking at the crowd. An uncomfortable ripple went through the crowd, but Bev still stood, waiting.

A lady stood up in the third row. Bev closed her eyes and tried with all her might not to cry. She knew somebody would come to the Mazzoli's defense.

The lady said, "My daughter and my grandson both worked for at The Barn. Both of them died in the fire. Frankly, I'm grateful they both died quickly after some of the things I've heard about the suffering of the people who survived. I've known Ron and Claudia for years. Shoot, I dated Ron in high school. I worked at The Barn when I was young. I was a regular customer in later years. My daughter worked for them for more than twenty years and every one of her kids worked there at one time or another. The Mazzoli family is part of this community. They lost everything in that fire, including a beautiful granddaughter. The police and the insurance company both say they had nothing to do with the fire. They're willing to give us more than a million dollars of their own money to help with the claims for the other people who where hurt. They didn't need to do that, but it's the kind of people they are. They are good, decent, hardworking people and it isn't fair of us to torment them because we are suffering. For my part, I would be willing to sign a release for the $1.9 million in insurance money alone. Let the Mazzolis keep their own insurance money. That's their retirement and their kids' inheritance. We should keep our hands off it."

She sat down. The only sound in the room was Claudia Mazzoli sobbing and some soft grumbling from the lawyers. Bev didn't say anything. Paul looked at the paper and then at Ron Mazzoli. Ron nodded ever so slightly. The silence went on for several minutes. One of the lawyers stood up and said, "Now, don't let your emotions get in the way of common sense. There are people in the hospital with terrible injuries...."

A man in the back stood up and said, "Actually, with all due respect, sir, I think a little emotion in this situation may be a good thing. According to the newspapers most of the people in the hospital were employees. Workers' compensation is paying their medical bills. The others were members of the Prescott and Sonderland families, all of whom have medical insurance. The person responsible for this is the guy who set the fire. If we're going to gang up on anybody, let's go after him. I agree with Mrs. Deller. The Mazzoli's have lost more than any of us. We shouldn't punish them."

A young woman stood up in the row behind the Mazzoli's and said, "My husband died in the fire. He was a waiter at The Barn. I'm willing to release the Mazzoli's for just the amount of my share of their insurance money. I don't think they should have to pay anything out of their pocket."

Somebody else said, "A business owner should have more than $ 1,000,000 in insurance."

Bev asked, "How many of you business owners have more than $1,000,000 in insurance limits?" No one raise their hand.

The lawyers were grumbling and glaring at their clients, instructing them to sit down and be quiet. The crowd was becoming more and more vocal about their willingness to accept the liability limits alone. They had almost reached a consensus. Bev leaned over as though picking up her purse and whispered, "Now."

Paul stood up and said, "On behalf of the Mazzolis, I want to thank you for your generosity and kindness. Every one in this room has suffered something as a result of this fire. The Mazzoli family offered to share some of its own proceeds from the insurance money with their neighbors as a gesture of good will arising out of the same sense of community spirit and solidarity you're all expressing. They ask you to accept their offer in that same spirit."

The response was a chorus of yeses. The attorneys tried to shout down the crowd, but the most vocal people in the crowd told the attorneys to shut up and sit down. When things settled down, Bev said, "In case anyone has lost track, the offer is $3,000,000 for a full and final release of the Mazzolis by every single claimant. Are there any objections?"

The attorneys all shouted for the crowd to be quiet. Peters grabbed the mike and said, "We need to caucus with our clients. Everyone who is not a claimant, please leave the room."

About a third of the people in the room got up to leave. Bev and Paul remained seated. The Mazzolis looked as though they didn't know what to do. Peters ordered them out. Bev and Paul herded the entire Mazzoli family into the cloakroom and shut the door. The family members were all talking at once. Bev asked them to be quiet. She stood with her ear against the door. There was shouting and angry voices for a while. Very soon the voices became too quiet to hear.

Paul came up behind Bev and said, "You are amazing."

