“Well, his spirit’s alive and well. Hoover made the final decisions on the disposition of those civil rights cases. And he worked them hard, especially the murders up in Neshoba County. But it’s no secret that his personal agenda had nothing to do with advancing civil rights. He hated Martin Luther King and the Kennedys. Cases like Payton’s were nothing to him but chips in a political game.”

“What about your office file?”

“There isn’t one. No one was ever charged with the crime.”

“Have you looked?”

“I don’t need to.” He finally meets my eyes. “Let’s get this straight right now. Unless you’re the attorney of record for a member of the Payton family, you’ll receive zero assistance from my office. And since you’re not licensed in this state, that pretty much settles things.”

Actually, I am licensed to practice in Mississippi, but I see no reason to point this out now. And though my combative instincts urge me to tell Mackey that a single phone call could secure my position as attorney for the Payton family, concern for my father stops me.

“You really get to me, Cage,” Mackey goes on before I can change the subject. “Mr. St. Stephens, law review at Texas, big-time author. You’ve got nothing better to do than come back here and make your old schoolmates look like assholes?”

Bitterness and envy literally crackle off the man. I am so surprised that I can do little but apologize. “That wasn’t my intention, Austin.”

“I’d hate to see what would happen if you really meant some harm.”

“What would you say if I told you I was shot at by a sniper less than an hour ago?”

His head snaps up. “Were you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you report it?”

“Not yet.”

His eyes are like signs reading, Thank God for small favors. “Where did this happen?”

“The black section, Linda Lee Drive.”

“What the hell were you doing over there?”

“Shad Johnson wanted to talk to me.”

“Jesus.” The muscles in Mackey’s jaw tighten. “What did he say?”

“He warned me off the Payton case.”

An ironic smile. “Shad’s no fool. The election’s five weeks off, and the polls have him and Warren neck and neck.”

“That’s all you have to say about an attempt on my life?”

“You’re back in Mississippi, bubba. You piss people off, they’re going to hit back. Anyway, it’s pretty obvious which side you’re on.”

I sip my drink. Melting ice has drowned the gin. “I’m not on any side.”

“Then you’ve forgotten the primary political reality of your home state.”

“Which is?”

“There’s no middle ground. Whatever’s there gets crushed to powder by the sides. I’d pick one quick if I were you.”