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A tall, bald-headed man with wire-rimmed spectacles stood off to one side, alone, watching the firefighters. Aldridge pointed. “That’s Percy.”
Forty-nine
Sam checked the neighborhood for any sign of Fisk and his men. Only then did he let the others cross over to talk to Percy Wendorf. The man stood, transfixed, as the firefighters traipsed through his yard, dragging their heavy hoses back to their firetrucks. “My pansies . . .”
Professor Aldridge clasped his hand on Percy’s shoulder. “Flowers will grow back. At least your house is still there.”
“I suppose.” He turned toward them, eyeing Sam and Remi.
Aldridge introduced them and Sam shook hands with him, saying, “Wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”
“Agreed.” Percy gave a tired sigh. “Though they tell me it’s mostly contained to the kitchen and front parlor.”
Sam watched the firefighters rolling up their hoses. “Did they give any indication on what started it?”
“It just blew up. Flames shot out. Lucky I wasn’t any closer.”
After several minutes, one of the firefighters walked over. “Mr. Wendorf?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll be finished shortly. A bit of a mess in there. Water and such. Do you have insurance?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Give them a ring. They can recommend who to send for cleanup.”
“Very good.” He stared at his home, clearly still in shock.
Sam, realizing that Percy wasn’t in any frame of mind to ask any important questions, stepped forward to address the firefighter. “Sorry to interrupt, but do you have any idea how the fire started?”
“From what he described when we got here, it looks like a chimney fire. Creosote buildup.”
“You’re certain?”
The man removed his helmet and then pushed back his hood, running his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. “Quite.”
Definitely good news—as long as they overlooked the damage to his home. Even so, Sam wasn’t about to dismiss any involvement from Avery or his men until he saw the evidence himself.
When they finally allowed Percy and the others into his home, Percy stood speechless, eyeing what was left of his parlor. The heavy scent of smoke hung in the air, and Professor Aldridge started opening windows. Sam walked over to the hearth, his feet sloshing in the wet, gray sludge on the floor. The initial burn marks appeared just outside the hearth, the stones blackened, the wooden floor adjacent to it charred. All that remained of an oriental rug was a dark, soggy mess beneath a charred upholstered chair, which sat several feet away from the hearth.
The fireman was right, Sam realized. It appeared to have started at the fireplace and worked its way into the room from there. Though possible, he didn’t think Avery’s men would take such care in an arson to make it look as if it were the result of an accident.
“Sam?” Remi stood in the arched doorway that led to the dining room. “There’s a to-do list,” she said quietly, “on the table. The first thing on there is to call the chimney sweep.”
“That seems to be the clincher. Accident over arson.”
“We can all breathe a bit easier.”
“Except for the part about Nigel still being missing.”
Remi glanced at Percy, who stood looking around at the fire damage, refusing to leave when Professor Aldridge tried to lead him from the room toward Sam and Remi. “If we’re going to ask him to help, he certainly can’t stay here,” Remi said.
“No,” Sam replied. “We could put him and his wife up at our hotel. At least until this place is cleaned.”
They posed the idea to Aldridge, who immediately declined the offer. “As generous as it is, I’m not sure that’s the best course of action for him.”
Before he had a chance to explain, a woman, mid-sixties, walked into the house, then stopped just a few feet in as she looked around. Undoubtedly Percy’
