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"Good. Me, too. In fact, I see what you see here, and I had the same thoughts. But don't assume everyone shares your vision." Keith added, "I've been all over the world, guys, and if I learned one thing, it's that people get the kind of government and society they deserve."

Jeffrey said, "Don't be cynical. This is still a country where good people can make a difference."

"I hope so."

Gail said, "Will you two stop the philosophical debate? Here's the problem we face. The city and county governments have become lethargic, partly corrupt, and mostly stupid." She looked at Keith. "In fact, your ex-girlfriend's husband, Cliff Baxter, is at the core of most of these problems."

Keith did not reply.

Gail continued, "This son-of-a-bitch blackmails people. He's a fucking J. Edgar Hoover clone. The bastard has illegal files on people, including me. He showed me my file, the stupid shit, and I'm going to subpoena all his records now."

Keith looked at her and said, "Be careful with this guy."

They all sat in silence a moment, then Jeffrey said, "He's a bully, and, like all bullies, he's basically a coward."

Keith replied, "Even cowards can be dangerous when they're armed."

Jeffrey nodded. "Yes, but we're not frightened. I've faced armed soldiers with fixed bayonets, Keith."

"Maybe you faced me, Jeffrey. Were you in Philadelphia in the autumn of 1968?"

"No, and we weren't at Kent State when the soldiers fired, but we had friends who were there, and I'll tell you, I would have been there if I'd known what was going to happen."

Keith nodded. "Yeah, you probably would have. But that was a different time and maybe a better cause. Don't get killed over zoning ordinances."

Again, no one spoke for a while, and they drank the jug wine. The candles flickered in a soft breeze coming through the window, and Keith could smell the wildflowers and honeysuckle, an incredible medley of scents.

Gail asked Keith, "Do you know anything about him?"

"Who?"

"J. Edgar Baxter."

"No. I think I remember him from high school. But that's not what we call current intelligence."

"Well," said Jeffrey, "I remember him quite well. He hasn't changed much. Same asshole. The family has some money, but they're all short on brains and social skills. The Baxter kids were always in trouble — remember? The boys were bullies, and the girls were pregnant at the altar. In the jargon of small towns, 'There's bad blood in that family.' "

Keith didn't reply. Clearly, Jeffrey and Gail were not simply gossiping or complaining to him. They wanted to recruit him. He recognized the method.

Gail said, "He's a very jealous and possessive man. I'm talking about his marriage now. Annie, by the way, is still very attractive, which makes Mr. Baxter watch her like a hawk. From what I hear, she's the paragon of virtue, but he doesn't believe it. People on their street whom we know say he keeps their house under constant surveillance when he's away. A few weeks ago, there was some kind of firearm incident there at about five in the morning. He was home. The neighbors were told that it was an accident."

Keith said nothing, and his face revealed nothing except perhaps his well-practiced mixture of mild interest and a touch of skepticism whenever the monologue got into areas of hearsay. He had a feeling he was sitting in some European cafe again, getting a pitch about something or another.

Gail continued, "He's not a nice guy, but people in town have to deal with him. Even some of the men who work for him find him brutish and offensive. Yet, in some perverse way, he can be charming. He's from the old school and tips his hat to the ladies, calls women ma'am, and he's outwardly respectful to the town fathers, clergymen, and so forth. He's even been known to pinch babies and help old ladies across the street." Gail smiled, then added, "But he also pinches waitresses' butts and helps damsels in distress out of their clothes. This guy's got a wild weasel." Gail poured the last of the jug wine into their glasses.

Keith listened to the night birds and locusts. Somehow none of this was news to him, though actually hearing it made a difference. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the place where the old-learned morality resided, was the thought that he should not be contemplating breaking up a marriage, a home, a family. He'd been involved in a lot of situations over the years that might be considered somewhat indelicate, maybe even gross and shameless, but that was then and there. This was here and now. This was home. Yet, if he believed Gail and Jeffrey, the Baxters were not entirely happy, and Mr. Baxter was a sociopath, and Mrs. Baxter needed help. Maybe.