They were always leaving a few pounds of it with John and Marti when they came. It wasn't bad, John thought, but at $38 a pound? At $4.50 a cup in the coffee bars? You'd have to be out of your mind. Which showed how much he knew about it.

"Look, people,” he said, “about these accidents-"

"Johnny, will you shut up?” Nick said amiably. “What else is there, Rudy?"

"One more, from the Celebes. This is a first issue from a Rantepao plantation that was revived four or five years ago."

"I vote no,” Maggie said.

Nick laughed. “We haven't tasted it yet"

"We don't have to taste it. If it comes from the Celebes, it was processed with slave labor."

"Oh, for God's sake, Maggie, they don't have slave labor in the Celebes,” Nelson said disgustedly.

"Well, they don't pay them a living wage. It's the same thing."

"It's not the same thing."

"And what's more, they don't go in for organic processing on the Rantepao plantations. They use chemical nitrogen replacement."

"So? So do we. What do you suggest, bee pollination?’ Nelson screwed up his face in case she couldn't tell he was being sarcastic.

Maggie screwed her face right back at him. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Bee pollination-"

"People?” Nick said with a sigh. It was enough to quiet them down. “What do you say we just taste the stuff, okay?"

"The master speaks,” said Rudy.

Happily, it didn't take long. The coffee was variously dismissed as “misty,” “grassy,” and “hidey.” The grower, Nelson suggested indignantly, was trying to palm off last year's crop. The others agreed. No sale.

John had thought it was just fine.

"Well, that's that, then,” Nick said. “Good job, gang."

"About these accidents,” John said.

Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “We can talk on the way to your place.” He smacked his lips. “Hey, Rudy, pour us a cup of Blue Devil for the road."