Chapter Seventeen     

“I have to admit, I was expecting something more sinister.”  Clive Welter-Manes sipped at a black tea and stared through the small-paned windows of the Elite Bean Cafe at large dark green pines across the street.  Rex and Devin sat across the table from him, Rex having just excitedly recounted his research on Rutherford Rousten. 

            “Like what?” asked Rex, a tad defensively.

“Like maybe that he was a ruthless industrialist, or some kind of corrupt power broker who heartlessly screwed people over.”

            “I didn’t say he wasn’t heartless.  He could’ve been a heartless clothier.”

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