Bram stared off into the distance. Birds chirped and twittered, and a chipmunk lectured us from a nearby tree. The slight breeze brought the scent of dried grasses. He finally said, “Here? Not really.” He rubbed his chin. “I mentioned the hikers who fell at Devil’s Pass.”

“Yes. Roy said they were guests.”

“Right. Roy had one of the most popular, and I’m sure most expensive, team-building experiences in the country. Rock climbing, rappelling, wilderness camping, you name it.”

“I was reading a brochure on it. It’s one of the angles I want to look into.”

“Good. Anyway, even though the two hikers started out here, they were supposed to be hiking to the east, toward Yellowstone Park, not in Devil’s Pass. The maps found on them showed they had strayed miles from where they were supposed to be. The court acquitted Roy and the Mule Shoe of all liability, but it really shook him.”

“I read his insurance carrier withdrew coverage and he had to drop the program.”

“He took a big hit, that’s for sure. He’s scrambling to set up less dangerous programs this summer, hence the art class this week.”

“I hear a but in what you just said.”

He sharpened his gaze on me. “You are good. Does anything get past you?”

“A lot. I don’t usually listen that carefully unless I need to.”

“Roy also started thinking about selling the place and retiring. But”—he frowned—“he seemed to run into more . . . glitches.”

“Now these so-called glitches have taken a nasty, if not possibly fatal, turn.” I adjusted my glasses. “Thank you. Now it’s your turn. How can I help you?”

He opened the messenger bag, pulled out a file folder, and set it on the table. “As you surmised, we do have a serial arsonist. Counting yesterday, eight fires. The fire six months ago killed two men.”

“So it’s more than arson. It’s murder.”

“Probably—”

“Probably? What do you mean by that?”

“We assume the two men died in the fire.”

“Assume?” I pulled my glasses down and stared over the rim at him. “An autopsy would show—”

“There wasn’t an autopsy.”

“Why not?”

“The sheriff can’t order one in this county, although if she asked, I’m sure there would have been one. Anyway, it was clear the two men died when a hot water tank exploded and started the fire.”

I cleared my throat and tried to marshal my thoughts. “If the fire started from an exploding hot water tank, how can that be arson?”

“Someone rigged the tank to explode.” He shifted in his seat. “Anyway . . . the arsonist has sent a series of taunting notes to the sheriff’s office. With your background, I was hoping you could look at the notes and maybe give me some insight.”

“No.”

“But we don’t have any leads—”

“No.”