“Montgomery,” Patterson said, smoothing the lapels of his suit and shifting off the leg that he’d nearly lost in the First World War in the cold no-man’s-land of St. Etienne. “Promised a friend that I’d be at a hearing.”

I started to pump his gas. Usually Arthur did the pumping, unless we got really busy or there was someone special I wanted to talk to.

The light seemed to shift and grow in only seconds and covered Mr. Patterson’s soft, old features in a nice gold light. He smiled at me, as I checked the tires, and looked down Crawford Road toward the business district of Phenix City – an area where he worked but despised – and then back down the road toward the west and the capital of Montgomery, where he’d be headed next year to become the next attorney general of this state.

“I don’t know if I’ve told you this,” Patterson said, “but I sure appreciate all the support of you and all the boys. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

For the last two years, I’d been a member of an anti-vice group – the Russell County Betterment Association – that Mr. Patterson had helped found.

“I think you would have done fine.”

“I’ll need you even more in the coming months, Lamar.”

“How’s that?”

“Things will get worse before they get better.”

I smiled. “Don’t think they could get much worse,” I said and hung up the nozzle and noted the price. I asked Patterson to open his hood and I checked the oil.

“How’s this engine treatin’ you? I bet she really can open up on the highway.”

Patterson stood behind me and said in a low voice, almost a whisper: “They’re coming for me, Lamar. I think I have a one-in-ten chance of ever taking office.”

I stood, feeling ice along my neck, and wiped the dipstick on a dirty rag. The oil was clean and full, and I replaced the stick and closed the hood with a tight snap. Mr. Patterson gave a small, wan smile.