Set the Night on Fire by Libby Fischer Hellmann Page B

busy, and the pants too tight for her middle-aged body. Her thick hair, piled on top of her head, was a rich black this season. Lila suspected a few extensions were woven through it. Her cheeks were as taut as the skin on a drum, the result of two facelifts. Her face would probably vibrate if touched. But Val’s blue eyes were large and luminous, and they regarded Lila with curiosity. “How long will you be staying?” she asked.
    “I don’t know. I took a leave of absence from Peabody Stern.”
    “Can you do that? I mean, without sacrificing your position? You’ve worked so hard.”
    “They said to take all the time I needed,” Lila said, a little surprised by the question. As far as she knew, her aunt had never worked a day. She remembered Gramum’s scowl whenever the subject of Val came up. Still, Val had managed to accumulate enough income to travel. She also claimed to be an artist, but Lila had never seen any paintings or heard her allude to any work in progress.
    “That’s wonderful. So . . ., ” her aunt’s voice turned businesslike, “ . . . what’s going on with the insurance claim?”
    The insurance adjuster, Rick Witt, was a man whose trousers and sleeves were too long for his stocky frame. He’d interviewed Lila several times. Each time he’d had a runny nose, and his constant sniffling nearly drove her crazy. “He’s waiting for the final report from the fire marshal’s office.”
    “Fire marshal? I thought they just investigated arson.”
    “Whenever there’s a death by fire, apparently, the state fire marshal’s office is called in. All I know is that I was interviewed by the local fire department, the state fire marshal, and the insurance adjuster. And then Dad’s lawyer said I should hire a public adjuster, just to make sure Midwest Mutual didn’t weasel out of its responsibility.”
    “Have they told you what they think happened?”
    “They think the lights on the tree shorted out and started a fire. Which then spread to the curtains and the furniture, and . . . ” Her voice trailed off.
    “I still don’t get it. Why didn’t Danny or your father get out? There was a smoke alarm, wasn’t there?”
    “It wasn’t working.”
    The surprise in Val’s voice made raising her eyebrows unnecessary. “Really?”
    “Dad was conscientious about that kind of thing. But with his hip replacement and everything, he might have forgotten to replace the battery.”
    “But don’t they keep beeping when the battery goes?”
    “I have no idea, Val.”
    “And don’t you think Danny should have gotten him out? I mean, he was more mobile.”
    Lila hesitated. “They found barbiturates in Danny’s system. He was out of it. Probably slept through the whole thing, until . . . ”
    Val colored, as if she just remembered she’d offered Lila a stash of sleeping pills.
    “They say Dad looked like he was trying to get out but was overcome by smoke. His body was by the door.”
    “Oh god, I’m so sorry, darling.”
    “The thing is . . ., ” Lila’s voice wavered.
    “What?”
    “I thought I unplugged the lights before I left.”
    Val shot her a look.
    “So I don’t understand how unplugging them triggered the fire.”
    “What do the investigators say?”
    “Nothing conclusive. In fact, things seem to be dragging.”
    “I’m not surprised.” Val’s face took on a knowing expression.
    “What do you mean?”
    “The fire happened right before the holidays. No one wants to do extra paperwork that time of year.”
    Lila stared at her aunt.
    Val took a long sip of chardonnay. “Lila, darling. I’m going to BA at the end of next week. It’s not too late for you to come with.”
    “BA?”
    “Buenos Aires.”
    Lila thought about traveling with Aunt Valerie, being with her 24/7. She remembered her father constantly rolling his eyes when she stayed with them for a while between her second and third husbands.
    “Thanks, but I think I’ll hang around here. I . . . I