Olivia introduced them all, first names only, and then began a convoluted conversational path designed to discover more about Zane Green, the Man of Liberty who’d punched Deck out at this very bar. If Manfred hadn’t known her strategy, he never would have guessed her goal. He helped as much as he could by telling an utterly fictitious story of a bar fight he’d been in. Fiji, who’d been mostly silent, said, “Manfred here got knocked clean out, and he pressed charges against that asshole.” That proved to be the clincher.

“Wow, you did? My hat’s off to you, man,” Deck said. “When I got knocked out here at the saloon, the guy who beat me up was such a badass I thought I’d be worse off taking him to court. As a matter of fact, the next night his posse, along with the head honcho, showed up at my house and told me I better not, or they’d burn me out. And I believed them.”

“That’s awful,” Olivia said. “Who was this . . . head honcho?”

Deck leaned in to indicate this was very confidential news he was telling his friends of ten minutes. “Price,” he said, and waited for them to react with shock and horror. When they didn’t react at all, he said, “Price Eggleston. The rich guy. He belongs to one of them militia-type groups, and he’s one mean sumbitch, ’scuse me, ladies.”

“You mean, this group isn’t just all e-mails and threats . . . ?”

“No, they are the real deal,” Deck said solemnly. “You do not cross them.”

Fiji said, “Sounds pretty hard-core. And they’re based here?”

Deck nodded, after a swig of beer. “Two miles out of town. But enough about those bastards,” he said, “let’s have some fun! Livvy, you want to dance?”

“Sure,” Olivia said, and off they went, two-stepping around the floor.

“It’s not fair that she can dance, too,” Fiji said. “But I’ll forgive her, since that was a masterly interrogation.”

“I can’t dance at all,” Manfred confessed.

“I can dance a little,” Fiji said. “I can cook. I can cast spells. Dancing? Not so much.”

“You’re a good friend,” Manfred said. “You can do friendship well.”

“Thanks,” she said. “That’s a fine compliment. And you know what, I’m going to give that bouncer my phone number on my way out.”

“Bold move.” Manfred was confused, because he was sure Fiji was nuts about Bobo, but he wasn’t about to bring it up, not with her mood being so peculiar.

“Do you think he’ll call me?”

That was a trick question if Manfred had ever heard one. “He’d be a fool not to,” he said, and Fiji laughed.

It took Olivia an hour to extricate herself from Deck, an hour in which Manfred and Fiji had a third drink apiece, though they sipped them as slowly as they could.