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why—because Dahlman had directed a classic pornographic film back in the early 1950’s. Sloane had evidence that this film, The Wild Nymph , was produced at the plant of Mann Photo Service.”
    Mann leaped to his feet. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Unless you have evidence to back up that statement I suggest you leave my house!”
    â€œThen it’s not true?”
    â€œIt most certainly is not! We manufacture a colour-reversal film and process colour prints and transparencies. But we do not produce pornographic films.”
    â€œThe meeting with your plant officials this afternoon—it wasn’t called because of Sloane’s murder?”
    â€œCertainly not! The meeting was called to discuss progress in the strike negotiations.”
    â€œI can back that up,” the mayor said. “The strike has two hundred people out of work, and that concerns the entire community.”
    Somewhat mollified, Xavier Mann sat down again. “Do you think, Mr. McCall, that the mayor of Rockview would take part in a meeting called to discuss the making of sex films?”
    â€œI don’t know,” McCall answered frankly. “Then you’re telling me you never knew Dahlman or anything about these films? Or had anything to tell Sloane?”
    â€œThat’s correct.”
    Out of the corner of his eye McCall caught Mayor Jordan stirring uneasily. He took a chance and asked, “Did Sloane phone you when he arrived last night?”
    â€œHe called, yes,” Mann answered. “As a follow up to his letter, I suppose.”
    â€œAnd you, Mayor?”
    â€œHe phoned me too, at my home.”
    â€œAnd you told him nothing.”
    â€œThere was nothing to tell.”
    â€œDoesn’t it strike you as odd that a man of Ben Sloane’s reputation would conduct this sort of a search personally, rather than simply hire a private detective?”
    â€œThat’s simple,” Mayor Jordan said.
    â€œIs it?”
    â€œHe didn’t want to scare Dahlman away. Private detectives sometimes uncover too much.”
    â€œLike what?”
    The mayor shrugged. “Maybe Dahlman is a respected businessman now. Maybe he doesn’t want people to know he once made a dirty movie.”
    â€œWould you call it a motive for murder?” McCall asked.
    â€œMaybe. Maybe not. Depends on the man.”
    Xavier Mann was moving again. “McCall, I can’t keep my wife waiting any longer. If you’re married you know how it is.”
    â€œI’m not,” McCall said, thinking of all the times Sam Holland had kidded him about his bachelorhood. “But I understand and I have no further questions.”
    Xavier Mann saw him to the door. Getting into his car, McCall noticed that the mayor had lingered for a few final words. He also noticed someone at an upstairs window, and suspected it was the impatient Mrs. Mann.

FIVE
    Wednesday, May 12 and Thursday, May 13
    Back at the motel, the room clerk called him over to the desk. “There’s someone waiting in the bar to see you, Mr. McCall.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œA black gentleman,” the clerk said, with only a hint of distaste.
    McCall found him sitting on a barstool with his back to the door. There was a half-finished beer in front of him. “I’m Micah McCall. You wanted to see me?”
    His skin was a deep brown, and his flattened nose seemed to spread halfway across his face. He turned and grinned, showing a double row of gleaming white teeth.
    â€œYou’re the Governor’s man, right?”
    â€œThat’s right.” McCall slipped on to the next barstool and ordered a beer. “What can I do for you?”
    â€œName’s George Watts. I’m one of the strikers out at the plant.”
    â€œI’m not here about the strike.”
    â€œI know. You’re here because somebody shot that film man this morning.”
    McCall’s eyes