"And Walter Greer—"
"Came back two years later and asked her for a job. She gave it to him. He made his year in '63. He's on the wall, on the stairs, on your way up." Ansel paused. "He's on the city commission now. He's an accountant at the grain co-op. He's a careful man. Careful with money, careful with words. And I'm told," Ansel said, "that he's planning to vote yes on the nineteenth."
Danny stared at him.
"Why?"
"Because he's careful. Because Merritt's lost the salt plant and two elevators and the Rexall and the Penney's, and the bank building's two hundred jobs and a tax base, and the Sunflower's four thousand dollars and a hole in the roof. Because he thinks Cora's dead and things change." Ansel shrugged. "He might be right. I'm not a careful man. I've just been in this booth a long time."
"Does he know? About Royce? That Royce is the one who—"
"Of course he knows. He was the one with the collar. He's known for twenty-five years. Royce knows that he knows. They sit on the same commission. They've never once said a word about it to each other, far as I know." Ansel looked at the book in Danny's lap. "That's what towns are, mostly. Things everybody knows and nobody says."
Below them, the reel was running out. Danny saw it before Ansel did. The first dot flickered in the upper right corner of the screen, there and gone. His hand went to the motor switch on the right-hand machine without his looking.
One. Two. Three.
Ansel watched him and didn't move.
Six. Seven.