“No additional argument, Ms. Sutter. If Mr. Stone has the courage to risk jail, I will risk censure. If he strays into what I feel is dangerous territory, I’ll stop him. Continue with your story, Mr. Stone.”

“Under protest,” Livy says in a cold voice.

“Noted. Mr. Cage?”

I turn to Stone with as much gratitude as I can bring to my eyes. “Mr. Stone, could you describe how you went about solving the Delano Payton murder?”

In clear and concise language, the former agent gives a chronological account of his investigation up to the point that he nailed Ray Presley. His story mirrors exactly the testimony given by my earlier witnesses, from Frank Jones to Lester Hinson, and he confirms that John Portman worked with him every step of the way. Their discovery that Lester Hinson had sold C-4 to Ray Presley, Stone says, prompted a “rather intense” meeting with Presley, during which Presley stated that he’d merely acted as a middleman in the deal, purchasing the plastic explosive for a young Natchez black man, an army veteran. This brings us just past the point at which Stone began lying to me in Colorado.

“What was that young black man’s name, Mr. Stone?”

“Ike Ransom.”

“Are you aware that a sheriff’s deputy by that name was murdered last night?”

“Yes.”

“Was he the same man you interviewed in 1968?”

“Yes.”

“John Portman stated that the FBI file on Del Payton was sealed because of the involvement of a certain Vietnam veteran. Was Ike Ransom that man?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do after Patrolman Ray Presley told you he’d bought the C-4 for Ike Ransom?”

“Portman and I interviewed Ransom at his apartment. Two minutes after we were inside, he confessed to the murder of Delano Payton.”

Livy jumps to her feet, but her objection is drowned by the explosive reaction of the crowd. Judge Franklin bangs her gavel, but it takes some time for order to be restored. Even the jury is gaping at Stone.

“Your Honor,” says Livy, “I object. This witness’s testimony is hearsay.”

Franklin nods and looks at me. Under the Mississippi rules of evidence, Livy is right. But all rules are proved by exceptions. As I come to my feet, I troll my memory for the details of exceptions under Mississippi law, which I scanned less than six hours ago in the office of the chancery judge, an old high school friend.

“Your Honor, this qualifies as a hearsay exception under Rule 804 (b)3. Deputy Ransom was on my witness list specifically to testify to this information. His murder last night has made that impossible. Since the declarant is unavailable due to death, Mr. Stone’s statement should be admitted.”

Franklin looks surprised by my knowledge of Mississippi law.

Livy says, “Your Honor, Mr. Cage’s exception is—”

“Sidebar,” Franklin cuts in. “Approach the bench.”

Livy and I meet before Franklin and lean toward her.