Hunter noticed Tina motioning to him, and cut his ramble through the audience short, much to the displeasure of the ladies. He went back to the green room with Tina and Hank, and listened with growing dismay as they explained what they had found, and what they suspected. "Son of a bitch. What a mess."

"Yes, this could be bad for your rep."

He waved the objections away. "Screw my rep. We can't risk letting any of those ladies get hurt." Hunter's value went up in Hank's eyes. "They aren't going to want to give them up--I know how they are about sweets." He thought. "I have a crate of my newest in paperback--Desserts Your Mother Warned You About. We can tell them there was some problem with the expiration dates on the apples, and they need to hand them back in. In return, they'll each get a copy of the book, with a personal inscription from yours truly. Think they'll go for the trade?"

Tina smiled in relief. "I think they'll throw in their husbands for a deal like that."

"Great. It's a good thing that we're taped. Something like this would seriously screw up a live broadcast. How about I do the spiel, then we go ahead with the second part of the show, and have security waiting at the door to be sure no one sneaks out without ponying up the apple? I don't really expect there to be any trouble--most of my girls are sweethearts, but a little legalese should cover things if someone's back gets up. After the show I can sign books at the front, and if anyone is in a hurry, they can leave an address and what they want on the fly leaf, and I'll ship it to them."

"That might get kind of expensive," she warned.

"So? These people are making me a well to do man, and they might make me rich in the future. It's the least I can do. Mister Crank..." He offered his hand, and they shook. Hunter's voice was sincere. "Thank you!"

"Hell, son, I was just doing the right thing," Hank protested.

"You have no idea how refreshing that is around here. I want you to come by Choyez for a deluxe meal--on the house. How about tomorrow night? It's usually one of our slower evenings--I should be only half run off my feet."

"Well, that's very kind of you, but I'm here visiting. I don't know if Logan has anything planned..."

"Hank, GO!" said Tina firmly. "He's being modest. Choyez is one of the hardest reservations around. Logan will understand. After all, you'll be here for a whole week. Anyway, tomorrow is our usual 'family video' night, and it's Chase's turn to choose. We'll probably end up with The Lion King again."

"All right, then. That one always makes my throat close up when Muffassa dies, anyway. He reminds me too much of my Daddy."

Hunter smiled, shaking his head. "I'm telling the wine steward to put aside a bottle of something good for after your meal. I want to get to know you better, cowboy." He hustled off to set up what he needed for the second part of the show.

"Tina, you'd best call the police now, so they can pick up those apples."

"You think that's necessary?" she asked.

He gave her a surprised look. "Of course it is. Tina, you may have a case of product tampering here. That's nothing to take lightly. Suppose it isn't just this batch? I'm not sure how much information they'll be able to get from the apples themselves--lord knows how many people have handled them--but you have to take the chance."

She sighed. "You're right, of course. It's just that Suelynn doesn't like the police much."

"Suelynn?"

"That's the first Mrs. Clutterbuck, who still owns forty-five percent of the operation, God bless community property. Marva controls forty-five percent, too, and don't think that hasn't put Suelynn's knickers in a bunch."

"I don't understand, Tina. What happened to Mister Clutterbuck?"

"Ah, that's the question, isn't it? There are different theories. One has him somewhere sandy and sunny, sipping tropical drinks and laughing his head off, another has him occupying a shallow grave."

Hank blinked. "That's two wildly different scenarios."

"Tobias Clutterbuck disappeared just before this place opened for business. A big chunk of his personal assets were liquidated, and went at the same time."

"Oh."

"I'm not too surprised you haven't heard about it. It was pretty big news in California--at least for a little while--but it never went on Unsolved Mysteries or America's Most Wanted. The police tend to think he just got fed up with the high-pressure lifestyle, and being caught between the two women in his life, and that he took a powder. Marva wasn't as faithful as she might have been, and she damn sure wasn't as discreet as she could have been. Suelynn believes that someone with the initials MB-C either did away with Toby, or had him done away with."

"Is there any evidence, either way?"

"Well, someone used one of his bank card to clean out his joint account a couple of days into his disappearing act. Marva had already had the foresight to transfer most of the funds, or she might have been hard up for awhile. And his car was located in the long-term parking lot at LAX. The police couldn't find him listed on any flights out, but that doesn't mean much. On the other hand, none of his clothes were taken, but Marva claims that isn't so unusual. Toby likes to shop, and it wouldn't be anything for him to buy an entire new wardrobe on the spur of the moment. Either way, he left behind a real mess. Talk about a catfight. Both of them filed to have the estate probated and be declared executor till they could determine legally if he's dead or alive."

