“And that will do it?”

“As long as the bone is dry this will penetrate and hold things together pretty well.”

“And if it’s not dry?”

“Vinac won’t mix with water, so it’ll just stay on the surface and turn white. The bones will come out looking like they’ve been sprayed with latex.”

“How long does it take to dry?”

I felt like Mr. Wizard.

“It dries quickly through evaporation of the alcohol, usually in thirty to sixty minutes. Although being in the subarctic won’t speed things up.”

I checked the jaw fragments, hit one with a few more drops, then rested the pipette on the solution jar cover. Ryan came around and held out a hand. I took it and rose to my feet, wrapping my arms around my middle and tucking my hands under my pits. I could feel nothing in my fingers, and suspected my nose was the shade of Ryan’s scarf. And running.

“It’s colder than a witch’s tit down here,” he agreed, surveying the basement. He held one arm behind him at an odd angle. “How long have you been down here?”

I looked at my watch. No wonder I was hypothermic. One-fifteen.

“Over four hours.”

“Che-rist. You’re going to need a transfusion.”

It suddenly dawned. Ryan worked homicide.

“So it’s arson?”

“Probably.”

He pulled a white bag from behind his back, withdrew a Styrofoam cup and a machine sandwich, and waggled them in front of me.

I lunged. He backed up.

“You’ll owe me.”

“It’s in the mail.”

Soggy bologna and lukewarm coffee. It was wonderful. We talked while I ate.

“Tell me why you think it’s arson,” I said as I chewed.

“Tell me what you’ve got here.”

O.K. He was a sandwich up.

“One person. Could be young, but it’s not a little kid.”

“No babies?”

“No babies. Your turn.”

“Looks like someone used the old tried and true. The fire burned in trails way down between the floorboards. Where there still are floorboards, that is. That means liquid accelerant, probably gasoline. We found dozens of empty gas cans.”

“That’s it?” I finished the sandwich.

“The fire had more than one point of origin. Once it started it burned like a son of a bitch, because it set off the world’s largest indoor collection of propane tanks. Big boom every time one went. Another tank, another big boom.”

“How many?”

“Fourteen.”

“It started in the kitchen?”

“And the adjoining room. Whatever that was. Hard to tell now.”

I thought it over.

“That explains the head and jaw.”

“What about the head and jaw?”

“They were about five feet away from the rest of the body. If a propane tank fell through with the victim and exploded later, that could have caused the head to relocate after it burned away from the trunk. Same with the jaw.”

I finished the coffee, wishing I had another sandwich.

“Could the tanks have ignited accidentally?”

“Anything’s possible.”

I flicked crumbs from my jacket and thought of LaManche’s doughnuts. Ryan fished in the bag and handed me a napkin.

“O.K. The fire had multiple points of origin and there’s evidence of an accelerant. It’s arson. Why?”

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