Marvel, turning in John’s arms, shook her head. “No. He’s dead. I can feel him

gone.”

There wasn’t much more to say. Marvel insisted that we keep the takeover rolling.

“Matron will be the second appointee to the council if we bring this off,” Marvel said. She’d be the third.

“Can she do that? If she lives out here, outside the city

“

“This is her folks’ place. They’re gone, dead, and nobody lives here anymore. Matron lives in town.”

“OK. You can name who you want, that’s your call. I’m more worried about John and your contacts at the capitol-“

“Don’t worry about that. I talked to an old friend of Harold’s, one of the black caucus guys. I told him Harold was missing and that it was connected to our deal. This guy is smart; he knows something’s going on, and he’s helping. I’ll take the fucking books to the governor’s man and bring back so many cops it’ll look like a convention. And one way or another, on my mama’s grave, we’ll find Harold.”

“Then we’ve got to set up John’s part,” I said. “We’ve got to get the bridge scam going. Get the rumors started.”

“I’ll start now, from here, on the phone,” Marvel promised. “Two hours from now everybody in town’ll know there’s a rich drug dealer down here snapping up land for the bridge

“

“The more I think about it, the more this sounds like bullshit,” John said. “The goddamn pinstriped suit and the car and the hair - why’n the hell would they believe some strange nigger from Memphis?”

“Same reason there are a million con men working the world and making money,” I said. “Greed. You’re going to offer them something for almost nothing; they’ll have to show you some money, but that’s it. They don’t have to give it to you, just show it. They don’t have to put up a cent until the bridge is coming in. By that time, the profit’ll be guaranteed.”

“A wonderful thing, greed,” Marvel said. “Where would we be without it?”

John rubbed her head. “Fuckin’ Commie,” he said.

When I got back to the boat, LuEllen was slumped in a deck chair with two bottles of beer and a glass, looking glum. A crumpled newspaper lay at her feet.

“Get a beer,” she called as I came-aboard.

I got one, climbed up on top, and sank into the chair beside her.

“Pretty bad?” she asked.

“Pretty bad,” I said.

“Is John gonna do his act?”

“Yeah.”

She squinted up at the city beyond the levee, the brick buildings, the peaks of Victorian mansions beyond. “The place looks like a museum,” she said. “It’s hard to believe this is all happening

Look what I found.”