Page 85 of Taming Lady Temperance

Good grief. Snake oil ran in the man’s veins.

Clevenger closed the door, flipped the sign to Closed, and turned the lock. When he pivoted to face James, his oily smile slid right off his face.

“I’m not going to let you pin this fire on me, Paxton. I warned Noreen to stay away from the saloon, pleaded with her to cease her tiresome temperance crusade, but she refused to listen. My wife is devastated by Noreen’s radical actions, but we agree that she has gone too far. She’s a danger to this town and must face the consequences.”

“I’ve spoken with your wife,” James said, a muscle in his jaw ticking. He’d expected Clevenger to cast blame on Noreen, but the man’s callous self-righteousness had James’s blood simmering. “She’s definitely devastated, but not because of Noreen’s actions. Because of yours.”

Clevenger blinked. “Ramona would never betray me.”

“Betray you, how? By telling the truth?” James stalked forward. “She said you were not at home at the time the fire started. That you never came to bed last night.”

“I-I fell asleep in my study.”

“She told me she checked the office. Checked the entire house, as a matter of fact. You weren’t there.”

His eyes darted back and forth as if seeking a credible excuse. “That’s because I came here . . . to the emporium. To work on a project in the storeroom.”

“In the middle of the night?”

Keep digging, Clevenger. Maybe you’ll bury yourself.

The man jutted his chin. “I often come up here to work when I have trouble sleeping.”

James raised a brow. “I thought you said you were sleeping in the office.”

“I was! Until I woke and couldn’t go back to sleep.”

Time to call the man’s bluff.

“Let’s see this project you’re working on.” James pivoted toward the counter and the doorway that likely led to the storeroom. “Through here, right?” He didn’t have a warrant to search the man’s business, so he needed Clevenger’s permission. “Unless the project doesn’t exist, and you’re lying to an officer of the law.”

“Of course it exists.” Clevenger reacted to the goad as expected and shoved past James to lead the way into the storeroom. “See? Right there.” He stomped to the back wall and gestured to a section where someone had slapped a few swipes of brown paint on the plaster.

Clever. Covering his tracks with more paint. Only, this color looked a shade lighter than what James had found in the alley.

“The storeroom’s been needing a new coat of paint.”

“So you decided to get started in the middle of the night?” James didn’t bother to hide the incredulity in his voice. “Rather hard to see, isn’t it?”

Clevenger crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, well, I used lanterns.”

James glanced around the room. “Where are they? The lanterns?”

“I, uh, put them away.”

James strolled over to where a paint can sat next to the wall, an unwashed brush lying across the top. “You put away the lanterns but didn’t clean the paintbrush?”

“Well, once the alarm bell sounded, I became distracted. I guess I forgot about the brush.”

James hunkered down to fan the bristles and found the interior ones still wet with the paint. Had it been used at four in the morning, it would be dry by now. However, if it had been used, say, after a particular conversation around lunchtime when Clevenger’s wife asked unwelcome questions about the state of his laundry . . . well, then, a wet brush would fit the timeline.

James wiped his fingers on a rag hanging from a nearby shelf and ignored the brown residue left behind as he made another note in his book. A few feet away, tucked in a corner stood a five-gallon can of kerosene. His pulse picked up its pace as he stepped over to the can and lifted it by its handle. Empty.

James looked to Clevenger. “You know, when I spoke to Taggert this morning, he recalled smelling kerosene when he first discovered the fire. We believe whoever set the fire used kerosene as a burning agent. And here you are storing an empty container.”

“This is an emporium.” Clevenger bustled forward and snatched the empty can away from James. “I sell kerosene to my customers all the time. In fact, I was using this just yesterday to distribute smaller portions of kerosene to customers who prefer that I refill their stoppered glass bottles instead of purchasing new cans every time they run low.”

“Thought you used barrels for that. A heavy can would be rather difficult to pour from without making a mess.”