Charlie seemed to give it some thought before he said, "You saw Arlen. You sure he didn't see you, in Robert's car?"

"He couldn't have."

"But you recognized him?"

"I see the Lone Ranger coming out of the house-shit yeah, I recognized him. Vernice told you, didn't she? He wanted to talk to you about uniforms? Doesn't like you going Yankee on him."

"That's what he told her."

"You dress up and play war with those guys? Pretend to shoot each other? It's hard for me to imagine."

" 'Cause you don't know anything about it."

"I remember you saying-I told you I thought the one looked like a deputy or a state trooper? And you said, `You oughta see him with his sword'? I didn't know what you were talking about. Then Vernice tells me Arlen and his gang all get into it, playing war." He could tell Charlie didn't like the way he was talking, but didn't care. He said, "You gonna let him talk you out of being a Yankee?"

Charlie said, "You're sure a lot spunkier'n the last time I saw you."

"I'm trying to forget what happened. Since I wasn't there."

"That's good, 'cause Arlen just phoned." "About the uniform?"

"Will you forget the goddamn uniform?" Charlie's voice rising now, irritated. "He wanted me to know they killed Floyd because he might talk, not 'cause he did. Arlen says we ever put him at that scene we'd end up in a ditch."

"What did you say?"

"I told him to stay away from us. And had another drink."

"What're you gonna do?"

"Watch my goddamn back. What you think I'm gonna do?"

Dennis thought of Robert Taylor, Robert's voice in the dark saying, "That man gives you any shit, tell me." Dennis hesitated but kept looking at Charlie before he said, "I think of what happened… I'm up on the ladder… Could they have walked out from the hotel and not seen me?"

"They couldn't miss seeing you."

"So they don't care I'm a witness. It wasn't gonna stop 'em from shooting Floyd."

Charlie said, "You're just some squirt stuck up there on the ladder. They might've wished they brought a rifle."

Dennis said, "They were having fun talking about it-making a bet whether the one could hit me or not, Junebug, with the slicked-back hair. He said, `Shit, I'll hit him on the fly.' "

"I heard 'em," Charlie said, "but couldn't tell what they were saying."

"I think about it now," Dennis said, "it pisses me off. They didn't see me as any kind of problem. Who's the guy in the red trunks? Where? Up on the ladder. That's nobody-fuck him. You know what I mean? When Arlen threatened you, on the phone, didn't it piss you off?"

"Sure it did."

Dennis watched Charlie looking down at his big hands, the left one that years ago could throw a baseball ninety-nine miles an hour.

"You bet I was pissed."

Dennis said, "You're bigger than he is."

"Yes, I am," Charlie said, looking up. "I use to buy him cheap when he was a two-bit deputy and I was running liquor."

Dennis sat in the lawn chair, National Enquirers on his lap. "Did you know Tom and Nicole fell out of love way before Tom pulled the plug?"

"I suspected it," Charlie said, "but wasn't ever sure. You want a beer?"

ROBERT OPENED THE DOOR in a hotel terry-cloth robe smoking weed, knowing who it was and what happened, curious to see how Dennis was handling himself this morning. One to ten-ten being all the way cool-Dennis was about a seven, up from the five he was last night; though before he got out of the car at Vernice's he might've inched up to a six. It surprised Robert Dennis wasn't tighter strung, Dennis looking around the suite now. Robert offered the joint and Dennis took it saying, "One hit, I have to dive." Robert watched him take it in deep and let it work inside him before blowing it out. He took another quick one saying, "I have to see a state cop from the CIB in about ten minutes. You know what CIB stands for?"

"What it means every place they have it," Robert said, watching Dennis again looking around the suite, still holding on to the joint, pinching it, looking at the balcony open to blue sky and around to the table by the sofa, looking at Robert's stack of CDs now and the jam box, where John Lee Hooker was coming from.

Dennis said it. "John Lee Hooker."

Robert said, "You got the ear." Dennis told him he used to have the CD, "King of Boogie," and Robert said, "I'll try another one on you. See how good you are."

He watched Dennis take his third hit. This time he handed back the joint saying, "That's good stuff."

"It's all right. I scored it last night."

"After you dropped me off?"

"Way after, with my friend the security brother use to be a Memphis policeman? He took me to a place called Junebug's, a white man's idea of a juke joint, full of ugly people giving us dirty looks, except some young ladies and the management. The young ladies wanted to show us their trailers and the management wanted to sell us uppers. I said I go the other way, chief, and scored a bag, three bills the local rate for a half. We leave, some of the uglies come outside, their intention I'm feeling to kick our heads in. But they see the gleaming black Jag-u-ar and their minds go, shit, who is this nigga owns a car like that? We drive off I give 'em a toot."

He could see Dennis was anxious to tell him something and there were things Robert would like to know, but wanted Dennis sitting down first, at ease-on the sofa, good-and a cool drink? Uh-unh.

Dennis said, "The two guys, the ones looking up at me on the ladder…?”

"The ones shot your man Floyd."

"They own Junebug's."

"Hey, shit, you don't mean to tell me." It brought a grin. "The one being Junebug himself and the other one was Arlen… Novis?"

"The one we thought was the Lone Ranger," Dennis said, looser than when he walked in, up from a seven to eight, grinning back, Dennis saying, "But how do you know that?"

"I told you, I do my homework. And Junebug and Mr. Novis musta done Floyd before I started watching, huh?" Dennis looked toward the balcony and Robert said, "Not out there, the bedroom window. I was getting dressed."

He offered Dennis the joint but he shook his head.

"Don't want to go off the perch baked."

"I have. It's not a good idea."

"So they saw you and they know you saw them."

"I have to meet the CIB guy," Dennis said, looking at his watch. "You were me, what would you tell him?"

"Tell him I wasn't there. Tell him I'm just a dumb white boy dives offa eighty-foot ladders. Why didn't they shoot you?"

"Charlie came out."

"That's right. Why didn't they shoot him, too?" "He knows those guys. Charlie use to run whiskey."

"They friends of his?"

"He knows 'em, that's all."

"Tells 'em you won't say nothing, but you not sure they believe it. They know if you point 'em out they gone."

"That's where I am," Dennis said.

"Saying to yourself, what the fuck am I doing here? Thinking it might be best to take off."

He watched Dennis frown and shake his head saying he wasn't going anywhere, he had his show set up.

Good. He was cool, gonna face whatever, ride it out.

"Let's me and you," Robert said, "stay close. You know what I'm saying? Help each other out. Like I wouldn't mind you coming with me to see Mr. Kirkbride." It got Dennis frowning again. "For fun. Watch the man's face when I show him the picture. Watch how I play him."

"You want an audience," Dennis said, getting up from the sofa. "I have to go."

"I watch you perform, you watch me. Listen, I phoned, the man's over at his Southern Living place today."

"And you know who works there?" Dennis said, wandering over to the balcony. "The Lone Ranger."

"I heard that," Robert said. "Understand he did some time, too. See, the security brother still has friends on the Memphis Police. They look up sheets, tell him, and he tells me what I need to know."