SNOWFLAKE DRIFTED down as Decker stood across the street from the bar, Lancaster at his side. The flake hit the sidewalk and then melted almost immediately.

Lancaster pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose.

“If you don’t want to go in, can we wait in the car at least?” she asked. “It’s freezing and I feel the flu coming on.”

Decker had taken in the city block grid by grid, and then his gaze started over and went through it again. He began to walk and Lancaster hurried after him. They covered both sides of the street for a block in either direction.

“No cameras,” he noted.

“Burlington has surveillance cameras, just not everywhere. I hear that London and New York have them on every street. But we don’t have their tax base, do we?”

“There are private surveillance cameras,” said Decker. “Banks, pawn shops, liquor stores. But none that I can see. Can you check on that? See if there are any on this block?”

“I’ll put in a call.” She did so while Decker continued to look around. A few more flakes were falling, and overhead the clouds had thickened with moisture. If the temperature continued to fall they might get some realaccumulation.

Lancaster put her phone away. “They’ll get back to me. Now what?”

Decker headed across the street to the bar and she followed.

It was full, with most tables occupied by couples, although there seemed to be a bachelor party going on in the back of the room. Lancaster eyed with disdain the stripper, who was in the process of shedding her skintight Catwoman costume.

“Amazes me what gets young men excited.”

“It’s the same thing that’s always gotten them excited,” said Decker absently. “Pretty women in the process of taking off their clothes.” He worked his way to the bar and eyed the barman, the same guy he had talked to before. The man came over.

“What’s your poison?” he asked.

“I’ll take a Miller on draft.” Decker looked at Lancaster.

“I’m officially on duty,” she said in a low voice.

“And a Virgin Mary for my friend,” said Decker.

When the man went off to fill this order, Decker turned around on his stool, leaned against the bar, and took in the room. Lancaster did the same.

“So Leopold led you to this bar where his partner was allegedly masquerading as a waitress. You guys talked, and then, with the alleged aid of his alleged partner, he vanished.”

“Allegedly, yes,” said Decker irritably.

“How did he know you were going to follow him here?”

“How could I not? All charges dropped? He knew that I knew the police procedure. Processed out of his cell at central lockup and sent packing. He knew I’d be waiting outside. And if for some reason I wasn’t, so what? No skin off his teeth. They’d find another way to lure me in.”

“So you followed him here. What was his endgame?”

“Maybe he just wanted to see me again, up close. Size me up.”

“But if we’re reading this right, the person that really wanted to see you was the waitress. Maybe the one who was at the institute with you. The one you insulted somehow.”

“I’m sure that was part of it too.”

“It’s a wonder he didn’t kill you right then. Or at least try to.”

“I haven’t suffered enough, Mary.”

“Haven’t suffered enough! All these people dead, including your family? The story that Jamison wrote trashing you? Him taunting you the whole time?”

“Still not enough, Mary. Not for them.”

“What do they want, Amos? I mean, what else could they possibly want from you?”

“More, Mary. I just don’t know what that is yet.”

But Decker did know what their real endgame was.

They want me.

The barman brought their drinks and said, “Hey, man, you cost me some business the other day. Cops all over the place. Scared away half my customers.”

“You get paid the same, right?” said Lancaster bluntly.

“Tips, honey,” said the barman. “I live on my tips.” He put an electronic cigarette to his lips and took a puff. “You think the owners of this place pay an actual living wage? If you do, get your head examined.”

Decker said, “I’m sure your waitresses rely on their tips too.”

“They do.”

“But maybe not the one who skipped out on you. Maybe she has another source of income.”

“Maybe it does.”

“You sure it was a guy?” asked Lancaster, watching him closely.

The barman eyed her. “What’s your interest?”

She flashed her badge. He took another electronic puff and said, “I used to work as a grip off-Broadway. Lot of its around that world. I can tell guys from girls, although I have to admit this one was really good.”

“So if it was a guy, why did you let him work?” asked Lancaster.

“I don’t give a shit if a guy wants to dress up like a chick so long as he can serve the drinks without spilling. All I need is bodies. I don’t count penises.”

Decker said, “According to you, the waitress left before the guy I was talking to did.”

“Well, I couldn’t find her after you left. Had to serve drinks at the tables myself until I got a replacement in. So, yeah, it apparently skipped out.”

“And you called the temp agency?” asked Decker.

“I did. And you were right about that. No record of her. Score one for you.”

Decker’s gaze drifted down to the man’s waist. A key fob poked from the top of his front jeans pocket.

“What kind of car do you drive?”

The barman looked down in surprise and then back up at Decker. “Why? You need a ride somewhere?”

“No. Just curious.”

“Nissan Leaf.”

“That’s an all-electric.”

“I know it is. Great gas mileage since it doesn’t run on gas. I just plug it in.”

“Very quiet, I expect,” said Decker.

“Too quiet sometimes. I’ve left it running more times than I can remember. Just walked off with the key in my pocket and the damn thing still on.”

“Is that right? Where do you keep it parked?”

“Alley outside.”

“Did you notice on the day I was in here that when you went out to the car it was in a slightly different location?”

The man thought for a moment and then said, “No, not that I remember. Why?”

“Because I looked in that alley when I was here that day and there was no car there.”

“The hell you say,” snapped the barman, his eyes wide in surprise. “But it was there when I left work.”

“You always keep the car key on you?”

“Not always. Sometimes I hang it on a hook over there.” He pointed to a wall behind the bar. “Have to move it sometimes when we’re expecting a delivery. Beer truck can barely squeeze in that space. And it’s a dead end so they have to back out. Sometimes I let one of the waitresses move it if I’m tied up.”

“Well, I think the waitress in question drove it without your permission.”

Decker dropped some dollars on the bar. “Tip included.” He and Lancaster walked out.