He stuck his tongue out at her as he folded the paper and shoved it into a desk drawer. "What happened to seven?"

"Used it up warning you--three--two, one, and..." One of the technicians flipped a switch, and there was a burst of bright, cheery music. Devin and Cerise were suddenly smiling like a bushel full of possum heads.

"Good morning, Glendale!" They chorused.

"Wakey, wakey, people," said Cerise playfully. "Grab that extra cup of coffee, because you want to be fully awake for today's show."

"That's right, Cerise," added Devin. "Today we'll find out what it takes to get into the Hollywood make-up special effects profession. Coleman Buddinger is going to show us a few tricks that just may pop your eyes right out of your head."

"And a member of Glendale's Water Commission is here to tell us the whys and wherefores about the new lawn watering regulations."

"But first, a report on the 'Get Cerise a Boyfriend Campaign'."

Cerise's smile froze so fast that Hank could almost see the fog condensing in her breath. Her voice was still cheerful, but you could detect strain. "I thought we were through with that, Dev."

He chuckled. He was smiling affably, but there was a mean little kid undertone. "Oh, not by a long shot. In fact, I have a new batch of photos sent in by hopeful potentials." He was opening another desk drawer. As he reached inside he said, "Now, some of these I'm not going to be able to show you, because the fellows decided to show, er, their best side, in hopes of catching my co-host's attention. In fact, I think one of them should be reported..." He yelled sharply and jerked his hand back. "Motherfucker!"

"Commercial!" hissed Tina. Someone flipped another switch, and Tina hustled toward the desk. "Devin, what got into you? You know we don't have anyone on the bleep button this early."

"What got into me? It feels like a fucking knife, that's what it feels like!" He was clutching his wrist, and now he held up his hand. There was a jagged gash in his palm, almost two inches long, and it was bleeding heavily.

"Jesus!" yelped Cerise. "What did you do to yourself?"

"I didn't do it to myself, you stupid cat. There was something in the drawer."

Hank had stepped forward. "Sir, let me see that."

"I thought you were a cop, not a doctor." Devin extended his hand.

Hank was pulling a neatly folded bandana out of his back pocket. "First aid training is mandatory, and I take a refresher course from the Red Cross every year or so." He shook out the cloth, and it unfurled into a swath of deep maroon, emblazoned with two large, white letters--A and M. As he folded it into a thick strip, he said, "Don't worry, this is fresh, and we need to get that bleeding stopped."

He bound Devin's wound up, and one of the cameramen approached. "Should I call 911?"

"Oh, hell, no!" snapped Devin. His face was pale, but his teeth were gritted in determination. "I know they have to be on the second commercial by now. I have to get back on."

"The hell you say," said Tina. "You're going to an emergency room."

"I can do it after the show. Christ, it'll be less than an hour."

"No way," said Tina firmly. "Look, Devin, don't argue with me on this. I'm in charge here right now, and you're getting medical attention. That injury happened on the job, and we're not leaving the company open to a huge lawsuit if gangrene sets in and you lose a finger."

Devin started to protest, and Hank said reasonably. "Sir, you took that cut in a bad place. It's not going to heal up easy, and you could very well have nerve damage if it went deep. You need to have it looked at."

Devin deflated. "Crap." He looked over at Cerise, his expression both belligerent and resigned. "Think you can handle the show alone?"

She smiled sweetly. "I always have."

The Toombs' offered to drive Devin to the emergency room, since he obviously couldn't do it himself. He threw a bitter glance over his shoulder as Cerise settled herself complacently in the seat behind the desk, smiled in a manner that was a little too genuine, and said, "Welcome back, Glendale. My, we're having an event filled morning. Let this be a lesson to us all about being sure what's inside before you stick your hand somewhere. Don't worry--I'm sure Devin will be back with us tomorrow..." the smile widened, "or maybe the next day. But not to worry! I'm ready to soldier on."

Tina snorted softly as she led Hank toward the door. "Soldier on. She may be small, but she's a Marine when it comes to fighting for her career. She's always resented having to share the spotlight with Devin. She's sure that if she can get a showcase for her own talents, big offers will drop into her lap."

"Will they?" asked Hank as they made their way down the hall.

Tina shrugged. "It's possible, but she hasn't got the reporting background the big stations want for anchorwomen, and female talk show hosts are a glut on the market. Here we go--this is one of our audience studios. We're filming Round-the-Table today. I thought you might want to watch this one, since I have some pretty boring production stuff to do."

"Sure. Round Table?"

"No, Round-the-Table. They discuss food and eating--mostly food trends and fads." She smiled. "The plus side is that the audience often gets free samples, and they do involve you in the discussions sometimes."

There was a camera and stage set up at one end of the studio, just like the other one, but the rest of the room was filled with gently sloped banks of seats crowded with an audience that was almost exclusively female. Hank estimated that there was close to a hundred people waiting to view the show. "Nice crowd."

