“They’re worrying me, all right,” Jake admitted.

“Are you scared?”

“Damned right. And you should be, too. If they’ve already murdered three people, they’re not going to let the two of us get in their way.”

Glynis started to reply, but the waitress interrupted to ask what she wanted to drink. She asked for a glass of chardonnay.

As the waitress left their booth, Glynis said, “I’ve talked it over with one of the state’s assistant district attorneys. She’s an old friend of Arlan’s—one of his girlfriends, actually, from years ago.”

Jake asked, “And?”

Looking disappointed, Glynis said, “She told me that all I have is suspicions.” She hesitated a heartbeat, then went on, “And we’re dealing with a very rough crowd.”

“I know that,” Jake said.

“But what are we going to do about it?”

He wished he knew. “Maybe,” he started, “maybe the best thing to do is lay low until Tomlinson gets elected. He could ask for a full investigation. As a U.S. senator he might even be able to bring the FBI into the case.”

Glynis looked disappointed.

“Look, Glyn, these guys are professionals. Gambling, prostitution, loan-sharking … they all run together. They use strong-arm tactics the way you and I use toothpaste. It’s an ordinary, everyday thing to them.”

“And you’re going to let them get away with it?”

Leaning across the table, Jake said urgently, “I’m not going up against them by myself. That would be stupid.”

She nodded. “I suppose so.”

“And don’t you try it, either. You’ll get hurt.”

“I suppose so,” she repeated. But she didn’t sound convinced. Or convincing.

The waitress brought Glynis’s wine and a pair of menus. They sipped and studied the menus and ordered: filet of local trout for Glynis, fried oysters for Jake.

She gave Jake an odd little smile as the waitress left for the kitchen.

“Oysters again?” Glynis asked. “Do you need them?”

He nearly sputtered the beer he had just drunk. Coughing, he replied, “Uh … I like oysters.”

“There’s an old joke about them, you know. A fellow tells his pal that oysters aren’t aphrodisiacs, as they’re supposed to be. He says he had a dozen of them the night before and only nine of them worked.”

Jake laughed weakly. He’d heard the joke before. He wished he could get one of them to work.

Once they’d started on their meals, Glynis asked, “So what’s this idea you wanted to tell me about?”

Glad to be talking about something else, Jake said, “Tomlinson’s people want some kind of demonstration to show the public that MHD works.”

“So?”