“The police chief was in there quite a bit, too,” I remind him. The jurisdictional disputes between the Adams County Sheriff’s Office and the Natchez Police Department are legendary.

“My point,” Sheriff Byrd says, “is that you and Chief Logan seemed happy to take all the credit for the dogfighting and prostitution busts. And I let you. But—I only done that so’s I could protect my sources.”

It takes restraint not to laugh at this. “Sources? What the hell are you talking about?”

The sheriff raises his hat brim a few millimeters, letting light into his puffy little eyes. “I’m talking about the dogfighting and whoring that was going on, on both sides of the river. I’d been investigating that for quite some time when all hell broke loose in October.”

An incredulous laugh escapes my lips. “This is a joke, right?”

“Hell, no, it ain’t. You wouldn’t know nothing about my operations, of course, living up in your ivory tower.”

“I don’t recall you making any arrests, Billy.”

“That’s ’cause you and your army buddy busted right up into the middle of my investigation. Committed a few crimes of your own in the process, too. That’s why your buddy left here in such an awful damned hurry, ain’t it? Had the feds all over his ass.”

Righteous anger floods through me when I think of Daniel Kelly and the service he did this town. “You’re full of shit, Billy. What’s that got to do with the price of oil?”

Byrd shifts on his seat, but every inch of his blubber exudes confidence. “Anyhow, it’s come to my attention that you’ve been threatening the district attorney with some sort of blackmail. Something about a compromising photograph?”

“Is that what Shad told you?”

“Don’t matter who told me what, Mayor. But I sure hope that’s not the case. Because the fact is, District Attorney Johnson here was one of my main confidential informants throughout my dogfighting investigation.”

As their scam comes clear, my blood pressure plummets, and I waver on my feet. “Do you seriously expect anyone to believe that?”

Byrd’s lips widen into something like a leer. “I surely do. That was a pretty high-toned bunch running that dogfighting ring, and I needed somebody who could mingle with the upper crust. Plus, them Irishmen was bringing in pro athletes and rappers and such, most of ’em black. When I told the DA my problem, he offered to make out like he was into that kind of thing, and get me some inside information.”

“And that’s how there came to be a photo of our district attorney and a star athlete torturing a pit bull?”

“That’s exactly right.” Sheriff Byrd’s dull eyes twinkle. “You know the lengths CIs have to go to, to get credibility with their targets.”

Both men are watching me carefully, awaiting my response.