I went back to Mitch's to help Cynthia close and, while I was there, hung around the pool table seeing if anyone there would be dumb enough to play me. No one would but one of the bikers told me that he heard there were some guys who played for money at the Green bar in Olnyville. I frowned a little at that; not that I was afraid to go anywhere as I could more than handle myself, but Olnyville was pretty much the armpit of Rhode Island and any bar there made Mitch's look like a country club.

There was also quite a bit of trouble in the bars...