I have to give him credit. At this moment most Natchezians are huddled in their houses, terrified of a race war. For all Leo knows, a gang of crazed rioters smashed his windows and is now waiting to pick him off from the bushes. Yet there he stands, shotgun in hand, defending his castle like Horatius at the bridge. He shouts twice more, then fires blindly into the night. I cover Caitlin with my body as the shotgun booms through the trees like a cannon. After five shots Leo shouts a final curse, then goes back inside, slamming the door behind him.

God only knows what Maude and Livy are thinking. Surely one of them must have called the police and opened the gate by now.

“Get off,” Caitlin groans from beneath me. “I can’t breathe.”

I roll off and scrabble to my knees in the azaleas.

She smiles up at me, breathing fast and shallow. “That wasn’t exactly how I’ve pictured us getting horizontal together.”

“Me either.”

The smile vanishes. “Marston can still burn those files before the cops get here.”

“There’s nothing we can do to stop him.”

“Give me your gun.”

“No way, no how. You’re a menace.”

She sighs in frustration and rolls over to watch the mansion while we wait for the police.

Before long, three uniformed cops come racing up the driveway on foot. They rap on the great door, which Leo answers shouting at full volume, condemning the police department as a useless bunch of fools and high school dropouts. From their body language, the responding officers do not appear to be reacting favorably to his words. As he continues his tirade, two squad cars roar up the drive and stop before the front steps, which are bookended by Negro lawn jockey hitching posts. A black patrolman gets out of the first cruiser and opens his passenger door.

Circuit Judge Eunice B. Franklin emerges, looking like hell warmed over. She’s wearing boxy blue jeans, an Ole Miss sweatshirt, hair curlers tied beneath a blue scarf, and she looks pissed. I pull Caitlin to her feet and hurry toward the gallery. When we arrive, Leo is lambasting Judge Franklin in the same superior tone he used with the police. Franklin seems to be enduring it with remarkable equanimity.

When Leo recognizes me standing behind the judge, his face flushes bright red. There’s murder in his eyes, and everyone on the gallery sees it.

“Did you smash my windows, Cage?” he yells.

“Don’t say anything, counselor,” Judge Franklin orders me. She turns back to Marston. “Leo, the issue tonight is files. Did you remove any files from your office tonight and attempt to burn them?”

At last comprehension dawns in Marston’s eyes. “Did that bastard tell you that?”

Caitlin aims the video camera at Leo’s face. “I have it all on tape, Judge Franklin. You can watch it right now, if you’d like.”