McCall cocked his head on one side and scowled impressively.
“Aha,” he said. “Sherlock Holmes comes all the way from Corinth to tell me that it’s a secret organization.”
“Well, a—”
McCall laughed.
“Don’t look so damn embarrassed. I suppose you don’t know any more about it than I do about the current city hall scandal. Just as you have the Tribe, we have our weekly public scandal. Political factions calling each other crooks, and all of ’em right. If a person kids me about our mayor, I laugh with him. And if I were from Corinth and somebody talked about the Trick Track Tribe I’d do the same thing. I suppose it’s only the lower element, the lawless whites responsible for your lynchings, that belongs.”
Robert made a vague noise in his throat, something halfway between a cough and a gurgle, which McCall interpreted as an affirmative reply.
“The Tribe has an office here, I’ve got the address. They’re just planning their campaign now. When it breaks, we’ll be ready to break, too. If you don’t mind, I’ll take this card to Father Callahan. I want him to answer these questions. Of course, you know and I know that they’re stupid lies, but I want the proof. I want to be able to nail the lies. I’d like to confront one of the head Tribesmen with the answers.”
“Do you belong to the Knights of Columbus?” asked Robert.
“No, but I know these charges are crazy. It’s simply a fraternal organization for Catholics.”
“Well, you can’t tell. Some of these statements are pretty positive. Maybe it is in politics. Gee, I’m black.”