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He allowed a laugh but said, "One manslaughter trial is enough." A reference to a legal problem l'd had some years back. "It was a joke," I said. "Not funny," he said. I rolled my eyes. "So, you think there's anything to this fractal thing?" "It's worth checking out." "Yeah." "Besides, she gave me enough money to live on for a month and it beats getting a real job." "Amen." "Amen," I repeated. There was a brief pause. "You coming down here tomorrow?" "How about three o'clock? I'll work out, then chow down with you and the gang." Troy and Trudi have two kids, Andrew, age thirteen, and Chelsea, age seven. "It's a deal," he said. "And bring my Glock with you." I own one firearm-a nine- millimeter Glock 17-and I rarely carry it. There had been a string of burglaries in Troy's neighborhood, so I'd loaned the pis- tol to him a few months back. The burglars, two ex-cons with a taste for heroin, had since been apprehended. "You really think these deaths are related?" "She thinks they are,"I said. "If she's right, we're dealing with a highly motivated individual. No use taking chances." "TIl bring it." "War fractals," I said. "Out," he said. It was a sign-off routine we'd picked up from Jim Rome's sports radio show.