by Bill Crider
“I always do,” Hack said.
Francine didn’t appear too happy to see Rhodes again, but she was hospitable, as a lady would be. They were in Francine’s kitchen again, and Rhodes was drinking another Dublin Dr Pepper. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist. It wasn’t as if the drink was a bribe or anything like that.
“I didn’t even look at the will, of course.” Francine was dressed as she had been the day before, in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. “I think I told you that.”
Rhodes agreed that she had.
“Whatever she did with her land was none of my concern,” Francine went on. “I believe in minding my own business and not other people’s.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you’d pry. The problem is that the will seems to be missing. Do you have any idea if she made a copy?”
“It would have been easy if she had a computer and scanner, but I don’t think she did. She probably didn’t make a copy. If she did, I haven’t seen it.”
Rhodes had been afraid of that. He supposed it didn’t really matter that the will was missing, since Brant had seen it and had told him the contents, but this loose end bothered Rhodes. And what if Brant wasn’t telling the truth? Not that there was any reason to doubt him, unless there was some truth to the notion that Francine had advanced about Brant’s having killed Mrs. Harris for the gas wells. After all, Rhodes had only Brant’s word about the contents of the will.
Rhodes finished his Dr Pepper and told Francine he’d be seeing her at the meeting of the OWLS.
“I’m looking forward to that,” Francine said.
She was just being polite. Rhodes could tell she didn’t mean it.
Franklin’s Drug was old and shadowy. If you wanted a pack of Beemans pepsin chewing gum or a tube of Brylcreem, it was the place to come.
It was also the place to come if you wanted to drink a cup of coffee in the company of the county’s older male citizens. In the back there were four tables and a big coffeemaker. Rhodes made his way past shelves of toothpaste, razors and shaving cream, and aids to digestion.
The Gadney brothers sat at a table by themselves, and they looked up at Rhodes as if they were expecting him. Clyde Ballinger was at one of the other tables, and he raised his coffee cup to Rhodes.
Rhodes pulled out a chair at the Gadneys’ table and sat down. Both brothers looked as if they might actually use Brylcreem on their hair, which was slicked back and combed down close to their heads. Burl was about Rhodes’s size, but Truck seemed to overflow the chair where he sat.
“Hey, Sheriff,” he said, and Burl echoed him. Both had deep voices like bass singers in a church choir.
“Hey, Truck. Hey, Burl.”
“Clyde says you need to talk to us about the Rusty Nuggets,” Truck said. “Something about Helen Harris.”
“I heard she found something on one of your outings,” Rhodes said. “Something she didn’t want to tell anybody about.”
“That’s right,” Burl said. “We don’t have any hard-and-fast rules about that kind of thing, but the idea is that we all share stories about what we’ve found. It’s kind of like an unwritten rule. Helen flat out refused, and that was after she’d got us all excited.”
“Yeah,” Truck said. “She found something good because we heard her hooting when she did. She was laughing like somebody’d tickled her near ’bout to death. She shut up right quick, though, and then she wouldn’t say another word on the subject.”
“Clyde told me you have a kind of show-and-tell,” Rhodes said.
“That’s right,” Burl said. “At every meeting we have a little display of the finds. They’re divided into categories. There’s a category for U.S. coins, one for buttons, one for foreign coins, one for jewelry. Like that. You get points for a find, and if you have the top find in your category, you get more points. They’re totaled up at the end of the year.”
“And there’s a prize?” Rhodes said.
“Yeah. There’s a prize for the find of the month, too.”
“Helen Harris wouldn’t show or tell, either one,” Truck said. “Not that time. It takes the fun out of it when somebody acts like that.” He paused. “We couldn’t force her to show us.”
Truck sounded as if it had been left up to him, things would have been different.
“We couldn’t legally make her give it up, either,” Burl said. “If we’d been on somebody else’s land, we could have, but this was on her place out near the county line to the east, where they’re drilling those gas wells. Since it was her own property, we couldn’t very well tell her she had to give whatever she found to the owner.”
“Everybody always shares, though,” Truck said. “That’s part of the fun of finding stuff. If somebody holds out, it takes away from the fun. She made a lot of the members pretty mad. Couple of ’em wanted to throw her out of the club.”
“Who?”
Truck looked down at the table and mumbled something about how people ought to follow the rules.
“He was one of ’em that wanted to kick her out,” Burl said. “He was really mad about it.”
Rhodes thought that Truck could have killed Helen Harris with that stool without half trying if he’d been mad enough.
“Have you seen her since that day?” Rhodes said.
