“Wait? No, I can’t wait. If Mr. Grimes isn’t standing in front of me in two minutes, I’m going to start ranting and raving about how racist this place is and how a black man can’t even get an audience with the manager.” Bo took out his phone. “Pulling up my Facebook page now. Smile for the camera, Goldilocks.”

The saleswoman hustled away, saying she’d be right back with Mr. Grimes, and Bo took in the display room’s dimensions. There were three sets of entrance doors, and Bo noticed surveillance cameras above each of them. This place has cameras all over, he figured.

Seconds later, Terry Grimes came striding forward with a fake smile plastered on his face. “Well, hello, Bo. Come to check out our new line of Explorers?”

“Maybe,” Bo said. “But first I want to talk about that prostitution ring that you, Butch Renfroe, and Lou Horn have been running out of the Sundowners Club for the past twenty years.” Bo turned to the blonde saleslady, whose mouth hung open in shock. “Might want to give us some privacy, ma’am.”

“Yeah, Tyra, let me have a moment alone with Mr. Haynes.”

Once she was gone, Terry started to speak, but Bo beat him to it. “In your office,” Bo said. “Now.”

Terry again smiled. “Right this way.”

As Bo curled through the display room and into the bowels of the dealership, he noticed cameras in the corners of each hallway. Once they were inside Terry’s office with the door closed, Bo sized up the six-term county commissioner. Like Sack Glover, Terry wore a custom-fit suit, and his salt-and-pepper hair didn’t have a follicle out of place. The ever-present smile was still there, but the man’s eyes were hard and unblinking.

“First things first,” Bo began. “I need to rent an Explorer for the time being. A black one. Leather seats. Plush, with one of those back-up cameras. I like those.”

Terry folded his arms across his chest. “OK. Fine. When do you need—?”

“Now,” Bo said. “Have Goldilocks or one of your other goons bring it around front. Fill out the paperwork for me, and I’ll be back this evening to complete it.”

“How long a lease?”

“The minimum. Just need something temporary.”

“Fine, we’ll set you up with a twelve-month program. We’re open until 11:00 p.m., so swing by any time and you can sign everything.” He paused. “Mind telling me why you need a car in such a rush?”

“Mine blew up last night. You might have heard about it.”

Terry wrinkled his face up in confusion.

“No?” Bo asked, cocking his head. “Terry, come on now, you mean to tell me that a politically connected gossipmonger like yourself didn’t know that two vehicles exploded on First Street last night and almost burned down the law office of Bocephus Haynes?”