Drank two Blue Ribbons. Nobody drinks Blue Ribbon anymore. I remember thinking he wouldnt have looked too bad if he lost some weight and shaved those goofy sideburns."

"I dont think hell be shaving anytime soon.

Hes dead."

Patti gasped. "You shitting me?"

"Dead as dirt. Got himself killed last night. Any chance he hooked up with somebody in here? Did you see him leave?"

"Sonny was working the register when he left. He didnt leave with anybody, but he asked Sonny about the Mouses Tail."

"Really? Tell me more."

"He was a little creepy, you know? A little too cocky for his own good with that big belly and that cheap suit. When he paid his bill he asked Sonny where he could find some adult entertainment, a place where they showed it all. Sonny told me about it after he left. He thought it was funny. He said the only way that dude would get any was to pay for it."

"Mouses Tail, huh? Thanks, Patti. After all these years, Im finally gonna put you on my Christmas card list."

"Whoa, now, wait just one minute," Patti said. "I need details. Tell me something juicy."

"Sorry, cant do it right now. Im sure youll hear all about it on the news."

"Just like a man. Always wanting something for nothing."

Landers turned to leave without offering to pay.

"Thanks for the Pepsi," he said, "and thanks for the information. Ill come back and tell you about it later."

"Im holding you to that," she said. Landers looked in the mirror as he started out the door and saw Patti blow him a kiss. "That man has a fine ass, Lottie,"

he heard her say.

"Screw him," Lottie said. "Hes a fag."

Lottie was pretty good, but once Landers did her a few times, he dumped her. He had to. There were a lot of other women out there who wanted to be with him. He figured he owed it to them to stay unattached.

April 12 11:45 a.m.

A horny preacher. A man after Landerss own heart.

Landers called Jimmy Brown, told him about the lead and that he was going out to the Mouses Tail.

Brown said theyd found one witness, the night clerk at the motel, who said she thought she saw a woman go up towards Testers room around midnight. The forensics van had showed up. Maybe theyd find something.

Brown said Tester was an evangelist, a traveling preacher from Newport, which was located in Cocke County about sixty miles to the southwest of Johnson City. Newport was infamous in the law enforcement community for three things: chop shops, marijuana production, and especially cock fighting. Landers had also heard some of the preachers down there were snake handlers, religious extremists who proved their faith by waving copperheads and rattlesnakes around while they delivered their sermons. He wondered whether the dead rev liked to play with slimy serpents.

He pulled into the parking lot at the Mouses Tail just before noon and circled the building. There was only one vehicle in the back, a black BMW convertible. A redheaded woman was just getting out. She was wearing black leather pants and a tight cheetah-print top and was having a hard time walking through the gravel in her three-inch spiked heels. The outfit was definitely on the outrageous side, but her body was good enough to pull it off.

Landers pulled up beside the BMW, got out, introduced himself, and showed the woman his identification. She shook his hand and said her name was Erlene Barlowe. She owned the place. Said her husband passed away a while back and she took over after he died. She had a pretty face and was wearing a push-up bra that pushed up plenty. But she had to be at least fifty, so Landers figured the bright red hair was bottle-fed.

"What can I do for you, honey?" she said after a little small talk.

"What time do you open?" Landers was disappointed that the place was closed, since he wanted to talk to some of the employees. Actually, he was hoping to get to see some of her employees in action.

Hed heard the Mouses Tail was a pretty steamy place, but hed never been in there. When Landers wanted to go to a strip club, he went to the beach or Atlanta. As much as he liked to look at tits and ass, he knew the TBI would probably fire him if they heard he was hanging out at the local titty bar. Those kinds of places were notorious for drugs.

"Five," the woman said. "Were open five to two, six days a week. Closed on Sundays." Her voice was kind of Southern belle-ish, not exactly what he expected to hear from a woman who looked like her, with a syrupy Tennessee drawl. Landers thought it was nice that the titty bar observed the Sabbath.

