by Bill Crider
“This must be the place,” Rhodes said.
“I’m impressed,” Ivy said. “We should hire a torch to burn our house and then build one like this.”
“Do we have enough insurance?” Rhodes asked.
Ivy worked at an insurance agency, and she kept up with that sort of thing. “I think so, but I’ll check before we do anything. I know a guy whose uncle Charlie’s done some torch jobs. There’s only one problem.”
“And the problem is?”
“Uncle Charlie’s in prison in Oklahoma.”
“Might have to find someone else,” Rhodes said, getting out of the car.
Ivy got out on her side, and they went to the door. Rhodes punched the doorbell and heard chimes on the inside playing a familiar tune. He couldn’t quite bring the name of it to mind, however.
“Aggie War Hymn,” Ivy said.
“That explains the maroon car,” Rhodes said.
The door opened, and a young red-haired woman stood there looking at them. She had an abundance of freckles. Rhodes thought that she was a bit too trusting to open the door to strangers, but maybe she’d seen the county car in the driveway.
“I’m Sheriff Dan Rhodes,” Rhodes said. “Are you Sandi Campbell?”
“That’s right.”
“This is my wife, Ivy,” Rhodes said, introducing her. “We noticed that your doorbell plays the Aggie War Hymn.”
“I’m going to A&M getting my associate’s degree.”
“Great school,” Rhodes said. “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes if that’s all right.”
Sandi knew what he wanted to talk about without his asking. “About Ike?”
“That’s right. It won’t take long.”
“I guess it’s okay. Come on in.”
She opened the door wider, and Rhodes and Ivy went inside. Rhodes asked if her parents were at home.
“Daddy’s at the DQ, checking to make sure things are going all right. Mama’s with him. They’re going to eat burgers there. I don’t much like burgers.”
“The Blizzards are good,” Rhodes said, and Ivy gave him a suspicious look. “So I’ve heard, anyway.”
He and Ivy followed Sandi into the living area. It was immaculate. No books or bookshelves, no knickknacks. The rug didn’t look as if anyone had ever walked on it, and the furniture was all like new, free of pet hair, scratch marks, and any impression that anyone had ever sat on it. Rhodes felt as if he were in some kind of well-cared-for public building.
Sandi asked them to have a seat. The couch didn’t look comfortable, but it was. Rhodes started to brush off his pants before he sat, but he caught himself and didn’t. He hoped he didn’t leave any embarrassing Pomeranian hair on the cushions.
Sandi sat across from them in a big armchair. Rhodes got right to the point.
“I believe you had a little conflict with one of your English teachers,” he said. “Earl Wellington.”
“I thought this was about Ike,” she said.
Something occurred to Rhodes as she spoke, something he should’ve thought of before. Why had Harris picked the incident with Sandi to tell him about? Of all the problems Wellington might have had, why did Harris bring up that one? Could it be that he knew Rhodes would find out who the student was and do exactly what he was doing now? Rhodes thought it was a good possibility. It was the kind of thing that could be used to cast more suspicion on Ike.
“I do want to talk about Ike,” Rhodes told Sandi. “I’ll get to that part. Am I right about the conflict?”
“Wellington was weird,” Sandi said, avoiding a direct answer. Rhodes repressed a sigh. “I mean, I’m sorry he’s dead and all, but it’s the truth. He never looked at you when he talked to you, you know?” Rhodes nodded, and Sandi went on. “He was always saying things to some girl in the class, like what a nice outfit she was wearing or how good her hair looked.”
“How was that weird?” Rhodes asked, who thought “inappropriate” might be a better word.
“It was the way he said it, I guess. It was like something he’d learned, you know?”
By this time Rhodes had figured out that Sandi wasn’t really asking him if he knew, so he didn’t bother to nod.
“Or like a robot,” Sandi said. “You know?”
“His comment to you about being his little speckled friend was like that?”
“How do you know about that?”
“He’s a trained officer of the law,” Ivy said.
