Kris tried to hold onto his optimism as he closed the door behind him and found himself in Remi’s boss’s office. It wasn’t large, but enough to comfortably fit Captain Bishop’s desk and the three chairs standing in front of it.

Kris guessed Bishop was the man behind the desk. He had dark skin and was probably in his fifties, judging by the touch of gray in his hair. Kris vaguely recognized him from the night of the fire, although, to be fair, most of that night was a blur. He also featured in a lot of the photos that were hanging on the wall, shaking hands with lots of different people. So he had to be Bishop.

One of the other people Kris recognized immediately. PJ looked tired, but he managed a small smile for Kris. Kris was still hugely pissed about their last conversation, but the guy was clearly at the end of his tether. His eyes behind his glasses were bloodshot and had dark circles underneath, and his goatee had gotten scraggly.

“Mr. Novak, come in,” Bishop said, standing and indicating the last vacant seat on the left. “Take a seat.”

“Thank you,” said Kris politely.

“Hey, man,” PJ sighed. “How you doing? You holding up?”

Kris couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of gratitude. PJ wasn’t all that bad. He just wasn’t very good with people sometimes.

“Oh, I’m fine,” said Kris with a little flick of his wrist. “Thank you, sweetie.”

“Mr. Novak,” said Bishop as they both sat down either side of the desk. “This is Mr. Epstein. I believe you’ve spoken on the phone.”

Kris turned to the slightly haggard-looking guy in the seat to the right beside him. He was probably in his forties but looked like he didn’t get much sleep. Everything about him was gray, from his suit to his hair to his tired eyes. But he gave Kris a warm enough smile and offered his hand to shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Novak,” Epstein said. He glanced at Bishop once he let Kris’s hand go. “We’ll keep this as brief as possible, if you don’t mind?”

“Sure,” Kris said, splaying his hands out in front of him. “Whatever I can do to help.”

He and the two other men watched as Epstein retrieved a small notebook (also gray) from the inside of his jacket pocket. “It’s just a quick question, really,” he assured Kris. “We’ve asked most of your colleagues already, but we wanted to give you a bit of time because, well…”

“Because I was almost a little old marshmallow on top of that big old bonfire?” Kris supplied. Epstein gave a small laugh at Kris’s attempt at a joke. Bishop laced his fingers together on the desk and PJ chewed on his lip. “Oh, don’t worry about me,” Kris said. “I’m okay. Fire away. I mean, ask anything you want!” he added hastily. He needed to stop making bad jokes. “What’s your question?”

Epstein carefully tore a page from his notebook out and placed it in front of Kris. “We were able to pull up the security log for the door system,” Epstein said. He patted his chest down until he eventually located a pen. “Since Mr. Maddox here has explained each employee picked their own code, we’re asking y’all to write down that code so we can make a quick comparison to the night of the fire. Then you can ensure we destroy the piece of paper afterwards.”

That seemed a little redundant to Kris. What was he going to use his code on now the bar was toast? Maybe on the new system? But he wasn’t even sure PJ would rehire him.

Still, he shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “Why? Do you think it was an inside job?”

“Someone used a code to access the downstairs of the bar at approximately two thirty am,” Epstein said. He threw both Kris and PJ apologetic looks. “That’s when we estimate the fire started. We have to rule everything out.”

Kris felt a little sick. He tried to remind himself they didn’t know anything yet. However, it was difficult not to worry. Surely nobody he knew had set this fire?

He scribbled down his six-digit code and handed it over to Epstein. He then slowly opened up a battered-looking tablet and, from what Kris could see without peering too obviously, fumbled his way through a couple of emails. Presumably he was looking for one from the security company.

“How’s the restortion going?” Kris asked PJ convivially to break the awkward silence. “Is the building good to repair or do you need to start from scratch?”

PJ sighed and rubbed his chin. “No, the contractors are confident they can save the bar. But the insurance company are putting a hold on the claim until the investigation is closed.”