"So you were open last night?"

"Wednesdays usually a pretty good night for us.

Its hump day, you know."

She had a little smile on her face when she said "hump day." Landers wondered how much humping went on in there on hump day.

"Was it crowded last night?"

"Wasnt anything special, sugar. Do you mind if I ask why youre asking?"

As she talked, Landers noticed her mouth. Nice teeth, and candy apple red lipstick. Looked like a color youd paint a 56 Chevy. Landers briefly envisioned those red lips wrapped around his pole.

"Just doing my job, Ms. Barlowe," he said. "Obviously, I wouldnt be here unless I was working some kind of an investigation."

"I understand completely," she said, "but Im sure you can understand that Im concerned when a police officer, even one as handsome as yourself, shows up at my place of business asking questions. Maybe I could help you a little more if youd let me in on what youre investigating."

Landers stepped back over to his car, reached in, and picked the photograph of Tester up off the front seat.

"Were you here last night?" he said.

"Im here every night, sweetie."

"Recognize this guy?" Landers handed the photo to her. She looked at it for a few seconds, then shook her head and handed it back.

"I dont believe I do."

"I think he was here last night."

"Really? What would make you think that?"

"Just some information I picked up. He was killed last night."

She gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh, my goodness. Thats terrible!"

Landers held the photo up in front of her face again. "Youre absolutely certain you didnt see him in your club last night?"

"Well, now, I dont believe I could say for certain.

Lots and lots of men come and go. I dont notice all of them."

"Im going to need to interview the employees who were working last night and as many of your customers as I can."

"Well, I swan," she said. "Youll scare my girls to death. And the customers? Honey, theyd run from you like scared rabbits. Most of them dont even want their wives to know theyve been here, let alone the police. If you were to come in here and start asking them about a murder, why, I just dont know what would happen to my business."

"I didnt say anything about a murder."

The phony smile she was wearing stayed frozen on her face, but her eyes tightened the slightest bit.

At that moment, Landers knew she realized shed fallen face-first in a pile of shit. It didnt surprise Landers. Any woman who dressed like that had to be a dumbass.

"I thought you said the man was killed," she said.

"I did, but I didnt say he was murdered. I didnt say anything about how he was killed. He might have been run over by a train or gotten killed in a car wreck. He could have jumped off a building or blown his brains out. What makes you think he was murdered?"

"I dont claim to know a whole lot, honey, but I didnt think the TBI got involved with car wrecks. I thought they only sent you boys in for the bad stuff."

Nice try. She knew something, and now that shed fucked up, she was trying to backpedal. Landers decided to try to get her out of her element and into his, get her to a place where shed be less comfortable.

"Ms. Barlowe, lets you and I go down to my office where we can sit down, have a cup of coffee, and talk. You can give me a list of your employees and the names of as many customers from last night as you can remember, and Ill have you back here in a couple of hours."

The smile vanished.

"Honey, did I mention to you that my late husband, God rest his soul, used to be the sheriff of McNairy County? I was his personal secretary for almost a year before he resigned, and then we got married about a year after that. It was a long time ago, but I remember a few things about the law.

Now, I dont mean to be rude to you, sugar, but one of the things I remember is that unless you have some kind of warrant or unless you arrest me, I dont believe I even have to talk to you. Ive tried to be nice up to this point, but youve made it clear that you think Ive done something wrong. So you know what? I think Im just going to go on inside and get to work now, okay? You have yourself a wonderful day."

She turned around and sashayed off. It was the only word to describe the way her hips swayed as she headed into the Mouses Tail on her spike heels.

Landers stood there watching her for a minute, then turned and got back into his car.

Most people cringe when they talk to TBI agents, and damned near all of them cooperate unless they have something to hide. This woman had something to hide. Landers decided to stick a flashlight up her skirt until he found out what it was.

April 12 12:10 p.m.