Rhodes resisted the impulse to tell her that she was supposed to be watching and learning. He said, “It came up in conversation with several people. How did Ike feel about it?”
“He thought it was insulting. It made him mad, you know?”
Rhodes knew, but he didn’t get a chance to say so because Sandi realized what she’d just told him and tried to backtrack.
“I don’t mean it made him mad mad. Just mad like a little upset, you know? It’s not like he’d want to hurt anybody over something like that.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Rhodes said. “Did he tell you why he was in jail?”
“He did, and it really made me mad. Upset. Whatever. My daddy would have let him have the money to pay his bills, and if Ike didn’t want to take it as a gift, he’d’ve loaned it to him. Ike doesn’t want to take handouts, though. He wants to pay his own way.”
“Burglary’s not a good way to do that,” Rhodes said.
“I know that. Ike does, too. He’s really sorry about it. He made me take him by Mr. Wallace’s shop this afternoon so he could apologize. He said he’d pay Mr. Wallace for the window and everything.”
Rhodes was impressed. Not many people would’ve done that.
“Mr. Wallace was real nice about it,” Sandi said. “He told Ike that he might not even press charges. He said he was going to talk to you about it. Has he called you yet?”
Lonnie hadn’t called, but Rhodes wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Lonnie was a softhearted sort.
“I’ll check with the dispatcher later to see if he’s called the jail,” Rhodes said. “You mentioned that Dr. Wellingon was weird. Don’t you think Ike is a little weird, living away from everybody down there in the compound?”
Sandi shook her head. “He won’t be living there always. He’s not like his daddy and those others. He wants to get out and do things. See things, too. He doesn’t plan to stay there forever.” She paused. “I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t tell anybody that, all right? His daddy doesn’t know.”
“I’m pretty good at keeping secrets,” Rhodes said.
“Thanks. Ike’s really sorry about stealing that hair, you know? It’s partly my fault that he did it.”
“How could it be your fault?”
Rhodes had plenty of experience with people trying to take the blame for the crimes committed by others. He hoped Sandi wouldn’t do that.
“Mr. Wallace does my hair.” She touched a strand of it. “I told Ike about how Mr. Wallace was getting some new things in and how he was trying to grow his business. I guess that’s how Ike got the idea that he could steal the hair and sell it.”
“He could’ve gotten the idea from TV,” Rhodes said, glad to know that Sandi wasn’t really shifting the blame to herself. “There are stories about people stealing hair extensions on the news all the time. It’s an epidemic, like metal thefts.”
“Well, he shouldn’t’ve done it. He knows that now. I hope he won’t have to go to jail.”
“He probably won’t,” Rhodes said.
Ike didn’t have a record, and the things he’d done had all been minor offenses. If Lonnie Wallace didn’t want to press charges, Ike, being a first-time offender, would get off with probation at the worst. Probably he’d get off even if Lonnie did press charges.
“Good,” Sandi said. “He didn’t hurt Dr. Wellington, either. He told me he didn’t.”
“You believed him?”
“Ike doesn’t lie to me. You need to look for whoever did it, because it wasn’t Ike.”<
br />
“You could be right,” Rhodes said.
* * *
Ivy suggested that they have dinner at the Jolly Tamale, and Rhodes was happy to accommodate her. Mexican food wasn’t quite as good as a Blizzard, but it was sure better than vegetarian meat loaf. Rhodes even indulged in a small bowl of chili con queso along with the chips and didn’t feel at all guilty afterward.
In fact, he was feeling pretty good right up until his cell phone rang as he was about to pay the check. He took out the phone, noticing the youthful cashier’s look of amazed contempt at seeing such an antique piece of technology, and answered.
“Tracked you down,” Hack said.
“I wasn’t hiding.”
“Couldn’t get you on the radio. We got a situation.”
Rhodes waited. If it was serious, Hack wouldn’t indulge himself in avoidance. It was serious.
“Got a call that somebody’s stripping the wiring out of a house,” Hack said.
Copper again. Air-conditioner innards and old wiring were favorite targets.