Tina nodded. "It's one of our more popular ones--partly because of the free food, but mostly because of the host." She grinned. "Hunter Overend. He's known to his fans as 'the end you can't get over'." Hank gave her a questioning look. "He looks as good going as he does coming?"

Hank flushed slightly. "I know that women like to look just as much as men, but I still can't get used to how open some of y'all have become about it."

She snickered. "Get used to it, Hank. Hunter is an up and coming chef. He's only twenty-seven, but he's already heading the kitchen in a trendy, two star restaurant, and I hear it may be bumped up to three stars soon, on the strength of his cooking. He also has written two books that have sold well enough to be reprinted a couple of times. You know what I like about him? He knows his stuff. One of those books was as much a treatise on class eating habits in American history as it was recipes, and he made it interesting, and entertaining. I have a seat reserved for you in the front row."

Hank was acutely aware of being watched as they made their way down to the front of the section, toward the single middle seat that had a RESERVED card taped to its back. He could feel the tips of his ears burning at some of the whispered comments. Like he'd told Tina, he wasn't comfortable with overt female admiration of a man's physical charms, and apparently some of the California ladies had a soft spot for cowboys. He settled into the seat, nodding cordially to the women on either side, and removed his hat, putting it in his lap.

Tina conferred briefly with the cameramen while the two men who were already seated on the dais conversed quietly. A pleasant looking elderly woman, seated on Hank's right, leaned over and said, "Excuse me? Do you know what the subject is today?"

"No, ma'am, I'm afraid not."

"I just hope it isn't anything too hard to chew. The last time I was here they were discussing using food dehydrators. With my dentures, I couldn't eat the beef jerky, and I think that dried fruit is just nasty, so I didn't get to eat anything. This can be a great show, but you have to come on the right day."

The woman on Hank's left, who was nearly as thin as Mrs. Hochheimer, said, "I know what you mean. I came once hoping to indulge in some sinful goodies, and what were they discussing? Organically grown vegetables. I wanted sticky buns, and I got carrots and cabbage," she sighed. "Still, it was worth it. Hunter went with the gardening theme, and wore a tank top and shorts." She batted her eyelashes at Hank. "Do you do much gardening?"

Hank pulled nervously at his collar. "I keep a few tomato plants, but that's mostly just for my pet. He likes them."

The left-hand lady frowned. "What sort of dog eats tomatoes?"

"He's not a dog. He's--"

The right hand lady laid a hand on his arm. "Do you cook?"

"Yes, ma'am. If I don't cook, I don't eat, unless my sister invites me over."

"Oh, what a shame." She paused, then said casually, "Doesn't your wife cook?"

"I haven't been blessed that way, ma'am."

"Really? Are you...?"

Tina was standing in front of the dais with a microphone, and said, "Ladies!" She smiled at Hank, who was very grateful that something was about to distract his seatmates. "And gentleman. Welcome to Round-the-Table. As I'm sure some of you know, we generally have samples of some of the food we're going to discuss, and today is no exception." Several men were lugging large cardboard boxes down the aisles. "Today's subject is fair food and carnival goodies, and our guests have supplied a terrific assortment. We have a representative from Just Good Goodies, who supplies prepackaged carnival treats for forty-eight of the fifty states..."

"And we're working on Alaska and Hawaii," one of the men called jovially.

There was laughter as Tina continued, "He's generously provided us with packages of their cotton candy, and an assortment of their apple treats. You'll have your choice of traditional candy and caramel, and the hot new flavors of toffee and chocolate." There were excited murmurs as the men began passing packages down the rows. "And ladies? One pack of cotton candy and one apple apiece." There were grumbles, and she shook her head. "Sorry. Find a buddy to trade bites, and please don't start eating them till you're out of the studio. The cotton candy is all right, but housekeeping tells us that they found apple cores everywhere that time we passed out Pippins on the Autumn Bounty show. For those of you who are adventurous, and not too concerned about a few spots, they're going to be having a couple of hot treats, too."

Hank accepted a pack of lurid pink candy, figuring that Chase might like it, if his mama didn't mind. He also chose a chocolate covered apple, because he was intrigued by the concept. Most of the ladies were either tearing into their treats, or tucking them away in their purses. Hank juggled his, considering for a moment. He inspected the wrappings to be sure they were complete and tight, then carefully tucked them into his hat, and put it between his feet. This wasn't his 'dress' Stetson, and as cowboys had known since range riding began, a well made hat was good for a lot of things.

"All right, ladies, we're ready to go. Let's have a warm welcome for Hunter Overend, self-confessed pop food culture fiend!"

There was more bright, cheerful music, though Hank was pretty sure it was at least a little different from Good Morning, Glendale's theme. A very handsome man, with a cap of short, dark hair, trotted out, grinning at the audience. He stopped in front of the cameras and spent a few moments dancing to the music. The women more or less howled. Hank had heard from Heloise that women at a male strip review could be rowdier than men in a similar situation, but he was a tiny bit shocked by the sheer volume Hunter generated just wiggling, fully clothed. Hank half expected a pair of panties to go sailing through the air and land at the young Adonis' feet. Hank would have been tempted to think Hunter was a little full of himself, but while he danced, Hunter had an expression on his face that seemed to say 'I know this is silly, but hey, they're here to be entertained.'

