He turned back to look at the fire, which was still five or six short connecting pier lengths away, and as far out into the harbor as any of the piers went. He had no idea what might have set it off—could be any number of things, fuel tank, faulty wiring, anything. But his gut told him that it was no accident. He hoped like hell his gut was wrong.
There was a metal clanging sound on the other side of the wide panel door, then a loud groan and screech as the heavy wood door was dragged open along the metal tracks it was connected to overhead. “What in the name of God Almighty—” Jonah’s gruff voice, made even more gravelly by sleep, broke off as he looked past Calder’s shoulder. “No.” He said it like a command. As if he could simply order the fire not to be happening. “Goddammit!”
That’s more like it. “Emergency vehicles are already—”
“I can hear that,” he barked. “I’m not deaf.”
Calder didn’t point out that he clearly hadn’t heard the explosion, which had to have rocked the pier they were presently standing on. “Was there anyone down there?”
“What?” Jonah’s gaze was fixed on the fire; then he spared a brief glance at Calder. “No. Tools and supplies.” He looked back out to the burning boathouse and Calder saw a bleak expression enter his eyes.
Not a small amount of tools and supplies, he gathered.
Catching Calder’s gaze, his expression went hard. He drew himself up to his full height, which, even in an old white T-shirt and frayed pajama bottoms, was impressively imposing. “Thought I told you to stay off this property.”
“Fine,” Calder barked right back at him. “Next time I’ll let your ornery ass hide burn along with your precious property.”
“Grandpa?”
Both men went momentarily still, then Calder looked down to find a tiny wisp of a thing clutching at Jonah’s meaty paw. She couldn’t be more than five, Calder guessed. Soft, dark curls tousled around the face of a pouty, sleepy angel.
“It’s all right, Little Bit,” Jonah told her, his voice as gruff as always, but with a thread of love running through it. “You go on back to bed now.”
“Pawpaw, look,” she said, her eyes growing wider as she came more awake. She pointed past him, at the glow of the fire.
The boathouse was a skeleton now, the roof gone and the vertical boards that had comprised the walls nothing more than a row of burning spears, like a black spiked fence, holding the fire within them. One by one, they were collapsing and falling in on themselves.
There was a thundering sound and all three of them turned as a team of five firemen came pounding down the pier in a regimented run, pulling hoses behind them. At the same instant, there came a horn blast from out in the harbor, and as the whine of the sirens died down, Calder heard the loud thrumming engine of what proved to be a Coast Guard vessel. They were spraying the surface of the water while the fire crews put out what was left of the blaze.
“Keeping the fire from picking up on any fuel in the water from the boat engines,” Jonah said, apparently seeing the questioning look on Calder’s face as he watched the Coast Guard crew.
“Holy sh—” He broke off, looked down at the little girl. He’d been thinking that the entire pier the boathouse had been connected to might have gone up and had envisioned the fire racing through the piers like a giant domino board set into motion. It hadn’t occurred to him that it could literally light the harbor itself on fire.
He looked back at Jonah. “I’ll go talk to them.”
Jonah looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Like hell you will.”
Calder dipped a chin toward his great-granddaughter. “Is there anyone else here to look after her?”
Jonah looked down at her and Calder saw his expression tighten. It wasn’t anger directed at the little girl for being an imposition. He was pretty sure it was anger that she could have been hurt, or worse. Anger possibly directed at himself, since it had taken Calder to wake him up to the situation.
“I can watch her,” Calder offered. “I have nieces her age,” he added, thinking how it had affected him to see Jonah as more than the stubborn family figurehead, to see him as Pawpaw. Maybe if Jonah knew he came from a real, whole family, too, he’d see Calder in a new light. “I’m a stranger, though, so . . .” He looked back at the boathouse, now reduced mostly to embers. “Let me go let them know you’re all right. I’ll send whoever is in charge directly here to you.”
