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citing chapter and verse in a way that left no room for argument. He got the point. Some of the color left his face.
    He sank into his swivel chair. “Jesus,” he said. “I don’t believe it.” I could see him computing possibilities the same way I had.
    I drew up a chair and sat down. “What was the emergency that pulled you out of here so fast Friday afternoon?” I asked. “It has to be connected, doesn’t it?”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œBecause if I’d questioned you as I intended to, you probably would have mentioned arson, and then I’d have known the fire-department report was counterfeit.”
    â€œMy housekeeper called. I’m in the middle of a nasty divorce and Gretchen showed up at the house with two burly guys and a moving van. By the time I got home, she’d cleared out the living room and was working on the den.”
    â€œDoes she have the wherewithal to set up a deal like this?”
    â€œWhy would she do that? It’s in her best interest to keep me alive and well and earning money hand over fist. Right now, she’s collecting over six grand a month in temporary support. Insurance fraud is the last thing she’d want to stick me with. Besides, she’s been in Tulsa since March of this year.”
    â€œOr so she claims,” I said.
    â€œThe woman is a twit. If you knew her, you wouldn’t suspect her of anything except licking a pencil point every time she has to write her name.”
    â€œWell, somebody sure wanted to blacken your name,” I said.
    â€œWhat makes you think it’s me they’re after? Why couldn’t it be you?”
    â€œBecause no one could be sure I’d be called in on this. These fire claims are assigned almost randomly,according to who’s free. If it’s me they want, they’d have to go about it differently. They’re not going to burn down your warehouse on the off-chance that I’ll be called to investigate.”
    â€œI suppose not,” he said.
    â€œWhat about you? What’s going on in your life, aside from the divorce?”
    He picked up a pencil and began to loop it through his fingers, end over end, like a tiny baton. He watched its progress and then shot me an enigmatic look. “I have a sister who moved back here from Paris three months ago. Rumor has it she wants control of the plant.”
    â€œIs this Ebony?”
    He seemed surprised. “You know her?”
    â€œNot well, but I know who she is.”
    â€œShe disapproves of the way I run things.”
    â€œEnough to do this?”
    He stared at me for a moment and then reached for the phone. “I’d better call my attorney.”
    â€œYou and me both,” I said.
    I left and headed back into town.
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    As far as I knew, the D.A.’s office hadn’t been notified, and no charges had been filed. A valid arrest warrant has to be based on a complaint supported by facts showing, first of all, that a crime has been committed,and second, that the informer or his information is reliable. At this point, all Mac had was an anonymous telephone call and some circumstantial evidence. He’d have to take action. If the accusation was correct, then CFI had to be protected. My guess was that he’d go back through my workload, case by case, to see if there was any whisper of misconduct on my part. He might also hire a private detective to look into the affairs of Wood/Warren, Lance Wood, and possibly me—a novel idea. I wondered how my life would hold up if it were subjected to professional scrutiny. The five grand would certainly come to light. I wasn’t sure what to do about that. The deposit was damning in itself, but if I tried to move the money, it would look even worse.
    I remember the rest of the day in fragments. I talked to Lonnie Kingman, a criminal attorney I’d done some work for in the past. He’s in his early forties, with a face like a boxer;