Midnight Man grunted and left the office. Stagg turned off the television and stared up at the monitors. He kept his eyes on the new fella working the till at the diner, watching him make time with one of the waitresses, and then zoomed in on his hands while he made change. Stagg knew every way in the world that the help could cornhole you at a restaurant. He wasn’t sure how in the hell this place survived without him. He heard that Fannie Hathcock was a pretty slick customer, but her mind seemed to be more on the poontang and pharmaceuticals than the meat and potatoes at the old Rebel.

Stagg reached over to a silver candy dish and reached for a fresh peppermint. He unwrapped it, plucked it into his mouth, and punched up a well-known number on his phone. After a few rings, a familiar voice answered.

“What in the holy goddamn hell is going on over there?”

“Dead girl,” the voice said. “Woman named Gina Byrd. You know her?”

“No, sir,” Stagg said. “I most certainly do not. But I know her people. This some kind of domestic situation?”

“I ain’t real sure,” the man said. “Never really seen nothing like it. That woman was cut up in so many pieces, she looked like chum falling out of that barrel.”

“She was in a barrel?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” the man said. “Someone sliced and diced her ass and tossed her in there with some bleach. We took her over to Tibbehah to get looked at. Maybe get an ID, although we’re pretty sure we know what we got.”

“Why the hell’d you bring that mess over here?” Stagg said. “Shit, son. This is your goddamn problem. Don’t be trackin’ dogshit to my doorstep.”

“Our coroner’s on vacation,” the man said. “Took his wife up to Kentucky to take a look at that Noah’s Ark they built at the Museum of Creation.”

“Christ Almighty.”

“Is that a problem?”

Stagg crunched on the candy for a moment and then cleared his throat. “I guess I was hoping to keep a hard, fast line between Tibbehah and Parsham.”

“That won’t be no trouble,” the man said. “You got my word on it, Mr. Stagg.”

“Y’all thinking this is the boyfriend?”

“No, sir,” the man said. “Unless you want me to. I think it’s the woman’s daughter. Seems y’all’s sheriff ain’t buying into it.”

“That Quinn Colson is known for his argumentative ways,” Stagg said, reaching for another candy. “Didn’t have to be like it was between me and him. He got rid of me and you saw what he got, that red-headed crazy-ass bitch who nearly killed him.”

“Why’d you ask about the boyfriend?”