“I don’t know… my mind’s a blank.”

“Is there a Starbucks somewhere?”

“No, that wouldn’t be good. Someone might see us.”

“How about we just talk in the car?” Decker suggested. “With the windows fogged up, no one will be able to see inside.”

“No, that’s…” Another clearing of the throat. “The only thing that comes to mind is a Tattlers between Quinton and Bainberry.”

“Sounds good.”

No one spoke.

Jonathan said, “Are you familiar with the chain?”

“Nope.”

“It’s like a raunchy Hooters.”

“This is where you want to meet?”

“I’ve never been there, Akiva. It’s the sole place I can think of where it’s unlikely we’ll meet anyone from the community. And if by chance we do see someone there, believe me, he’ll pretend we don’t exist.”

Dividing Quinton and Bainberry were six miles of untamed woods holding hundreds of bare trees and scores of tangled brush. The border between the two townships was demarcated by the Bainberry mall, a series of connected brick buildings sitting in a slick pool of asphalt parking. Like an errant child, Tattlers sat by itself, unattached and off to the left. Jonathan was waiting for him, his eyes jumping behind his glasses when he saw Decker’s face.

The hostess, whose nametag said BUFFY, offered them a wide smile of capped teeth and a chest of cleavage and silicone. After seeing Donatti’s pieces of work, Decker delighted in seeing a healthy, clothed—albeit scantily—woman who was clearly out of her teens. Because the uniforms lacked a lot of fabric, the temperature inside “the gentlemen’s club” was turned up to sauna level, encouraging the patrons to remove jackets and ties. Someone wanted the guys to feel comfortable. It probably made for better tips.

Decker slipped the hostess a twenty. “A private booth in back.”

She averted her eyes—probably because he looked so disheveled— but still managed a sly smile. “Anyone in particular, sir?”

While he had out his wallet, he showed her his gold shield. “Anyone who can bring me a large pot of strong coffee and make herself scarce.”

Immediately, the woman was all business. “I think we can help you out, Detective. This way.”

She led them past the stage spectacle: three topless women in thongs gyrating under multicolored klieg lights. Men were hooting and cat-calling, egging the girls to do lewder and lewder things. They were prevented from doing even ruder things by a sign that stated ABSOLUTELY ,POSITIVELY NO TOUCHING!

Jonathan looked away, but Decker took them in, his eyes moving up and down their perfect bodies. They were young, beautiful, and energetic. They probably made good money, more bucks than working on circuit boards or changing hospital bedpans. Not to mention all the attention they got. The scene was pure circus, lacking only the big top.

Not that Decker was offended or surprised. In a Donatti society that emphasized outcome rather than process, and stardom was worshiped above all, in a country where porn stars were trophies for rock stars, and people confessed to adultery and incest on national TV, well, then, why the hell not?