Chapters (43)
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- CHAPTER 33
- CHAPTER 34
- CHAPTER 35
- CHAPTER 36
- CHAPTER 37
- CHAPTER 38
- CHAPTER 39
- CHAPTER 40
- CHAPTER 41
- EPILOGUE
- Table of Contents
“I’ll say it’s done when I see smoke coming from the stacks. Till then it’s all talk. It’s like the casino boats. Every other month a new company talks about bringing another boat in, but there’s still just the one.”
“What else is happening?”
“Big election coming up.”
“What kind?”
“Mayoral. For the first time in history there’s a black candidate with a real chance to win.”
“You’re kidding. Who is it?”
“Shad Johnson. He’s about your age. His parents are patients of mine. You never heard of him because they sent him north to prep school when he was a kid. After that he went to Howard University. Another damn lawyer, just like you.”
“And he wants to be mayor of Natchez?”
“Badly. He moved down here just to run. And he may win.”
“What’s the black-white split now?”
“Registered voters? Fifty-one to forty nine, in favor of whites. The blacks usually have a low turnout, but this election may be different. In any case, the key for Johnson is white votes, and he might actually get some. He’s been invited to join the Rotary Club.”
“The Natchez Rotary Club?”
“Times are changing. And Shad Johnson’s smart enough to exploit that. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon. The election’s only five weeks away. Hell, he’ll probably want an endorsement from you, seeing how you’re a celebrity now.”
“Papa said another bad word!” Annie chimes in. “But not too bad.”
“What did I say?”
“H-E-L-L. You’re supposed to say heck.”
Dad laughs and slaps her on the knee again.
“I want to stay low-profile,” I say quietly. “This trip is strictly R-and-R.”
“Not much chance of that. Somebody already called the house asking for you. Right before I left.”
“Was it Cilla, my assistant?”
“No. A man. He asked if you’d got in yet. When I asked who was calling, he hung up. The caller-ID box said ‘out of area.’ ”
“Probably a reporter. They’re going to turn the South upside down trying to find me because of the Hanratty execution.”
“We’ll do what we can to keep you incognito, but the new newspaper publisher has called four times asking about getting an interview with you. Now that you’re here, you won’t be able to avoid things like that. Not without people saying you’ve gone Hollywood on us.”
I sit back and assimilate this. Finding sanctuary in my old hometown might not be as easy as I thought. But it will still be better than Houston.