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that sort of thing?”
    â€œYou weren’t cooperative yesterday, Weldon. I think you have information you’re not giving me. I have my doubts about our level of sincerity here.”
    â€œI get the feeling I shouldn’t have bothered you today.”
    â€œYour brother Lyle paid me a visit. He told me a long story about your father.”
    â€œLyle’s a great entertainer. Did you know he had a zydeco band before he got hit with a bolt of religion?”
    â€œHe said the prowler your wife saw was your father. He said he’s seen the man in his TV audience in Baton Rouge.”
    â€œYears ago Lyle put so many chemicals in his head it glows in the dark. He has hallucinations.”
    â€œWas Bama hallucinating?”
    â€œYou’re poking a stick in the wrong place, Dave.”
    Before I spoke again I waited a moment and looked out the screen at the rain falling through the limbs of the mimosa tree in my backyard.
    â€œSo there’s nothing to Lyle’s story, then?” I asked.
    â€œAs a matter of fact, there is. But it’s not anything you might be interested in. The truth is that Lyle takes money from a lot of pitiful nigras and po’ white trash who think heat lightning is a sign out of Revelation. But after the television cameras are off and the audience goes home, my brother has problems with his conscience. Instead of dealing with it, he’s developed this obsession that our old man is back from the dead and is trying to thread our souls on a fish stringer.”
    â€œHow long will you be gone?”
    â€œA week or so.”
    â€œGive me your mother-in-law’s address and phone number.”
    I wrote them down on a notepad.
    â€œDid you make plaster casts of those footprints by the bayou?” he asked.
    â€œWe’re a low-budget department, Weldon. Also, plaster casts usually tell us that the suspect wore shoes. Let me explain something to you. There’s not a lot of interest down there about your shooter. Why is that? you ask. Because when the intendedvictim acts like Little Orphan Annie, with wide, empty eyes, it’s hard to get other people to bite their nails over that person’s fate. If you want to let a hired gumball cancel your ticket, maybe we figure that’s your business.”
    In my mind’s eye I could almost see his hand squeezing on the receiver.
    â€œWhat do you mean ‘hired gumball’?” he said.
    â€œPeople around here usually kill only their friends and relatives. They usually do it in bars and bedrooms. A long-range shooter, a guy probably using a scope, a guy who got in and out without being seen, I think we’re talking about a contract killer, Weldon. There was something else I didn’t tell you. Our fingerprint man didn’t find even a trace of a print on that shell casing. In all probability that means the shooter wiped each shell clean before he loaded the rifle. It sounds pretty professional to me.”
    â€œYou’re a smart cop.”
    I didn’t answer and instead waited for him to speak again.
    But he remained silent.
    â€œYou don’t want to tell me anything else?” I said.
    â€œIt’s a story that involves a lot of players. You couldn’t guess at it.”
    â€œWhen people get into trouble, it’s over money, sex, or power. Always. It’s not a new script.”
    â€œThis one is. It’s a real stomach churner.”
    I waited again for him to continue, but he didn’t.
    â€œHow about it?” I said.
    â€œThat’s all I have to say, except I’m not going to do time and I’m not going to get clipped by some gumball. If that doesn’t float with somebody, or if they want more information on that, they might try dialing 1-800- EAT SHIT for assistance. How’s that sound?”
    â€œWho said anything about doing time?”
    â€œNobody.”
    â€œI see. Have a nice trip to Baton Rouge. Tell me, though, before you