"Who won?"

"Marva, by a hair. But Suelynn has such a large chunk of the business, they've had to establish a sort of armed truce in order to keep the place running."

"That can't be easy. It's bound to be worse than two women trying to run the same kitchen." She arched an eyebrow at him. "I know that may sound condescending, Tina, but you've never seen my Mama and Heloise's mother-in-law at Thanksgiving. You've only accounted for ninety percent of the company. Who has the other ten percent?"

"It's scattered among different people, a point here and a point there. I think he handed out a few shares as Christmas presents, and at least three percent is tied up in trust for any offspring of his union with Marva." She wrinkled her nose. "I guess that will go back in the kitty, since he's been gone this long and Marva has never had to cruise the maternity shops on Rodeo Drive."

As Hunter had predicted, there was some grumbling when he announced the apple recall, and as Tina had predicted, all protests vanished when they heard what was being offered in return. The second half of the show went smoothly, with Hank being consulted for his opinions on the Frito Pie (Hank was of the firm opinion that beans did not need to be anywhere near a Frito Pie), nachos (if you wanted a little spice without too much fire, seed and chip up the jalapenos), and the proper construction of Texas Trash (he shook his head sadly when he heard it called Nuts 'n Bolts).

The exchange went smoothly, though one of the last ladies in line insisted that she couldn't possibly agree unless Hunter included a kiss in the bargain. Hunter had no problem with this. Hank had never seen a woman look so smug since the last time Heloise had come back from a half-price sale at a shoe store.) After reminding Hank firmly that he was expected at Choyez the next evening, Hunter took off to check on the state of the kitchen's readiness for a party that was scheduled for that evening. "It's a celebration for my old college roommate. A studio bought one of his screenplays, and wants options on his next three. I want to make it special for him."

As Hank and Tina walked to the daycare center, Hank said, "Hunter certainly seems to have his act together for someone so young, and he seems like a very nice fellow, too."

"I can't remember ever hearing anything really negative about him," Tina agreed. "A lot of hot chefs are prima donnas, in and out of the kitchen. Hank pushes his staff, but he gives praise where it's due, and he's fair." They entered the room. Chase, surrounded by an admiring group of other preschoolers, was in the process of putting the last block on the top of a structure that was almost as tall as he was. When he saw them, Chase said, "Demolition!" and swung his fist. The structure crumbled, blocks scattering. Hank was wondering if Tina was going to say something about this, when Chase's audience burst into applause. He bowed, then trotted over to the door while the others began gathering up the blocks. "He does that all the time. They have an agreement--since he's the best builder, he gets to knock down anything he helps put up."

"You going out to lunch, Mama?" Chase asked. "Can I come, too?"

"That's why we're here," she assured him. "But we'll have to hurry. I'm running a little late today, and I have to be back in time for the filming of Let's Talk About Pets! Hank, did we pass anything on the way in this morning that looked promising?"

"I think I saw something that looked like a deli down the street," Hank said.

"Kurtz's Deluxe Deli. That's a good choice. Let's go."

Chase couldn't understand why Hank didn't want to order the barbeque sandwich. Hank tried to explain. "Chase, what sort of cheese is that on your grilled cheese sandwich?"

"Plain old yellow."

"American," Tina corrected.

Chase nodded. "Merican."

"You ever heard of Roquefort cheese?"

"Yup. It's that smelly kind my Mom likes on her salad."

"Would you like that on your grilled cheese sandwich?" Chase gave him a horrified look, and Hank nodded. "That's how I feel about most barbeque I've run into anywhere that doesn't serve it with those waxed paper napkins and a slice of Wonder bread. Son, it might be all right, but the last time I ordered outside the Deep South, I was just about swimming in sugary, ketchup type sauce. It was almost enough to make a grown man cry. I'll just have the ham-and-turkey. I don't suppose they can get too fancy with that."

"Read the description," Tina warned him. Hank did, and told them to hold the sprouts, avocado, and mushrooms.

