Nell stared.

Benny slowly looked away.

Carmine clarified.

“You didn't have my resources.”

Something complicated crossed Nell's face.

Hope.

Then distrust.

Hope again.

She hated both.

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

“The truth.”

“And after that?”

“We decide.”

“No. You decide. Men like you always decide.”

Carmine stepped closer.

“Then this time you will.”

That surprised her.

He handed her the old fire report.

“Read it again tonight. Mark anything wrong. Anything missing. Anything that doesn't match what you remember.”

Nell accepted it reluctantly.

“And if I say I want this stopped?”

Carmine paused.

“I'll stop involving you.”

“That isn't what I asked.”

“No.”

“Will you stop investigating?”

Carmine held her gaze.

“No.”

Nell gave a tired smile.

“At least you're honest.”

She left.

That evening, Carmine ate dinner alone with Palmira.

His grandmother watched him move food around his plate.

“You're not eating.”

“I'm eating.”

“You've moved the same potato seven times.”

Carmine put down his fork.

Palmira smiled.

“The maid?”

“The fire.”

“Of course.”

He told her what Benny had discovered.

Palmira's smile disappeared.

She remembered Vincent Salerno.

Everyone of her generation did.

“That man collected grudges the way other people collected watches,” she said.

“Did my father ever mention Gulf Arc's Magazine Street project?”

“No.”

“Anything about Fontaine Bakery?”

Palmira considered.

Then stopped.

Carmine noticed.

“What?”

“Your father brought home bread from there.”

“When?”

“Years ago.”

“So?”

“He didn't buy bread.”

“What does that mean?”

Palmira set down her wine.

“Dante thought buying bread was ridiculous when we had a kitchen.”

Carmine waited.

Palmira looked toward the dining room doors.

“The day he brought it home, he was angry.”

“At whom?”

“He wouldn't say.”

“Was it before the fire?”

Palmira thought.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Perhaps two months.”

Carmine leaned forward.

“Did he mention Fontaine?”

“No.”

“But he went there.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

Carmine stood.

Palmira sighed.

“You inherited his worst habit.”

“Which one?”

“Once you smell a secret, you stop sleeping.”

He kissed her cheek.

“I'll sleep later.”

In his office, he called Benny.

“Find out whether my father had any contact with Fontaine Bakery before the fire.”

“Already looking.”

“And Mercer?”

“I found him.”

Carmine's attention sharpened.

“Where?”

“Still in New Orleans.”

“Arrange a meeting.”

“There's a problem.”

“What?”

“Mercer's hospitalized.”

“For what?”

“Car accident. Last night.”

Carmine said nothing.

Benny continued.

“His vehicle crossed the median on I-10.”

“Convenient.”

“Maybe.”

“Can he talk?”

“Unknown.”

“Find out.”

An hour later, another message arrived.

Nell knocked softly on Carmine's office door.

She had changed out of her uniform.

Simple dark sweater.

Jeans.

Hair loose for the first time.

Carmine barely recognized her.

She held the fire report.

“I found something.”

She opened to a diagram.

“The report says the fire began here.”

She pointed to the industrial oven.

“But that's impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because this wall wasn't there.”

Carmine frowned.

“What?”

“The kitchen was renovated eight months before the fire. We moved the oven twelve feet east.”

He stared at the diagram.

“The investigator used an old floor plan.”

“Yes.”

“So he documented the ignition point in a location where the oven no longer existed.”

Nell nodded.

Carmine picked up his phone.

Then she touched his wrist.

“Wait.”

He looked at her hand.

She quickly removed it.

“There is something else.”

She turned the page.

“Look at the photo.”

A black-and-white image showed the rear service entrance.

Carmine studied it.

“What am I looking at?”

“The hinge.”

He leaned closer.

Nell pointed.

“Our rear door opened outward.”

“So?”

“If it was chained from outside, firefighters would have found the chain.”

“Unless someone removed it.”

“Yes.”

“Before investigators photographed the scene.”

“Yes.”

Carmine's phone rang.

Benny.

He answered.

“What?”

Benny's voice was unusually tense.

“I found something about your father.”

Carmine looked at Nell.

“Go ahead.”

“Dante visited Fontaine Bakery three times during the month before the fire.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

“Who did he meet?”

A pause.

Then Benny said:

“Emmett Fontaine.”

Nell's eyes widened.

She had heard.

Carmine asked the obvious question.

“How do you know?”

“Your father's old driver kept appointment notebooks.”

“And?”

Benny exhaled.

“The final entry is the interesting one.”

“What does it say?”

“December eighth. Fontaine Bakery. 9:30 p.m.”

Nell's face lost all color.

The bakery had burned on December ninth.

Carmine slowly lowered the phone.

His father had met Nell's father less than twelve hours before the fire.

And for the first time, Carmine wondered whether the fire had been connected to his own family long before Nell ever entered his home.