“So why’d you do it, Denny?” Frank shouted.

“Take it easy on him, Frank. Maybe it was an accident. Candles left burning during a bubble bath. You like spa days, Denny?” Tim said.

“No, Tim, I’m sick of these psychos. Sick to death. This room reeks of smoke. He burned his parents, his own parents. Quit your bleating, you damned psycho. Why’d you do it?”

“It could have been a dropped cig or something. A few drinks, old movie on the Telly, then night night, burn burn. It could happen to anybody. I’ve done it, Denny. Watching Columbo with a few beers. You like Columbo, Denny?”

“Firefighters already talking arson. We are just waiting for the OFI initial report. But I don’t need no report. I know it was you. Forty years old still living at home with mommy and daddy. Sick of waiting for that inheritance weren’t you, Denny?”

“I love Colombo. Remember Saturday night mysteries. Those were the bomb, back in the day. I remember watching those when I was a kid. Eating grilled cheese sammies with my mom watching Peter Falk or MacMillian and Wife and that guy with the hat. You ever do that Denny like before your folks burned alive?”

“Cold, Tim, that was cold. Now cut this bloodclot crying, Denny. You’re not the victim here. You set your house, your family home with Christmas mornings and Thanksgiving dinners at the kids’ table. You set your home on fire and burned your parents while they slept. For what, Denny? For money? It’s a nice house, big house, pool in the yard. Your dad’s retired with money in the bank. Did you just get tired of waiting for that payday? Murderers can’t inherit, you numbnut!” Frank screamed, as he flung back his chair and pounded the table.

“Frank, calm all the way down. Take a break. Go get Denny a Coca Cola. And hey grab me a diet Sprite and some SunChips. Denny here has been up for hours. You hungry, pal? Denny, while Frank is out of the interview room let me help you. Here’s a legal pad and a pen.

"Frank is pretty riled up. I will try to control him. You want to get out here and get some sleep at your aunt’s house. Your Aunt Josie is on her way here now. You can go home with her if you just give Frank something. Let’s pretend if you did start the fire. How would you start a fire? Where? Write me a story of what could have happened on accident. Good job, pal,” Tim said, pushing the legal pad across the metal table.

Det. Tim Pilmer ushered in an officer to babysit his chief subject and stepped into the police department hall. Weak sunlight met his eyes. Stretching, he went in search of his diet soda.

“Frank, we got the confession.”

“Turn him loose, Tim. The arson report is back and it looks like faulty wiring.”