Page 109 of Hell Hath No Fury

Eric looked appalled. “Matthias thinks I’m guilty?”

Emma glared at him. “No. The state police may think Matthias had something to do with it.”

“Matthias?” Nell said. “Why?”

“Because he’d been there not long before it happened. But I don’t believe he’s a serious suspect, either.” Although after saying it out loud, Emma began to wonder. Was Matthias walking into a trap with this meeting? No. It had been Matthias’s idea. If it was atrap, the invitation would’ve come from Fergusson. Emma shoved the thought aside. “Do either of you know of any history between Fran Goodwin and Sonny?”

“What kind of history?” Eric asked, his expression dubious.

Emma glanced toward the curtain surrounding the next bed, aware that the conversation behind it had fallen silent. “Romantic,” she whispered.

Eric and Nell looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

“I have no idea,” Nell said. “I haven’t exactly been tuned in to local gossip in recent years.”

Eric didn’t speak right away, but Emma could tell he was thinking. Finally, he said, “Now that you mention it, I seem to recall them being an item, but that was ages ago.”

“How long is an age?” Emma asked.

“It was after high school.”

“Sonny and Ashley were high school sweethearts. They married right after graduation.”

“I never said Sonny wasn’t a cad where women are concerned. I don’t know this for a fact, but rumor has it he and Tina were also… you know.”

Emma checked the curtain again, certain whoever was behind it was straining to hear. She met Eric’s gaze. “Why don’t you and I take a walk. Maybe get something to eat. I’m starved.”

“So am I.” He stood.

Nell pushed the wheeled table away. “Oh, no you don’t. Not without me.” She pointed at a pair of crutches leaning in the corner. “They showed me how to use those and told me I need to move around anyway.”

Emma slid from the bed and gathered the crutches, along with the gelatin and apple juice. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Fergusson and Lukan were already seated when Matthias arrived at the Pub on Main. Once orders were placed and menus returned to the waiter, Fergusson focused his attention on Matthias. “Okay, tell me about your lead.”

Matthias reached into his pocket and removed the ring, but he kept it concealed in his closed fist, which he thumped down on the table next to his place setting.

“What have you got there?” Fergusson asked, his curiosity obviously piqued.

Matthias wasn’t ready to give up his bargaining chip just yet. “You first. Have you heard from the fire marshal?”

The trooper glowered at him. “I have. His report is only preliminary, mind you. We won’t have the lab results for a week or more.”

Not unusual. “I’ll settle for the preliminary findings.”

Fergusson took a slug of his coffee. “No big surprise. They found evidence of an accelerant. He can’t say for sure but believes it was plain old gasoline. Multiple points of origin around the first floor of the structure, but the body was doused.”

“Did he feel the fire was set perimortem or post?” Matthias dreaded the thought of anyone being burned alive.

“The fire marshal didn’t say, but the coroner has already completed the autopsy.”

Lukan took up the report. “Winslow had been shot five times, but only one gunshot was fatal. Cause of death was blood loss from a bullet that ripped through the abdominal aorta. He was dead before he was lit on fire. No sign of smoke in his trachea or lungs.”

“Interesting,” Matthias said. “I never believed Jones’s homicide was premeditated, but Winslow’s may have been.”

“I agree on both counts.”