They started the show, and Hank was surprised to find himself really enjoying it. Tina was right--Hunter made an effort to know his subject. He made intelligent comments, and asked leading questions, but let his guests do most of the talking. They took a short break after about a half-hour, and Hunter picked up a microphone and stepped down toward the audience. The women stirred excitedly. Hunter always made at least one trip to the audience, and they were all eager to get that much closer to their idol. They were a little disappointed when Hunter headed straight toward Hank.

Standing in front of the lanky older man, Hunter squatted down and held the microphone between them, so that both voices would reach it. "I see by your outfit that you are a cowboy," he half-sang. Then he wiggled his eyebrows. "These words I did sing as I boldly walked up."

Hank had to smile. "Yes, sir. Texas born and bred."

"Excellent! You're just the man I'm going to need later to taste test. We're going for chili casserole."

Hank frowned. "Chili and rice, or chili mac?"

"Chili and corn chips. You're shaking your head. Why?"

"What sort of chips are you using, son?"

Hunter's eyebrows climbed at the form of address, but he said. "Fritos."

Hank now nodded firmly. "Perfect. Are you baking it?"

"Well, no. The way I understand it, you just ladle the chili over the chips and dress it up to taste."

"That's Frito Pie, Mister Overend. Now, if you was to use some other form of chips, such as white corn tortilla chips, and bake it--then it would be chili casserole, but what you're talking about is Frito Pie."

Hunter sounded amused. "And you'd know?"

"I should. I ate one just about every Friday night of my life between the ages of nine and twenty-two."

"Why did you slack off?"

"I was working steady then, and couldn't always get off to attend the football games."

Hunter threw back his head and laughed. "Yeah, I definitely want you as a taste tester." He winked at Hank, then moved on to talk to a little blue haired lady, who seemed about ready to hyperventilate with excitement.

Hank's left hand seatmate had taken her apple out of her purse, and was twirling it in her fingers, staring at it. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to go ahead and eat it. I could count it as an early dessert for lunch."

Hank had been watching the spinning apple. Now he said quietly, "Ma'am, they told us not to. Why don't you have some of that cotton candy instead, to tide you over? And I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you. Would you consider trading apples with me?" He showed her his chocolate apple. "I really shouldn't eat this--I had chocolate donuts for breakfast."

She looked pleased. "You'd trade for a plain old caramel? Sure!" She passed the apple over. Hank took it carefully by the stick and gave his own.

Tina was coming down the aisle, and Hank got up and went to meet her. "Hey, Hank. How's the show?"

"Very entertaining, and that young man seems to actually have a lick of sense. Tina, I need to talk to you--right now."

She noticed Hank's sober expression, and said, "Sure. There's a green room off here." They walked back to a miniscule lounge. "What is it, Hank? You look as serious as a heart attack."

"Tina, you're going to have to figure out a way to get back all those apples."

"Are you kidding? Those women will riot if we take those. I'm sure some of them are going to enshrine them as a personal gift from Hunter."

"Those aren't the ones I'm worried about--it's the ones who'd eat them that might have a problem."

"What are you getting at? The Just Good Goodies company has one of the highest cleanliness and safety ratings around. They have a reputation for strict quality control."

"All the more reason they're going to want to quietly gather the apples up." Hank held up the apple. "Look at this." She did, then gave him a questioning look. "I don't really expect you to notice the abnormality in the packaging--it isn't all that apparent if you don't know what to look for. I've been volunteering for the Safe Halloween program ever since Eloise was born. Every October the radiology departments in a lot of hospitals will x-ray treats free of charge to look for foreign objects, and we present programs on how to inspect children's trick-or-treat goodies to be sure that no one has done something nasty to them. Tina, this apple has been opened, and re-wrapped."

She frowned. "Okay, that's a little troubling, but maybe it just sort of worked loose in the shipping, and someone thought they'd save a little money by fixing it."

"That would be unsanitary, but not all that distressing. This is what's got me worried. Look here." He pointed.

Tina squinted at the apple, then blinked. "There's some sort of... of seam in the caramel coating."

Hank nodded. "Now, if this was one of the kinds where they wrap a sheet of caramel around the apple, then warm it, that would be expected. But this is the old fashioned, dipped in liquid caramel kind. That seam shouldn't be there--the coating should be absolutely smooth, or maybe have a little patch where the coating thinned enough to let the skin peek through. Tina, that coating was deliberately cut, and then someone pinched the caramel closed over the slit, trying to hide it."

Tina paled. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

Hank looked grim. "It might not, but we can't take the risk. We have to get every one of those apples back, or one of your guests might find themselves biting into a razor blade or straight pin."