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you’ve got to warn the community that it might be repeated. That another gay man might be attacked. If people know that their friends and neighbors might be at risk, you have a better chance of preventing copycat crimes before they happen.”
    “Clare, you’ve got a real uplifting view of humanity, but let’s not kid ourselves. If word gets around that someone in Millers Kill might be going after homosexuals, it’s more likely to scare everyone away from associating with the potential victims. Let law enforcement take care of this quietly by finding these jerks and slinging their butts in jail. I promise you, that’ll get the message across.”
    “The chief is right,” Obrowski said. “Bad publicity, even for a good cause, can kill a business, especially one like ours, which relies on word of mouth.”
    “So we cower quietly in the closet and wait for the big bad police to save us? Until the next time it happens?” Handler flung his hands over his head and looked at Clare.
    “Ron is right,” Clare said. “I come from the South, and I can tell you that sitting quietly and not making a fuss didn’t do diddly to stop black folks from being vandalized, assaulted, or even killed. It wasn’t until those crimes were held up to the light of day that things changed.”
    “Oh, for God’s sake,” Russ said. “We’re not talking about lynch mobs and Jim Crow laws. It’s assault and battery, not a civil rights issue.”
    “Isn’t it?” Handler said.
    “What’s a more basic right than the right not to be attacked because of who you are?” Clare said.
    “Thank you, Reverend King,” Russ said. He looked at Stephen. “Look, I’ve gotten all I need—” A torrent of barking, both deep and high-pitched, erupted from behind the kitchen door, cutting him off. “What the hell?” he said.
     
     
     
Chapter Five
     
     
    “The rat pack is back,” Ron said. He held out a hand for Russ’s empty mug and thrust it into the sink, twisting the tap on full force.
    “We have five Pekingese,” Stephen explained over the noise of dogs and running water. “They like to make their rounds in the morning. They were out back in the barn, herding hens. Now it’s time for a mid-morning snack; then they all retire to the music room for a nap. They all share one big basket.” He walked to the outside door.
    Stephen’s deliberate high-pitched cheerfulness was the adult version of a kid clapping his hands over his ears, humming, and saying, “I can’t hear you!” Clare crossed her arms tightly and exhaled. Ron rolled his eyes and collected the three remaining mugs with a great deal of clattering. Russ opened his mouth, glanced at Clare, and snapped it shut.
    “I ought to get going,” he said. “Thank you both for your cooperation. I’ll, uh, keep you updated.”
    Clare took a deep, calming breath. “I didn’t even get a chance to tell you why I came,” she said to Stephen, who was body-blocking the two enormous Berns at the doorway while what looked like a walking carpet swarmed into the kitchen. “I was hoping you two could keep Gal and Bob here at the inn while Paul is in Albany.” It was awkward, talking about him as if he were away on a business trip, but she had a strong feeling Stephen didn’t want to be reminded of why the dogs were temporary orphans. “The kennel is full up, and the owner said it wasn’t likely I’d find—”
    “I wish we could,” Stephen said. “The Berns are lovely dogs. But having them and our five would be way too much.”
    “Too much hair, too much barking, and too much missing food,” Ron added, taking a box of kibble off a shelf and shaking it into five tiny stainless-steel dog bowls squared against the wall.
    “They’re very well-behaved dogs,” Stephen said, frowning at his partner. He took a firm hold on each Bern’s collar and marched them toward the hall door, ignoring their whining and longing looks at the kibble. “I’m sure you won’t have any difficulty