She now knows it’s safe to come home, and she brings a witness, me. One more thing: Dean is part owner of the Mirage clubs.” I dug into my bag for the business card the man gave me, handed it to Matt. “Look at the locations.”
“North Jersey, Brooklyn, and—”
“Astoria! The Red Mirage club sits right next to Caffè Lucia, and their business has slowed. Before this whole thing started, I even had a run-in with one of Dean’s shady managers, an argument over a parking space in front of his club. Yet when this same club was threatened by the caffè fire, this jerk was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Why? Because he knew about—or was involved in—setting the fire and was afraid of being questioned at the scene!”
I took a breath. “I think Dean’s dirty. Given Val’s close friendship with him and her marriage to a firefighter, she may have been the one to give him the idea to torch the business next to his club so he wouldn’t be accused of arson. Then the marshals would pin it on Enzo, and Red Mirage clubs would walk away scot-free with a big fire-insurance paycheck.”
“Well, it didn’t work out that way,” Matt said.
“Yeah, because James’s fire company was too good. They stopped the blaze before it spread to the nightclub, and I turned out to be a fly in the ointment, too. I witnessed the start of that fire, gave Marshal Rossi reasons to look beyond Enzo for motive. That’s why they threatened me! To get me to butt out. That was the reason they set the second fire, too, the one that killed Bigsby, then sent a fake letter to the newspaper—they needed to throw off the scent.”
“So why kill James?”
“Maybe James figured it all out—maybe Val slipped and James overheard a phone call with Dean. Maybe James threatened to go to the authorities unless Dean turned himself in. He and Val could have plotted to kill him to keep him quiet.”
Matt rubbed his bloodshot eyes. The midnight rain had stopped by now, but the combination of chilly outside air and steamy coffee had fogged the wet car windows. The effect was far from intimate. It felt almost threatening, as if a gray curtain were closing around us.
“Okay, Clare. If you still feel that strongly in the morning, you can call the police, right? Give them your new theory? So, can we go now? I’m parked behind you. I’ll drive you back to the Blend, and we’ll come back here tomorrow to get your car.”
“I didn’t bring you here to be my chauffeur, Matt. I need you to watch my back.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m paying a visit to Mike’s cousin—right now.”
Matt blinked and stared. “You mean the drunken fire captain who felt you up and had a fistfight with your boyfriend?”
“Yes. You don’t think I’d be stupid enough to confront him alone?”
“So I’m your muscle again?”
“You don’t mind, do you?”
“Me? Why should I mind taking on a giant, inebriated firefighter awakened from a stupor in his own home? Presuming he isn’t armed, of course. You do know how to drive to Elmhurst Hospital, right? Because I don’t want to bleed to death waiting for an ambulance.”
“Things won’t go down like that.”
“He’s a Neanderthal, Clare. And your boyfriend let himself get dragged right down to his level. I see enough of this crap on my buying trips: Family feuds. Tribal wars. Old grudges flaring up into new violence. Why should I let myself get dragged in, too?”
“Because I asked you . . .” I sighed, weary of playing this card again, but . . . “I was always there for you, Matt. Remember? Your addiction, your rehab, your relapses—”
“I know you were. And for you, Clare, I would do anything. But this isn’t for you. It’s for Dudley Do-Right and his hose-wielding cousin.”
“Have a heart, okay?” I said. “Someone has to tell the captain he just lost another man in his company. And I need to find out exactly what he knows about Bigsby’s death.”
“What makes you think he knows anything?”
“Back at the pub, when we were alone together, Michael confided that he put important evidence in a package for me.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“What?”
“A minute before the randy fire captain goes octopus on you, he whispers that he has a special package for you.”
“He didn’t mean it like that!”
“Clare, you’re so gullible. Some guys will spin anything to get you in their bed. I promise you, there’s no package.”