Free A Time to Kill by John Grisham Page B

found his niche in the market, and within two years he was a very wealthy man.
    His office was above one of his clubs just off South Main between Vance and Beale, in the roughest part of Memphis. The sign above the sidewalk advertised Bud and breasts, but much more was for sale behind the black windows.
    Carl Lee and Lester found the lounge—Brown Sugar—around noon, Saturday. They sat at the bar, ordered Bud, and watched the breasts.
    “Is Cat in?” Carl Lee asked the bartender when he walked behind them. He grunted and returned to the sink, where he continued his beer mug washing. Carl Lee glanced at him between sips and dance routines.
    “Another beer!” Lester said loudly without taking his eyes off the dancers.
    “Cat Bruster here?” Carl Lee asked firmly when the bartender brought the beer.
    “Who wants to know?”
    “I do.”
    “So.”
    “So me and Cat are good friends. Fought together in ’Nam.”
    “Name?”
    “Hailey. Carl Lee Hailey. From Mississippi.”
    The bartender disappeared, and a minute later emerged from between two mirrors behind the liquor.
    He motioned for the Haileys, who followed him through a small door, past the restrooms and through a locked door up the stairs. The office was dark and gaudy. The carpet on the floor was gold, on the walls, red, on the ceiling, green. A green shag ceiling. Thin steel bars covered the two blackened windows, and for good measure a set of heavy, dusty, burgundy drapes hung from ceiling to floor to catch and smother any sunlight robust enough to penetrate the painted glass. A small, ineffective chrome chandelier with mirror panes rotated slowly in the center of the room, barely above their heads.
    Two mammoth bodyguards in matching three-piece black suits dismissed the bartender and seated Lester and Carl Lee, and stood behind them.
    The brothers admired the furnishings. “Nice, ain’t it?” Lester said. B.B. King mourned softly on a hidden stereo.
    Suddenly, Cat entered from a hidden door behind the marble and glass desk. He lunged at Carl Lee. “My man! My man! Carl Lee Hailey!” He shouted and grabbed Carl Lee. “So good to see you, Carl Lee! So good to see you!”
    Carl Lee stood and they bear hugged. “How are you, my man!” Cat demanded.
    “Doin’ fine, Cat, just fine. And you?”
    “Great! Great! Who’s this?” He turned to Lester and threw a hand in his chest. Lester shook it violently.
    “This here’s my brother, Lester,” Carl Lee said. “He’s from Chicago.”
    “Glad to know you, Lester. Me and the big man here are mighty tight. Mighty tight.”
    “He’s told me all about you,” Lester said.
    Cat admired Carl Lee. “My, my, Carl Lee. You lookin’ good. How’s the leg?”
    “It’s fine, Cat. Tightens up sometimes when it rains, but it’s fine.”
    “We mighty tight, ain’t we?”
    Carl Lee nodded and smiled. Cat released him. “You fellas want a drink?”
    “No thanks,” said Carl Lee.
    “I’ll take a beer,” said Lester. Cat snapped his fingers and a bodyguard disappeared. Carl Lee fell into his chair and Cat sat on the edge of his desk, his feet dangling and swinging like a kid on a pier. He grinned at Carl Lee, who squirmed under all the admiration.
    “Why don’t you move to Memphis and go to work for me?” Cat said. Carl Lee knew it was coming. Cat had been offering him jobs for ten years.
    “No thanks, Cat. I’m happy.”
    “And I’m happy for you. What’s on your mind?”
    Carl Lee opened his mouth, hesitated, crossed his legs and frowned. He nodded, and said, “Need a favor, Cat. Just a small favor.”
    Cat spread his arms. “Anything, big man, anything you want.”
    “You remember them M-16’s we used in ’Nam? I need one of them. As quick as possible.”
    Cat recoiled his arms and folded them across his chest. He studied his friend. “That’s a bad gun. What kinda squirrels you huntin’ down there?”
    “It ain’t for squirrels.”
    Cat analyzed them both. He knew better than to ask