“Has anybody seen Mack?”
“Not that I know of. Lots of gossip and such, but you can’t believe everything you hear.”
“Well, he’s up shit creek now, what with the FBI on his trail.”
“You got that right,” Ozzie said. “I guess the rumors were true about Mack. He took some money that wasn’t his and disappeared. I never believed it.”
“I always thought the guy was shifty, like most lawyers around here.”
“That, and he hired Harry Rex. That’s always a bad sign.”
“Someone needs to indict that big ass.”
They enjoyed a good laugh at Harry Rex’s expense.
* * *
—
Late in the afternoon, Deputy Prather parked at the edge of a gravel road and walked the dirt driveway to a mobile home that had seen better days. From a chain-link pen beside it, four or five beagles yelped and warned everyone for miles, though the nearest house could not be seen. Years ago, a rickety porch had been attached to the trailer, and by the time Prather approached the front door, Odell was waiting for him. Like most men who spent their days cutting down trees and wrestling logs, he was thick in the shoulders and chest, with huge hairy arms that bulged from under a clean white T-shirt. He wore a patch over his left eye, courtesy of Tinzo. He stepped onto the porch and said, “Afternoon.”
“Odell, I’m Marshall Prather, deputy sheriff.”
“I know who you are, Prather.” He whistled sharply at the dogs and they stopped barking.
Odell stepped down and they shook hands. Marshall held some papers in his left hand.
“What brings you out here?” Odell asked, unconcerned.
“Mack Stafford. Remember him? The lawyer.”
“Rings a bell. What’s he done now?”
“Not sure. Did he settle a case for you a few years back?”
Odell pointed to the patch over his left eye and smiled. “He was my lawyer, said he was gonna sue the chain saw company for big bucks. Nothin’ much happened.”
“Was there a settlement? Did he get you any money?”
“A few bucks, said it was all confidential. How do you know about it?”
Marshall held up the papers, four sheets stapled together. He flipped to the back page and pointed at a signature. “Did you sign this?”
Odell took it carefully and studied the signature. “That’s mine all right.”
“Did you sign in front of a notary public?”
“A what?”
“Down there under your signature is a stamp and a seal, and under them is the signature of a notary public. A woman. Was she around when you signed it?”
“No sir. Just me and Mack. Met him outside the truck stop. Nobody was with him.”
“How much money did you get?”
“I ain’t done nothin’ wrong, have I?”
“Nope, but there’s a chance Mack did.”
“So, I don’t have to talk about this, do I?”
“Nope, not now. But if you don’t, then the FBI will be here in a few days to ask questions. They may want you to go to Clanton for an interrogation.”
Odell stuck a toothpick in his mouth and began working on it as he studied the situation. Prather took the papers back, flipped to the second page, and said, “This is your settlement agreement. Did you read it?”
He shook his head, chewed on the toothpick.
“Says you agreed to settle the case for a hundred thousand dollars. How much did Mack give you?”
“You swear I ain’t done nothin’ wrong?”
“I swear. The FBI figures Mack gave you some cash and kept most of the money for himself.”
“That thievin’ son of a bitch.”
“Sure looks that way. He had four of these cases.”
“I sent him another. Boy named Jerrol Baker lost a hand.”
“That’s right. Jerrol is at Parchman. Drugs.”
“So I heard.” Odell shook his head and mumbled, “That son of a bitch.”
“How much did you get?”
Odell took a deep breath and said, “Twenty-five thousand, all cash. Said nobody would ever know. Said it was a quick settlement, had to be done right then, no chance of any more money. Told me to keep everythang quiet. Son of a bitch.”
Prather handed back the papers and said, “This is your copy. In paragraph four, second page, you’ll see the amount of one hundred thousand.”
“Where’s the rest of it?”
“Only Mack knows. You may want to hire a lawyer to check on it.”