Impatience tightened Elder’s expression. “What do you want, Quentin?”

“Only what every defendant is entitled to under the law. A fair trial under an impartial judge.”

“No court of appeals would say you’re not getting that. They might say you’ve got Alzheimer’s disease, but that’s not my lookout.”

Quentin just waited.

“Why are you defending Tom Cage?” Elder asked finally. “A man like that, who took advantage of a sister back in those days?”

“My brother, you need to take a couple of steps back from this case. All you see in it is your mama and yourself. Or Claude Devereux.”

“It’s the same damn situation!”

“No, it’s not. Devereux is a lying bastard who defended mobsters and Klansmen, cheated his partners, dishonored his robe when he was a district judge, and probably paid for a murder by contract. He did have charisma, though, and I imagine that’s how he convinced your mama to go with him for a while. But that’s got nothing to do with Tom Cage. Dr. Cage is one of the finest men I’ve ever known, black or white. And that’s saying something.”

Elder snorted with contempt. “From the evidence I’ve seen, Tom Cage may have broken his medical oath, dishonored his profession, and committed murder himself.”

“You haven’t seen all the evidence. I haven’t even begun my case.”

“What case? Shad Johnson’s already got your client boxed for transport to Parchman, with a red bow wrapped around him.”

“Joe, you worked for me. Do you really believe that? This trial’s only half over. And that’s why I’m here tonight. I can’t fight Shad and you both.”

Elder shook the paper in his hand. “What’s going to happen to the original of this page, Quentin?”

“I’d like to say it could just disappear. But the journals of Albert Norris belong to history. Norris was murdered by the Double Eagle group, and his murder must be solved. His killers must be punished, and publicly.”

“You’re saying those journals will be evidence in a future murder case?”

“They’ll probably have to be, Joe. They’re filled with information about the Double Eagle group. Of course, I hope your part of the story never comes up.”

“Hope ain’t much to hang a hat on.”

Quentin let him think about that for a few seconds. Then he said, “I can give you a little more than that. As far as I can see, if there were a page or two missing from Norris’s journals, that wouldn’t change the outcome of a major case. What’s a couple of pieces of paper in the sands of time?”

The judge looked off toward the river, as though he couldn’t bear to look Quentin in the eye. “Would you do that for me?”