“Shelby answered the call,” Hack said. “He’s on the way, but he prob’ly needs some backup. You never know if those copper thieves are armed. The other deputy’s down in the south end of the county and can’t get there. It’s the old Post place.”
Rhodes knew where that was. He said he’d go and flipped the phone shut.
“I heard that,” Ivy said as they left the restaurant. “Can I go, too?”
“You can go,” Rhodes said. It was practical. The address Hack had given Rhodes was much closer to the restaurant than it was to Rhodes’s house. “You’ll have to stay in the car, though.”
“Maybe we’ll get into a high-speed chase. If we do, can I turn on the siren?”
“Why not?” Rhodes said.
Chapter 19
Andy Shelby was the county’s youngest deputy. He was a graduate of the same police academy that Ruth Grady had attended at a community college near Houston, and he’d done well there. He was new at the job, however, and sometimes apt to make a rash decision. Rhodes hoped he hadn’t made one at the old Post place.
As it turned out, he hadn’t because he hadn’t arrived. Rhodes had been closer, and he pulled to the curb in front of the house as Andy was rounding the corner at the end of the block.
It had gotten dark while Rhodes and Ivy were eating, but Andy hadn’t turned on his car’s headlights. He pulled in behind Rhodes and stopped.
Rhodes unlocked the shotgun from its stand.
“Do you think you’ll need that?” Ivy asked.
“No, but it’ll be a comfort to me.”
“What about me?”
“You’ll have to fend for yourself. Just be sure to keep the doors locked.”
Ivy grinned. “Leave me the keys. If anybody starts toward me, I’m turning on the siren and the light bar. I might even make a run for it.”
Rhodes tossed her the keys, closed the door, and met Andy on the sidewalk, which was buckled and cracked. The Post house was in an old neighborhood, and it sat alone on a quarter of a block. There’d been a fire there some months before, and the place was festooned with NO TRESPASSING signs. The building sat on a high foundation, at least four feet above the ground. It was still intact, but all the window glass was gone, and the openings had been covered with plywood. Boards in the shape of an X had been nailed over the doorways. No one had lived there for at least fifteen years, maybe more like twenty, and Rhodes didn’t recall who owned it now. Maybe some of the Posts’ relatives who lived in some other town. Tall trees stood all around the yard, and bushes had grown up around the foundation.
The whole block was dark. There were a few other houses, but no lights showed in any of them.
“Spooky place,” Andy said. He was a rangy youngster who could’ve used a few more pounds on his frame. “Wonder how anybody got inside.”
“There’s always a way,” Rhodes said, thinking that the boards over the doorways would be all too easy to pull off. “Did Hack mention who called this in?”
“Nope. He did say it was somebody passing by who saw a light. I don’t see one, though.”
“Look down there,” Rhodes said.
At the end of the right side of the house where the plywood wasn’t well attached to one of the windows, a thin shaft of light glowed.
Andy pushed down on the hood that secured his Glock in its holster and drew the sidearm. Rhodes carried a small-caliber pistol in an ankle holster, but he was more comfortable with the shotgun in this situation.
“Let’s see if we can find out how they got in,” Rhodes said. “Must have been the back door.”
He started for the left side of the house. Andy was right behind him. The windows on that side were all dark. Rhodes smelled charred wood, and even in the darkness he could see black blotches on the white paint.
“Whoever’s in there must have a car around here somewhere,” Andy whispered. “Might be someone watching, too.”
Rhodes had thought of both things, but he was glad that Andy had also. He stopped and pointed down toward the end of the block. Past the only other house and across an alley was a vacant lot, covered with bushes.
“Car’s probably in those bushes,” Rhodes said. “Too dark to tell. If there was a lookout, whoever’s inside knows we’re here. We’ll have to be careful.”
“My middle name,” Andy said, even though Rhodes knew that wasn’t the truth. They resumed walking.
