“Just getting some air.”
“What, ain’t no air in this house?”
“Different kind of air.”
“And the stairs don’t work for you?”
“Just my way of exercising.”
“Uh-huh. You gettin’ yourself in some trouble, Will Robie?”
“Not if I can help it.”
He got in his car and drove off.
And that was when he heard the sirens.
As he neared the main road into town a fire truck flashed past him. Then another. Behind that was a police car and behind that an ambulance.
Robie was going to turn right to head to town. Instead he turned left and followed this posse of emergency vehicles.
Twenty minutes later he saw thick, black smoke billowing up from behind a forest of trees. Ten minutes after that the squad of emergency vehicles roared through the gates of the Clancy estate. The smoke was so thick that Robie, as he pulled his car to a stop on the other side of the road, couldn’t see much past the gates.
A few minutes later he heard the rush of water as the firefighters combated the blaze. The police car had blocked the entrance to the house, moving only when another fire truck pulled in to join the effort.
Robie got out of his car and leaned against the front fender.
A minute later another cop car pulled up and Sheila Taggert climbed out. First she looked at Robie and snapped, “You keep your butt right there, Will Robie.”
Then she hustled across the street to the other police unit. The cop there rolled down his window and they spoke for a bit. Then she walked back over to Robie.
“What in the Sam Hill are you doin’ here?” she said, getting right in his face.
“I was driving past and saw what was going on. Whose house is it?”
“Why do I think you already know whose house it is?”
“Because you have an overly suspicious mind, maybe?”
“It’s the Clancy estate. What’s left of it.”
“Anybody hurt?”
“Don’t know yet. And when I find out I won’t be tellin’ you. You can hear it through the gossip lines like everybody else ’round here.”
“Know the cause yet?”
“Same answer to your last damn question.”
“Well, I guess I’ll be heading on.”
She gripped his arm. “Robie, anything you need to be tellin’ me?”
“If I think of something, you’ll be the first to know, Deputy Taggert.”
He drove off, checked his rearview once, and saw her staring after him.
He knew one person he had to talk to. And hoped that she would keep it confidential.
If there was such a thing as confidential in a place like Cantrell, Mississippi.
Chapter
32
ARE YOU A damn fool or what?”
Toni Moses was staring up incredulously at Robie from her desk.
He had just finished telling her what had happened.
The lawyer’s reaction had been reasonably predictable.
“I’m not sure what else I could have done,” he countered.
“How about callin’ 911? How’s that for a damn plan?”
“Didn’t seem like the best idea at the time, for a lot of reasons.”
Her mouth curled to a frown. “You have put me in a precarious position. And I do not like to be put in precarious positions. I put others in them. Others do not do that to me. Particularly someone workin’ for me. I specifically told you to do nothin’ to jeopardize my case!”
“Well, since you’re not paying me I’m not sure technically that I am working for you.”
She rose, barely coming up to his chest. “Are you tryin’ to split legal hairs with me? Seriously? ’Cuz I will whip your ass in a New York minute.”
“Look, the point is, there are other people out there with a great motive to kill Sherman Clancy.”
“But you don’t know who they are?”
“We can find out.”
“I know lawyers who work for them. Folks I respect.”
“And what do they tell you?”
“Exactly what I would expect. Nothin’. They make good money, they do their work, they go home to their families, and they keep their mouths shut.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“I didn’t say it didn’t bother me. But I can understand it. Lots of companies do bad things. Tobacco manufacturers pollutin’ our lungs, coal and oil companies pollutin’ our land and air, food manufacturers pollutin’ the stuff we eat. Assholes on Wall Street stealin’ us blind and buyin’ five yachts and four jets with the proceeds and laughin’ all the way to the proverbial bank as the anointed one-tenth of one percenters. Most of what they do is legal because they paid off the lawmakers to make it legal. But some of it’s not. But they got money and jobs and lawyers and lobbyists and politicians in their pockets, and so nobody touches them. Same with the good folks at the Rebel Yell. Welcome to America, Mr. Robie, where the only thing that’s really fair is the color of most of these folks’ skin.”