“I’ve heard stories.”
“Like what exactly?”
“That this particular casino makes a lot more money than other casinos do.”
“And how do they do that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Drugs, guns, human traffickin’? We got all those things down here.”
“And the police don’t know about this?”
“If they do, they’re not doin’ much to stop it.”
“Why?”
“Mostly because of jobs. The Rebel Yell Entertainment Company has three casinos, two resorts, a theme park, and other business interests includin’ film and TV projects. It employs over three thousand hardworkin’ Mississippians. One of the top employers in the state, in fact.”
“And it doesn’t matter if part of what they’re doing is illegal?”
“Provin’ it would be difficult. Havin’ the desire to prove it appears to be impossible. You shut them down, you got a lot of folks without work. And the state already has enough of those.”
“But I can tell you’ve done your homework on them.”
“I know lawyers who work for them. Folks I respect.”
“And what do they tell you?”
“Exactly what I would expect. Nothin’. They make good money, they do their work, they go home to their families, and they keep their mouths shut.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“I didn’t say it didn’t bother me. But I can understand it. Lots of companies do bad things. Tobacco manufacturers pollutin’ our lungs, coal and oil companies pollutin’ our land and air, food manufacturers pollutin’ the stuff we eat. Assholes on Wall Street stealin’ us blind and buyin’ five yachts and four jets with the proceeds and laughin’ all the way to the proverbial bank as the anointed one-tenth of one percenters. Most of what they do is legal because they paid off the lawmakers to make it legal. But some of it’s not. But they got money and jobs and lawyers and lobbyists and politicians in their pockets, and so nobody touches them. Same with the good folks at the Rebel Yell. Welcome to America, Mr. Robie, where the only thing that’s really fair is the color of most of these folks’ skin.”
“Okay. I think I get the picture.”
“Do they know who you are?”
“They will by now. And they’ll be coming for me.”
“What are you goin’ to do about that?”
“Be ready for when they do,” he said.
She sat and steepled her hands. “Can I ask what it is exactly that you do for a livin’?”
“You can ask,” replied Robie.
“But you can’t say?”
“Look at the files on the flash drive and tell me what you think. I’m going to see my father.”
“What are you goin’ to tell him?”
“The truth. And in return I hope he does the same.”
Taggert wasn’t at the jail, so Robie was escorted back by the same deputy who had run him through the metal detector previously.
His father was sitting on his bunk. And this time he did not attack his son.
Robie leaned against the wall and in calm, succinct sentences explained to the man what had happened last night. When he was done, Dan Robie didn’t say anything for several minutes. To his son it seemed his father was thinking through every possible scenario, like he had first as a Marine, and then as a lawyer.
Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “They’re goin’ to want to kill you for what you did.”
“I assume so.”
“There’s no assumption about it,” said Dan Robie sharply.
“Do you know these people?”
“The Rebel Yell? Not really.”
“Toni Moses thinks they’re into illegal stuff.”
“Could be,” said his father. “Lots of that goin’ around.”
“Which means that they have a great motive for killing Sherman Clancy. After what I heard last night it seems to me that they’re the prime suspect.”
“Good luck provin’ that.”
Robie cocked his head. “We don’t have to prove it. We just have to use it to cast reasonable doubt. Then you don’t get convicted. Isn’t that legally the way it works?”
“Legally, yes. Practically, no.”
“Explain that to me.”
“I get off on what folks round here will conclude was a technicality. They’ll still assume I killed the man because my wife slept with him.”
“Since when do you care what people think?”
“I do care what people in Cantrell think, because it is my home. They are my neighbors. They are my friends.”
“Your real friends wouldn’t believe you could kill anyone.”
“Would your ‘real friends’ believe that you couldn’t kill anyone?” his father shot back.
“No,” admitted Robie. They would know better, he thought.
“So you’re saying that you want conclusive proof of your innocence to come out of all this. Which means you did not kill Sherman Clancy.”
“I never said I did kill him.”
“But you never said you didn’t. And while we’re on the subject, was it you driving the Range Rover that night?”
“How is Ty doin’?” his father asked.
Robie took a deep breath and held it before letting it go. He had to remind himself that he could not get it all done today or tomorrow or the next day. Small steps, like executing a mission. You check off one box and then the next. And then the next.
“Seems to be holding up. Victoria said she was bringing him to see you.”
For the first time Robie saw distress in his father’s eyes.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
His father barked, “I don’t have to explain anythin’ to you. I don’t even know why the hell you’re here.”
Robie pushed off the wall. “I’ve got things to do. Anything you need?”
His father started to say something but then shook his head and looked away.
“I didn’t hurt your arm, did I?” asked Robie.
“About as much as I hurt your face, so not much.”
Robie turned to go.
“Watch out for those casino boys,” said Dan Robie.
He turned back around, but his father still wasn’t looking at him.
“I will,” said Robie.
Chapter
33
When Robie left the jail they were waiting for him.
“Agent Wurtzburger,” he said, nodding at the FBI agent and two of his men, who were sitting in the vehicle parked next to Robie’s.
“We need to talk,” said Wurtzburger.
“Do we?” said Robie. “I said I’d call if I had anything to tell you. And I don’t.”
“We received a call about you from DC. Would you rather talk about it in the privacy of our car or do it right here in the open?”
Robie gave the three men a searching look and then climbed into the backseat of the sedan.
“What call?” asked Robie.
“From a sister agency that does not officially operate domestically.”
Robie did not react to this externally, but the term son of a bitch floated across his thoughts.
“To do with me?”
“To do with you specifically. They didn’t go into detail, but it was clear that you are a valuable asset that they do not want to see damaged or worse. I told my superiors that I would do my best, but that I could hardly guarantee your safety unless I got you to leave town or locked you up somewhere.”
Wurtzburger looked back at Robie from the front seat. “And I gather you would not be amenable to either of those options.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“My superiors were also told that if we tried to force you to do so we had better bring in several teams of special agents loaded for bear, or it would ultimately be a losing proposition for us.”