They finished in good time, dropping Chase off just in time for the grumbling to start about having to take an after lunch nap. Hank shook his head as they once again rode in the elevator. "You know, it's a shame that as soon as you get to the point that you'd really enjoy and appreciate a nap in the middle of the day, you don't have time for one." He looked around the interior, sniffing discreetly.

"What is it, Hank?"

"Just getting a whiff of something that reminds me of Texas. Did I hear you say there was going to be a miniature horse in the building today?"

Tina rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me. The owner swore to me he'd give the beast an enema before they came."

Hank pursed his lips. "They really must want the publicity to put their pet through that."

"Well, to tell you the truth, I think this one is less of a pet than a product sample. The guy breeds them, and this will be free advertising. They're sort of cute in a squashed, Troll doll sort of way, but impractical? It isn't like most people can have them as a house pet."

"I just hope that Eloise doesn't see this. She's been pestering her Daddy for a horse, and his best excuse it that their backyard isn't big enough. So this horse breeder gets the whole show to himself?"

"Good lord, no. We also have someone bringing a lovely calico cat. She keeps horses, too, and the cat is sort of their pet, so it's very easy with them."

"Cats and horses generally get on well together," Hank agreed. The hall on the second floor was busier than Hank had seen it before, all of them going into the second studio that was set up for an audience. "Looks like this one is going to have a good number of people, too.

"Let's Talk About Pets does fairly well, but not nearly as well as Hunter's show." As they entered, Tina said, "This is my last show for today, but we always allow more time for it, since animals are so unpredictable." She leaned toward Hank and whispered, "And so is the host. Wilson Bates is an old darling, but frankly he's getting sort of fragile, and his memory isn't what it used to be. Still, he shows up and gets through the programs. He's a trouper."

Hank was smiling. "Wilson Bates? I used to watch his World Wide Safari show when I was just a kid. That man handled everything from anacondas to zebras." The smile faded a little. "And now he's working with shrunken horses and stable cats." He sighed. "I think I feel old."

She patted his arm consolingly. "Not you, Hank. Let's go introduce you."

Meeting Wilson Bates was both pleasant and painful for Hank. He remembered a man in vigorous middle age, a man who was sensible and cautious ("Not like that dang fool from Australia who seems to want to cuddle anything that has sharp teeth or venom."), but fearless. The years seemed to have diminished him. He still carried himself erect, but the top of his head barely cleared Hank's chin, and he was slat thin. His hand was bony--frail--but his grip was still firm. He smiled when Hank mentioned the hours he'd spent watching his adventures, and Wilson said, "Long ago, I'm afraid. I haven't been able to travel more than a few hundred miles for years now." There was a far away look in his eyes as he spoke.

"Tina," Wilson told her, "I'm missing half of my guest list. The shrinky-dink pony has arrived, but not the companion cat. We can do the show without it, I suppose, but it will be rather thin."

"Well, crap," said Tina. "I'll go call the owner and see if they're on their way." She headed back to the green room.

A moment later a man led a tiny horse with Palomino coloring out onto the stage area. There was an immediate wave of cooing from the again mostly female audience. Wilson frowned. "Mister Cosgrove, you're not supposed to bring him out until your cue."

"Look, Bit o' Honey is getting nervous, having to stand still for so long. I'll just walk him back and forth across the stage a few times, right? Exercise calms him down." He gave Hank a cheesy grin. "Whoa, cowboy! I hope he doesn't get the idea that you're gonna ride him. I'm trying to keep him calm." He led the horse away, chuckling at his own humor.

"Mister Bates," came a breathless voice. "Here I am! I'm sorry I'm so late, but I only got the notice about the scheduling change this morning."

Hank heard a buzzing sound that was familiar enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. He turned around to see a tall, thin man carrying a large, lidded aquarium. Someone had once bitched about having to move one about that size, saying that it had almost killed him and the two friend's he'd talked into helping. Hank had remarked that he didn't think an empty aquarium would be that heavy. The man's response had been a blank look and, "Empty?" This one was empty--except for a generous layer of wood shavings and the biggest damn live rattlesnake Hank had ever seen.

Wilson looked just as surprised as Hank felt. "What are you doing with that thing?"

The man looked puzzled. "I'm here for the taping." He had continued closing the gap between them.

"But you're supposed to be here next week," protested Bates.

Behind him, Hank could hear the hollow clop of tiny hooves approaching. He turned, raising his hand. "Mister Cosgrove, you'd better keep Little Bit on the other side of the..."

