Breathing hard, I sense more than see Henry nodding at my side.

Sheriff Dennis looks flustered by my passion. Leaning toward him, I add, “This is personal, Walker. I’m going to pull every string I can reach on this case. And I know some people.”

The sheriff ducks his head and spits into the Ole Miss cup again. “I know you do, buddy. And I’ve got no problem rousting out every meth cooker in this parish at the crack of dawn, if that’s what you want. But if you’re after Billy Knox, jailing the local fuckups won’t hurt him none. Billy’s way too slick for that.”

“I thought you said he was a legitimate businessman,” Henry comments.

Dennis cuts his eyes at Henry; he’s losing his patience with the Beacon’s intrepid reporter. “I said I can’t prove different. But legit or not, Billy’s made a shitload of money in about five different businesses while everybody else has been watching their bank accounts shrink to nothing.”

“What does that tell you?” Henry asks.

“One, he’s smart. Why don’t you call the IRS on him, Henry?”

“Some people,” Henry says in a quavering voice, “think Billy Knox isn’t the smart one in that family. They think a certain cousin of his might be running interference for him in this parish.”

Sheriff Dennis’s face goes slack for a couple of seconds, like a man who can’t believe you just called his wife a slut.

“Nathan Bedford Forrest Knox,” Henry says defiantly.

Dennis looks at me to see whether I share Henry’s apparent lunacy. Then he rises, his face bright pink, and splays his big hands on his desk.

“Nothing personal,” Henry says, far too late.

“Nothing personal?” Dennis shakes his head as though he can’t decide whether to kick us out of his office or throw us into a cell. “Henry, you’re saying I’m either a crook or a fool, and I don’t care for either choice. So, why don’t you get the fuck out of my office?”

“All right,” I say, pulling the reporter up out of his chair. “Henry should have phrased that better, Walker. He didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“The hell he didn’t!” Dennis’s face has gone scarlet, and a thick vein bulges in his forehead. He used to look exactly this way when he charged aggressive pitchers from the plate. “For your information, Forrest Knox hates his cousin, and most of the rest of his family. He’s had to fight that Klan history all his life. The only time I’ve ever seen Lieutenant Colonel Knox in Billy’s presence was at a family funeral, and they didn’t even shake hands!”