“Of course not, Mr. Dyer, but these crimes are serious and they’re open-and-shut.”
“Sure looks that way, doesn’t it? However, we’ll do our investigation and decide. I’m sure we’ll indict, but we’ll do it our way.”
“Very well. As I was saying, this is a touchy situation because we’re dealing with a man who knows how to disappear.”
“Got it,” Dyer snapped.
“We have to be very careful who we talk to about Stafford.”
“Got it,” Dyer snapped, even quicker.
After he left, Dyer and Musgrove reviewed the paperwork for half an hour, and what was obvious became even more so. Both had known Mack for years, though they were not close friends, and they were reluctant to get involved in a case that would send a fellow lawyer to jail. It was apparent that the victims, the clients who were bilked, had no knowledge of Mack’s wrongdoing until the FBI told them about it.
But the more they talked, the more they liked the case. It was a nice change of pace from their daily docket of meth cookers, drug dealers, car thieves, and wife beaters. Rarely were they presented a case involving white-collar crime, and never had they seen one so blatant. Mack had chosen to steal from his clients, and it was their duty as representatives of the State to solve the crime and bring about justice.
Keeping it quiet would be the challenge.
（29）
On a sweltering Saturday, Mack was busy at the Varsity Bar & Grill, and as he puttered around and served the handful of customers, he kept one eye on the parking lot. At precisely 1:00 p.m., he saw a familiar car turn off Highland and park in the front.
It was a 1983 Mercury Cougar he had purchased used about two years before he left town. Lisa, of course, got the car in the divorce, along with everything else, and evidently it had now been handed down to his daughter. Margot bounced out of it and looked almost giddy at the thought of entering a college bar. She was dressed for college, in skin-tight jeans, sandals, and a plunging blouse that was almost indecent. He told himself not to say a word about her appearance.
He met her at the door and they retreated to the back of the restaurant. Mack flagged over a waiter, one he didn’t like and who leered a bit too long at his daughter, and they ordered cheeseburgers and ice tea.
“I can’t get a beer?” she asked, her first attempt to provoke him.
“You’re seventeen years old, young lady. The law says twenty-one, plus you’re driving today.”
“I have an ID, says I’m twenty-four. Wanna see it?”
“No. I spend half my time checking fake IDs. Where’d you get it?”
“I’ll never tell.”
“Figures.”
“Everybody has one, Mack.”
“I’m still Mack.”
“I like Mack better. You were never much for the Dad thing.”
“May I ask the latest on your mother?”
The smile vanished and her eyes watered. The tea arrived in tall glasses and she took a sip. She gazed out a window and said, “Nothing has really changed, except that she’s not eating much. She’s weak and frail and, well, just pitiful, really.” Her lip quivered and she closed her eyes and put a hand over her mouth. Mack patted her arm and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
The moment passed, and Margot stiffened her spine, smiled, and gritted her teeth. A tough kid, whom Mack was proud of.
She said, “Of course, I’m not making it any easier for her. Yesterday I asked if I could make this trip to Memphis by myself, told her I had an appointment with an admissions dude at Rhodes, and so on. Which is true. She didn’t like the idea, said no, I couldn’t come alone. We had dinner last night in the big house and she told Hermie and Honey about me coming to Memphis alone. They freaked, as usual. You’d have thought I wanted to walk naked through a ghetto. It turned into a pretty good fight. I reminded them that I’ve had my license for two years and have driven to Tupelo, with friends, several times. Hermie was growling and hissing and said I didn’t know how to find Rhodes College. So I asked him where in the big city it’s located. He guessed, got it wrong, then I laid it out perfectly: take Highway 78 into Memphis, fifty-four miles from here, stay on 78 after it becomes Lamar Avenue, then turn right on South Parkway, follow it north past Union, past Poplar, turn left and go west on Summer Avenue for about a block, the zoo’s on the left and Rhodes is on the right. I nailed it. Helen even laughed. Mom smiled. Needless to say, I didn’t mention the little detour here to the Varsity—left on Park, north on Highland, two blocks east on Southern—where I planned to meet you. That would’ve really upset them.”