Holland nods, his face red with whiskey or fury. “And a fake-news story about a murder is the last thing this town needs this week. The Chinese don’t need to see that! Let’s talk straight. McEwan wasn’t even invited to this party. But since he’s here, I want him to tell us what he’s printing tomorrow.”
“As it turns out,” I say in a conversational tone, “Buck’s skull was crushed by a brick. And it’s looking more and more like he wasn’t killed where his truck was found.”
The men’s faces go pale at this news, but Beau Holland turns scarlet. “Will the word ‘homicide’ appear in the Watchman tomorrow? That’s all I want to know.”
“Well, a black kid was shot with an AR-15.”
“Nobody gives a damn about that. You know what I mean.”
The men around Holland look distinctly uncomfortable, but I’m not sure about the reason. “Why don’t you spend fifty cents on a paper after you come to in the morning?” I suggest.
Holland lunges at me, but Max Matheson plants a splayed hand on his chest and stops him cold. “Marshall’s always invited,” Max says evenly. “He’s family. Get yourself another drink, Beau.”
Into this minor melee steps Sally Matheson, one of the most gracious women in Mississippi. Some people say it’s only her charm and elegance that extricated Max from quite a few scrapes over the years. While Beau Holland struggles to get control of his temper, Sally looks at me as though he doesn’t exist.
“How’s your father doing, Marshall?” Her gentle Southern accent hasn’t changed since she came out as a Bienville debutante five decades ago. “It’s so hard to imagine Duncan being down like he is.”
“He’s holding his own, Mrs. Matheson.”
“I’m so glad. I know Blythe will get him back in the pink. Your mother’s a saint, Marshall. All those years you and Paul were growing up, I was so jealous of Blythe. She just had a natural way about her. She could deal with anything. It’s a gift.”
Arthur Pine shakes his head with feigned empathy. “Tell Duncan I said hello. I miss seeing him on the street.”
“You mean in Dizzy’s Bar,” says his wife, a bejeweled blond standing two steps behind him.
“There, too,” Pine says with a sheepish grin.
To my surprise, Sally reaches out and takes Nadine’s hand, then leans forward and whispers something in her ear. Nadine giggles, surprising me even more. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her giggle. Then Sally leans back and looks me from head to toe, as though taking my measure.
“Marshall, I’ve known you since Hector was a pup, and I’m telling you now, you’d better grab hold of this girl with both hands. They don’t come any better, east or west of the Mississippi.”
I’m so taken aback by this advice that I just stare back at her, mute.
“You two make a lovely couple,” Sally goes on. “Plus, Nadine’s about the only lawyer in this town who’d stand a chance against Jet in a courtroom. And I’m including you, Arthur.”
As Pine gives an obsequious laugh, I realize Jet is one of the few members of this set who hasn’t drifted over to listen.
“Oh, Sally,” says Nadine, “Marshall’s just using me as his ticket to see Jerry Lee Lewis. No romance here.”
Sally shakes her head like a matchmaker of long experience. “You can’t fool me. Go ahead, play charades if you must. But I’ll have the last laugh when I throw rice at your wedding.”
In the surprised pause that follows this pronouncement, it strikes me how odd it feels to think of this group as a gang of killers. But that may be the reality. The men in this genteel cabal may have met over a card table and condemned Buck to death without a moment’s hesitation.
“So,” I say to Paul, “is Jerry Lee coming or not?”
He grins and pumps a tanned fist. “You better believe it! His driver just pulled up with him. I just got the text. We’re about to hear some bona fide boogie, boy. I’d better run down and bring him up here.”
“Hot damn!” exults Blake Donnelly. “I brung him a special bottle of Calvert Extra. I’m gonna go get it.”
For two minutes the orbiting planets came together, and now they fly apart once more. Paul squeezes my shoulder like he used to on the basketball court, then he and Max spin off in Blake Donnelly’s wake. Wyatt Cash and Tommy Russo fade a few feet away and begin talking among themselves. Only Arthur