by Bill Crider
Ballinger liked to read paperback books about cops and killers, and he always seemed to enjoy comparing Rhodes’s cases to something he’d read about. McBain was one of his particular favorites.
“You mean the ‘hearing impaired’ man,” Rhodes said.
“No, I mean the Deaf Man. He’s a character that turns up now and then to try to outwit the guys in the EightySeventh Precinct. Killing off the presidents of the historical associations, that’s something he’d do, since it doesn’t seem like it makes any sense. But in the end, it does.”
“I would hope so,” Rhodes said.
“Yeah,” Ballinger agreed. “And it’s the sort of thing the media love. I’ll be surprised if some of the Dallas TV channels don’t send their reporters down.”
“Let’s hope not,” Rhodes said.
“Well, you never know. What about Dr. White?”
“Give him a call,” Rhodes said.
“All right.” Ballinger turned to his helpers, who had been standing silently by. “Let’s go see about Mrs. Knape.”
Rhodes watched them go inside. He had the uneasy feeling that there was something in the house that he’d overlooked, but he couldn’t imagine what it was. He forgot about it when Buddy Reynolds came sauntering up.
“What did you find out?” Rhodes asked him.
Buddy shook his head disgustedly. “Nobody saw a thing. I thought this was supposed to be a small town, with everybody minding everybody else’s business, didn’t you?”
Rhodes nodded.
“Well, it’s not that way around this neighborhood. According to all Miz Knape’s neighbors, they were either gone or inside their houses minding nobody’s business but their own. I don’t think we’re gonna get any help around here.”
“Probably not. You go on and talk to Ida Louise Tabor. You can leave me a report at the jail.”
Buddy left, and Rhodes saw Ballinger coming out of Faye’s house, walking in front of a gurney that held Faye’s draped body.
Rhodes got in his car. It was time to visit Vernell Lindsey.
Vernell’s house hadn’t improved since Rhodes had seen it last. As he walked up to the door, he could hear the goats bleating in the back yard. He hoped they’d stay there.
Vernell came to the door wearing very tight jeans and a Tweety Bird T-shirt. She still wasn’t wearing any shoes. Rhodes wondered if she’d been barefoot when she visited Faye Knape.
“What is it this time, Sheriff?” she asked. “I’m right in the middle of a crucial scene.”
“It’s about Faye Knape,” Rhodes said. “Can I come in?”
“That old bat,” Vernell said, but she stepped back from the door and held it open for Rhodes.
He went inside, and Vernell closed the door. Then she led him to the den, which was still in disarray.
“I understand you went to see Faye yesterday afternoon,” Rhodes said when he was seated.
“Yes, I did. Why are you asking? Did she file some kind of complaint?”
“Not exactly,” Rhodes said.
“Well, it’s a good thing. She said just as many bad things to me as I did to her.”
“What did you say them for?” Rhodes asked.
“You should know the answer to that. She’s the one who sent you over here yesterday. She accused me of killing Ty Berry.”
Rhodes didn’t say anything.
“You don’t have to look at me that way,” Vernell said. She lit a cigarette. “I know you didn’t tell me, but you didn’t have to. That meddlesome Faye has never liked me, just because I know as much about history as she does. Probably more. And she was jealous of me because I was going out with Ty. Personally, I think she wanted him for herself.”
“I didn’t get that impression,” Rhodes said.
“Of course not.” Vernell exhaled smoke. “She wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know. But I think that’s why she complained about him so much. If he’d done what she wanted and asked her out, she’d have liked him just fine.”
Rhodes thought about that. Could Faye have killed Ty because he rejected her? Add that to the fact that Ty knew she owned the collapsed buildings, and you had a pretty good motive.
“I take it that the two of you argued yesterday,” he said.
Vernell knocked some ash off the end of her cigarette into the Texas-shaped ashtray.
