“We’re working on it,” he said. “You know Nat Wilkins? She and I have been talking regular about north Mississippi. After we shut down the Pritchards, things have just gotten worse. I can’t talk about what we have, but I’m not exactly surprised about the relationship between Vardaman and the Syndicate boys. We’ve had eyes on Buster White’s casino for a long while.”

“Election’s next week.”

Holliday cut open the cigar box with a folding knife and pulled out a Liga Privada, pulling it loose from the cellophane and whittling a little hole at the tip. Quinn clicked open his old Zippo, offering him a flame.

*   *   *

“Let me know what you hear from Stagg,” Holliday said. “We all got an end game in mind. You, me, Nat, and more folks in Oxford. You know how much damn time we’ve put in this whole thing? Sure was fun bringing down old Johnny Stagg’s crooked ass. But it seems we missed this Mississippi shitshow by a goddamn mile.”

“Wish that could happen before the election.”

“Wish in one hand and shit in the other,” Holliday said, puffing on the cigar, getting the tip glowing red.

“See which one gets full first,” Quinn said.

“I appreciate you letting me tag along,” Lillie Virgil said, riding shotgun with Reggie Caruthers in his cruiser. “I wouldn’t miss seeing Fannie’s face for anything in the world. Maybe we can get the DJ at Vienna’s to play, ‘The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.’”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Reggie said, driving, turning down the long shot of Jericho Road, passing the Piggly Wiggly, old Hollywood Video, and headed toward signs pointing the way to Highway 45. “I don’t care a bit for Fannie Hathcock. But don’t you hate that this is Skinner’s doing? Fannie is cutthroat, but Skinner is a moral train wreck.”

“Might I remind you what that woman is all about?” Lillie said, drumming her fingers on the door handle, thrilled to be along for the ride. “Don’t let the big tits and fancy perfume mess with your head. That woman deals in stolen goods and hijacked eighteen-wheelers. She runs most of the drugs in the state and trucks in underage girls, most of them from Central America or Vietnam. She doesn’t give a good goddamn about anyone other than herself. She’d whore out her own grandmomma for a nickel.”

Reggie nodded, listening to Lillie. “Miss Fannie might wonder why you’re riding shotgun with me.”

“I’ll tell that bitch I heard some federal fugitives were getting peckers pulled in the VIP room,” she said. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll get lucky. That place is a baited trap for shitbirds.”