"Don't speak too soon and jinx it."

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Carmichael came in and said, "The claimants are willing to sign a release in exchange for the $3,000,000 offer. They are circulating the release you sent over this afternoon, Bev. We're going to have you wire the money to Tim's trust account. He'll disburse it among the claimants. You should know that some of the claimants are waiving any right to this money in order to let it go to those people who are hurt the most. Some of them are saying they don't think they are entitled to anything because the Mazzolis didn't do anything wrong."

Bev shook his hand, and said, "It's a pleasure doing business with you, Sid."

He answered, "Now I'm going back into retirement and stay that way."

Bev grinned, "After you get finished cleaning out Broadridge and Jimmerson's bank accounts, I hope."

"Uh, yeah. I've got to make some money out of this deal." He handed his card to Paul, saying, "If your clients want to join the rest of the claimants for the next phase, give me a call."

Paul answered without hesitation, "My clients believe they have been adequately compensated by their insurance company. They will pass on further involvement."

Sid made a face and shook his head. "Somehow I knew you would say that."

Bev grinned, "That's why some of us live in podunk places like this. Because they're filled with good and decent people who do the right thing when given the chance."

He said under his breath, "As opposed to prick lawyers like me."

Bev winked at him and shrugged. The lawyer left the room and Bev turned to the Mazzoli family and said, "You can go home now. I'll need you to sign a release and an authorization for me to disburse some of your money to the plaintiffs. I'll get that paperwork to Paul tomorrow. You'll have your share of the remaining funds by the end of the week. I'll try to wrap up the business interruption claim by then as well, so you can simply move on with your lives."

Each and every member of the extended family hugged her and thanked her, and then they did the same for Paul. Bev and Paul walked out into the parking lot where the people who had been ejected from the hall were waiting. The crowd gathered at the foot of the stairs. Paul raised his voice slightly and announced, "The deal's done. Three million even. Everybody's signing the release now." A cheer went up from the crowd.

As Bev passed through on the way to her car, several people patted her on the back. She said to Paul, "I hope the next time they see one of those commercials on TV about the evil insurance adjusters who only want to rip you off, they'll remember this."

He said, "Don't hold your breath."

Chapter 21

When Bev reached her car, she was surprised to find Emily waiting with Hank, Betty, Grace and Jerry Deller. She had not seen them in the crowd, and was glad she didn't know they were there. Emily and Grace were both crying. Emily put her arms around her mother and said, "You were amazing, Mom!"

Bev blinked madly and quipped, "How many times does the mother of a teenager hear that?"

Emily kissed her on the cheek, and said, "Don't get used to it."

Bev shook hands with the men and hugged the women, thanking them for taking care of Emily. She added, "I rather wish you hadn't brought her here, but I guess it turned out okay."

Hank asked, "How did you know the crowd would do that?"

Bev smiled. "I grew up in this town. I've lived here since my divorce. With all the traveling I do, I'm not personally acquainted with a lot of the individual townspeople, but I know the kind of people who live here. They are what makes Stanforth a good place to raise kids. I didn't know for sure , but I had the feeling that the people of Stanforth would do the right thing."

She put her arm around Emily and kissed the top of her head. "Come on, Kiddo. Let's go home. I'm exhausted. We're both taking the day off tomorrow."

As soon as she got in the car she said, "Oh, one thing I gotta do." She dialed a number and said simply, "Deals done. $3,000,000 even. Yep. You heard right. A whole bunch of good old Buckeyes figured that since the Mazzolis did nothing wrong they should get to keep at least some of their insurance money. Yes, ma'am. I am going home to bed. Tomorrow, other than delivering paperwork to Paul via email, I am taking the day off and I'm calling my daughter out of school. I plan to lay around in my jammies all day and eat junk food."

She hung up and squeezed Emily's hand. "On the one hand I wish you had not been there, but on the other hand, I'm glad you got to see it. It was truly a thing of beauty."

"You want to know the best part?"

"What?"

