“So, shall we get into this?” He held up a file. “Somebody fire-bombed the offices of Ace Assurance. Given their habit of selling cheap insurance to jokers and then never paying up I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

Franny shook his head. “You’ve also got to question the wisdom of picking that name when you’re selling insurance to jokers.”

Michael gave a sharp laugh. “Yeah, hadn’t even thought of that. Unfortunately the janitor was running late that night and he was in the building when it went up.”

Franny turned to his phone. “I’ll request a list of their clients. We can start there.”

Fifteen minutes after his call to the company a long list of names came scrolling across Franny’s computer screen. He and Michael divided up the list and worked for another hour. It was boring and tedious and so far nobody had jumped out as a mad bomber. Michael went and got them each a cup of the notoriously bad Fort Freak coffee, and settled with a sigh into his chair.

“What I don’t understand is where she gets off leaving me. Kavitha, I mean. I mean, I’m the wounded party. She’s the one who hid her brother from me … us. If we’d had that information what happened to you … well, it might not have happened.”

“I guess people’s first instinct is to protect the ones they love,” Franny said and he found himself thinking about Baba Yaga and Tolenka and Ray and his wife.

“Yeah, maybe.” Michael fell silent for a moment then added, “The bed just feels really lonely right now.”

“Wait, I thought you said Minal was still there?”

“Yeah, but I’m used to getting snuggled from both sides,” the detective said with a sigh.

Franny forced a smile when what he really wanted to do was deck Michael. The man was down to just one hot babe in his bed and was whining while Franny didn’t even have a girlfriend. He found his thoughts straying to the young English ace and actress, Abigail Baker. He’d had the hots for her ever since he’d first found her naked on the sidewalks of Jokertown. He had even been pathetic enough to help her deal with her ex-boyfriend Croyd Crenson when the guy had been in one of his sleep-deprived psychotic rages. How much more of a sap could he possibly be?

He went back to cross-checking the list of clients with anybody who might have had the training to construct an incendiary device, or access to the materials used in this particular device. Once again the cruel irony of life struck Franny. Somebody gets fucked by their insurance company, acts out, and was now facing a murder rap. Franny was sure their unknown perp hadn’t intended to kill Ben Wilson, but that had been the outcome.