Our meeting at Mocha Daze, what was left of it, went well.

The Fire Chief told us that the fire had been started intentionally.

Somebody had splashed gasoline around the inside of the place, lit some of the t-shirts as wicks and torched the place.

"How could Hugo have done this?" cried Barbra, dabbing at the tears streaming from her face.

"He's a hateful, vindictive old man," I said, pulling her close. "There's no other explanation."

"All the work we did!" Barbra said, burying her face in my chest.

I nodded. "I just...hope that the insurance covers everything."

"Are you sure you know who did this?" asked the Chief.

"Yes...my father," I said. "He's crazy."

Barbra stepped away, renewing her sobbing as I told the Fire Chief the whole story, staring up at the carcass of Mocha Daze.

***** After taking our statements, the Fire Chief gave us his condolences and said he came to Mocha Daze often. I didn't recognize him at all.

We thanked him for his concern and laughed about it in bed, later, mocking the severe way that he said "caffeine habit" and the hang dog look he had on his face when he said how "sorry" he was.

***** Barbra was livid, of course, when Hugo skipped town a couple of days earlier and stiffed her for the $10,000. She'd lied to him when she said it was all she had in her account, but she's such a tight-ass when it comes to cash.

Tired of her raggy comments, I pushed her down on me 'til she was too tired to keep complaining.

Afterwards, we talked about money--a favorite subject of hers-- and that's when we had decided to burn down Mocha Daze.