The restaurant where the mayor ate lunch was a ferns-and-antique-bricks place called Humdinger’s, down the block from the City Hall. Most of the local movers and shakers would be there between eleven-thirty and one o’clock. I knew the mayor’s face from political advertisements Marvel had sent us, and LuEllen had seen her on the street during her scouting trip. Her face fixed on us as we crossed the street toward the restaurant.

“There she is, like Harold said,” LuEllen murmured.

“I see her. Ballem’s with her,” I said. I took LuEllen’s elbow in my hand as we crossed the street. “There’s an open booth just before theirs. That’s the one we’ll take. You sit closest to the door, so you’re facing her. Let her get a look at that crystal.”

“I’m cool,” she said. I glanced at her, and her face looked dewy from the heat and humidity, but otherwise serene.

“You didn’t put any of that shit up your nose, did you?”

A flash of irritation crossed her face. “That’s only for hard targets,” she said.

“Just checking.”

“You’re not my father.”

“No, but-“

“But what?”

“Nothing.”

Humdinger’s had creaky wooden floors and rough brick walls and framed reproductions of English sporting prints, a place that strained for sophistication without quite making it. The general lunch hour buzz dimmed noticeably when we stepped inside, heads turning in our direction. There was a sign near the cash register, please wait to be seated. The waitress who came to seat us took a good look at LuEllen, a shorter one at me, decided LuEllen was in charge, and said to her, “This way please.”

We were headed toward the windows, but just to make sure, LuEllen touched the woman on the arm and said, “I wonder if we could have that window booth.”

“That’s where I was taking you, honey,” the waitress said.

I sat in the booth with my back to Dessusdelit, so she could see LuEllen. Even without the sundress, the uplift bra, and the breast exposure, the crystal would have been hard to miss. The light flickering off it made it seem alive.

“She sees it,” LuEllen said in a low voice, around the menu.

LuEllen ordered a chicken breast salad, and I had an open-face hot beef sandwich, which arrived swimming in brown gravy. We talked about painting locations in town, LuEllen worried about the cholesterol in my lunch, and we both tried unsuccessfully to eavesdrop on the booth behind me. I was just finishing the sandwich when I felt the mayor and Ballem slide out of their booth. LuEllen winked.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” the mayor said, pausing by our table. She was looking at LuEllen. Ballem walked on a few steps before he stopped and turned. “That is a beautiful crystal.”