their table, all quiet and subdued, all bored and waiting for what would undoubtedly be a quick appearance by the kid. Fink and Ord were captivated by the court reporter’s legs and skirt. Her figure was obscene—tiny waist, healthy breasts, slender legs. She was the only redeeming element in this rinky-dink courtroom, and Fink had to admit to himself that he’d thought about her on the flight to New Orleans yesterday. And he’d thought about her all the way back to Memphis. She was not disappointing him. The skirt was at mid-thigh and inching upward.
Harry looked at Dianne and gave his best smile. His large teeth were perfect and his eyes were warm. “Hello, Ms. Sway,” he said sweetly. She nodded and tried to smile.
“It is a pleasure meeting you, and I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” she said softly to the man who’d ordered her son to jail.
Harry looked at Fink* with contempt. “I trust everyone has read this morning’s Memphis Press. It has a fascinating story about our proceedings yesterday, and the man who •wrote the story is now in jail. I intend to
investigate this matter further, and 1 am confident 1 will find the leak.”
Grinder, by the door, was suddenly ill again.
“And when I find it, I intend to fix it with a contempt order. So, ladies and gentlemen, keep your mouths shut. Not a word to anyone.” He took the file. “Now, Mr. Fink, where’s Mr. Foltrigg?”
Sitting firmly in place, Fink answered, “He’s in New Orleans, Your Honor. I have a copy of the court order you requested.”
“Fine. I’ll take your word for it. Madam Clerk, swear the witness.”
Madam Clerk threw her hand in the air, and barked at Mark, “Raise your right hand.” Mark stood awkwardly, and was sworn.
“You can remain in your seat,” Harry said. Reggie was on his right, Dianne on the left.
“Mark, I’m going to ask you some questions, okay?”
“Yes sir.”
“Prior to his death, did Mr. Clifford say anything to you about a Mr. Barry Muldanno?”
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“Did Mr. Clifford mention the name of Boyd Boyette?”
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“Did Mr. Clifford say anything about the murder of Boyd Boyette?”
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“Did Mr. Clifford say anything about the present location of the body of Boyd Boyette?”
“I’m not going to answer that.”
Harry paused and looked at his notes. Dianne had
stopped breathing and was staring blankly at Mark. “It’s okay, Mom,” he whispered to her.
“Your Honor,” he said in a strong, confident voice. “I want you to understand that I’m not answering for the same reasons I gave yesterday. I’m just scared, that’s all.”
Harry nodded but gave no expression. He was neither angry nor pleased. “Mr. Bailiff, take Mark back to the witness room, and keep him there until we finish. He can talk to his mother before he’s transported to the detention center.”
Grinder’s knees were putty, but he managed to lead Mark from the courtroom.
Harry unzipped his robe. “Let’s go off the record. Madam Clerk, you and Ms. Gregg can go to lunch.” It was not an offer, but a demand. Harry wanted fewer ears in the courtroom.
Ms. Gregg swung her legs toward Fink, and his heart stopped. He and Ord watched with their mouths open as she stood, took her purse, and pranced from the courtroom.
“Get the FBI, Mr. Fink,” Harry instructed.
McThune and a weary K. O. Lewis were fetched and took seats behind Ord. Lewis was a busy man with a thousand important items stacked on his desk in Washington, and he’d asked himself a hundred times in the past twenty-four hours why he’d come to Memphis. Of course, Director Voyles wanted him here, which clarified his priorities immensely.
“Mr. Fink, you indicated before the hearing there is an urgent matter that I should know about.”
“Yes sir. Mr. Lewis would like to address it.”
“Mr. Lewis. Please be brief.”
“Yes, Your Honor. We’ve had Barry Muldanno
under surveillance for several months, and yesterday we obtained by electronic means a conversation between Muldanno and Paul Gronke. It took place in a bar in the French Quarter, and I think you need to hear it.”
“You have the tape?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then let it roll.” Harry was suddenly unconcerned with time.
McThune quickly assembled a tape player and speaker on the desk in front of Fink, and Lewis inserted a micro-cassette. “The first voice you’ll hear is that of Muldanno,” he explained like a chemist preparing a demonstration. “Then Gronke.”
The courtroom was still and quiet as the scratchy