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“Good ol’ Frank, as you refer to him on days you’re not in a foul mood, tried to foist Wonder Woman on me at Philly News Now—which, incidentally, is how I came to research the Missouri capital—and I put my foot down. So he bumped her down the ladder to be a weekend anchor on Action News!”

The image on the TV screen transitioned to the station anchor desk, where the same buxom reporter, now with her thick brunette hair down to her shoulders and wearing an expensive outfit, sat with a TV monitor behind her showing the image of her in ball cap confronting the restaurant manager. At the bottom of the screen was a text box with ACTION NEWS ANCHOR RAYCHELL MEADOW.

O’Hara jerked a thumb at the screen.

“This is all for show,” he said, “for inflating Raychell’s ratings to hopefully get the station out of last place and get her to the next step of her career. Little Pete’s is clean. I had it quietly checked. Clean enough, anyway. The city inspectors found a few things. But every restaurant fails some part of the inspection. There’re eight violations each year for the average Philly eat-in restaurant. My bet is some wise-guy city inspector got told to go fuck himself after he thought he could shake down Pete’s by threatening a bad inspection—one violation was ‘mouse droppings’—and then made sure she got her hands on it.”

O’Hara made a face and shook his head.

“So there’s your investigative mouse-shit journalism,” he said.

Payne raised his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Payne said, “but I’m not making the connection. I need more dots.”

“Who did POTUS just propose to make his next AG of the United States of America?”

“Jesus H. Christ . . . !” Payne blurted.

“No, not even He is forgiving enough to work for this POTUS,” O’Hara quipped.

Payne finished: “. . . The previous attorney general of Missouri! You simply said the AG.”

O’Hara smirked.

“I said you’d have to work for it.”

“And now Daniel Patrick O’Connor is here . . . and headed for Washington.”

“Final clue: as soon as Five-Eff gets O’Connor’s wife a job there.”

O’Hara looked up at the buxom brunette Action News! anchor.

“Jesus H. Christ!” Payne said again, this time his tone disgusted. He looked back across the bar. “Raychell Meadow is O’Connor’s wife?”

O’Hara made a false smile, then drained his drink.

“On the face of it,” Payne said, “it stinks that a high-ranking political operative in a powerful state is married to a talking head of a TV news team in the fourth-largest media market. Even if that station’s dead last in ratings. It’s a whole other stink that they’re both owned by Five-Eff.”

Payne drained his Macallan and waved to the bartender for two refills.

“Of course,” Payne said, dripping sarcasm, “I would never expect that either would violate any ethics by discussing confidential work—or worse—over the dinner table.”

“You mean such as going easy on covering certain politicians, and harder on others?” O’Hara said. “Or getting court-sealed documents on the opposition leaked to the station? Why, now that just would not be proper.”

Payne looked at him.

“Like that health inspection on Little Pete’s. You got a copy ‘leaked’ to you, too, didn’t you?”

“Matty, I get all kinds of possible scoops secretly fed to me. Hell, I’ve gotten tips from you and others in the department. But, like with Little Pete’s, I verify them independently and then only report them if there is no legal or moral obstacle. But the vast majority of ‘scoops’—with the notable exception of that from present company—are tainted. They’re trying

to play me, just as they’re using Raychell. The difference is, as our Texas Ranger friend likes to say, ‘This ain’t my first rodeo.’”

After a moment Payne added, “How do you reconcile that in your mind, Mick? I mean, knowing you’re ultimately working for Five-Eff?”

O’Hara watched as the bartender placed two fresh Macallan single malts before them. He then picked up his and held it toward Payne in a sort of toast.

“Matty, I thought you knew: My heart is made of gold, my intentions pure. I’m simply not for sale. I devoutly believe I’m the lone noble knight on his white steed fighting the good fight.”