Ozzie left the Haileys to themselves and went upstairs to the big office, where Ellen was buried in law books. Jake introduced Ozzie to his law clerk, and the three sat around the big desk.
"How are my buddies?" Jake asked.
"The dynamite boys? They're recuperatin' nicely. We'll keep them in the hospital until the trial's over. We fixed a lock on the door, and I keep a deputy in the hall. They ain't goin' anywhere."
"Who's the main man?"
"We still don't know. Fingerprint tests haven't come back yet. There may be no prints to match. He ain't talkin'."
"The other is a local boy, isn't he?" asked Ellen.
"Yeah. Terrell Grist. He wants to sue because he got hurt during the arrest. Can you imagine?"
"I can't believe it's been kept quiet so far," Jake said.
"Me neither. Of course, Grist and Mr. X ain't talkin'. My men are quiet. That leaves you and your clerk here."
"And Lucien, but I didn't tell him."
"Figures."
"When will you process them?"
"After the trial we'll move them to the jail and start the paperwork. It's up to us."
"How's Bud?" Jake asked.
"I stopped by this mornin' to check on the other two, and I went downstairs to see Ethel. He's still critical. No changes."
"Any suspects?"
"Gotta be the Klan. With the white robes and all. It all adds up. First there was the burnin' cross in your yard, then the dynamite, and now Bud. Plus all the death threats. I figure it's them. And we got an informant."
"You what!"
"You heard me. Calls himself Mickey Mouse. He called me at home Sunday and told me that he saved your life. 'That nigger's lawyer' is what he called you. Said the Klan has officially arrived in Ford County. They've set up a klavern, whatever that is."
"Who's in it?"
"He ain't much on details. He promised to call me only if someone is about to get hurt."
"How nice. Can you trust him?"
"He saved your life."
"Good point. Is he a member?"
"Didn't say. They've got a big march planned Thursday."
"The Klan?"
"Yep. NAACP has a rally tomorrow in front of the courthouse. Then they're gonna march for a while. The Klan's supposed to show up for a peaceful march on Thursday."
"How many?"
"The Mouse didn't say. Like I said, he ain't much on details."
"The Klan, marching in Clanton. I can't believe it."
"This is heavy stuff," Ellen said.
"It'll get heavier," Ozzie replied. "I've asked the gover-
nor to keep the highway patrol on standby. It could be a rough week."
"Can you believe Noose is willing to try this case in this town?" asked Jake.
"It's too big to move, Jake. It would draw marches, and protests, and Klansmen anywhere you tried it."
"Maybe you're right. How about your jury list?"
"I'll have it tomorrow."
After supper Tuesday Joe Frank Ferryman sat on his front porch with the evening paper and a fresh chew of Red Man, and spat carefully, neatly through a small hand-carved hole in the porch. This was the evening ritual. Lela would finish the dishes and fix them a tall glass of iced tea, and they would sit on the porch until dark and talk about the crops, the grandchildren, the humidity. They lived out from Karaway on eighty acres of neatly trimmed and cultivated farmland that Joe Frank's father had stolen during the Depression. They were quiet, hardworking Christian folks.
After a few discharges through the hole, a pickup slowed out on the highway and turned into the Perrymans' long gravel driveway. It parked next to the front lawn, and a familiar face emerged. It was Will Tierce, former president of the Ford County Board of Supervisors. Will had served his district for twenty-four years, six consecutive terms, but had lost the last election in '83 by seven votes. The Perrymans had always supported Tierce because he took care of them with an occasional load of gravel or a culvert for the driveway.
"Evenin', Will," said Joe Frank as the ex-supervisor walked across the lawn and up the steps.
"Evenin', Joe Frank." They shook hands and relaxed on the porch.
"Gimme a chew," Tierce said.
"Sure. What brings you around here?"
"Just passin' by. Thought about Lela's iced tea and got real thirsty. Hadn't seen you folks in a while."
They sat and talked, chewed and spat, and drank iced tea until it was dark and time for the mosquitoes. The drought required most of their time and Joe Frank talked at
length of the dry spell and how it was the worst in ten years. Hadn't had a drop of rain since the third week of June. And if it