“You could say that. I told her she’d better keep her nose out of my business, and she said she didn’t know what I was talking about. I really let her have it then.”
“Let her have it?” Rhodes said.
“I called her a meddlesome bitch,” Vernell said apologetically. “I was a little excited. I don’t usually say things like that.”
“What did she do when you said it?”
“She told me to get out of her house.” Vernell inhaled deeply and let the smoke out in a sigh. “I guess I don’t much blame her.”
“And did you get out when she asked you to?”
“Yes. Why? Did she say I didn’t? I wouldn’t put it past her to lie about me.”
“She didn’t say anything,” Rhodes said truthfully. “I don’t suppose you got carried away with more than words, did you?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You didn’t hit her?”
“Hit her? Did she say that?” Vernell crushed the cigarette out savagely in the ashtray’s panhandle region. “She is a bitch, then. I was feeling bad about saying that, but not anymore. I didn’t lay a finger on her.”
“Somebody did,” Rhodes said.
“Maybe so, but it wasn’t me, and she’d better not say so. If she does, I’ll . . . well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll do something.”
“You won’t have to,” Rhodes said. “Somebody already has.”
“Who?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Rhodes told her. “Right now, it looks like it was you.”
Vernell looked worried. “I don’t think I’m following you, Sheriff.”
“It’s like this,” Rhodes said. “Yesterday afternoon, you went over to Faye’s house. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And the two of you had a pretty loud argument.”
“Yes. It was loud.”
“And then somebody killed Faye.”
Vernell opened her mouth as if she were going to say something. But nothing came out, and after a second or two, she closed her mouth again.
“Someone hit Faye in the head,” Rhodes said. “She fell down and didn’t get up. Are you sure you didn’t hit her?”
“I didn’t!” Vernell said. “She was just fine when I left! I swear it!”
“As far as I’ve been able to find out, no one else was at Faye’s house after you left. That doesn’t look too good for you.”
Vernell stood up and started pacing around the den. She came to a sheet of paper and kicked it out of her way. It fluttered up, then fell back to the floor. Vernell turned to face Rhodes.
“I didn’t lay a hand on that woman,” she said. “I don’t know who told you I was there, but—”
Rhodes put up a hand. “Don’t start that. I don’t want you paying a visit to anybody else.”
Vernell drew herself up straight, and when he saw the look in her blue eyes, Rhodes was glad there wasn’t a cut-glass vase anywhere in the room.
“That’s insulting,” she said. “You’re implying that I killed Faye because she told you about me and Ty. I can’t believe you’d say something like that.”
“I didn’t mean to imply anything,” Rhodes said. “I just don’t want you to get in any more trouble than you already are.”
“Why am I in trouble? I didn’t do anything except have a little disagreement with someone.”
“And it’s just your bad luck that the someone’s been murdered,” Rhodes said. “I know. But I think it would be better if you didn’t go looking for more trouble.”
“Are you saying I’m under arrest?”
“No. I’m still
investigating. I’m not ready to make any arrests.”
“It’s a good thing. You didn’t even read me my rights.”
People watched too much television, Rhodes thought, wondering if Vernell had learned about the Miranda warning on Murder, She Wrote.
“You can get back to work on your book,” he said. “I might have some more questions for you later.”
“I don’t see how you can expect me to work after you’ve done this to me,” Vernell said.
People always wanted to blame someone else, Rhodes thought. Never themselves. But he didn’t really mind. He was used to it. Besides, as far as he could tell, no one had done anything to Vernell. Faye was a different story.
“If you can think of anything that might help me, give me a call,” Rhodes said.
“Ha,” said Vernell.
27
WHEN RHODES WALKED INTO THE JAIL, HACK AND LAWton looked up from where they were watching the last few minutes of All My Children on Hack’s little TV set. Rhodes was convinced that the two of them had become addicted to the show, though they both denied it when he accused them. Nevertheless, he occasionally overheard them talking about the trials and tribulations of Erica Kane, among others on the show.
