“I understand that, but he’s going to have to exercise some here. If he does, then this will work out the same way the Ennis Petrie parole hearing went.” He took a sip of soda and squinted at Lou. “You and I both know that getting Ennis paroled, given his history with the Klan and the horrific crime he helped commit, was no easy task, especially with Helen arguing so hard against it. But Michael Zannick wanted Ennis out, and I made it happen. I won there, and I’ll win here. The charges against Zannick will be dismissed or pled down to a hand-slap misdemeanor. He’s just going to have to give it some time.”

Lou peered at his beer bottle and didn’t respond.

“What does he have on you, Lou?” Sack finally asked.

Lou continued to gaze into the empty bottle. “No comment.”

Sack watched the other lawyer, thinking that he must be chasing the alcohol with some type of mood enhancement drug. Xanax or Klonopin maybe. “You want me to drive you home?”

Lou gave his head a jerk. “Nah, but I need to ask you a question.”

“What?”

Lou motioned for Sack to lean toward him, and Sack reluctantly did so. When Lou spoke, his breath smelled like bad coffee covered by beer, and Sack’s eyes began to water. “Do you really think the General killed Butch?”

Sack shifted back in his seat and exhaled the air he’d been holding in his lungs. Then he gritted his teeth. Sack had always hated everyone’s persistence in calling Helen Lewis “the General,” as if she were Douglas MacArthur or something. He understood that lawyers had to use the term in court. But it boggled his mind that Helen Lewis’s stature had risen to the point where an experienced trial lawyer like Lou Horn would still use the title in a bar. “Do you believe Sheriff Springfield would have arrested her so quickly if he didn’t think she was guilty? Hank worships Helen. Everyone in his office does.”

“The case is that strong?”

Sack grinned. “As an oak tree.”

Lou sighed and looked down at the table. When his right thumb began to shake, he gripped his beer bottle with both hands. “Butch was my oldest friend.”

“I know,” Sack said, finishing his soda and rising from the table. “And I’m going to make Helen Lewis pay for what she did.” He began to walk away, but Lou’s voice stopped him.

“Has the General lawyered up?”

Sack felt his stomach tighten as he nodded his head. “Guess who?”

Lou took another sip of beer. “Selby?”

Sack laughed. “Hell no.”

Lou snapped his fingers. “That old professor from Alabama. McMurtrie? There were rumors that the two of them had a thing going on.”

“He’s dead,” Sack said. “Try again.”

“Perry Mason? Ben Matlock? F. Lee Bailey?” Lou snickered at his suggestions.