Page 151 of Fire and Bones

“How’s that work, her weighing at least a hundred pounds less than him?”

“Zanetti says they argued, and Krassle got physical. To avoid a full-out battle, he pried loose from her grip, shoved her against a wall, and stormed off. When he returned, Krassle was still lying where she’d fallen, cold and not breathing.”

“So, conscientious citizen that he is, Zanetti bundled her body off to an empty Foggy Bottom property that he’d listed, dumped it inside, and lit the place up.”

“Mistakenly thinking the kitty litter and gasoline MO would point to whoever had torched the other two houses. And unaware that Susan Lipsey had already taken the fall for those arsons.”

“Sacrebleu.” I heard Ryan wag his head in disbelief. As he had upon first learning of Zanetti’s confession.

“I got a call from Deery while you were recovering from your little mishap with Trigger,” I said, offering a small grin.

Ryan’s lounger creaked as he shifted to face me.

“I did not fall off that horse.”

“You could have fooled me. And Trigger.”

“Her name was Baby Doll.”

I bit back every witty quip that suggested itself.

“How’s your hip?”

“The sauna helped,” he said sheepishly.

“And the Advil.”

“And that. Have you heard from any next of kin of the four upstairs fire vics?”

“Skylar Hill’s husband phoned Thacker.”

“Alvon Finrock.”

I nodded. “To Thacker’s surprise, Finrock was reasonably polite. He grudgingly thanked her for expediting the transfer of Skylar’s remains to Canada for burial.”

“What was the deal with Jawaad el-Aman’s old man claiming to have a rendezvous that didn’t exist?”

“Turned out the bank was wrong. Or at least uninformed. El-Aman senior was, in fact, scheduled for a sit-down with two of his financial planners. Wanting confidentiality, he’d requested that the meeting be off the books.”

“Nice job hitting that panic button, champ,” Ryan said.

“Thank God Ivy had briefed me on those.”

“I’m surprised Zanetti wasn’t watching for that.”

“Ivy hadn’t told him about the security system.”

“Why not?” Ryan sounded surprised.

“When I asked her she said she wasn’t sure.”

We fell silent, watching night snap down like a lid on a trunk. The chirping had gone fortissimo, the ensemble working toward the evening’s crescendo.

“Crickets make noise by rubbing their wings together,” I said. “The males have a scraper on one wing which they draw across little pegs on the other.”

“Why?”

“To attract females.”