"Has a nice taste, doesn't it?"

Dennis said yeah, looked at the glass and took another sip.

"I don't put sugar in mine no more, it's still a treat."

"Vernice, why would Kirkbride hire a guy for security who's a known criminal?"

"Arlen told Mr. Kirkbride it takes one to know one. Says he can spot anybody hanging around the property who's up to no good."

"According to Charlie?"

"Who else. He has the ear for all the dirty stuff that's going on. He talks and people talk to him. He says Arlen told Mr. Kirkbride he had been cleansed of his sins by his conscience beating on him and time served."

"He talks like that?"

"Arlen's a bullshitter."

"And Kirkbride believes him?"

"Not 'cause of anything Arlen has to offer, like drugs. The reason they're close, they both love to dress up and take part in those Civil War battle reenactments. They been doing it for years. I mean you wouldn't believe how serious they are. Mr. Kirkbride 's always the general. Arlen's under him and brings along his boys, Jim Rein, Junebug, all these gangsters in Confederate uniforms."

It reminded Dennis of the posters he had seen in the hotel and around town, big ones in color that announced the TUNICA CIVIL WAR MUSTER, the dates and the name of a battle they'd reenact.

He mentioned it to Vernice and she said, "Yeah, they're thinking of making it an annual affair. This year they're doing the Battle of Brice's Cross Roads. Not on the site, but just east of here a few miles. The actual site's way over by Tishomingo County. Charlie says Mr. Kirkbride 's grown a beard so he can be Nathan Bedford Forrest. He's the general won the battle."

"Charlie's not into dressing up, is he?"

"You betcha he is. It's why Arlen was here to see him. He said he heard Charlie's gonna be a Yankee this time. Arlen comes by to threaten him out of it. Charlie says he's tired of that Confederate gray. It reminds him too much of the road uniforms he wore playing baseball. Charlie says they always look dirty."

He came home right as Dennis finished his shower and was in his bedroom getting dressed, putting on a fresh T-shirt and jeans from the clothes Vernice had laundered for him and laid folded on the chenille bedspread-Vernice doing for him what she didn't do for Charlie, which Dennis liked to think told him something. By the time he had dressed and walked across the hall to the kitchen he could see Charlie had told Vernice what happened. They both sat at the table with their drinks, not talking, Vernice looking up with worry on her face. She said, "Dennis…?" And Charlie said, "I'll tell him." So now he had to get ready to act surprised and then say…

What he said was, "Why would anyone want to shoot Floyd?… Jesus, the poor guy," and felt it, he did, seeing that pathetic figure in that mangy suitcoat too big for him.

"You called the cops?"

This was the part he wanted to hear, what happened after.

Charlie said he called nine-eleven. Sheriff's deputies came in about twenty minutes. Then a couple of detectives, also from the Sheriff's Department. Then the crime-scene people arrived and the medics. They took pictures, fooled around. The medics were ready to haul Floyd away, but were told to wait. One of the detectives was chewing out a deputy for calling the state police on his own. A new guy, Charlie said, one he hadn't seen around before. They waited over an hour for the guy from the CIB-that's the Criminal Investigation Bureau of the Mississippi Department of Public Safetyto come from Batesville, the closest district office, fifty-two miles away.

"The investigator arrives," Charlie said. "He tells me he's John Rau and starts asking the same questions the local guys asked me. How it was I found the body, all that. What Floyd was doing here. He looks over the crime scene and asks if they lifted Floyd's prints. One of the sheriff's detectives says, `We know who he is. Jesus Christ, don't you? It's Floyd Showers. He ratted somebody out and got fuckin popped for it.' This John Rau has a suit and tie on, a nice way of handling himself. He's reserved, never raised his voice once. He said he wanted the prints sent to Jackson. Meaning the Criminal Information Center. John Rau told me later they have a method of handling prints nowlike you put 'em in a machine and the guy's sheet comes out."

Vernice said, "How do you remember all that?"

Charlie said, "You remember what you want to remember," turning his head to look at Dennis. "One of the local dicks says, `We can tell you anything you want to know about this piece of dog shit.' John Rau looks at him and says, `I want him printed.' What I'm getting at," Charlie said to Dennis, "John Rau wasn't taking the word of the Tunica sheriff's people for what happened. He didn't act superior to them. As I said, he never raised his voice or even said much. But you knew he was taking over the investigation and they better do what they were told. He's a low-key type of person and smart, the kind you better watch."

Vernice said, "What're you telling him that for?"

Charlie was wearing a sportshirt hanging open over his T-shirt. He took a business card from the pocket and handed it to Dennis. "This is the guy. He wanted to come out and talk to you this evening. I said why not wait till tomorrow? I told him you were beat from working twelve hours getting ready for your show, and you didn't know anything anyway. I told him I was the one hired Floyd Showers for you." He turned to Vernice. "Man's name was Showers and looked like he never took one in his life. Floyd was a miserable sight, years beyond saving."

Dennis looked up from the business card. "Where do I meet him?"

"At the hotel. He'll come by some time in the morning. I said come in the afternoon and see the show."

"What'd he say?"

"It'll most likely be around eleven." Charlie squinted then. "I ran into this colored guy staying at the hotel? Robert Taylor, doesn't have a bad arm. He's in seven-twenty. Wants you to call him tomorrow. You know this guy?"

"He saw me dive," Dennis said, his eyes holding on to Charlie. "He was looking out his window and saw me dive."

Vernice subscribed to the National Enquirer, preferring it over other supermarket tabloids because "they get deeper into the stories and're better written." She kept back issues she hadn't had time to read on the screened porch, saying, "They come every week, but it seems like near every day."

Dennis had a couple of microwaved Lean Cuisines for supper, both chicken but different, and came out on the porch to look through a few Enquirers. He sat by a lamp reading, not sure if the sound he heard was the hissing in his ears from diving-a constant sound when he thought about it-or insects out in the yard. Sometimes he thought it sounded like steam from a radiator. He had read a few stories, finished "Jennifer Lopez Warned: Leave My Puff Daddy Alone," and was starting on "Jane Fonda Finds God" when Charlie came out to the porch.

"This Robert Taylor saw you dive, huh? What else?"

"He saw Arlen Novis and the other guy… What's his name?"

Charlie hesitated but then told him, "Junior Owens. They call him Junebug."

Dennis said, "The guy that runs the honky-tonk, but it's really Arlen's?"

"Jesus Christ-she tell you everything's going on? That woman sure likes the sound of her own voice."

"Charlie, all Robert saw were two guys talking to me up on the perch. He wasn't watching when Floyd was shot."

"But he was in the crowd come out to the crime scene." Charlie sounding hoarse keeping his voice down. "He knows what happened now and he can put you there."

"He won't," Dennis said.

"How do you know?"

"Robert's got his own agenda."

"The hell does that mean?"

"Take my word," Dennis said, not wanting to get into Kirkbride and the granddaddies. "Robert isn't the kind's gonna volunteer information. We're talking, I must've seemed nervous. You know, after what I saw. He said, `Come on, I'm not looking into your business.' "