"Now you know who the blackmailer is, but how are we going to stop him?" Evan asked, as they drove away from the garage.
"Good question," Vic replied ruefully. "I have the feeling just talking to him won't do much good. He'd deny he was the one involved."
"What about telling the governor?"
"Since we don't have any idea if he knows what Margolin is doing, that might not be such a good idea."
"True," Evan said dispiritedly.
Vic took out his phone, brought up a website and searched for Margolin's home address and phone number. Then he made a call. When it was answered, he asked to speak to Arthur Margolin. A moment later, he hung up.
"According to his wife, Margolin is downtown at a political rally for the governor." He tapped his finger on his phone before putting it back in his pocket. "I say we go beard the lion in his den, so to speak."
"Not without a plan," Evan said firmly. "You can't just walk in there cold and accuse him. You said so yourself."
"That's where we come in," Paddy said.
Vic turned to look at him. "Reading his mind, if that's what you're thinking, isn't going to prove anything. Or at least, it won't be proof that we can use."
"True, but we can presume he has something physical. Right? Information from some source that he can make public and back up with evidence? All we have to do is find out where he keeps it and then get our hands on it."
"Easier said than done."
Paddy grinned. "Not if you confront him—in private. As you said, he'll deny it, but if you push it, we could get lucky and he'll think about what he's holding, and maybe wonder if it's safe where it is, since you seem to know what he's doing."
Vic nodded slowly. "That might work. But Evan needs to be better dressed if we're going to invade the rally. I don't think old jeans and a T-shirt are going to cut it in a fancy downtown hotel."
"Probably not," Evan agreed, making a turn that would take them to his place.
Half an hour later they were back in the car, heading down to the hotel where the rally was taking place. Evan was now wearing black slacks and a pale green shirt that, in Vic's opinion at least, made him look very businesslike—and sexy.
When they entered the hotel ballroom—the now-invisible angels right beside them—they were greeted by the sound of loud cheers.
"They knew we were coming and are excited," Vic commented with a grin.
"Somehow I think the cheers are for the governor," Evan said dryly, pointing to the dais at the front of the room.
Vic chuckled, leading the way through the crowd toward the front of the room. He kept his eyes open for Margolin, finally spotting him with a group of people at one side of the dais. "Follow my lead," he said quietly to Evan.
They reached the group just as Margolin was saying, "The governor is going to win the primary by a landslide."
"How can you be certain?" one of the men standing there asked. "Marshall is running a very strong race."
"I have faith in our candidate—and in the voters," Margolin replied. "Marshall is only strong in the larger cities. The rest of the state understands that his ideas are too radical and will destroy everything we stand for."
What a crock. Vic shook his head as he moved close enough to place himself next to Margolin. "May I have a few words with you, sir?" he asked.
Margolin looked at him, his expression changing from the confident one he was showing his companions to one of puzzlement. "Do I know you?"
"No, but we have a mutual friend in common. Virginia Peake."
"Never heard of her," Margolin blustered. But he did step away from the group.