"His name is Bit o' Honey." Cosgrove wasn't interested in listening. "Is that the other guest? It's about time. Cat people have no consideration when it comes to..." Bit o' Honey's nostrils were flaring. Suddenly he stopped short, legs stiffening, snorting loudly. "What is it? Honey, you aren't afraid of a pussycat, are you? You can kick his fuzzy butt to the moon if..."

"It's not a cat, Mister Cosgrove. You'd better get that horse away before..."

The golden horse tossed his head, long cream colored mane whipping, and whinnied shrilly. There was unmistakable fear in the tone. The audience, which had been casually gossiping and not really paying all that much attention was suddenly alert. Hank turned back to Bates and the snake owner, his voice rising in urgency. "Mister, get that rattler off this stage! That horse is going to..." There was the sharp rap of hooves again--then a thud and a blood curdling yell as Bit o' Honey broke several bones in his owner's foot.

The horse was small, but it was sturdy, and it suddenly started bucking and plunging in a manner that would have done a bronco proud. Cosgrove, hand wrapped in the horse's lead, was jerked about and kicked several times. Hank was hoping that he didn't lose his footing, because if he fell and took a hoof to the head, it could very well kill him, and that would be a tragically ridiculous way to die. Cosgrove tore himself loose, but the momentum of his effort sent him stumbling across the last few yards of stage. As the little horse headed up the aisles at a caner, Hank grabbed at him, but he was just a second too slow--and Cosgrove plowed into the man carrying the aquarium.

Those things were awkward to carry under the best circumstances, and these were far from the best circumstances. The man's hands slipped, and the tank fell. Hank had heard claims that some of the newer models were shatter resistant. Not this one--and a rattlesnake that was dropped amidst broken glass was not likely to be in a good mood.

It lunged almost as soon as it hit the floor, striking at the first thing that met its sight, then started to slither--toward the audience. Pandemonium. Women were scrambling in any direction but toward the snake. If Hank hadn't been distracted at the moment, he would have seen more panties than he had in most of his lifetime as a good number of women resorted to climbing over or on the seats. The noise was enough to drive the last bit of nerve from almost anyone.

Hank turned around quickly, zeroing in on the snake, which was headed for the audience, no doubt intent on taking refuge under the seats. Hank took three rapid strides, and the toe of his right boot came down on the snake, just behind it's wedge shaped head. It hissed and thrashed, thick body whipping wildly as Hank reached into his pocket and pulled out a large folding knife.

The snake handler yelled, "No, don't! Don't kill Rupert--he's harmless!" He was answered by demands for the snake's death, and cursing that proved that not all the women in the audience adhered to the strict rules of speech set up for 'ladies'. "Please, mister," the man pleaded. "His venom sacks were removed ages ago. If he bites you it'll sting a little, but that's all. Some Bactine will take care of it. Honest, I have kids--I'm not going to keep a poisonous snake in my home. Please--he's a pet."

Hank sighed, reached down, and caught the snake just above where his foot had it pinned. "Then find something to hold this varmint."

"I have a carry bag in the green room, brought it for my talk today. Hold on!" He hurried away.

Hank figured the screams should have begun dying down by now, but they began to rise to an even greater level. He looked to where some of the women were pointing, and his heart plummeted. Wilson Bates, white faced and sweating, was clutching his left arm. He staggered back, sitting heavily in one of the chairs. There were two small, blood-speckled holes in Bates' pant leg.

Cosgrove dropped to the floor in front of the elderly man and ripped the fabric, exposing one skinny calf that had two red puncture marks marring the skin. "Gimme your knife," he shouted at Hank. "I've read the Boy Scout Manual--I'll suck out the poison."

Instead Hank used the knife to point to a cell phone lying on the floor. "Forget that. Use that fancy phone of yours to call 911."

"After I suck out the poison. The more time that's wasted..."

"Call, you fool!" When a man Hank's size used that tone of voice, wise people obeyed. Cosgrove snatched up the phone and punched buttons while Hank said, "You've got more guts and goodwill than brains, Bubba. That fella said this snake was neutralized, and I believe him."

"But if Bates wasn't poisoned, then why...?"

"Damn, man, don't you know a heart attack when you see one?" said Hank, finally sounding exasperated. "Poison wasn't necessary--the shock of having a rattler bite you is enough to raise anyone's blood pressure through the roof."