When he came to a stop next to Robie and put a hand on his shoulder, Robie knew who it was. In fact he had known who it was from the man’s swaggering walk. It hadn’t changed since high school.
“Hello, Aubrey,” he said.
“Damn, Will, sight for sore eyes, man, sight for sooorrre eyes,” replied Aubrey Davis, his twangy speech so exaggerated that Robie felt sure the man was doing it in front of the locals simply to increase his potential vote count when he ran for Congress.
He sat on the stool next to Robie and unbuttoned his jacket. He flicked a finger at the waitress, and a few moments later a cup of black coffee was set in front of him.
“Thank you, darlin’,” said Davis before turning sideways on his stool and eyeing Robie.
“What the hell you been doin’ with yourself, Will?”
“This and that.”
“You got outta here right after high school, didn’t you?”
“Something like that.”
“Guess you know what I do for a livin’,” Davis said, not really trying to sound modest.
“I heard.”
“And I guess it’s no secret why you’re back here. Sad day for the Robie family. Sad day. I’ll be the first to say it.”
Robie sipped his coffee and stared straight ahead. “I guess that depends on how it turns out.”
“O’course, o’course. Justice will have its day and say, yes sir it will. Leastways while I’m the prosecutor for Cantrell, Mississippi.”
“Must be difficult for you to do this, I mean with a judge you’ve appeared in front of so many times. Hope you don’t feel conflicted.”
Davis smiled though it didn’t reach his eyes. He took a moment to light up an unfiltered Marlboro he pulled from a pack in his side pocket along with a metal lighter with the initials AD engraved on it. He blew smoke out of his nostrils and dropped his ash in the cup saucer. “Well, damn good thing I’ve always been able to see the big picture. Petty shit don’t influence me one bit. Now I take no pleasure in prosecutin’ your daddy, I’m sure you know that. But it is my job and I’ll carry my duty out faithfully.” He waved his hand at the other folks in the diner. “Hell, it’s what all these voters here who placed me in this honored position would expect.” He rapped his knuckles against the countertop. “And nothin’ less.”
“You going to let him out on bail?”
“Can’t get into that with you, o’course. But I’m a fair man, always have been.” He blew more smoke and tapped more ash. “You seen your daddy yet?”
Something in Davis’s voice told Robie that he knew his father had refused to see him at the jail.
“I’ll see him today.”
Davis’s shrill voice dropped an octave as though to evidence confidentiality. And sincere concern. “How’s your stepmomma holdin’ up? Heard you were stayin’ out there with her, and ain’t that fine. I’m sure your support is… appreciated.”
The network here is faster than the Internet, thought Robie.
“She’s holding up.”
“Uh-huh. She’s a damn good-lookin’ woman. Everybody knows that. I been married ’bout fifteen happy years but I got me two good eyes, don’t I?” He laughed and then grew serious. “My point is, if things go against your daddy, and I’m not sayin’ they will, but if they do, she’ll be okay. Still young and all. Find somebody else.” He dropped his voice lower and leaned in closer to Robie. “But let me just voice a concern I got me.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Now she’s just got to be better at who she spends time with.” He scrunched up his face like he’d swallowed something foul. “Sherm Clancy? Now, I got to prosecute his killer to the fullest extent of the law o’course and I will. But that don’t mean I had to like him, ’cause I didn’t. Poor choice for Victoria. Poor choice. You might want to talk to her ’bout that. Know it drove your daddy—” He paused and sighed heavily. “Well, we seen what it did to him. So sad. So damn sad, and I don’t normally cuss. Hell, I’m a deacon at the Baptist church.” He tapped Robie on the shoulder and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Now speakin’a Clancy, I heard tell you had you a run-in with Pete and some’a his boys. Now don’t you worry ’bout that. I know Pete. He can be a little hotheaded. But he comes to me ’bout prosecutin’ you for assault, you just leave it to me. I’ll handle it.”
Robie noted that the lawyer didn’t say how he would handle it.
Davis straightened on his stool and smoked down his cigarette, looking pleased with his soliloquy.
Robie just drank his coffee, figuring any response he made would simply prolong this encounter. Lawyers were really good at taking your words, twisting them around, and firing them back at you. Robie used bullets to kill. This man used nouns, verbs, and the occasional adjective to do the same.
“So how long you stayin’ in our fair town, Will?”
“Long as I need to.”
“Well, we do things right fast down here. Could’a done that O. J. Simpson case in two days, so help me God. So’s you won’t have to wait too long, I reckon.”
“That’s good to know, so long as you don’t leave justice out of the equation.”
More smoke was exhaled and more ash tapped. Davis grinned. “Remember that state championship?”
“Not until I came back here.”
“We did the town proud, didn’t we?”
Davis had been a third-stringer on the team and saw action only in the final few minutes of the championship game. Cantrell had been so far ahead that the coach had seen fit to give everyone who hadn’t played a chance to share in the glory. And Robie hadn’t minded. Despite the lopsided score, the game had been hard fought, and his body had been a mass of bruises and contusions. And he later learned he’d played the second half with a concussion and a broken thumb.
“Yes we did.”
“Old Billy Faulconer ain’t doin’ too good. You ’member him?”
“Best left tackle in the state. I plan on seeing him while I’m here.”
“Fine, fine!” Davis stubbed out his cigarette and rose. “You have a good day, Will. Let’s have a drink sometime, okay? Got me a homegrown whiskey put hair on your eyeballs, man.”
He laughed and slapped Robie on the back far harder than he had to and walked out of the diner, waving and smiling at all he passed.
Robie set his cup down, paid his bill, and walked out behind him.
He didn’t give a crap about Davis’s taunts.
He was focused on one thing only.
In a very short while he was going to see his father for the first time in twenty-two years.
And that suddenly scared him more than possibly anything ever had.
And for Will Robie, that was definitely saying something.
Chapter
21
The courtroom was small, plainly furnished, warm as an oven but still buzzing with suppressed excitement. Robie’s intuition that seats would be hard to come by had proven correct. The place was almost full by the time he stepped inside, nearly a half hour before the arraignment was scheduled to take place.
He wedged himself into a seat on the aisle near the middle of the courtroom. After he sat his gaze swept the space. Pete Clancy was here minus his entourage. He had cleaned up his face and his bandages were gone. But the beating Robie had given him was still quite evident.
Sheila Taggert, in her uniform, stood near a door leading into what Robie assumed must be the holding cell for prisoners waiting their turn before the judge.
Little Bill Faulconer was sitting across the aisle from Robie. He motioned for him to join him.
Faulconer made room and Robie settled down next to him.