"Yeah, I do mind," Bentley says. "Except I can't stop you, right?"

"Right."

It's in the insurance contract. If you have a loss and you make a claim, the insurance company gets to inspect the loss.

"So knock yourself out," Bentley says. He leans way in, trying to get into Jack's face. "Only – Jack? Don't bust chops here. I pull the pin in two weeks. I plan to spend my retirement annoying bass on Lake Havasu, not giving depositions. What you got here is you got a woman drinking vodka and smoking, and she passes out, spills the booze, drops the cigarette and barbecues herself, and that's what you got here."

"You're retiring, Bentley?" Jack asks.

"Thirty years."

"It's about time you made it official."

One reason – out of a veritable smorgasbord of reasons – that Jack hates Accidentally Bentley is that Bentley's a lazy son of a bitch who doesn't like to do his job. Bentley could find an accidental cause for virtually any fire. If Bentley had been at Dresden he'd have looked around the ashes and found a faulty electric-blanket control. Cuts down on paperwork and court appearances.

As a fire investigator, Bentley makes a great fisherman.

"Hey, Jack," Bentley says. He's smiling but he's definitely pissed. "At least I didn't get thrown out."

Like me, Jack thinks. He says, "That's probably because they don't realize you're even there."

"Fuck you," Bentley says.

"Hop in the back."

The smile disappears from Bentley's face. He's like serious now.

"Accidental fire, accidental death," Bentley says. "Don't dick around in there."

Jack waits until Bentley leaves before he gets out of the car.

To go dick around in there.

6

Before the scene gets cold.

Literally.

The colder the scene, the less chance there is of finding out what happened.