Hack saw that Rhodes was looking at them and snapped off the set.
“You got real trouble now,” he said.
“You mean I didn’t before?” Rhodes said.
“You just had the commissioners after you when Ty Berry got killed,” Hack told him. “Now you got something worse.”
“A lot worse,” Lawton said from the other side of the room. “Ain’t that right, Deputy?”
Buddy Reynolds, who’d been sitting at his desk and not watching the soap opera, nodded.
“Bad as it gets,” he said.
They were at it again, Rhodes thought, and this time they even had Buddy helping them out.
“Et tu, Buddy?” Rhodes said.
“I recognize that,” Hack said. “It’s Latin, and it’s from one of those Shakespeare plays. Bet I can tell you which one, too.”
“Bet you can’t,” Lawton said.
“Julius Caesar,” Hack said. “Ain’t that right, Sheriff?”
“That’s right, but it doesn’t have a lot to do with what you’re trying to tell me. At least I think you’re trying to tell me something. Aren’t you?”
“I already did. You’re in big trouble now.”
Rhodes tried not to sigh. He had two unsolved murders to deal with, and all he got was a hard time. And his eyes were itching.
“What kind of trouble?” he asked.
“You got the Chickenfooters against you,” Hack said. Rhodes looked at Buddy. “Tell me what he’s talking about.”
Buddy grinned. “He’s trying to tell you that all Miz Knape’s friends in that Chickenfoot group are ready to throw you out of office. Their good friend’s been killed, and they think it’s all your fault.”
“They won’t be votin’ for you again,” Hack said. “Not unless you put somebody in jail.”
“And do it quick,” Lawton added.
“I’d like to,” Rhodes said. “But it’s a little more complicated than they think. Maybe they can help me out, though. Buddy, did you get anything useful out of them?”
“Nope. They called Miz Knape’s house twice, once about eight o’clock and again around eight-thirty. Didn’t get an answer either time. They figured she’d just gone somewhere else and forgotten about the game, but when Miz Tabor called back this morning and didn’t get anybody, she thought she’d better get in touch with us.”
“Good thing they did,” Hack said. “ ‘Cept they should’ve done it last night.”
“Too late to cry about that now,” Buddy said. “Anyway, Miz Tabor’s in that Historical Society of Faye’s, and she’s all upset about that part of it, too. The group was having a hard time holding together, since some of them wanted to support Ty Berry in that cemetery business, and without the president, the whole group might fall apart.”
That reminded Rhodes of something Ballinger had mentioned.
“The presidents of both those societies are dead now,” he told Buddy. “I want you to get a list of the members and see if you can come up with anything.”
“What should I look for?” Buddy asked.
Rhodes didn’t know what to tell him.
“You’ll know it when you see it,” he said. “I hope.”
“Where’ll I get the lists?”
Rhodes had an answer for that one.
“Faye and Ty both kept membership lists on their computers. I saw them, but I didn’t read over them. You can go to their houses and print them out.”
“I don’t know a printer from a sidesaddle,” Buddy said.
“Take Hack with you, then. He can do it in ten seconds.”
“What about the phones?” Hack wanted to know. “Who’s gonna take care of the calls if I leave?”
“Lawton,” Rhodes said.
“Humpf,” Hack said, as if to imply that Lawton knew about as much about telephones as Buddy knew about computers.
“I can handle it,” Lawton said. “I’ll prob’ly treat people better than Hack does, too.”
“Humpf,” Hack said again.
“Go on and get it done,” Rhodes said.
“Where’ll you be?” Lawton asked.
“Ty Berry’s funeral,” Rhodes said.
Hack and Buddy left, and Rhodes was almost out the door when the phone rang. He stopped and waited to see who was calling. It was Carl Mason, the sheriff of an adjoining county, and he wanted to speak to Rhodes.
“We caught up with one of your fugitives,” Mason told Rhodes.