Jonah looked lost again as he stared at the smoke and embers, then shook it off and glared at Calder. “I’ll thank you to get off my property,” he said shortly, and so coldly, Calder felt his hackles rise. Jonah might have just suffered a shock and what appeared to be no small setback to his business, but he seemed well in command of his thoughts now.
“Do we really need to—”
“Leave now, or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. I expect you’ll be getting a visit from one of our boys in blue regardless. So don’t leave town.” He didn’t wait for a response, but hiked his great-granddaughter up into his arms so she straddled his hip. “Come on inside now,” he said to her, gentling his tone slightly. “We’ve got to make a few calls.”
A moment later, the boathouse door was shoved closed again with a resounding clang, right in Calder’s face.
“What the hell does that mean?” he asked, then propped one hand on his hip and scrubbed the back of his neck with the other. Not that it did any good. He had a sick feeling that while the fire had been put out, the repercussions of the blaze had just begun. And somehow he’d just landed himself square in the middle of it.
“Calder!”
He turned to find Hannah running down the pier toward him. “Hannah, you shouldn’t—”
“Is everyone okay? Jonah? Bett?”
He reached out and caught her by the elbows as she all but skidded to a stop in front of him. “They’re safe, they’re fine.”
“Oh, thank God. Did you talk to Jonah? What did he say? Was it some kind of fuel leak or something?”
Calder took a moment to look past her at the crews working on cleanup now that the fire was out. The Coast Guard boat had also ceased its operations and was chugging back to its pier, which was just around the harbor on the other side of Blue’s, alongside the piers where the harbor tugboats were docked. He’d noticed them on his first drive through town and recalled thinking how smart it was to have them all in a central location together.
“I—uh, I don’t know,” he said, pulling his thoughts back to Hannah. “I haven’t been over to talk to the firemen. I came straight to the main boathouse.”
“I should go find Jonah. Logan is down here somewhere, too. I called Fi right after I dialed nine-one-one and she said he was being radioed about it as we were talking.”
“Maybe you should go back up to the pub, with your family. Tell them no one was hurt. I’m sure your brother will have the full report as soon as they know what actually happened.”
She finally turned her own distracted gaze away from the activity on the far pier, and looked back at him. “What aren’t you telling me? Where’s Jonah? Is he over there? Who’s watching Bett?”
He cocked one eyebrow at that. “Why do you think I’m not telling you everything? I don’t know anything else. Jonah is inside.” He nodded toward the boathouse behind him. “With his great-granddaughter. He said he had some calls to make. Possibly to get someone to watch her so he can go handle the fallout. I offered to—”
“You did?”
That same eyebrow went from cocked to arched. “Yes. I have two nieces about her age. Two more a few years younger. They happen to like me a lot. I’m great with kids.”
“What aren’t you great with?” she said under her breath, but he caught it just the same.
“What’s wrong?” She started to pull out of his grasp, her attention once again on the far pier, but he tugged her back to face him. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked, flipping her question back at her.
She sighed impatient
ly. “Something else is going on here and if you’re not going to tell me, I’ll go find out myself. I know you think I’m fragile from the accident and—I don’t know what else. But I’m not. I’ve handled cases that would make your blood run cold. I can handle a simple dock fire.”
He held on again when she tried to shrug free, but before she could light into him with the full force of her litigator’s awesome fury, he said, “That’s just it. I don’t think it was a simple dock fire. And neither does Jonah.”
She stopped pulling at his hands. “What? Why?”
He started to explain, then thought better of it. “Not here.”
“Why?” She didn’t fall into step beside him, forcing him to stop or he’d be dragging her along.
“Let’s get off Jonah’s pier. I think you should hear what I have to say. So you can decide.”
“Decide what?” she asked.
“If you’d be willing to represent me. I’m pretty sure Jonah’s in there right now, talking to God knows who, claiming this was an act of arson—which I think is right. Only I’m pretty sure he’s also painting me as the number-one suspect.”
Chapter Ten
“Of course we’re having a bachelorette party,” Kerry assured Fiona. “Why else would we get here four days before the main event?”
