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pointed tone. “So long as you possess a state license to be one. I assume you know that a felony conviction, in Montana, means revocation of your license?”
    Angry blood rushed into her face. “Are you trying to intimidate me, Mr. Ulrick?”
    “Merely reminding you of the law, Miss Adams.”
    “Frankly, I don’t believe that’s all you’re doing. You’re treating me like a criminal. And you’re obviously trying to bully me into giving you information I do not possess.”
    Ulrick finally lost his smirk as raw anger distortedhis features. But the FBI agent, coolly professional throughout, poured oil on the waters.
    “We apologize if our tactics seem a bit high-pressure, Miss Adams. If necessary you would testify in a court of law, would you not?”
    “Yes, if absolutely necessary. But only to exactly what I’ve told you this morning.”
    Perhaps ten seconds passed in awkward silence as they all pondered the awkward impasse they’d reached. Ulrick, calm again, put his coat back on. Then he folded his arms over his chest and asked one last question.
    “Did Loudon give you anything, Miss Adams? Anything at all?”
    “Nothing.”
    “You’re sure about that?”
    “Mr. Ulrick, which syllable of the word nothing are you having trouble understanding? ‘No’ or ‘thing?’ Or perhaps you think I’m feebleminded? I believe I would know if somebody gave me something.”
    Angry blood rushed into Ulrick’s face. But Mumford cleared his throat in warning. Ulrick bit back his first, hot-tempered response.
    “Sometimes,” he informed her primly, “our memory can be affected by our sympathies. For the record, I am noting in my report that you were hostile during this interview. Indeed, I have to wonder just whose side you are on.”
    “I have no interest in your report. As for my hostility, it is in direct response to your own, Mr. Ulrick. I don’t let others push me around. And as to choosing sides—I’m not aware that this is a baseball game. Let me repeat, Loudon gave me nothing and did not tellme anything specific about his purpose in going to Billings.”
    Ulrick opened his mouth to get in another lick. But Constance didn’t give him the chance.
    “Now gentlemen, if you will excuse me—this experience has already cost me my vehicle and a day of my time. Unless you plan to place me under arrest, I consider this interview terminated.”
    Ulrick obviously resented her assertive manner. But Mumford, forcing back an amused smile, took his companion by the elbow and nudged him toward the door.
    Ulrick, however, was not quite finished. He paused to look back at her from the doorway.
    “I take it you’re returning to Mystery?”
    “Yes, this morning. Why do you ask?”
    “Because later on we may have more questions for you.”
    “What questions that you haven’t already asked?”
    His lips—the color of raw liver—pursed into an even deeper smirk.
    “Frankly, that’s our concern, not yours.”
    He shut the door, leaving her speechless with anger.
     
    Constance had very little appetite, especially given the foul mood Ulrick had brought on. But she’d had almost nothing to eat since noon yesterday and knew she should try to eat before she drove back to Mystery Valley.
    The nearby diner served up a “genuine Western breakfast” special of hot buckwheat cakes, soda biscuits, and sausage gravy—nearly a ton of food, sheestimated in dismay when the waitress set down a platter the size of an aircraft carrier’s deck.
    She gave it a valiant effort, but had to give up after a few bites and settle for two cups of strong black coffee. She walked back to the motel and picked up her rental car keys at the front desk.
    “It’s the white Ford Taurus right out front,” said the young Hispanic woman who had relieved Old Methuselah.
    Constance used the three-hour drive back to the valley to mull everything that had happened since last evening, turning each detail over with the fingers of her mind and scrutinizing