“What was he wearing?”

“I don’t know.” I close my eyes, trying to let go of everything but that hypercharged moment of eye contact. “Dark suit, maybe. Expensive. And dyed-black hair. Really black. He looked like . . . like Ronald Reagan.”

Chapter 57

Twenty minutes after the death of Will Devine, our defense team gathered in my office at City Hall, which is adjacent to the courthouse. Quentin’s pleas to the judge have resulted in my father being allowed to remain with us until after the jail has been searched for any similar devices, and also for explosives. Two deputies stand guard outside my door, in my secretary’s office—probably trying to hear anything they can, at the order of Sheriff Billy Byrd—but the real security is provided by Tim Weathers and four of his associates. Annie and Mia are waiting down the hall in our lounge, where there’s a refrigerator, a microwave, and plenty of snacks—though I doubt either of them feels like eating. Walt Garrity brought my mother and sister up here before even we arrived, which for the first time puts all the principals of our side in one room.

Mom and Jenny keep asking Dad whether he feels all right—translation, isn’t about to suffer a heart attack—after the shock of Will Devine’s murder. They seem to have forgotten that he survived suicidal Chinese charges at the Ch’ongch’on River. As Mom stands behind Dad’s chair, rubbing his shoulders, Jenny insists that surely the judge is bound to stop the trial now. Quentin and I don’t bother to argue; we’ve both tried cases in which witnesses were murdered—outside of court, it’s true—but that does little to alter this case. The death of Will Devine has not wiped away the murder charge against my father or nullified the criminal proceeding against him. Quentin could ask for a mistrial, of course, but he’s unlikely to get one from Joe Elder.

To my surprise, even Jenny has worked out that the poisoned needle device concealed in the witness chair was probably planted before the trial ever began and was waiting for whatever witness looked to be the most damaging to the Double Eagles.

“How long have you had that Mr. Devine waiting in the wings?” she asks Quentin. “From the beginning?”

“No,” Quentin admits. “I knew nothing about him until last night, and we didn’t know he would testify until this morning.”

“That needle was waiting for Tom,” Mom declares in a flat voice. “That’s who they’re most afraid of, Snake Knox and his gang.” She comes around the chair and looks down at Dad. “That could have been you, Tom. It was supposed to be you.”

Dad sighs and takes her hand. “But it wasn’t.”