Dutton died of a legitimate heart attack as far as anyone can establish. But Pierce drove 90 minutes to show up personally at a mid-level fixer’s funeral. He looked at Boon. Why does a county commissioner drive 90 minutes to pay his respects to a man like Dutton? Because Dutton knew something, Boon said.

Because Dutton knew something, Sully confirmed. PICE wanted to see for himself that it went into the ground with him. He drank his coffee. When I heard PICE was making inquiries about you, the 199 thing clicked into place. What did he actually buy from us that fall?

Boon, do you remember the name? Boon looked at the wall pulled the memory up from somewhere he’d left it deliberately undisturbed. Dale Whitfield, he said, ran for county commissioner that year. Pierce needed something irregular in his finances. Couldn’t find it through legitimate means, so he came to us through Dutton, Sully said.

Club got the records through a contact at a regional bank. PICE used them to imply Whitfield had been misappropriating funds. Whitfield couldn’t disprove a negative fast enough lost the race. Sully paused and from there Pierce’s career went upward. Every election after that, every council vote, every development deal built on what he bought from us in 1919.

Boon was quiet. This was the part he’d been sitting with since the phone call. The part that made this more than just a powerful man feeling threatened by someone from his past. We gave him his start. Boon said the club did.

Sully said through Dutton without knowing what it would become. Doesn’t matter who knew what Boon said. We handed him the first step. Sully looked at him. That’s why you’re not leaving.

That’s part of why Boon said they sat with that a while. The radio in the bay played something slow and certain. Conway Twitty, one of the old ones, a song that knew exactly what it was. Dutton told me something years later. Sully said before he died.

He mentioned that a man named Walt Callahan had been asking questions around town. Said Callahan was becoming a problem for Pierce. He looked at Boon. I didn’t know what that meant at the time. Walt Callahan, Boon said, was Ruth Callahan’s husband.

Ran the diner on Main Street for 31 years. He died 9 years ago on a county road he’d driven everyday for 20 years. Car accident officially. Sully looked at him for a long moment. Boon, we don’t know anything yet, Boon said.