TEN
ST. LOUIS, MISSOURIVince Basser produced his pocket identification for the cab driver, a grizzled man near sixty, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth.
“Deputy sheriff, huh?” the driver said through his open car window. “All the way from Louisiana.” He snatched the two photographs handed him. “Must be important.”
‘It is.”
“Yeah, that’s them,” the driver said, quickly.
“You saw them?”
“Hell, yeah. Picked them up right here at the bus depot. At first I thought they were dark whites.”
“Where’d yuh take them?”
“One of two places. Either the Peabody or the Prince of Tides. Can’t recall which it was. A lot of n*****s go to both after coming into town.”
“Do you know your way around the black section?”
“I should. Lived here in St. Lou all my life. Been driving hack for twenty yea