"Watching the way people looked at you. Especially the Dellers. You were kind of always the odd person out in this town. I don't know if you held yourself apart because you felt they had treated you badly or they held you at arms length because your dad and you were the shunned kin of a prominent farm family. I think people will look at you differently now. And, I thought you were magnificent. You and Mr. Morehouse."

Bev smiled.

Emily asked, "Do you have to do that often?"

"I've had to address throngs of claimants on more than one occasion. Most of the time my insured is a large corporation, so usually there isn't that much emotion except when there are coverage problems. I have to confess that is the first time I ever played chicken like that. I would never dare to do it in an environment I didn't know as well as this one. My heart told me the Mazzoli's friends and neighbors would do the right thing. And they did. All of them."

"Were the Mazzolis as innocent as you said?"

"Technically, yes. They never failed a fire inspection and the carrier never insisted they sprinkler the building because the fire department didn't fail the inspection. Frankly, the fact that the fire department passed that restaurant borders on criminal negligence. But, that's not my problem. I think it was appropriate that the Mazzolis paid something. If the restaurant had been sprinklered and if the wood had been treated with fire retardant coating, a lot more people would have gotten out. Maybe the fire would not have spread beyond the location where it started. I think there was plenty of negligence on their part.

"Therefore, we agreed to compromise. It was fair settlement on our part. It won't begin to compensate the victims for their damages. Although as someone pointed out, the employees are covered under workers' compensation and evidently all of the people in the hospital have medical insurance.

"It was fair. That's all I can say."

"You did good, Mom."

"Thanks. I'll tell you one thing. I'm not handling any more claims locally again. It was too emotionally loaded for me."

The next day, they slept late, and then lounged around the house watching DVD chick flicks . They ordered Chinese delivery for lunch because neither one of them was willing to either get dressed and go out to buy food or to cook. At some point in the afternoon, Bev checked her email to make sure the Mazzolis had signed the release and authorization. She confirmed that Paul had sent it directly to the company. Then she whistled. "Woo-Hoo! I'm going to get a bonus for that settlement! The company thinks I saved it millions in legal fees, which I did."

"How much of a bonus?"

"$5000."

"Why don't we spend it on a vacation?"

"That's a great idea. Where and when do you want to go? You said something about the Delta Queen."

"Unfortunately, I found out that the Delta Queen has been decommissioned for safety reasons, but let's go on a Caribbean cruise at Christmas. I'm off school. That's usually a slow time for you. It'll be fun."

"Sounds great. You plan it. See if you can get one for about $3000, that will leave us lots of spending money to use in the spa and on shore excursions. Pick one that goes to St. Thomas. I need a new computer and that's supposed to be a great place to buy cheap electronics."

They spent the rest of the afternoon studying cruise line websites and picking itineraries they liked and dates that would coincide with Emily's school break. They ordered pizza for dinner, and laughed about how lazy they were becoming. Before it arrived, Bev's phone rang. She didn't look at the number, assuming that it was the pizza place calling to verify the order (a necessary thing in a college town where pranks involving ordering pizza for unsuspecting people are a daily events).

"Hello."

"Bev, it's David Jamison. How are you doing?"

She was immediately on her guard. When David Jamison called her in the evening, it was never a good thing. "I was fine until I picked up the phone. What's up?"

"Well, Russ says you belong to me again. He thinks you're magnificent and wants me to invent a new title for you so I can give you a promotion and a big raise at your next review. I'm working on that. Anyway, he has released you back to regular duty now that the Stanforth fire is settled. I'm calling to ask if you plan to take some time off or if you're ready for a new claim."

"I'm taking a vacation at Christmas. I guess that means I could take something in the meantime. What about all my pending stuff. Don't I need to get back to working my other files in progress?"