Rhodes stopped at the end of the house and looked around the corner. He saw a barbecue pit and a small, high back porch with an iron railing. He also saw movement at the other end of the house, and before he could pull back, two things happened almost simultaneously. There was a gunshot, and a big chunk of wood flew off the corner of the house just above his head. Another shot followed, and the bullet splintered more wood.
“Damn!” Andy cried out.
Splinters in the face, Rhodes thought. “Stay back,” he said, hoping that Andy was listening.
The shooter was too far away for Rhodes to do much damage with the shotgun, but the noise the thing made was impressive and might put a scare in somebody. Rhodes turned the corner, dropping to his knees as he did so, and triggered off a blast. He shot high to miss the porch, and most of the shot went into the roof overhead. Rhodes, hoping the sound was enough to discourage the shooter, ducked back to safety.
He heard someone running down the back steps.
“Let’s get him,” Andy said. He was breathing fast, and Rhodes could almost feel the eagerness pulsing off him. Rhodes put up a hand to caution him not to take off in pursuit too quickly. The shooter might be waiting for that.
Footsteps pounded away from the house. Rhodes thought he could hear at least three people running. There shouldn’t have been any more than that, two in the house and one outside.
“You okay?” he asked Andy.
“Just some scratches,” Andy said.
“Let’s go, then.”
Rhodes and Andy went around the corner, and Rhodes saw two dark figures running across the yard and toward the backyard of the only other house on this side of the block.
“Don’t shoot,” he told Andy.
Rhodes thought the house was occupied, and even if it wasn’t, it was best not to risk a shot. He’d read too many stories about people who were asleep or sitting on a couch watching TV being killed or wounded by stray bullets. Anybody firing on the run was more likely to hit a house than he was to hit a person.
The figures disappeared into the brush in the vacant lot, and Rhodes heard a car start.
“The street,” he said.
He turned and ran toward the side street just in time to see a car break out of the brush and turn down the street away from him. The car lights were off, and so was the streetlight at the end of the block. Rhodes wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been shot out with a pellet rifle before the men started on the house. He couldn’t tell a thing about the car except that it was gray or black. He and Andy stood
in the middle of the road as it sped away.
“Want me to go after them?” Andy asked. He was still breathing hard.
“They have too much of a head start,” Rhodes said, wondering how much adrenaline was still pumping through the young deputy’s body. “You’d never catch them.”
“We stopped them from stripping the house,” Andy said, which was true enough, but Rhodes didn’t see that they’d really accomplished anything by doing it. The house was never going to be used again, and Rhodes thought the city would soon force the owner to demolish it. On the other hand, if they’d caught the potential thieves, they might have stopped some future thefts.
“We did good,” Rhodes said. He gave Andy a pat on the arm. “You did everything right.”
Andy gave a weak laugh. “Well, I have to admit I got a little shook when they started shooting.”
“So did I,” Rhodes said, thinking about the first time he’d been under fire. He’d been weak in the knees for a couple of hours. “Who wouldn’t get a little shook?”
“John Wayne,” Andy said.
Rhodes was gratified that Andy knew the classics. He said, “Only in the movies. Give me your flashlight and let me take a look at your face.”
Andy unclipped the light from his utility belt and handed it to Rhodes, who turned it on and shined it on the deputy’s face. He saw a couple of bloody spots, but no splinters stuck out from the skin.
“After we finish here,” Rhodes said, “you’d better stop by the hospital and get somebody to take a look at you, just to be on the safe side. Right now, we’d better check to see if anybody stayed behind.”
Rhodes kept the flashlight and led the way up the back steps. When he reached the top, he saw that the boards that had been nailed across the doorway were lying on the floor of a small inside room atop broken glass from the windows. The odor of charred wood and smoke was strong even though the fire had been quite a while ago.
Holding the flashlight well away from his body, Rhodes directed the beam into the room beyond. It appeared to have been a kitchen, and Rhodes saw a burned table and some overturned chairs.
Rhodes listened for a minute or so. All he could hear was Andy breathing behind him and the usual noises of the night, a car passing on the street in front of the house and some insects buzzing.