“Because some of us are putting together the entire event, which we can’t just whip out of our collective asses. It takes time, patience, and planning to create a memorable moment.”
“Hang some streamers, bake a cake, and throw some rice,” Kerry said. “The people make it memorable, not the color of the pebbles in the centerpiece. And what the hell are those anyway?”
“Terrariums. With little miniature tableaus set amongst the live plants and succulents. They’re called fairy gardens and they’re like little lasting wedding day memories. In this case, each one depicts a seaside scene, something meaningful to the bride and groom. Their centerpiece will feature our lighthouse.”
“By the time they see them, they’ll only be thinking about how fast they can ditch the after-party so they can hop a plane and go boink like bunnies.”
“Oh, thanks.” Fiona, who was lying flat on her back in the middle of her bed, moaned and put her hands over her eyes. “There’s another visual I never needed about my big brother.”
Kerry grinned. “I wonder if they like to do it in the shower.”
Fiona threw a pillow at her. “Hannah, make her stop before I need therapy. Or more therapy,” she muttered.
Hannah shot Kerry a quelling look, then hid her smile when Kerry very kindly stuck her tongue out at her oldest sister, adding a wink as she did. Cheeky monkey. Fergus had often called Kerry that, with exasperation, affection, and—far too often—admiration mixed in. Hannah identified with all of those feelings.
Hannah stared at her bare face in Fiona’s vanity mirror while her sisters continued to haggle over the bachelorette party, with Fiona insisting she knew what Alex wanted and Kerry equally adamant that she knew what the bride-to-be needed. Hannah tuned them out and made a frank assessment of her post-accident-trauma appearance.
The accident had happened Wednesday afternoon. It was now Friday morning, and the color under her eyes was turning a lovely shade of seaweed green with a soupcon of eggplant purple. It gave her a certain Zombies of the Apocalypse je ne sais quoi. “How does she get that color to look so . . . Night of the Living Dead?” she mocked under her breath. “Maybe she’s born with it.” Maybe it’s Maybelline. She smiled as the familiar jingle played in her mind. If only. There wasn’t enough Maybelline in the world to fix her face.
“Earth to big sister,” Fiona said. “Did Logan say what the verdict is on Blue’s boathouse?”
Hannah turned to find them both sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders pressed together, hands joined and resting on Kerry’s lap. They’d always been like that, too. Fight like cats and dogs, then literally kiss and make up in the span of a breath. Then two seconds later, right back to Rock ’Em Sock ’Em Robots. Good thing neither one of them could hold a grudge for more than a blink. Hannah wished she had their forgive-and-forget gene.
“Word is it’s arson,” Hannah said. “Not particularly cleverly disguised to look like anything else, either.”
“Why would anyone torch one of Blue’s boathouses?” Fi asked.
“Not just any boathouse,” Kerry added. “I heard it was basically his bait and tackle storage shed. Cost him large, losing that inventory.”
“I mean, he wouldn’t have done it himself for the insurance or anything, would he?” Fiona went on. “Blue’s is doing okay, right?”
Kerry gave her sister a knuckle in the shoulder, earning her a scowl as Fiona rubbed the spot. “What?” Fiona demanded. “Who else would have a motive to do that?” She looked at Hannah. “Unless he pissed somebody off, which, you know, we’re talking about Jonah. Has he fired anyone recently? Dropped a big-ticket vendor or something?”
“Why are you asking me?” Hannah wanted to know.
“Because you just absorb this kind of stuff,” Kerry said, “you know, through legal osmosis or something. I mean, you were always getting to the bottom of things when we were growing up.”
“What things?”
Kerry’s eyes twinkled. “You really need a list?”
“Oh, you mean we’re talking about me uncovering and deterring your shenanigans? Well, pardon me for wanting to keep my baby sister from getting a rap sheet longer than my arm. Before she was seven.”
“Suspects?” Fiona asked, pulling Hannah’s focus back to the point of the conversation. “Did Logan say they had any?”
