Shuttered office doors lined one side of a long carpeted corridor that was interspersed with foldout tables, on which there were several fax machines, a printer, and reams of copy paper. There was also a water bubbler and mailbox cubby system, in addition to numerous employee notices on bulletin boards—OSHA-type stuff. Taped to the wall was a poster announcing an upcoming softball game against a rival restaurant.

“Lots of excitement in the news today,” Lou said as Millie unlocked a door at the end of the hall.

“I should say. Soldiers dropping out of the sky in the middle of nowhere to subdue a drug king—that certainly is exciting. Can I get you some tea? Coffee? Eggs? We’re going to begin our breakfast experiment in another month.”

“Thanks but no thanks,” Lou said.

Millie’s office, a modest, windowless space with a ceiling that was peaked like the roof above it, was surprisingly uninviting. There were no framed pictures about. No motivational posters adorning the walls. Not a single cookbook, either. There was just a simple desk, two chairs, several filing cabinets, and a lot of papers.

All business.

Lou closed the door behind him as he entered.

“This used to be a supply closet,” Millie said, gesturing him to the classic hard-backed maple kitchen chair on the guest side of her desk and taking what looked like a high-end orthopedic desk chair on the other.

“So why’d you make it your office?” he asked.

“Oh, I didn’t want to be tempted to spend too much time in here. You can’t understand your customer if you’re not with your customer. Know what I mean?”

“I don’t think there’s a restaurateur who knows their customers like you do,” Lou said.

“Everybody eats at Millie’s,” she replied cheerfully, picking up a menu off her fairly cluttered desk to show Lou the saying printed below her rainbow.

“That commando raid in West Virginia,” Lou said. “Actually that’s what I came out here to talk with you about.”

“Now, what a strange thing for you to do,” she said, her blue eyes narrowing slightly and surrendering some of their sparkle.

“Not so strange,” he said. “I’m not sure what your news source was, but the raid had nothing to do with drugs.”

“Now, how would you know that?”

“Because I was there,” Lou said.

Millie tried for a quizzical look, but her eyes had grown hard. “And if the raid had nothing to do with drugs,” she asked, “exactly what did it have to do with?”

“Corn. It had to do with corn.”

“Oh?” Millie crinkled her nose and smiled at him benignly. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”

“Renee,” Lou said.

“Who?”

“My ex-wife, Renee. She’s the one who really figured it out for me.”

“Figured what out, dear? You’re not really making any sense.”