There was a sharp knock at the side door, which brought Gurney immediately to his feet. “I’ll get it,” he announced—he hoped not too eagerly. Exchanges of sentiment were not his strong suit, but neither did he want to appear to be in full flight from the generous emotions of others.

The stony pessimism etched into Everett Kramden’s face was, perversely, less upsetting to him than was Kyle’s filial enthusiasm. The man was standing several feet back from the door when Gurney opened it, almost as if some reverse magnetic force had repelled him.

“Sir, may I ask you to step outside for a moment?” It wasn’t really a question.

Gurney complied—surprised by the man’s tone but offering no visible reaction.

“Sir, do you own a five-gallon polyethylene gasoline container?”

“Yes. Two, in fact.”

“I see. And where do you keep them?”

“One over there, for the tractor.” Gurney pointed toward a weathered shed on the far side of the asparagus patch. “And one in the open lean-to structure at the back of the—” He stopped for a second. “I mean, where the back of the barn used to be.”

“I see. Would you please come over to the van now and tell me if this gas container is one of yours?”

Kramden had parked his arson-unit vehicle in back of Gurney’s car. He opened the rear door, and Gurney immediately identified the container inside.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. There’s a visible nick in the handle. No doubt about it.”

Kramden nodded. “When did you last use it?”

“I don’t use it that often. It’s mainly for the weed whacker I keep down there. So … not since last fall.”

“How much gas did you have in it?”

“I have no idea.”

“Where did you last see it?”

“Probably in back of the barn.”

“When did you last touch it?”

“Again, I have no idea. Possibly not since last fall. Possibly more recently, if I had to move it to get to something else. I have no specific recollection.”

“Do you use a two-cycle oil additive in the gas?”

“Yes.”

“What brand?”

“Brand? Homelite, I think.”

“Do you have any idea why the gas container was concealed in a culvert?”

“Concealed? What culvert?”

“Let me rephrase the question. Do you have any idea why this gas container would be anywhere other than at the location where you said you left it?”

“No, I don’t. Where exactly did you find it? What culvert are you talking about?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t share any more detail on that. Is there anything you haven’t told me, relative to the fire or to this investigation, that you wish to tell me at this time?”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Then we’re finished for now. Do you have any other questions, sir?”

“None you’d be willing to answer.”