“We? Who’s with you on this?”

“A grad student named Glynis Colwyn. She and Sinclair…” Jake found it hard to say, but he choked out, “They were lovers.”

Tomlinson’s brows went up. “The professor and the graduate student.”

His lips pressed tight, Jake nodded.

Alexander Tomlinson’s voice rang out, “What’s this all about?”

Turning, Jake saw the elder Tomlinson standing in the library doorway, his fleshless face set in a demanding scowl. He was in a floor-length maroon robe that accentuated his slim, rigid figure. Even his stiff bristle of hair looked angry.

“Narcotics, Dad,” said Tomlinson. “Jake here thinks Leeds is tied to organized crime.”

Eyeing Jake disdainfully, Tomlinson Senior said, “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

Jake felt resentment simmering inside him. Getting slowly to his feet, he said to the old man, “Leeds is involved in three murders, and I’ve been threatened myself.”

Still frowning, the elder Tomlinson turned to Amy. “You’d better fix me a single malt, on the rocks. Make it a big one. This sounds like a long night coming.”

Alexander Tomlinson brushed past Jake and sat in the armchair next to his son while Amy went to the rolling table in the corner that was set up as a portable bar and poured a stiff whiskey for the elder Tomlinson. Still on his feet, Jake started telling them what he and Glynis had found out.

Tomlinson Senior sipped his whiskey as they listened. Once he muttered, “Narcotics.” His son sat and watched Jake without comment. Amy sat on one of the Ethan Allen chairs near the bar as Jake ran through his story, pacing across the library floor the way he often did when lecturing students.

When Jake finished, Tomlinson Senior said to his son, “The casinos are a good way to launder drug money.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Tomlinson replied.

Looking up at Jake, the old man said, “You’ve just confirmed what we’ve known for a long time. The gambling interests are backing Leeds, and they’re into drugs as well.”

“So we can make organized crime a campaign issue,” Jake said.

With a worried glance at his son, Alexander Tomlinson shook his head. “That could be … risky.”

“I know it’s risky,” Jake snapped. “They’ve threatened me, and Glynis, too.”

“We can protect you,” Tomlinson said.

“It’s risky politically,” his father said. “It could boomerang on us.”

“The fact that Leeds is financed by organized crime?” Jake yelped. “How the hell could that boomerang?”

“You don’t have any evidence.”

“But you said you’ve known about this for a long time. Now they’ve murdered three people! What more do you want?”

“Jake, you’ve got nothing but hearsay,” said Tomlinson. “There’s no proof.”

“We can’t accuse Leeds of anything unless we have ironclad proof,” Tomlinson Senior said sternly. “Without proof Leeds could accuse us of a smear, a desperate politically motivated smear.”