Keith started to undo his belt. It was only ever the two of them in the office, but the possibility that someone might show up and surprise them in the act made it all the more delicious. “You see the paper today? Someone wrote in saying it was the comet that killed all those fish.”

Mano's mind went spastic, gummed up, What kind of theory is that? She'd read that when the comet went through in 1901, people stocked up on “comet pills” from quack doctors. They'd taken them as an antidote to poison and ended up poisoning themselves. She hadn't expected similar nonsense in 1986, but there it was, in the newspaper, more comet conspiracy.

And then Keith was kissing her and she let herself sink into the distraction of him without asking any of the thousand follow-up questions that occurred. She'd come to the job in September a happy newlywed, but by New Year's, she'd started smelling perfume she didn't wear and sex she hadn't had all over Rick. Mano wanted to believe that Keith was her way of moving carefree and easy through the rich banquet of life, same as Rick, sampling its delights at will, but she knew at least part of what she saw in Keith was the chance for petty revenge. And why not? She'd been raised to believe that marriage would mean she'd never have to feel lonely again. When the lonely came back, prickly, cutting, an infestation, it had been easy to accept Keith's invitations. She'd come to crave his attention, his affection, the same way she craved sunbathing—it felt so good she overdid it, every time, and wound up burnt-red with all her regrets.

The business between them lasted ten, fifteen minutes, and when she came back out to the reception desk, every last fish in the tank was dead. Again.

“Why is this happening?” She half yelled this, which summoned Keith, who walked into the reception area with his pants still undone, tucking in his shirt.

Keith peered into the tank, as if getting closer to the algae smeared glass would make it easier to see through. “I gotta call Lloyd.” Lloyd was the big boss, the director of Water and Power. When he'd shown up to the first fish kill, Lloyd had blustered around for a while before he and Keith had talked in hushed tones. It was clear there was something they didn't want her or anyone else, probably, to know.

“You sure?” Mano asked. Lloyd was a real hothead, prone to shouting, quick to assign blame. It was bound to be a trial, getting Lloyd involved.

Keith zipped his pants. “We can't have people drinking this. We have to get off the river and run the reservoir instead. And anytime I switch the intakes I have to tell Lloyd.”