Pratt didn’t answer as Stagg stood up and came around the desk. Stagg wore pleated khakis, a plaid button-down shirt, and a blue Ole Miss sweater-vest, as he was good friends with the new chancellor. Stagg had lobbied hard for the man to get the job even while he was still serving time in federal prison for tax evasion, bribery, drug dealing, prostitution, gunrunning, and several other crimes that Pratt couldn’t recall at the moment. Despite his time in jail, some people around here still claimed he’d been set up.

“We’re gonna call it Frontier Village,” Stagg said, clasping Pratt on his hurt shoulder. “Ain’t that something?”

*   *   *

When Quinn returned to the sheriff’s office, he found Lillie Virgil back in the jail talking to Kenny about why north Mississippi didn’t have a barbecue joint worth a shit. Kenny, a big-bellied, bald-headed jokester, was always happy to discuss country music or southern cuisine.

“Come on up to Memphis and I’ll show you around,” Lillie said. “Ever been to Payne’s?”

“Can’t say I have,” Kenny said.

“Then you haven’t lived,” Lillie said, sitting sidesaddle on the long desk at intake. She was flipping through some paperwork for a check forger named Boyd Hunnicutt who was wanted in federal court in Memphis. “Howdy there, Sheriff. How’s it going at home? I’d absolutely love to see you feeding that baby and changing diapers. That would truly make my day.”

Kenny snickered and then caught himself. Lillie raised her eyebrows.

“Stop by the house anytime, Lil,” Quinn said. “I’d be glad to demonstrate.”

“And just why do you have one of your best deputies on jail duty?” Lillie said. “Kenny needs to be back on patrol.”

Quinn looked to Kenny, whose eyes widened as he quickly shook his head. He in no way wanted Quinn to tell Lillie Virgil, of all people, that he’d been suffering with hemorrhoids for the last two weeks and the thought of crawling into a squad car brought tears to his eyes.

“Just giving him a break is all,” Quinn said, handing Kenny the paperwork Lillie had already signed. “All my deputies rotate duties.”

“What’s that thing on your seat?” Lillie said, nodding to the donut cushion in the office chair. Kenny had stood up when Quinn had walked back into the jail.

“Nothing.”

“Say no more, Kenny,” Lillie said. “Had a problem with that myself. I would hate to see you try to patrol out on County Road 177. Until the supervisors fix the roads around here instead of spending their kickbacks at Dollywood, you’re in for a real hard ride.”