by Bill Crider
Rhodes seemed to recall from his own schooling that there was more to writing a good essay than knowing about commas and semicolons, but he didn’t think this was the time to mention it.
“Ike was pretty upset about being accused of cheating, I guess,” he said.
“Now there you go, Sheriff,” Duffy said. His voice was harsh, and his eyes, though nearly hidden under the brim of his hat, were hostile. Duffy was on the edge of losing his temper. “You lawmen are always trying to trick somebody into saying something wrong.”
“Just asking a question,” Rhodes said.
“Ike wasn’t as chapped by that teacher as I was,” Duffy said. “I don’t like it when some ivory-tower elitist accuses somebody of something he didn’t do.”
Wellington wasn’t there to defend himself, and Rhodes didn’t know who was right about it. Maybe Ike was an excellent writer, but if he was, Wellington should have known it from other writing samples. The paper must have been really well done.
“How upset were you?” Rhodes asked.
“Sheriff, you aren’t half as smart as you think you are,” Duffy said. His voice now was not just harsh but angry. “You should know better than to ask something like that. Didn’t I tell you that Able don’t ever leave this place? He’s not going to go into town to meet with somebody and risk the government arresting him on some piddling little charge just because we don’t believe the way they want us to.”
There were lots of ways to resist the government, but Rhodes didn’t see Terrell as much of a threat. He wasn’t bothering anybody. He was just living in the woods and minding his own business, unless there was more going on around the place than Rhodes could see.
“I didn’t mean to imply you’d killed anybody,” Rhodes said. Of course, all three of them knew that wasn’t the truth. The apology seemed to be accepted, though, and it smoothed things over for the moment.
“Like Duffy told you,” Terrell said, “I don’t ever leave this place. Ike shouldn’t have, either, but you can’t keep a kid away from town until he’s learned what it’s like. Anyway, you need to be looking at the college for whoever killed Wellington. They didn’t like him there.”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
“Nobody liked him,” Terrell said. “Students didn’t. Other teachers didn’t. He didn’t fit in. That’s why they killed him.”
Rhodes leaned forward. This was the first interesting thing Terrell had said.
“Who’s ‘they’?” Rhodes asked again. He was getting tired of asking people to be specific.
“If you don’t know already, you aren’t much of a sheriff. You ought to find out more about that kind of thing, see who’s spreading lies. Then you might get somewhere.”
Terrell had a point, but he hadn’t told Rhodes anything new. Terrell didn’t have any information. All he wanted was to get Rhodes there and try to talk him into releasing Ike.
“I’ll check into it,” Rhodes said.
“That’d be a good idea. Meantime, you can let Ike out of the jail.”
“Not until somebody posts his bail. You know that.”
It occurred to Rhodes that Terrell might not be able to afford bail for his son. Rhodes didn’t know the amount, but Terrell couldn’t have had much disposable income, considering that he didn’t do any work. Rhodes wondered again if the rumors about the meth lab were true, even it there was no evidence of it. Nothing was being cooked up at the moment, or Rhodes would have caught the odor. There was no hiding it. All he could smell was the beans.
“That’s why people don’t like the justice system,” Terrell said. “A poor man hasn’t got a chance. Neither does an innocent man, once he’s accused.”
“If Ike is innocent,” Rhodes said, “we’ll find out.”
“You must not hear the news much, Sheriff,” Duffy said. “How many men have been let off death row in this state in the last few years? Five? Ten? Every one of ’em innocent based on the DNA evidence when it finally got used, but every one of ’em convicted by a jury, every one of ’em behind the walls for half their lives.”
That was a little exaggerated, but there was enough truth in it to make Rhodes uncomfortable.
“None of those men were from around here,” Rhodes said, knowing as he said it how weak it sounded.
“There’s always a first time,” Able said, “but it better not be my boy.”
“It won’t be,” Rhodes said, and this time he was certain.
“I’m taking your word for that,” Able said. “There’s another thing, Sheriff.”