“I didn’t know there was more than one,” Rhodes said.
“Well, then, that’s the one we got. Name of Burt Trask. Says he’s never been in Blacklin County, never been arrested for any reason, and he’s the sole support of his widowed mother and her poor, sickly old sister.”
Rhodes had almost forgotten Trask, thanks to all the other things that had happened.
“Sounds like a fine fella,” Rhodes said. “Is any of that the truth?”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Everett said. “He’s been in and out of the jail here so many times he’s got his own monogrammed jump suit. His mother’s got three boyfriends that I know of, and they all take better care of her than Trask does. Her poor, sickly old sister is maybe fifty and healthy as a horse. Been a cook at the Dairy Queen for as long as I can remember.”
“Sounds like you know Butt’s family pretty well.”
“Yeah, since they always stick up for him. What’d you get him for?”
“Drugs,” Rhodes said.
There was a silence at the other end of the line. Finally Mason said, “That’s a new one. Burt’s a guy who likes to play around on the fringes, but we never got him for anything like that before.”
“I’d like to hear his story,” Rhodes said. “I’ll send somebody to pick him up.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Mason said.
Rhodes had missed lunch, but he didn’t have time to eat. He wouldn’t even get any Vienna sausage today. But he couldn’t let that bother him. He wanted to go to Berry’s funeral just on the chance that he might learn something.
Unfortunately, he’d missed not only a chance at lunch but the first part of the services, which were held at the church. By the time he got there, people were already getting into their cars to go to the cemetery for the graveside service. Ruth Grady was there to lead the funeral procession and take care of the traffic, such as it was. Rhodes parked in the street and brought up the rear.
When he drove through the gates of the Clearview Cemetery, he thought about the ghost. As far as he knew, there hadn’t been any sightings the previous night, and the jail had been quiet, too. Maybe he wouldn’t be hearing any more about supernatural appearances. That would be fine with him. He was having enough trouble just dealing with natural problems.
Berry, as was fitting for someone who
was president of the Sons and Daughters of Texas, was being buried in the oldest part of the cemetery, the one with graves dating back to the nineteenth century. There were still a few spots available there, but they were mostly all part of family plots and didn’t come up for sale very often. Berry had likely paid for one some years ago.
The cars in the procession all parked along the side of the narrow road, with Rhodes bringing up the rear. He got out of his car and looked at the scene, which in a way reminded him of the one two days previously. There was the same fake grass, the same canvas canopy, the same folding chairs. There was the mound of earth and an open grave. But today there was sunshine instead of clouds, darkness, and rain. Berry would be going into the right grave this time, if there was such a thing as the right grave.
In the crowd were several people Rhodes had questioned about Berry’s death. Vernell Lindsey was there, wearing a black dress. Rhodes couldn’t see her feet from where he was standing, but he assumed she had on black shoes as well. Or maybe not.
Rhodes recognized several members of the Sons and Daughters of Texas, and a couple of the commissioners were there, Jay Bowman and Jerry Purcell. Rhodes spoke to them politely, and both of them asked him pointedly about the investigation. He told them that things were moving right along.
“And what about Faye Knape?” Purcell asked. “This kind of thing is bad for the county, Sheriff.”
It was bad for Faye Knape, too, Rhodes thought. He said, “I’m sure I’ll find out who did it. It just takes a little time.”
“Well, time’s one thing you don’t have much of. We need some results.”
“You’ll get them,” Rhodes said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.
Rhodes wasn’t surprised to see the commissioners at the funeral, but he was a little surprised to see Melva Keeler, who was wearing a black dress, though she didn’t look as good in it as Vernell did in hers.
Rhodes wondered what Melva was doing there. Maybe she was just one of those people who liked to go to funerals. There were plenty of people like that in Clearview. It didn’t much matter to them who had died; they attended funerals like other people might go to a movie or to a good restaurant.
