Borrowing Death Read Free Page A

loss.
    The chief met with one man as he and his companions helped each other remove their masks, taking care with the air canisters. Charlotte couldn’t hear their conversation, but the man gestured back to the building, curving his hand as if giving direction. Parker’s frown deepened. Even from where she stood, Charlotte heard his emphatic, “Son of a bitch.”
    He looked out toward the crowd, his gaze falling on James. “Deputy,” he called, waving James over. “You too, Doc.”
    The three of them exchanged glances, and the dread in Charlotte’s gut turned to a bilious cramping. There was only one reason to request Michael, the town’s coroner as well as one of its doctors.
    â€œDamnation,” James muttered, heading to the chief.
    Michael and Charlotte followed. Both men stopped and turned to her.
    â€œNo,” James said, holding up a hand. “This is no place for you.”
    Irritation bristled at the back of her neck. “I beg to differ, deputy. As a journalist I have an obligation to report suspected crimes.”
    Michael rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.”
    She scowled at him.
    â€œAnd as Deputy Marshal,” James said, “my investigation into suspected crimes trumps your journalistic obligation. I’ll relay any pertinent information to you, Miss Brody, but right now I’m ordering you to remain out here. If you don’t, I’ll handcuff you to the light post. Understood?”
    He’d do it too. Charlotte resisted her natural inclination to argue with anyone who told her she couldn’t do this or that and gave him a curt nod. James nodded back. They’d known each other only a few short months and had quickly come to respect each other’s duties. When James felt it was time to disclose information for public consumption and safety, he’d do it. Pushing him too far, too fast, would likely land her in one of his jail cells. Or cuffed to a post.
    Charlotte would comply, but she didn’t have to like it.
    James and Michael made their way to the door of the hardware store with the chief. Two firemen loaned them their masks. The fire may have been out, but smoldering embers and toxic fumes from whatever chemicals Fiske had in his inventory could prove dangerous, if not outright fatal. The three men disappeared into the blackened store. Charlotte caught a few glimpses of smoky light from Parker’s flashlight.
    Worry gnawed around the edges of her irritation. What was inside the charred store? No amount of craning her neck allowed her to see past the front door.
    â€œWhat’s happening, Miss Brody?”
    Charlotte gave Henry, one of her paper boys and a server at the café, a nod of greeting. What was he doing out so late? “The chief asked Deputy Eddington and Michael to look at something inside.”
    Under the wan electric streetlight, Henry’s ruddy cheeks paled. “What would they need the doctor for? Someone inside get hurt?”
    She wouldn’t be the one to start rumors or set off wild speculation. James would never forgive her that transgression. “I couldn’t say.”
    Henry stared at the front door and broken window leaking smoke, his expression the same as the few remaining gawkers who stayed to see what James and Michael might find. “It’s not Mr. Fiske, is it? I mean, who else would be in his store at this hour?”
    â€œWe don’t know what’s what, Henry, so let’s not jump to conclusions.” She sounded a lot like James, but the words offered a small amount of hope that Lyle Fiske was all right.
    â€œEven so,” Henry said, “the store’s a goner.” He glanced at Charlotte. “Do they think the arsonist did it?”
    Charlotte and others had entertained the same thought. “I’m sure the fire department and the marshal’s office will investigate every possibility. But the three other fires were smaller, in