“What’s that?”
“You could talk to the judge, tell him to let Ike out on a personal bond. Ike’s never been in trouble before. He’s not down on your books for anything. If he stays locked up, he’s going to fail all his classes at the college, and you’ll be the one to blame.”
Rhodes didn’t feel guilty about Ike being locked up or about the college classes. Nevertheless, Terrell had a point. Ike was just a kid, really, and his record was clean. Letting him out on a personal bond wasn’t a big risk at all since as far as Rhodes knew none of the Terrells had left the county in the last forty years or so, much less the state. Odds were that Ike would come in for his court dates even if he were released.
“I’ll think about it,” Rhodes said. “Maybe it’ll work out.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Terrell said. He stood up, and Rhodes knew it was time for him to go.
“Duffy’ll show you to the gate,” Able said as Rhodes got to his feet.
Rhodes didn’t much care for Duffy’s company, but somebody had to open and close the gate. It might as well be Duffy.
Duffy stood, the AR-15 still in his right hand. “Let’s go, Sheriff,” he said.
“You first,” Rhodes said.
Duffy looked at Able, who nodded. Duffy went to the door, opened it, and went outside.
“You do the right thing by my boy, Sheriff,” Able said.
“I always try to do the right thing.”
“That’s what I’ve heard. We’ll see how it works out this time.”
Rhodes didn’t know what to say to that, so he followed Duffy out the door. Duffy was at the bottom of the steps, and he fell in beside Rhodes as they started toward the gate. Rhodes could still smell dust in the air even though it must have settled back to the road by now. Maybe it was just his imagination.
After they’d walked a few yards, Duffy dropped back, and Rhodes felt the barrel of the AR-15 poke him in the back.
“You know, Sheriff,” Duffy said, “I don’t like you much.”
Rhodes kept on walking. “You aren’t the only one.”
“Yeah, that figures, you being a sheriff and all, but the rest of ’em aren’t here. I am, and I’m the one with the gun. You do what Able said, or you’re gonna be sorry.”
Rhodes didn’t know what Duffy was trying to prove, but Rhodes didn’t like threats, and he wasn’t going to let Duffy get away with one.
Rhodes had made a rookie mistake by coming without backup, though things had turned out all right. Now Duffy had made a mistake by getting too close to Rhodes with the rifle. Rhodes wasn’t going to let that one turn out all right. Not for Duffy, anyway.
Rhodes stopped abruptly. When the rifle poked him in the back, he turned around and grabbed the rifle barrel in his right hand, pushing it up and causing the butt to swing down. He took the butt in his free hand and twisted to the left as hard and quickly as he could. Duffy’s finger made a satisfactory snap, and Rhodes took the rifle from him.
Duffy bent over, his hands clutched at his belt. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Rhodes said. “You’re thinking you like me even less now than you did a few seconds ago, and I don’t blame you a bit. What you have to consider, though, is that you brought this on yourself.”
Duffy stared at him as if he’d like nothing better than to break Rhodes in half like Rhodes had broken his finger. He was strong enough to do it e
asily, but now Rhodes was the one with the rifle.
“You might even be thinking about police brutality,” Rhodes said. “If you are, you ought to be thinking about what a judge would say to a man who was poking the sheriff in the back with an AR-15. I have a feeling he’d have some harsh words for you. Do you want to find out?”
Duffy thought it over. He wasn’t entirely stupid, so it didn’t take him long. “You mean you’re not going to arrest me?”
“I might. I haven’t decided. Maybe you’ve learned an important lesson and won’t do anything stupid again.”
“What if I have?”
“Then we’ll just forget this ever happened. I can understand why you’re upset. Your friend’s son is in jail, and you think I haven’t done enough for him. I said I’d consider talking to the judge. That should be good enough for you. Threats don’t work very well.”
“Yeah, I guess not.”
“You might want to get a splint on that finger. I know you folks don’t go in for doctors, but that’s all one would do for you anyway. You have anything else to say?”
