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“The fire marshal says a candle ignited curtains in one of the rooms. I tell you though, it couldn’t have. Nobody was in that room. The damned door was locked. They had to break it down. And I know for a fact we didn’t register anybody into it—it hadn’t been cleaned yet after the last guest left.” Derrick scowled, kicking the wall with the toe of his heavy boot. “Did she tell you about the calls?”
We stared at him. So he’d had the same thought we had.
“You know about them?” I cocked my head to the side, squinting up at the second floor. Even from out here, it was obvious how heavy the damage had been.
“Oh, hell yes. But Menolly wouldn’t let me report the first one, and the second—I was there when you were. I heard her trying to get info out of the freak. I’m convinced this was somebody’s idea of payback. Who? I dunno. But somebody wanted to destroy the Wayfarer and they found a way to do it.” The bartender shook his head. “And you just wait—two humans were among the dead. Their families aren’t going to wait long before they lawyer up and sue Menolly’s ass off.”
That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I didn’t think it had crossed Camille’s either, by the look on her face.
“What the hell . . . you think somebody might actually do that? What if it’s found to be arson? Would she still be liable?” I hopped over the tape and cautiously approached the building. As I peered in the window, which was now an opening with a pile of jagged glass surrounding it, the inside of the bar was a surreal sight.
In the dim light, I could still see broken timbers from the ceiling that had come crashing down to the floor. The rows of booths were now piles of rubble, the tables and chairs were so much charcoal, and the bar—the beautiful hand carved bar—was a charred, ruined mess. The Wayfarer was a total loss.
I turned around. “Did the cops say when we can pick through the ashes to see what we can salvage?”
Derrick shrugged. “They told me that we can go back in, but we better have a demolition company come here first and remove some of the hanging beams. It’s dangerous. Over eighty percent destroyed. But that means there may be a few things worth saving, and they said that the foundation of the structure is still viable. Menolly can rebuild, if she wants to.”
“If it is legally deemed arson, we can collect the insurance. But if it’s labeled an accident, then who knows what’s going to happen. And if, like you said, the families of the victims sue . . . it could wipe out everything.” I rubbed my head. “What are we going to do?”
Camille maneuvered over the caution tape and wrapped her arm around my waist, peering in. “You know as well as I do that the worst part of this for Menolly is going to be the eight victims. Money is only money. You can always make more. But lives have been lost and that’s never easy.”
“Yeah. I know.” I knew she was thinking of Henry Jeffries, a regular at the Indigo Crescent—Camille’s bookshop. He’d volunteered to work for her part time and the thanks he got for his trouble was a violent death come too early, meted out by our enemies. He had left a good share of his money to Camille, though, and she’d expanded the shop and rebuilt after it had been partially destroyed in an explosion, adding on a coffee shop next door.
But as far as keeping our Earthside livelihoods intact, we were batting a thousand, it seemed.
We stared at the entrance. I was tempted to go in, to find something to salvage in order to give Menolly a little comfort but Camille was right. The building, the bar . . . all of that would hurt, of course. But the people . . . their deaths would haunt Menolly for years unless we could prove to her that it hadn’t been somehow her fault.
I glanced over at Derrick. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll wait here. The others will be here soon. We’re going to dive in and start making some sense of this so that by the time Menolly gets here tomorrow night, it’s not so horrifying. She’s a great boss and we want to help out however we can.” He gave us a two-fingered salute as we slowly returned to the car.
Shade was the first to speak once we were buckled in and back on the road. “If there’s a question of money, not to worry. Between Smoky and me, we can make this happen. We talked about it this morning before the two of you woke up.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Love, you are so wonderful. And Smoky. But what we really need is for the fire marshal to find the evidence pointing to arson. We need the physical proof for Menolly’s sake.”
Camille frowned. “That’s going to be difficult, especially if the fire marshal is on the fence about it. But . . . all right. If the fire started in a locked room, I guess our first question to ask is: Who had a key to that room? Who could have gotten in there? Could the lock have been picked? Was it an easy target? Considering it’s a hotel room, essentially, I hope the answer to the latter two questions is no. Because having unsecured guest rooms? Not so good for business and you know the rumor mill would fly.”
“I guess we ask Menolly who had the keys. Then, we ask whoever had a copy if they still have it. Maybe somebody stole one and it wasn’t noticed.” I pulled out my notepad and jotted stuff down. I loved my laptop but didn’t trust my phone to capture the notes I was making. Camille, on the other hand, now used her phone for everything. I think she even slept with it near the bed, though I wouldn’t put it past one of her husbands to turn the damned thing off when she wasn’t looking.
“What next?” Shade looked around. “I don’t think there’s much more we can do here, at least not right now.”
Slowly, I agreed. “You’re right.” Part of me was loath to leave the bar. It seemed callous to turn our backs and walk away, but what would we accomplish by staying? I tucked my notepad away and let out a long sigh. “Okay, it’s off to the FH-CSI.”
With a wave to Derrick, we turned, and left the burned out shell behind us.
• • •
The bustle was loud and noisy at the FH-CSI. Chase gave us a wave as we passed his office; he looked like he was in a meeting with some bigwig in a suit. He peeked around his office door.
“See you tonight, guys. I promised Nerissa that I’ll gather all the information I can about the Wayfarer then, but right now but this meeting’s one I have to take.”
We waved him back into his office and headed for the medic unit. There, Sharah was bandaging up one of the officers, who looked like he’d been bitten by a dog. Blonde and timidly pretty, the elfin medic was ready to pop any day, like Iris, and looked harried and tired. She was also the niece to Queen Asteria, back in Elqaneve. She brushed away a stray lock of hair and flashed us a genuine smile as we entered the room, then slapped the officer on the knee.
“You’re good to go. Just watch it next time, Dan. Dog bites can be dangerous, and it’s worse when a hellhound is involved.”
Camille winced. She’d been wounded by a hellhound before, and the acid in its bite had left quite a tidy scar on her. The cop merely nodded his thanks, pulled down his pants leg, and headed out without even glancing our way.
“You want me to check that hand?” Sharah asked.