Hannah hedged, then figured what the hell, it was going to be common knowledge before the day was out. “He’s going to talk to Jonah’s great-nephew. Calder Blue.”
“The guy who ran you off the road?” Fiona said, eyes bugging wide. “I knew he was bad news!”
“He didn’t run me off the road. I ran the stop sign and almost hit him. And he’s not bad news.” At least, I hope he’s not.
Fiona folded her arms. “Well, we’ll see, won’t we?”
“Why him?” Kerry wanted to know. “Because of that stupid ancient family feud? Does Jonah think he just suddenly came all the way down from Calais to firebomb one of Blue’s boathouses because a century ago, his ancestor ran off with one of Jonah’s ancestors? I mean, come on. And that doesn’t even make any sense. Calder’s ancestor was the villain in that little scenario, not ours. If anything, it would make more sense for it to be Jonah doing something to their side.”
“See? You’re just as bad as the rest,” Hannah said, then sighed. “It’s ancient water under a very old bridge and has nothing to do with this.”
“Tell that to Jonah and his firebombed warehouse,” Kerry said archly.
“Did Jonah accuse Calder of the crime?” Fiona asked.
“Jonah’s just . . . well, he’s a lot of things,” Hannah said. Stubborn, mule-headed, looking for a scapegoat. “He’s upset and not thinking clearly.”
“So, who else are they looking at?” Kerry asked. “I mean, who else could it be? It’s a little too much of a coincidence that someone from the Croix River Blues shows up after all this time, then boom! Up goes Jonah’s boathouse.”
“Which would make that coincidence seem a bit overly obvious, wouldn’t you say?” Hannah replied, trying to keep her calm. Actually, it was good listening to Kerry play devil’s advocate—her favorite role—because it was a useful preview of what she’d likely hear later today.
“So who else are they looking at?” This time it was Fiona asking.
“No one just yet,” Hannah grudgingly admitted. She planned to change that, however. Just as soon as she covered up the Night of the Living Dead face that was staring back at her in the mirror.
“Logan will figure it all out,” Fiona said confidently.
“Logan is getting married on Sunday,” Kerry reminded her. “Then he and Alex are heading out to destinations unknown f
or a week.”
Fiona’s indignant posture wilted slightly. “Damn. You’re right. Who’ll be in charge of catching the culprit then?”
Both sisters looked expectantly at Hannah, who looked at them via the mirror with eyebrows raised. “Once again, why are you looking at me?”
“You’re the closest thing we have to an investigator.”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“You worked on some fairly big criminal cases.”
“Corporate crime. Huge difference. I deal with things like fraud, embezzlement, intellectual property rights, the occasional insider trading scandal.”
“So this should be a piece of cake for you. Small-town arson. Your pool of suspects is limited.”
Hannah swore under her breath. No point in trying to keep secrets. Okay, more secrets. She still hadn’t told them she’d quit her job. Or about Tim. Or that she was moving home. “I’m not going to be doing any investigating. We’ve got a wedding to pull off. And . . . well, I’m sort of representing Calder Blue.”
Kerry hooted and Fiona’s mouth dropped open in outrage. Which . . . was pretty much exactly the reaction she’d anticipated.
“I thought you just said he was innocent?” Fiona demanded. “Why does he need counsel if he’s innocent?”
“I’m just helping to expedite the process, that’s all, so they can focus on finding out what really happened.”
“What do you think really happened?” This from Kerry, whose expression shifted from her initial delighted reaction to something more serious. It wasn’t a side of her Hannah had seen too often. “Are you sure he’s innocent, Han?”
Hannah felt a pinch in her heart, then she remembered that neither of her sisters knew about her colossal mistake in judgment where Tim was concerned. “Well, I can personally vouch for his whereabouts when the fire started. And given his reaction, I think it’s safe to say—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up.” Fiona raised her hand, palm out. “Last night was the rehearsal party. How could you have been—” She broke off, then looked accusingly at her big sister. “You said you went out for a ‘walk.’” She made air quotes around the last word. “What’s really going on?”
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