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charade? If whoever is doing this knows damned well that the police will recognize the MO and know Tamasini’s in jail…”
    He smiled. “Well, there is the fairly reasonable theory that he has an apprentice on the outside, but I personally feel Tamasini has way too big an ego to share his little trademarks with anyone else. Still, the police and most of the arson squad prefer the apprentice theory to the other, more realistic one.”
    “Which is?”
    “Which is that the arsonist is thumbing his nose at us, letting us know he knows the police and arson squad know. I think he may be telling us he’s one of us.”

Chapter 4
    Tom and I left the bar shortly after our conversation about the fires and my sincere apologies for having been such a jerk in not maintaining our friendship. I assured him I would use utmost discretion in whatever information I passed on and, of course, promised not to reveal my source—Bob, of course, already knew.
    He made me swear I wouldn’t tell the specifics of Tamasini’s MO, which had never been made public and was supposedly only known by Tamasini, the arson squad, and a select group of department bigwigs. That it could actually be someone in the fire or police departments…
    I called Bob as soon as I got home and told him what little I could—basically, that he shouldn’t expect to be taking an insurance check to the bank any time soon, but that he definitely didn’t have to worry about anyone thinking he’d torched his own bar. I told him I’d keep him posted on anything I might find out or hear later down the line.
    Tom was right—I am nosy. If something piques my curiosity, I can’t stop niggling at it until I get an answer. I found myself niggling.
    I was slouched in my chair in front of the TV, surrounded by full ashtrays, thinking about what Tom had said and its implications, when Chris came in from bowling—at ten-forty-five. They’d had the lanes reserved from five until seven.
    He seemed surprised to see me still up.
    “Sorry I’m so late,” he said. “I should have called, but I figured you and Tom had a lot to catch up on, and I ran into a couple guys from the store, so we went out for a couple drinks.”
    More than a couple, I judged, from the faint odor of alcohol that trailed after him as he went into the bedroom and started undressing for bed. He continued talking through the open door.
    “There’s a hot rumor going around that Marston’s is being bought out by some big chain in New York. That should be interesting. I sure hope they don’t come in and start replacing the entire staff—especially the head window designer, of course. How about you? Find out anything from Tom about the fires?”
    “Not enough,” I said as I put out my cigarette, turned off the TV and the lights, and went into the bedroom to join him.
    *
    The next week was a very busy one. Monday and Tuesday were spent taking care of a million details leading up to Chief Rourke’s press conference the following week—details for which, as with the forthcoming newspaper article, C.C., of course, took full credit.
    A phone call from the chief came in while C.C.’s secretary and I were standing in his office going over our respective responsibilities on his checklist, which was only a few pages shorter than War and Peace . Rather than shooing us out with a disdainful wave of his hand, he deigned to let us stay while he oiled his way into the chief’s good graces.
    “Why, yes, Chief,” he said, leaning back in his chair and swiveling it so he had his back to us. “Yes, the article will definitely appear in this Sunday’s edition, and I did a pretty good job on it, if I do say so myself. I’m sure you’ll agree… Yes, yes, I’ve seen to that…and that, too… Yes, I’m working on that right now.
    “You don’t have to worry about a thing, Chief, I spent the entire weekend here in the office working, but I’ve got it all covered… Yes, and I look forward to our four o’clock