I went up to see my mother after Johnny Wayne was carted off. It was lunchtime, and walking down the hall in the long-term-care wing at the nursing home was like running a wheelchair gauntlet. I knocked gently on the door and walked in. She was awake.

It seemed she was always awake. The doctors told me that Alzheimers, as it progresses, interferes with sleep patterns. She was sitting up in bed, watching SportsCenter. Baseball season had started, which meant her beloved Atlanta Braves were back on the field.

"Hi, Ma. Howre you feeling today?"

"Like Ive been hit by a train."

"Good. At least youre with us."

The disease was steadily running its course. One day Id walk in and shed say, "Hi, Joe," and wed talk for a little while, and the next day she wouldnt even know my name. It was painful to watch. She was only sixty years old, and shed always been strong and vital. But her skin had lost its elasticity and was the color of bleached bone. Her weight had dropped to ninety pounds, and she seemed to have shrunk by at least two inches. Her cheeks were hollow, her hazel eyes dull, and her hair gray and stringy. Her teeth were in a jar on the bedside table.

As I sat down in the chair next to her bed, I knew it wouldnt be long before she wouldnt be able to talk at all.

Ma was born in 1947 in a small town called Erwin, Tennessee, which sits nestled in the Appalachians not far from the North Carolina border and is surrounded by the Cherokee National Forest. She fell in love with a football star from nearby Johnson City and married him in 1964, a month after they graduated from high school. She had Sarah in 1966 and me in 1967, after my father was drafted and went off to Vietnam. I never laid eyes on my father; he was shipped home in a body bag by the time I was born.

Ma provided for my sister and me as best she could by working as a bookkeeper for a small roofing company and taking in other peoples laundry. She didnt talk much, and when she did, it was usually a bitter tirade against Lyndon Johnson or Richard Nixon. She never dated another man and hardly ever left the house. Her only real requirement of me was: "Get an education, Joey."

"Sarahs getting out of jail today," I said. "I hope shes going to stay at my house for a while. Caroline was supposed to go down and talk to her sometime this morning."

Her eyes dropped at the mention of Sarah and she began to shake her head.

"My own flesh and blood in jail," she said. "Tell me where I went wrong."

"No sense in beating yourself up over it. She is what she is. It isnt your fault."

"You better lock up your valuables, Joey. Shell haul the whole house off if you give her the chance."

"Sarah wouldnt steal from me, Ma." In fact, Sarah had stolen from me in the past, but Id never told Ma about it.

"Well, shes stole from me, plenty of times."

"Maybe shes changed. You looked sad when I came in. Whats the matter?"

"I was thinking about Raymond." She reached for a tissue beside the bed and dabbed at her eyes. Raymond was Mas younger brother. He drowned at the age of seventeen. "Such a waste."

"No, it wasnt," I said before I realized what was coming out of my mouth. "Dont spend any tears on him, Ma. Thats a waste."

"Joey, youve never had a kind word to say about your uncle. What did Raymond ever do to you?"

I shook my head, not wanting to get into it. She hadnt mentioned him in years. "He wasnt a good person."

"He just needed""

"Ma, could we please not talk about Raymond?

Youre entitled to your opinion; Im entitled to mine."

I wanted to tell her what my opinion was based on, but I didnt see the point. It had happened so long ago, and Ma was dying. There was no sense in sullying whatever pleasant memories she had of her only brother.

I managed to get her mind off of Raymond and onto my son Jacks baseball prospects for a little while, but then, like a sudden change in the weather, she looked at me as though shed never seen me before.

"What are you doing here?" she said. "Who are you?" It was a fast transformation, even for her, like some inner switch had been flipped. Even the pitch in her voice changed.

"Its me, Ma. Im Joe. Your son."

"Why are you wearing that tie? You some kind of big cheese or something?"

"No, Ma. Im not a big cheese."

"Wheres Raymond?"

"Raymonds dead."

She let out a long sigh and stared at the ceiling.