Mafia and they didn't trust him."

"Who were you talking to?" " Charlie Hoke and our landlady." "They said he was in the Dixie Mafia?"

Dennis watched John Rau pick out a single nut, the pecan, and put it in his mouth. "I guess I just assumed it."

"What do you know about this Dixie Mafia?"

"Nothing. The first time I heard of them was in Panama City, Florida. Maybe a couple years ago."

John Rau took a little round hazelnut. "They're not like the organized crime families. There's a bunch right here that deals drugs. There's a bunch that hijack trucks and commit armed robberies. A bunch in prison who extort money from homosexuals on the outside. There're moonshiners, bootleggers, methamphetamine manufacturers… they're not associated with each other. The only thing they have in common, they're all violent criminals."

"Was Floyd one of them?"

"You saw the type of person he was. Can you see him pulling any kind of rough stuff? Showers said if we'd reduce his sentence to time served he'd work for us, keep us informed."

Dennis said, "I wouldn't think he was that smart."

"He wasn't. I had him down as an idiot. It turned out he wasn't even close to what was going on. He'd tell us things were already common knowledge, in the newspaper, or he'd make something up. I don't know why they shot him. Five times, as a matter of fact. The medical examiner said, `This man was harder to kill than a cockroach.' "

Dennis was staring at John Rau 's tie again. He said, "I think there's something wrong with your flag but I don't know what it is."

John Rau smiled. "You count the stars?"

"I tried, they're too small."

John Rau picked up the wide part of the tie and looked down at it. "There are only thirty-five stars, the number of states in the Union by 1863. Even though we were now at war with the states that seceded, Lincoln would not allow the stars representing those states to be removed."

There was something wrong with that, too.

Dennis scooped another handful of nuts, craving them, but held off stuffing them in his mouth. "You said the states we were at war with, sounding like a Yankee."

John Rau said, "You know what it is? Whenever a reenactment's coming up I begin to assume the attitude of the side I'll be on. This first Tunica Muster won't be a major one, Yankees'll be in short supply. Since I can go either way, I'll wear Federal blue this time. Probably represent the Second New Jersey Mounted Infantry. They were at Brice's."

"Brice's Cross Roads," Dennis said.

And John Rau 's eyebrows raised. "You're taking part?"

"No, but Charlie Hoke is, and I hear Mr. Kirkbride 's gonna be Nathan Bedford Forrest."

John Rau was smiling again. "Walter loves old Bedford. Yeah, it was Walter and I put this one together. I happened to mention there's terrain east of here reminds me of Brice's, full of that scrub oak they call blackjack. I'd see it driving up from Batesville. Walter) umped on it. He said, `You want to do Brice's?' I hesitated because we have the Battle of Corinth coming up in September, one we do over there. Usually we feature the assault of Battery Robinett, which most every Southerner knows about. You've heard of it?"

Dennis said, "Battery Robinett?"

"It was a Confederate assault on a Federal gun position. One of the heroes was a colonel of the Second Texas, William Rogers, KIA, shot seven times as he stormed the redan."

"Who won?"

"The Federals pushed them back. I reminded Walter of Corinth. Also the fact that Brice 's Cross Roads was two years after Shiloh and Corinth. Not that it matters, but I felt I should mention it. Well, then Billy Darwin heard about it. Right away he saw it as a promotion, a minor reenactment but a major annual tourist attraction. The crowd gets tired of standing in the hot sun and comes in the casinos to play the slots."

John Rau stopped, his gaze raising, squinting as he said, "Is that Darwin up there?"

Dennis looked around and the next moment was on his feet because it was, Billy Darwin standing on the top perch of the ladder. Dennis watched the way he was holding on with both hands looking up at the sky. "I think he froze," Dennis said. "I'll have to bring him down."

"That fella by the tank," John Rau said, "he's shining the spotlight on him, but you can't see it."

"I gotta go," Dennis said.

"Mr. Lenahan, one more question."

Dennis stopped and looked back. "Yeah?"

"If you were to think of Floyd Showers as an animal, what kind would he be?"

Was he serious? Dennis said, "I don't know," and took off across the lawn, a picture popping into his mind now, too late to tell the CIB man: some kind of roadkill out on a highway, brown fur that looked like Floyd's suitcoat.

He kept his gaze on Billy Darwin up there in shorts and a T-shirt, holding on to the ladder with one hand now, looking down, waving. Dennis reached the hotel electrician hunched over a spotlight mounted on the ground, aiming it toward Billy Darwin.

"The hell you doing?"

The electrician, bib overalls and a hunk of snuff behind his lower lip, said, "You tell me and I'll know."

"I told you I set the spots."

"You the boss or him?"

"You think he's gonna place the ones up on the ladder, forty feet and at the top?"

"What do you want 'em up there for?"

"To light the pool. So I can see the goddamn water. I told him, I light the show. And I do it when it's dark, not in bright sunlight."

Dennis stood looking up at the top perch again. "You think he can get down?" "He went up there like a monkey."

"Coming down," Dennis said, "isn't the same as going up."

Not more than a few minutes later Dennis was watching Billy Darwin start down: careful at first, both feet on the same rung before taking the next step, descending a whole section of the ladder this way. But then he seemed to have the feel of it and the goddamn wavy-haired show-off was coming down one rung after another, his hands sliding down the outer sides of the ladder. Dennis waited for him to come over.

"You made it."

"I had to see what it was like," Billy Darwin said. "A great view of the river, all the bends in it. But you know, I think the tank looks bigger than a half dollar. More like a teacup."

"You have to see it at night," Dennis said, "after somebody climbs up there one-handed carrying spotlights."

The son of a bitch said, "Oh? I thought you'd use a hoist. What do you call it? That thing you hauled up the ladder sections with-a gin pole?"

By two o'clock Dennis had counted thirty-eight people gathered on the lawn, some with plastic chairs they'd brought from home. These would be local residents, Dennis believed, though they didn't look much different from the hotel guests who wandered out. He spotted Robert Taylor and Billy Darwin standing together, a couple of dudes in sporty summer apparel.

Vernice was supposed to be here-see for the first time what high diving was all about-but she was home studying the script for tonight. Charlie Hoke would call the dives. He'd stand on the plywood deck below the three-meter board, no mike, he'd announce through a bullhorn he used to attract contestants to his pitching cage. Dennis said that each time he came out of the water he'd tell him what the next dive would be and Charlie would announce it. "Be sure to tell them," Dennis said, "this will be my first performance in over a month and it's only a warm-up for the show at nine-fifteen tonight. You'll have to ad-lib, too, use some of the information that's on the poster. `From the Cliffs of Acapulco,' ABC Wide World of Sports world champion, I'm good to my mother… Tell them not to applaud until I'm out of the water or I won't hear it. Also, not to get within ten feet of the tank. That's the splash zone."

Charlie introduced Dennis and he opened with a flying one and a half somersault from the forty-foot perch to get the crowd's attention.