I would, but I have some bones to look at across the river. I start walking toward my parking space at City Hall. “I will. But I want to be sure I’ve thought through every angle before I confront Shad again.”

I give her a quick summary of Lincoln’s unexpected appearance and outburst, then tell her about the photographer.

“That bastard,” she says. “Shad probably asked the Clarion-Ledger to send someone down.”

“Shad claims Lincoln did it, and he may have. I’m afraid the media storm is about to hit.”

“That’s all right. I’m a good sailor. I’ll come by City Hall after lunch. I love you.”

The instant I hit END, a female voice calls out from behind me, “Mr. Mayor?”

I turn, ready to politely brush off a constituent, but I find myself looking at Jewel Washington, the county coroner. Jewel’s office is two doors down from the Justice Court.

“I saw you out here talking to the DA,” she says, beckoning me toward her office door.

“I don’t have much time,” I tell her.

“You have time for this.”

Jewel is an African-American woman of about fifty-five, and a former surgical nurse. Just as Justice Court judges don’t have to be lawyers in Mississippi, coroners don’t have to be M.D.s. But in Jewel’s case, her lack of a medical degree has proved no impediment to the efficient running of her office. A perfectionist in all things, she has an unerring sense of justice. Jewel also happens to love my father, having known him for many years.

“I heard Shad asked for no bail,” she whispers, opening the door to her office suite, which leads into a small, empty reception area.

“News travels fast in this building.”

“You know it, honey. Thank heaven Judge Noyes feels the same way about your daddy that I do.”

“I appreciate that, Jewel. What’s up?”

“Shad’s getting on my last nerve about Miss Viola’s autopsy. He wants me to try to rush the pathologist up in Jackson, and also to use my contacts at the state crime lab to rush the toxicology. He wants everything done yesterday.”

“What does he most want to know?”

“You know. Cause of death. The exact cause.”

“Do you know yet?”

Jewel raises her eyebrows and clucks her tongue once. “She didn’t die from any morphine overdose.”

“I didn’t think so,” I reply, recalling the recording on Henry Sexton’s hard drive. “How sure are you?”