"Actually, Cassandra has done a fabulous job with your files. We're going to promote her to an examiner position. I think the two of you should sit down to discuss how you can work together at a higher level. She has been handling your pending claims without a hitch. She closed out six of the older ones and has all the others on track. I think she has learned so much from you that going forward you can get things started and, once the investigation is finished, Cassie can finish them off. Or at least those where the finishing part involves calculations of payments and documentation of first party losses, as opposed to high-flying drama in front of mobs. Lord, Bev, you must have nerves of steel!"

She laughed, "David, you are babbling. I was nervous a minute ago. Now, I'm truly scared, why are you calling?"

"Well, we've got a claim that Pete Dietz needs help with. His big gun in the fraud unit is on a leave because his wife just had a baby and there are serious complications. We can't call him in.

"Naturally, we have a fire with suspicious origin. It's a hotel in the Keys. The owner's in serious financial trouble. There are all kinds of other indications this may truly be fraud. Absent the best person in the fraud unit, Pete asked to borrow you."

"I'm flattered. How many dead and injured people"

"Actually, there's one person with a little smoke inhalation. No other injuries and no fatalities."

"So what's the problem? We call Ben Tucker. He works with the cops. Why can't someone else in the fraud unit handle it."

"Well, this is Florida. There are politics involved."

"Oh, God! I'd rather have two dozen bodies than have to deal with politics – in Florida of all places!"

"Sorry. It's what I've got. Can you go?"

"When do you want me to leave?"

"As soon as you can. The fire was this morning. It's out. The Crime Lab is collecting evidence now."

"Okay, will you do me a favor and call Ben Tucker for me. Have him touch base with the local cops and get on the next flight to Florida. I'm just about to eat dinner. Then I'll make my plane reservations and pack."

She could see Emily looking at her with a strange expression that she couldn't quite read. She hung up the phone and made a sheepish face, "I'm sorry. I've got to go out on a new case."

"Where in Florida?"

"Marathon."

"Where's that?"

"In the Keys."

"Can I go with you?"

"Not for the first part, but when I start wrapping things up, it would be fun to have you come down for a few days. Actually, given the timing, let's plan on Thanksgiving in the Keys. Will you call Mrs. Carter and let her know I'll be gone for at least a couple of weeks before I'll be able to come back home for a few days. Then you can come me with me when you get off for Thanksgiving."

"Sure. Actually, do you think I should stay with Aunt Betty and the family?"

"Not unless you want to. They live in the country. You go to school in town and with your cheer-leading and other school involvement, it would be a pain for them to haul you around. We have the arrangement with Mrs. Carter. I think we should continue with that. You can visit Aunt Betty's family on the weekends, and you know they're available if you need them."

"Yeah, you're right. Besides, I'm not so sure Aunt Betty's family is ready for large doses of me."

Bev moved over on the couch and put her arms around her daughter. "You okay with this?"

"It's your job, Mom. I'm used to it. I'm glad I got to see you in action, but I'm also glad that this one is far away. I've had enough excitement in the past few weeks. I'm ready to relax and get back to normal. Around here, normal is you being far away telling me stories on the phone about all the craziness in your job. I have a better idea of what that is really like now. I'm kinda glad it takes place far away. Go. It'll be fun to have Thanksgiving in Florida. Can we still go on the cruise at Christmas?"

"Yep."

"Cool. Go make your plane reservations and pack. I'll call you when the pizza's here."

Bev's phone rang again. She picked it up and started firing off a list of instructions to Ben Tucker while walking into the bedroom to get her suitcase.

The End

Meredith Morgan is a pseudonym for an author who grew up in the Midwest and now lives in Florida.

Born at the apex of the Baby Boom wave in the mid 1950's, every time she thinks of some great new, original idea or plan, she knows that next week it will show up on the cover of "Time" Magazine as the "Next Big Thing." She exhibits all the narcissistic Boomer neuroses, plus a few extra just to make things interesting, all of which she pours into her writing.

She enjoys walking the beaches, cooking (in theory if not in actual practice), and collecting odd, unusual and utterly useless bits of knowledge.

Visit her blog at: http://meredith-morgan.blogspot.com/
