E VA N M A N D E R Y
Chapter 20 ***
T
HE BIRMINGHAM HILTON served green apple martinis in giant glasses
with a Maraschino cherry and a slice of fresh apple. Even by Dixie standards it was a sweet cocktail, but they filled the glass halfway
with gin (or, if you preferred, vodka), so no one asked any questions. David sat at the bar, nursed his drink and tried to distract himself by watching SportsCenter. A portly man collapsed onto the barstool with a heavy sigh. A shiny shirt squeezed his neck and his necktie had been tied so short that its tail extended well below its blade. Though the hotel had the air conditioner on full blast, the man in the too-tight clothing sweated profusely. David imagined him to be in town for some convention. He’d peddled his wares all day—ball bearings or titanium steak knives, perhaps—and now wanted to take a load off and have a cold one. The man motioned to the waiter to bring him the same as David, offering a well-worn but honest smile to David as he did. Even before he extended his hand, David could tell that his new friend wanted to talk. “Patterson’s the name. Art Patterson, from Montgomery.” David’s handshake caused the pens in Art Patterson’s pocket protector to jiggle. “David Howard.” 211