“It is. I suggested my house, but they seem bent upon making you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine, Mike. I can deal. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Pete, you and the kid and Oliver did good. Whatever happens, I want you to know that.”

“Thank you.” Decker hung up. To Rina he said, “The phone isn’t the right place, but I promise I’ll let him know about all your input, honey.”

“Oh, don’t do that,” Rina said.

“Credit where credit is due.”

“I thank you, but I’m fine in the background,” Rina said. “Besides, there are lots of advantages of being that pesky fly on the wall.”

RINA WAS USED to men. She had grown up the youngest behind two brothers. Her first two children were sons. She could usually speak their language and rarely had to use feminine wiles to get what she wanted. But in this instance, she knew she’d do anything to calm Peter down because he was seething. Men with suits and steely eyes had invaded his domain and while she knew he wouldn’t do anything reckless, he wasn’t going down easily.

Counting Mike, Scott, Tyler, Greg, and Peter, there were thirteen men crowded into a living room meant for six to eight adults. Dining room chairs had to be brought in. She had gone into the kitchen to make coffee and tea and to prepare a plate of whatever baked goods were in the freezer. While everything was brewing, she took the opportunity to size up the enemy.

The two CIA agents were easy to spot. Both of them were good-looking, tall men with broad shoulders and very short hair: one was fair haired, the other was brunette, and that was about the only way she could tell them apart. They could have been cast in the movies to play what they did in real life.

She knew the mayor, Logan Brettly. He was in his fifties with curly white hair, a stocky build, and a bulldog face. In the past, all her dealings with Brettly had been positive. He was a nice man who cared about his constituency. In this setting, he looked decidedly tense.

She supposed the professor with the scant, woolly gray hair was Mordechai Gold. His dress was more collegiate: corduroy jacket with patch pockets over a sweater over a shirt, and slacks with boots on his feet. He had perceptive eyes, taking in everything.

Of the other four men, she guessed that the blond man in his fifties with the perpetual tan was Alex Beckwith, the big-shot American. The suit with him was the lieutenant governor of the state of New York. Being a newcomer, Rina couldn’t remember his name.

The most exotic in style and dress was a man in his fifties, built like a professional wrestler. He wore an expensive jacket with working buttons on the sleeves, and there was a gold Rolex on his wrist, a bejeweled stickpin that kept his tie in place, and a large diamond winked from his pinkie. She figured he had to be the Russian and most likely, he was one of the names that Gerrard had erased from Jason Merritt’s client list. The remaining man looked like a cop: basic suit, tie, and rubber-soled shoes. Irish face, uncomfortable eyes and hands that he continually clasped and unclasped. Probably Chris Mulrooney from Summer Village.

Introductions had been made by the time she brought in the refreshments. She lowered the tray onto the coffee table. Then they thanked her, thinking that she’d make herself scarce.

They were wrong.

Rina sat on the arm of the couch next to Peter. “I’m Mrs. Decker. Depending how this conversation goes, perhaps by the end you can call me Rina.”

McAdams clamped his mouth with his hands to keep from smiling. The mayor grimaced with displeasure.

“Mordy Gold.” The professor stood up. “Please take my chair.”

“I’m fine but thank you.”

“Thank you for allowing us to invade your house. I’m actually the one who went to the officials. I felt that they had to be notified.”

“And here we all are.”

The man who looked like a cop stuck out his hand. “Chris Mulrooney.”

Peter said, “He’s the detective from Summer Village PD working on the Latham case.”

“Good to meet you, Detective,” Rina said.

“Chris, please. Sure you don’t want a chair?”

“I’m okay.”

It was the tall, tan man’s turn to be polite. “Alex Beckwith. I insist you take my seat.”

“All this chivalry is very heady,” Rina said. “I’m fine next to my husband.” She patted Peter’s shoulder. “Actually, sitting on the arm of the sofa makes me feel taller.”

The room went silent. Her presence was clearly not wanted. Rina stood and sighed. “I see no one is going to take anything unless I pour.” She turned first to the wrestler, the one who hadn’t introduced himself. “What can I get for you, sir?”

A long pause. Then he said, “Tea. Two sugars and a slice of lemon.”

“Certainly. I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t give it to you.”

Peter’s eyes went dark, but Rina warded him off with a smile. The man’s accent was thick. “And you are . . .”

The man smiled back with Machiavellian eyes. “Martin Kosovsky.”

“That was two sugars and one lemon slice, Mr. Kosovsky?”

“It was.”

She handed him his tea. “Here you go.” It took another five minutes to pour for the remaining group. Beckwith and the mayor also took tea. Radar and Greg took coffee. The rest of the clan including the spooks passed. She returned to her armrest. It was her house and with that ownership, she had the privilege of saying whatever she wanted. But with a soft voice and a smile.

“Since you called up the dogs, Dr. Gold, maybe you can explain what’s going on. I assume it has to do with the codebook since that was your sole involvement with the case.”

Decker laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Lay it on the line, why don’t you.”

“Last I heard in America, you can speak your mind in your own house.”

“I think that’s still true.”

Rina turned to Gold. “Professor?”

“Of course, you’re right, Mrs. Decker. It has to do with the codebook. After breaking most of the code, I realized within the first couple of pages that the contents dealt with sensitive negotiations between our government and other countries. I called up Agent Marcus and Agent Grimm and explained to them what I had and at that point, I found out that the book had been stolen.”

Beckwith interrupted. “These negotiations have been going on for quite some time. It is a very good thing that the book was found and returned to the proper authorities. And for this reason, we’re actually here to thank all of you for your hard work.”

Rina looked him straight in the eye. “If all you wanted to do was thank the Greenbury Police Department, you could have just sent a bottle of wine.”

“Of course there’s more to it.” Beckwith sighed. “As I was pointing out to Captain Radar, further investigation into the current cases of Angeline Moreau and John Latham might compromise some very long and hard government negotiations. We are asking Greenbury and Summer Village to consider the consequences.”

“Consequences of solving two brutal murders?” Oliver asked.

“Of ruining delicate matters that have been going on for years.”

“How can we consider anything when we don’t know what you’re referring to?”

“It’s a government matter and that’s all you have to know,” said Agent Brunette.

Whether he was Grimm or Marcus, Rina didn’t know or didn’t care. She said, “The problem is, sir, we already know a great deal. And when there are holes, people fill them in, often with erroneous material. It’s in your interest to correct any misconceptions.”

Decker said, “She’s absolutely right. Why pretend that the two murders are just going to disappear. It doesn’t work that way. If you want help, we need answers—”

“Decker—” Radar said.

“Two people were slaughtered. My wife and I were shot at in my own bedroom. McAdams was injured; he’s on crutches for God’s sake. We deserve to know what’s going on.”

McAdams gave Decker a thumbs-up.