Gallagher shot me a pleading gaze. “They’ve got me outvoted two to one. Any chance you’ll throw your support behind Fox? We’re missing Tucker.”

“I met a woman last week who got all her news from Walter Cronkite,” I said. “Boy, they sure don’t make ’em like him anymore, do they?”

The table was silent while Ralph dealt. Gallagher looked from me to Loren Hayes and back. Loren fanned his cards out and gave them a long, silent study.

I said, “Mr. Hayes, you know we’ve got a wheelchair-ramp attachment for the Bookmobile.”

“Oh, yeah? Where’d that come from? That’s new,” Hayes said. “We never had that when I was driving.”

“We lifted it off the newer Bookmobile,” Ralph said. “The one that was damaged.”

“If you’re ever in the mood for something to read—” I began.

“If I’m in the mood for something to read, I’ll order it online,” Hayes said. “I don’t think I’d want to borrow from the Bookmobile. You might try to offer me a novel that won’t come out for another ten years, and I’d be faced with the very strong possibility this old basstid is going to outlive me.” Nodding at Gallagher.

We played a couple of tricks without speaking.

“Did you ever change anything?” I asked. “Did you ever try to change anything?”

“Like what?” Hayes asked.

“Give someone a book about John Lennon’s life and death to see if they could stop the assassination?”

“If I gave someone a book about John Lennon’s assassination,” Hayes said, “and they stopped it, then how would I give them a book about John Lennon’s assassination?”

“Different . . . timelines? Parallel universes?”

“In a parallel universe, you didn’t take the queen of spades. But in this reality you just ate thirteen points,” Hayes said, and dropped the queen on me. “Whoever you want to save, Mr. Davies, they can’t be saved. I’ve tried.”

“Then what’s the point?” I asked. “What’s the point of being able to reach back in time if you can’t do any good?”

“Who said you can’t do any good? Did I say that? I just said you can’t save them.”

“Save who?” I asked. I felt a little winded. I’d had a single swallow of bourbon, and it was in my stomach like a thimbleful of battery acid.