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signaling an end to our interview. “Look. I’ve answered your questions. I’d like you all to please leave now.”
    “All right,” Nicole said.
    We all stood and moved toward the door. Andros followed. We were almost through it when she said, “Jake?”
    He turned. “Yeah?”
    “I hate what you did to me. In my book it makes you lower than low.”
    Toronto stood on the threshold of the apartment. He took in a deep a breath and let it out. “You’re right,” he said. “It wasn’t the way I should have handled the situation. I was trying to do a job, but that’s no excuse. I apologize. I used you and I was wrong.”
    Her demeanor shifted. “Like I said, I had nothing to do with it, but I’m sorry about what happened to your falcon.”
    Toronto nodded. “Me, too.”
    As we turned to leave I noticed a coat rack and a caddie for shoes beside the door.
    No falcon feathers. No Frye boots. No smoking guns.

11
     
    Gabriel Wylie came strolling in though the front door of Lord Alfred’s Smokehouse and Deli in Leonardston a little after noon. The place was exactly the kind of hangout Toronto had described to us on the way over—retro seventies/eighties kitsch complete with a PacMan video game. The lunch counter was busy enough, with about a half dozen customers in the process of ordering or consuming already purchased sandwiches and drinks, but we weren’t there for lunch. Wylie caught Toronto’s eye and made a beeline for our booth.
    “Thanks for coming,” he said as he slid into a chair next to Toronto across the table from Nicole and me.
    “You come here often, do you?” I asked, looking around some more. I was concerned about eavesdropping. This being a small town, someone might recognize Wylie and wonder what he was doing meeting with Toronto and a pair of investigators.
    “Never,” Wylie said. “It’s why I picked here.”
    “Smart. What else do you have to tell us?” Toronto was in no mood for chit-chat.
    Wylie glanced around the deli as if he wanted to make sure no one else was listening to him. “If I tell you guys something, you have to promise me you’ll keep my name out of it.”
    “Done,” I said. If we were talking about criminal activity, Wylie might be compelled to testify, but no need to burden him with that just yet, or slow him down when he seemed ready to talk.
    He hesitated before lowering his voice. “What do you people know about illegal dumping?”
    I looked him over. He was still in his work clothes but had cleaned himself up a little bit and combed his hair. I suspected the improved grooming had something to do with Nicole being there. Then again, his appearance upgrade might have had something to do with a genuine desire for doing good. “What kind of illegal dumping?” I asked.
    He lowered his voice even further. “Wastewater.”
    “Water?”
    “Yeah. When they drill in some of the mines a few miles from here, there’s lots of wastewater produced, and they can’t just dump it anywhere legally because it seeps into the groundwater and the watershed.”
    “So what does any of that have to do with my falcon?” Toronto asked.
    “One of the guys I work with at the construction site drives a tanker truck part time for one of the big haulers around here. Normally, he dumps his wastewater loads at the treatment plant, but he told me a couple of weeks ago they sent him somewhere else to dump his load when the line got too long at the plant. Guess where?”
    “Up where Jake lost his bird,” Nicole said.
    “Exactly.”
    “Are you saying he just dumped his wastewater load on the ground?”
    “No, no. He said there was a pipe and a place to dump, except he wasn’t sure what it was all about. He just thought it seemed a little fishy, that’s all.”
    “So why’d he tell you?”
    “Because he knows I care about stuff like that. I’ve been meaning to look into it some more, but I’ve been so busy lately on the job, I haven’t had time.”
    “And this was still on