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trousers about the same shade as his skin and a lighter brown shirt. He didn’t have much hair left, and what there was of it was gray.
    â€œMr. Stark,” he said as he crossed the sidewalk and extended his hand. “Charles Cobb. I’m the chief of police here in Fuego.”
    â€œChief,” Stark said as he shook hands. “Glad to meet you.” He paused, then asked, “Am I in some sort of trouble?”
    â€œShould you be?” Cobb asked with a smile.
    â€œSometimes it seems like it finds me, whether I’m looking for it or not.”
    Cobb looked more solemn as he nodded and said, “I can see how you’d feel that way, given your history. But no, you’re not in any trouble, Mr. Stark, not as far as I’m concerned. I just wanted to welcome you to Fuego. We don’t get many celebrities here.”
    Stark winced slightly.
    â€œI never have been very fond of the idea of being a celebrity,” he said.
    â€œWell, you’ll have to get used to it. Not many people have done the things you have.”
    â€œOnly did what I had to,” Stark said.
    â€œI understand. What brings you to Fuego?”
    Cobb asked the question like he was just casually curious, but Stark knew better. A question like that from a cop was always serious.
    â€œI came to visit an old friend of mine. George Baldwin.”
    â€œThe warden out at the prison?”
    â€œThat’s right. We served together in Vietnam. A lifetime ago.”
    â€œNo, Desert Storm was a lifetime ago. Vietnam was two lifetimes.”
    â€œThat was your war?”
    Cobb nodded and said, “Yeah. A lot quicker and cleaner than yours. Neither of them really got the job done, though, did they?”
    â€œAncient history,” Stark said.
    â€œIt certainly is. Well, you enjoy your stay in our town, Mr. Stark.” Cobb started to turn back to the police car, then paused. Stark thought the move was genuine, not some sort of take-the-suspect-off-guard trick. “You were at the game last night, weren’t you? I heard that you were.”
    â€œYep. It was a pretty exciting game.”
    â€œSure was. You didn’t happen to notice anything going on in the parking lot afterward, did you?”
    Stark frowned and shook his head.
    â€œNo, I’m afraid not, Chief. Did something happen?”
    â€œJust a fight,” Cobb said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Three sore losers from McElhaney jumped some folks from here in town. Somebody pitched in to give them a hand.”
    â€œThe sore losers?”
    â€œNo, the hometown folks. They didn’t know the guy, but they said he made short work of a couple of the guys from McElhaney. Sounded like something you might do.”
    Stark shook his head again and said, “I don’t know a thing about it, Chief. George and I were together right after the game. Went to the café and got a little something to eat. You can ask him about it if you want.”
    â€œNo need for that,” Cobb assured him. “I didn’t really think you were mixed up in it, but since I saw you here—”
    â€œYou thought you might as well ask.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œWhat will you do if you find the guy?” Stark asked. “You said those sore losers started it. Wouldn’t seem like they’d have any real grounds for filing a complaint.”
    â€œMaybe not, but I’d still have to question whoever was involved.” Cobb grinned. “Then thank him for a job well done . . . off the record, of course.”
    Stark returned the chief’s smile. Cobb lifted a hand in farewell, got into the police car, and drove off.
    Stark resumed his walk. He didn’t know if the chief had believed him or not, and he didn’t really care.
    Whatever had happened in the parking lot after the football game, it didn’t have anything to do with him.
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    The two men arrived at mid-morning. They