Royce started to laugh. “Maybe,” he said. “But if you don’t like this here deal, I’d be glad to explain to some folks how the goddamn Watchmen wanted me to railroad Sheriff Colson. I imagine a lot of folks would pay a quarter to read all about it.”

“I don’t really know how much your word is really worth,” Skinner said. “Against mine.”

“Sure would be embarrassing for the senator at this time,” Royce said, rubbing a hand over his mouth as if to hide his big grin. “The Watchmen skulking about Tibbehah County like some boogerwoods G.I. Joes. Maybe when you take that man’s peter out of your mouth, you might give me a straight answer.”

Skinner felt the heat grow from his face and swell into his chest. He ground his back teeth against each other, the sounds of the earthmovers silent and still, almost muffled, as the rain started to fall hard again. Water rolled from his hat brim and collected in a muddy puddle at his feet.

“You know where to find me,” Royce said, winking. “Don’t make me have to ask twice.”

*   *   *

Fannie watched Ray stand at the hotel window and light up a cigarette, blowing smoke as cool and clean as Melvyn Douglas used to do in those old black-and-white movies. He had his suit jacket off, neatly folded over a chair in the sitting area, dressed down to his baby blue silk shirt, boxers, and navy blue dress socks. He’d greeted her at the door like that, Ray already warning her that he sure needed her in a bad way. But Fannie had told him on the phone to hold his damn horses a bit, she needed to tell him a hell of a story. One of her sweet young things had tried to shoot her boyfriend right in the pecker.

“How’s she doing?” Ray said, ashing his cigarette by the drinks cart.

“I sent a lawyer for her,” Fannie said. “And spoke to the sheriff. But I was damn glad not to be there when the shit went down. If I’d seen that son of a bitch try and grab one of my girls, I’d have shot him myself. And you know me, Ray. I sure as shit don’t miss.”

“You want a drink?”

“Of course.”

“Something to eat?”

Fannie shook her head, walking over to him and running her hand inside his silk shirt and feeling his hairy chest, a gold Saint Christopher medal around his neck.

“Maybe later,” she said. “God, it’s horrible out there. Rained the whole way from Tibbehah County. Nothing but Louisiana pissing all over us.”