Duffy shook his head. “Can’t think of anything.”
“I’ll be leaving, then,” Rhodes said. “If you ever come to town, you can drop by my office and see about getting your rifle back.”
“You’re taking it with you?”
“That’s right,” Rhodes said. “It’s not that I don’t trust you.” He paused. “Well, I guess that’s not true. It is because I don’t trust you. You’re the one who was poking a gun in my back.”
Duffy just nodded. Rhodes turned his back to him and went to the gate. When he got there, he turned and said, “You going to open this for me, or shall I do it myself?”
Duffy didn’t bother to answer. He turned and went toward the house.
“That’s okay,” Rhodes called after him. “I can let myself out.”
So that’s what he did. Then he locked the rifle in the trunk of the county car and got out of there.
Chapter 11
As Rhodes drove back toward town, he got Hack on the radio and asked for an update on the investigations. Hack told him that both Ruth and Buddy had left reports for him.
“Won’t do you any good, though,” Hack said.
“Why not?”
Rhodes didn’t expect a straight answer, but he got one. More or less.
“’Cause there’s nothing in ’em.”
“There has to be something in them if they’re reports.”
“The somethin’ is nothin’,” Hack said.
“You mean there’s no evidence or information that will help us.”
“That’s what I said.”
Rhodes said that was too bad. He’d hoped that either Ruth would find something in the cars or Buddy would get some information from Wellington’s neighbors. Anything that would help point the investigation in some direction or other would have helped.
“Any problems while I was out of touch?” he asked.
“More loose livestock. Duke and Alton took care of it. Seems like a lot of cattle are on the prowl today. Maybe we’ll get a change in the weather.”
“I thought it was turtles on the prowl that meant a change in the weather,” Rhodes said.
“Cows, turtles, doesn’t matter,” Hack said. “They get on the prowl, there’s gonna be a change. You’ll see.”
“I hope so,” Rhodes said. He was tired of the heat and the dryness. “That all?”
“That’s all. You want another killin’?”
“No thanks. One is more than enough. I’m going home. If you need me, you know where I’ll be.”
“Unless you’re somewhere else. You don’t hardly ever eat supper at home.”
“I’ll have my cell phone with me,” Rhodes said.
“You hate that cell phone.”
“I’m trying to join the twentieth century.”
“You’re one century behind,” Hack said.
“Story of my life,” Rhodes said, and he signed off.
* * *
Before Rhodes could do any more work on the investigation, he had to go home and face Ivy. It might have been a good idea to let her know that another resident had joined the household, but that would have spoiled the surprise. Rhodes hoped the new cat wasn’t too big a surprise. He supposed he’d find out.
He knew things had changed in the house as soon as he got to the door. Yancey almost always came to meet him, but this time he didn’t hear any little toenails on the floor or any excited yipping. He didn’t hear anything at all except a car that passed on the street. He was reminded of the old cliché about things being too quiet.
He opened the door and didn’t see or hear Yancey or anyone else. He knew Ivy was at home. He knew Yancey was in the house. It was too quiet, all right. Rhodes thought maybe he should have gone to the jail and locked the AR-15 up instead of leaving it in the car. Something at the jail might have needed his attention, and he could have stayed there for a while. He could have read the reports that Ruth and Buddy had turned in. Even if they’d told Hack they hadn’t found anything useful, Rhodes might spot something that would help.
He hadn’t gone to the jail, however. He’d come home, and now he had to face the consequences of his actions.
Rhodes walked into the kitchen. Sam was asleep near the refrigerator. Yancey was nowhere in sight. Ivy sat at the table. Something was asleep in her lap. Rhodes didn’t have to ask what it was, but he did anyway.
“Is that a cat in your lap?” he asked. He sneezed.
Ivy reached down and rubbed the cat’s back. “What do you think it is?”
Rhodes looked around the kitchen as if puzzled. “I wonder how it got in here.”
