"Not counting our little club? Twenty, maybe twenty-five." He shrugs as they round a corner and the hedge opens to woods. "I never claimed it was a big town." And then: "Here we are."

Town is a strong word: it's a manor and like three shops. But one of those is the diner, newly remade as a rustic tavern, and John nods approval at the commitment to aesthetic. It doesn't even look much like a place you'd be murdered. He doesn't hesitate to lead her inside.