Hynes-Pierce’s mouth formed a droopy smile. One side of his face, Addis noticed, hung lower than the other.

“What did you want to tell me?” Addis asked.

“Do you think Mrs. Hanover would be of more help to those people?”

“And you care? When you dig up sleaze for a right-wing ideologue who wants to end all social programs?”

“You misunderstand. I do not hide my loyalties. I believe in letting God, not government, sort it all out. And if there is no God, then we all must make do on our own. I admit this is a much easier philosophy to live by than yours, which motivates self-professed samaritarians to preach social improvement and force others to live by their prescriptions—and, at the same time, win political elections.”

A photographer wearing a red clown nose and large, floppy shoes approached and asked if they wanted him to take their picture.

“A nice souvenir,” Hynes-Pierce said.

Addis waved off the photographer.

“Hard as it may be for you to believe,” Addis said to the reporter, “I’m not interested in discussing political philosophy with you. Can we cut to the chase?”

“Indeed. We must save time. So valuable it is. Let us proceed. Step this way.”

Hynes-Pierce led Addis toward an alley. A street performer was dancing ballroom style with a blow-up doll. The doll’s feet were attached to his shoes. Together they danced to a tango, spinning and swirling, the doll’s dress fanning out. A small crowd watched.

The reporter passed the dancing pair and stepped into the alley. Addis followed. Hynes-Pierce removed his hat—a true drama queen, Addis thought—and cleared his throat.

“My research indicates that if the Hanovers did not receive what you call a sweetheart deal, then it was certainly a kissing-cousin arrangement. Two principals in the Elva partnership, which sold the land to the Hanovers at a very attractive price, were involved in business dealings with one Mr. Robert Charles Mason. Then, at least one of the financial associates of the firm that purchased the land from the Hanovers at a considerably higher sum was also a commercial confederate of our friend, Mr. Mason. Shared an interest in a dog track, I am told. So, did father help daughter? Did daughter and son-in-law go along with a no-risk series of land transfers that netted them more than one hundred thousand dollars—back in the days when that sum meant something? How does this square with that lovely television movie in which a strong woman stands with her courageous husband, the political reformer, against the corrupt father? Sacrificing succor, adhering to honesty and integrity—and to love—she is forced tragically to bid farewell to her padre and his millions. Uplifting and sad, it was.”

Shit, Addis wondered, what does he have?

“Hell, you know that anyone who ever gave change for a dollar bill in Louisiana had some connection to Mason.”