Bill’s face began to regain some of its natural color. “For crissake. Where the hell did he find that? I mean, I know John and Teddy are scavengers, but…” Her hands were shaking a little when she poured out two fingers of Glen-morangie, neat. She frowned down at them and they steadied as she put the glass on the bar. “Oh. I forgot. You on or off?”

Liam sat down next to Eric Mollberg, who stirred and moaned a little, and turned his face to Liam in a preliminary attempt to surface from the sea of alcohol in which he had been submersed for going on three months. “I,” said Liam, “don’t give a damn if I’m on duty or off at the moment.” He drank and felt the heat and flavor of the single-malt seep straight into his bloodstream. Comfort food, he thought, and finished it. Bill held up the bottle. He shook his head. “No. That did it. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

Bill cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder at the group in the booth, one of whom was staring back with an undeniably guilty look all over her face, and thought, And it’s not over yet. Because she was a woman, too, and had her own men problems-for starters the Alaska old fart sitting in the corner knocking back enough beer to fell Paul Bunyon and whooping it up with his pals-she bought Wy some time. “Where’d it come from?”

“You’ll love this.”

Bill ran a couple more margaritas down to the end of the bar for Moccasin Man, who was putting the moves on Susie Akiachak. Susie was a smart girl and knew better, but her defenses had been weakened by a nasty breakup with Jimmy Koliganek, and Evan Gray was first and foremost an opportunist. On the way back up the bar Bill hooked her foot beneath the bottom rung of the bartender’s stool and sent it sliding into place across from Liam. “Okay,” she said, settling in for the duration, “let’s hear it.”