“Not likely,” said Denes. “We often keep a little kerosene around for cleaning the grease and ink off the printer rollers and things like that. The insurance people know that.”

The two cousins walked to the door, and Denes unlocked it. He stepped in and reached up to the alarm keypad to punch in the code so the alarm didn’t go off. “Remind me to turn that back on when we leave,” he said. “Finding it off is the kind of thing the inspectors might wonder about.”

“Sure thing,” said Viktor.

“We should start in the front of the building and then work our way back here to go out the same door,” said Denes. “You’d better follow me. I don’t want to turn on the lights.” The two men walked through the doorway to the front area. “I guess Reggie must have left that door open. But I guess that won’t happen again after tonight.”

“We better get started.” Viktor lifted a can, twisted the cap off, and began pouring the liquid on the counter, the walls, and the doorway. The smell was thick and spread quickly.

“Stop!” Leah stepped into the doorway behind them with her pistol aimed in their direction and the small flashlight mounted under the muzzle shining brightly on them. “Police officer. Set the cans down.”

The man who had the half-empty can set it down. The other froze where he stood beside the counter. There was a second can in front of him.

Leah said, “Come into the back of the shop, and bring the unopened cans with you. Leave that one where it is.”

The two men walked into the back room. Leah turned on the overhead lights. The man closest to her was Victor Panko.

Somehow in the dark, Panko had managed to get a knife out of his pocket and stab a hole in the lower part of the second can. Now the clear odorous liquid was glugging out of the can onto the concrete floor and spreading, some of it running toward the business machines and work tables. He already had a windproof lighter in his hand, and he spun the wheel and dropped it in the pool of kerosene. There was a rush of hot air as the liquid ignited and flames rose toward the ceiling. Panko pivoted and dashed through the spreading flames toward the front of the building.

Leah shot him just as he reached the doorway, then sidestepped to the other man and held her pistol to the man’s head. She clicked one handcuff on the man’s right wrist and the other on the handle of the file drawer of the desk, locked the drawer, and took the key. She patted him down for weapons, but found none.

“What are you doing?” he said. “The place is on fire.”

“Not really my problem. I didn’t start it.”