“Oh, well, hopefully that won’t be for much…longer…”

Kris trailed off as Epstein stood, handing both his tablet and the bit of paper Kris had written on over the desk to Bishop. Bishop raised his eyebrows and took both items, looking between the two. Then he raised his eyebrows and turned his eyes on Kris.

“Mr. Novak,” he said. “Is there anything you would like to amend about your previous statement? Now would be the time.”

“Er, no,” Kris said. “Why?”

“Because,” Bishop said, “according to this log, the number you just wrote down was the last to be punched into the door leading into the bar from the back corridor.”

Coldness washed over Kris. “W-what?” he stammered.

“Are you sure?” PJ asked. He stood and held his hand out to Bishop. But Epstein intercepted and took the tablet and piece of notepaper back.

“Sorry, Mr. Maddox, I, uh…” He looked over his glasses, then through them again, like he wanted to be sure of what he was double-checking. “Yes. We have it logged that Mr. Maddox’s code was used at just before twelve thirty am on the door from the bar, then into his office and then on the door to exit the building to the parking lot about half an hour later. Then…the code you just gave us was used to leave the bar area at about one thirty, then to access the parking lot…then to come back inside again approximately an hour after that.”

Kris’s whole body was vibrating. “No,” he managed to utter. “No, I just went up to my apartment. I never left the building.”

Epstein frowned, making notes in his little book. “Is there anyone who can confirm that?”

“Well, no,” Kris said. He could feel the panic rising in his chest. What the hell? They couldn’t seriously be suggesting that Kris set the fire, could they? “I-I live alone.”

“Kris?” PJ said. When Kris turned to look at his former boss, he was horrified to see he was tearful. “Why?”

“Why?” Kris spluttered. “What do you mean, why? I didn’t do this. That’s insane! Why would I torch my job and home! And why-” he added emphatically, “the hell would I leave the building and then come back an hour later? If I did this – which I didn’t – why wouldn’t I just do it when everyone was gone?” He threw his hands out. “And why would I then go up to my apartment and wait to be roasted alive?”

“Perhaps you went to get supplies?” Epstein said with a frown, still looking at his tablet. Like he was trying to work out a math problem, not accusing Kris of fucking arson.

“Why isn’t there another code entry to show anyone leaving the building?” Bishop asked.

A wave of dizziness rushed over Kris. “Huh?” he asked.

Epstein pointed at his screen. “The captain’s right,” he said, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to show anyone leaving. There’s just that single code used at two thirty.”

PJ shoved his hands through his hair. “You,” he cried, addressing Kris. “All those ideas you came to talk to me about. Were you…did you think if you did a little fire damage, I’d listen to your ideas?”

“PJ!” Kris shrieked in utter disbelief. “No, that’s – no. I don’t know why my code is showing up on the log, but I swear to you, I didn’t do this.”

“Mr. Novak,” Epstein interrupted, his voice firm. “Did you give your code to anyone? Or leave it lying around?”

“No,” said Kris, certain of that. He’d never even written it down, as far as he knew. But it was just his mom’s birthday, so maybe someone had worked it out? He pressed his fingers to his temples. This didn’t make any sense.

“Are you seeing anyone or did you let anyone into your apartment who might have found a way to acquire your code?”

“I-” Kris tried to blink the tears back from his eyes. “I don’t think so. I mean, I wasn’t seeing anyone – I mean, I’m not. I’m not seeing anyone.” Bishop’s eyes narrowed. Kris felt like he was under a microscope. He could practically feel the betrayal radiating off PJ from the other side of Epstein. “I didn’t do this,” Kris said weakly. “I swear.”

There came a knock at the door. “Not now,” Bishop said loud and clear. But the door opened anyway.

“I’m sorry, Captain.” Kris felt sick with relief at the sound of Remi’s voice. “But I heard shouting. Is everything okay?”

Bishop frowned at Kris again. Suddenly, Kris didn’t feel so relieved that Remi was there.

“Actually, Washington,” Bishop said. “Come in and close the door. We might have a couple of questions for you.”