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about it. But I meant that if I were going to lie to you, I’d tell you about that, then tell you<br />

that I was writing another, on esoteric denim, or mad marketing strategies. But I won’t.<br />

I’m working for Hubertus Bigend.”<br />

The last bite of salmon caught in Milgrim’s throat. He drank water, coughed into his<br />

napkin.<br />

“Are you choking?” asked George, who looked as though he could perform a really<br />

optimal Heimlich maneuver.<br />

“No, thanks,” said Milgrim.<br />

“Blue Ant?” asked Meredith.<br />

“No,” said Hollis. “We’re freelance. Bigend wants to know who’s behind Gabriel<br />

Hounds.”<br />

“Why?” Meredith had put down her fork.<br />

“Possibly because he thinks someone’s outdoing him at something he considers to have<br />

been his own game. Or so he suggested. Do you know him?”<br />

“Only by reputation,” said Meredith.<br />

“Is Blue Ant doing your band’s publicity?” Milgrim asked George, after some more<br />

water.<br />

“Not that I know of,” said George. “Too small a world already.”<br />

“I’m not a Blue Ant employee,” said Hollis. “Bigend’s hired me to look into Gabriel<br />

Hounds. He wants to know who designs it, how their antimarketing scheme works. I’m<br />

only prepared to go so far. I’m not prepared to lie to you about it.”<br />

“How about you?” Meredith asked Milgrim.<br />

“I don’t have a badge,” Milgrim said.<br />

“What do you mean?”<br />

“To open the door,” Milgrim said. “At Blue Ant. Employees have those badges. I’m not<br />

on salary.”<br />

First-course dishes were removed. Second courses arrived. Milgrim’s was pork<br />

tenderloin, stacked like a corpulent chess piece, a rook of pork. It toppled as he began to<br />

eat it.<br />

“How badly does Bigend want to know?” Meredith’s knife and fork were poised.<br />

“He wants to know everything, basically,” said Hollis, “all the time. Right now, he<br />

wants to know this quite badly. Next month? Maybe not so much.”<br />

“He must have a lot of resources. For information.” Meredith cut into her roundel of<br />

beef.<br />

“Prides himself on it,” Hollis said.<br />

“I mentioned that I believe most of my last season of shoes are in a warehouse in<br />

Seattle. Tacoma, possibly.”<br />

“Yes?”<br />

“I don’t know where. Can’t find them. The lawyers say they could make a very<br />

convincing case for my ownership, if we could locate them. We’re fairly certain they

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