“I’ll just bet you do,” Ivy said.
“Hannah Bigelow thought she had a wild hog in her house today,” Rhodes said. “It came in through the pet door.”
“We don’t have a pet door,” Ivy said.
“I thought maybe you’d had one installed.”
“You might as well give up,” Ivy said. “I know you’re guilty, just like you’re guilty of several other things.” She rubbed the cat’s back. “I forgive you, but I’m not sure Yancey will.”
“Speaking of Yancey,” Rhodes said, “where is he?”
“Under the bed. What’s this cat’s name?”
Rhodes sneezed and admitted that he didn’t know. He explained how he’d come by the cat, not forgetting to add that if he’d left it in Wellington’s apartment it would have starved and if he’d taken it to the shelter it might not have been adopted.
“We couldn’t have that, could we,” Ivy said.
“No,” Rhodes said. “We couldn’t have that.”
“You’re sneezing. I thought you were getting better around Sam, but this new cat is going to be a problem. I suppose you’ll get used to him, too.”
Rhodes sneezed. “I’m sure I will.”
“I’m going to call him Jerry,” Ivy said.
“It’s a boy?”
“Yes. You didn’t even check?”
“I didn’t think about it.”
“He’s been fixed,” Ivy said. “He and Sam get along just fine.”
Rhodes had seen that for himself. “He and Yancey, on the other hand…”
“Yancey will come around.” Ivy paused. “Well, maybe not, but he’ll get used to things. Where are you taking me to dinner to make up for bringing in another stray?”
“Wherever you want to go,” Rhodes said.
“That’s the right answer,” Ivy said.
* * *
Ivy’s choice was Max’s Place for barbecue. Maybe she was getting as tired of meatless meals as Rhodes was. He tactfully didn’t mention the cheeseburger he’d had for lunch. As they drove, Rhodes told her about his day, making it sound a lot less stressful than it had been. She was more curious about Wellington than any of the other events, naturally enough, and she asked about the cause of death.
“We don’t know for sure,” Rhodes said. “I don’t have
an autopsy report yet. We might stop by Ballinger’s after we eat and see if it’s ready.”
Clyde Ballinger ran a local funeral home, and since there was no county morgue, and since Ballinger was a civic-minded kind of guy, he let the county perform autopsies there free of charge.
“We won’t have to look at anything, will we?” Ivy asked. “Not right after we eat.”
“Just the autopsy report. And Clyde Ballinger. He’s not so bad, though. You can probably stand it.”
“I never know when you’re joking.”
“Join the club,” Rhodes said.
When they got to the restaurant, Rhodes could smell the tangy smoke. He could almost taste the barbecue. Max greeted them at the door. As he led them to a table, Rhodes asked how the barbershop chorus was doing. Max sang baritone in the chorus, and he’d been a bit involved in one of Rhodes’s previous investigations.
“We’re doing all right,” Max said. “I think I’ll invite the group to sing here some night. What do you think? Good idea?”
“You let Seepy Benton sing here,” Rhodes said, “so why not the chorus?”
Benton sang bass in the chorus, and he didn’t have a standard lead singer’s voice, but he did have his own YouTube channel. He played guitar and wrote his own songs, and somehow he’d persuaded Max to give him a regular gig at the restaurant. To say that Rhodes wasn’t a big fan of his alleged singing was a considerable understatement, but Ivy seemed to like it, and so did Ruth Grady. Maybe some of the other customers did, too. Rhodes knew there was no accounting for taste, but still …
“Might not be room on the stage for the chorus,” Max said, “but it wouldn’t hurt if we spill off onto the floor. I think I’ll do it.”
“What nights?” Rhodes asked.
They were at their table, and Max held Ivy’s chair for her. An old-fashioned gentleman all the way. Rhodes seated himself.
“Are you asking because you want to come or because you don’t want to come?” Max asked.
Ivy kicked Rhodes’s ankle under the table.
“I want to be sure to hear you sing,” Rhodes said.
