Free Borrowing Death by Cathy Pegau

circumstances.
    He closed the drawer with a bit more force than necessary. “No, she didn’t. According to Mrs. Fiske, he had no enemies, and no one in his employ had reason to hurt him or the business.”
    Charlotte narrowed her gaze. “You don’t sound convinced.”
    â€œIt’s the rare businessman who becomes successful without ruffling at least a few feathers. Or being ruffled himself.”
    â€œI was just saying as much.” She always felt heartened when she and James seemed to follow similar thought processes. “I heard he and Otto Kenner weren’t exactly friendly.”
    â€œYeah, I heard that too, but that isn’t motive for murder.”
    â€œBut what if it turned into something more?”
    James lifted one eyebrow. As much as they seemed drawn to similar conclusions, she also knew that look of skepticism. “Do you know anything specific, or are you just flinging things out there?”
    She shrugged. “Mostly flinging. Never hurts to speculate.”
    â€œNo, but I need more than a list of who didn’t like the man.” He came around the desk and gestured for her to precede him to the door. “Right now, it looks like a robbery that got out of hand. The thief, caught by surprise, grabs the closest thing he could use as a weapon. This time it happened to be a big hunting knife from the display case. People make mistakes when a situation gets excitable. They don’t think straight and it goes from bad to worse.”
    It certainly had at that.
    He held up the folder. “Your brother’s report. That’s what I’m meeting Parker about, to confirm the explosion of the solvents covered Fiske with debris that snuffed out the flames on his body. Had Fiske’s body burned further, Michael might not have found the fatal wound. This case is now officially a homicide investigation rather than an unfortunate accidental fire.”
    â€œDo you think the arsonist is responsible?” Charlotte was starting to have her doubts. This event was well beyond the arsonist’s typical behavior.
    â€œI’m not ruling anything out just yet,” James said. “It’s possible our firebug broke in to steal some solvent and got caught by Fiske.”
    They were back in the shared entry. James tucked the file under his arm and secured the inner door.
    â€œWhat about Mrs. Fiske?” she asked.
    James’s head came up, his eyebrows arched. “As a suspect? How? And why? She was on a ship, two days from port.”
    â€œBut her lover probably wasn’t.”
    His eyes narrowed. “Lover?”
    Was he unaware of the Fiskes’ open relationship, or feeling out what Charlotte knew?
    â€œI understand Caroline was seeing someone. Whom Lyle knew. Is it possible Lyle confronted him, or vice versa?”
    Lovers’ quarrels and triangles that led to murder seemed to be the thing of dime-store novels, but they happened. How many men and women were killed “in the heat of passion” by their spouses or lovers or rivals?
    â€œOf course it’s possible. A man can only take being a cuckold for so long.” James practically spat the words out, angry. Something had touched a nerve. “But unless someone has a name to go with this supposition, there’s not much I can do.”
    â€œCaroline wouldn’t be keen on giving up that information.”
    â€œNot likely.” James gestured toward the outer door, giving her an expectant look when she didn’t move. “What?”
    Charlotte considered a possible scenario. “Lyle calls the lover to the store to tell him to stop seeing his wife. Things get heated, out of control, and the other man grabs the knife in rage.” She pantomimed snatching the hunting knife out of the display behind the counter. “And in his anger—”
    She thrust the imaginary knife upward, hitting James just under the sternum with her fist.
    He wrapped his large