“You’re a good judge of character, Mr. Lowry. I’m willing to believe that everything you feel about this McKay fellow is valid. But it’s another thing entirely to make subjective character analysis stand up in court and convince a jury.”

“I know, but I’m going to try,” Lowry said. “Will you take the case?”

“I think so,” Reynolds said. “Yes. Yes, I’m with you, Lowry. Goddamn, but I haven’t had as stiff a challenge as this in years. I’ll take it just on your say-so that the boy is innocent.”

“I knew you would,” Lowry said, extending his hand across the desk. Reynolds took it. There was a power in the fat man’s grip that belied the flabbiness of his big body.

“Thanks,” Lowry said. “We’ll see him, then, and I think the next thing will be to stall until I can dig up whatever I can.” He moistened his lips anxiously. “If I can’t dig up anything substantial, what would the defense be like?”

Reynolds shrugged. “We’ll see that after we’ve talked to McKay. I can’t plan in the dark. What are you figuring to look for?”

“Just hoping I can uncover some snags in what they’ve pinned on him. They’re banking on pretty coincidental evidence, and I ought to be able to poke some holes in it if I work at it.”

“Let’s hope so, Mr. Lowry.”

* * *

In the shadow of Reynolds’ prestige, Lowry, too, was finally able to get to McKay. The imprisoned man was a chilling sight, with his bruised, swollen face and his dully staring, embittered eyes.

McKay sat on the cot with his back propped against the cold wall. He was haggard and pale, the bruises standing out in livid contrast on his face. He hadn’t shaved or bathed in a long while. It was hard to see in him even the ghost of the once impeccable band leader that had existed.

At first he was somewhat indifferent to Lowry’s visit. But it soon penetrated his fogbound mind that the two men were friends, and he began to thaw out.

Reynolds said, “Starting from the beginning, Bob. When you left your place that morning, where did you go?”

“I had heard that the trucks left early,” McKay replied in a weary, defeated-sounding voice. “I went down to the produce district and stood on the road to wait for a lift.”

“And you got one?”

“Eventually.”

“Who with?”

“I got picked up by a truck that was going down to El Centro,” McKay said. “Oh, yeah. There was another fellow got the lift with me.”

“Splendid. It’s vital to prove you were where you say you were. Do you know his name?”

“Wilson. Mack Wilson.”

“Did he say where he lived?”