“You’re assuming that someone has been trying to solve it. This is a small town. In small towns there are sometimes truths that everyone knows but no one mentions. Open secrets, if you will. No one really wants to probe the details, because it forces us to face too many uncomfortable realities. We’d rather turn away than acknowledge the primitive forces working beneath the surface of society.”

“Amen,” someone murmurs.

“In the case of Del Payton, no one knew exactly who planted the bomb that killed him, but everyone believed they understood what had happened. An uppity nigger got out of line, so somebody stepped in and reminded the rest of them where the line was. Unpleasant but inevitable.” My easy use of the “N-word” obviously shocks some members of the audience. “I believe this crime was misunderstood from the beginning. Del Payton’s death may have had nothing to do with civil rights. Or only peripherally to do with it. His death may be old-fashioned murder masquerading as a race crime. And understanding that could be the key to solving this case.”

Caitlin steps up beside me. “Any other questions? We’ve got work to do.”

No more hands go up.

She sends everyone back to work with a two-handed “scoot” gesture. After they’ve gone, she sits at the head of the conference table, a skeptical look on her face.

“Penn, do we have any hope of tying Marston to Ray Presley or the crime scene in time for the trial?”

“That depends on what we find in the discovery material.”

“Do you really believe Marston would send you anything incriminating?”

“I’ve found some pretty big surprises during discovery in my career. People make blunders.” I motion toward the boxes the police saved from the fireplace at Tuscany last night. “And then there’s that stuff. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Caitlin nods, but she doesn’t look hopeful. “Do you realize that almost every witness who knows anything you need to tell the jury would have to embarrass themselves terribly by testifying? Frank Jones . . . Betty Lou Jackson. Not only that, they’ll be putting themselves in the killers’ sights. Your ATF pal will testify, and maybe Lester Hinson, if you pay him enough. But the rest? No way.”

“That’s what subpoenas are for.”

“You’re not that naive. Portman, Marston, and Presley know about all these people, or soon will. And they’ll try everything from bribes to murder to keep them quiet.”

“That’s why we have to crack Marston’s nerve between now and next Wednesday.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Then we pray our long shots come through.”

“And those are?”

“Peter Lutjens, for one. He’s going for the Payton file in two days.”