Truck continued to look at the table. “Nope. Why do you want to know?”
“Just wondering. Do you have any idea at all what she found?”
“Not the least,” Burl said. “Must’ve been pretty little, though, little enough for her to stick it in her pocket. Or she might have hidden it in the house.”
“Her house?” Rhodes said.
“Well, sure. But that’s not what I meant. We were hunting around the old Tumlinson place. You know where that is?”
Rhodes said that he didn’t.
“It’s an old house on Helen’s land. It’s been vacant for probably fifty years now, but it’s still in decent shape. A fella could live there if he had to and didn’t mind going without plumbing and air-conditioning and the like. There’s even an old water well. Places like that, you can find some good stuff now and then. Old coins and things.”
“You think Helen found a coin or something like that?”
“Don’t know. I wish I did.”
Rhodes talked to the brothers for a while longer, but he didn’t get any more out of them. Truck wouldn’t say much, and Burl didn’t know any more than he’d already told.
The only thing Rhodes was sure of was that the more he learned about Helen Harris, the less he knew.
He told the brothers he appreciated their help, spoke to Clyde Ballinger, and left.
Chapter 15
THE SIGN IN FRONT OF THE ROUND-UP MADE THE RESTAURANT’S mission clear: ABSOLUTELY NO CHICKEN, FISH, OR VEGETARIAN DISHES CAN BE FOUND ON OUR MENU!
If you liked beef, you were in for a treat. If you didn’t, you were out of luck. Or you could order TODAY’S SPECIAL: GIANT BAKED POTATO STUFFED WITH BBQ BEEF, CHEESE, SOUR CREAM, BACON, AND GREEN ONIONS and then try removing the beef. Rhodes didn’t think that had ever been done, however.
The asphalt parking lot was crowded with cars, and Rhodes had to park a good distance from the door. The open spots in the lot were dotted with puddles from the previous night’s rain. Rhodes watched where he was going because he didn’t want to get his shoes wet.
He negotiated the distance successfully, and when he went inside the restaurant, he was greeted by Mary Jo Colley, who said, “I hope you’re not here to start a riot, Sheriff.”
Mary Jo was a waitress at the Round-Up, and she’d been on the edges of the investigation Rhodes had made when the mammoth had been found. That investigation had involved a little fracas at the Round-Up.
“I’m just here to see the Red Hat ladies,” Rhodes said.
Mary Jo rolled her eyes. “That bunch. They’re in the party room, and they’re about as rowdy as those Bigfoot hunters you tangled with a while back.”
“Let’s hope no
t.” Rhodes remembered the night he and the Bigfoot hunters had gotten into it.
Mary Jo laughed and led him through the noisy restaurant to the party room. She opened one of the double doors, and Rhodes could hear all the loud talk. Mary Jo turned to him with an I-told-you-so look, and he went inside.
He’d never seen so many red hats and purple dresses in one place, and Mary Jo had been right in comparing the Red Hats with the Bigfoot hunters as to the noise they made. The women were laughing, talking, and gesturing, and Rhodes was pretty sure an elephant could have strolled into the room without attracting much notice. Someone as insignificant as the county sheriff attracted no notice at all. Mary Jo closed the door and left Rhodes to do whatever he could.
Rhodes looked around until he spotted Thelma Rice. Her round hat was among the largest in the room. It looked a little bit as if a red flying saucer had landed on her head. Rhodes tried to get her attention by waving, but she was so involved in her conversation with the other women at her table that she didn’t even glance his way. He felt like an invisible man, which made him a little uncomfortable. He shook off the feeling, walked over to the table, and tapped Thelma on the shoulder.
“Look out, Thelma,” one of the other women said when she saw who was standing there. “The law’s finally caught up with you.”
The rest of the room was so full of chatter that Rhodes had to strain to make out the words. He smiled at Thelma to show that he wasn’t there to arrest her and said that he’d like to talk to the group about Helen Harris.
“You’ll have to get their attention,” Thelma said. She was short and wore big glasses with round lenses.
Hearing the dull roar of the conversation and laughter all around, Rhodes thought that firing a shotgun into the ceiling might be the only way, but he didn’t think the Round-Up’s owner would approve.
Seeing that he was helpless, Thelma said, “I’ll do it.”
She stood up and gave Rhodes her hand. He didn’t know why, but he took it anyway. Taking a firm grip on his fingers, Thelma pulled her purple dress up a bit and stepped on the chair where she’d been sitting. Even when she straightened to her full height on the chair seat, she wasn’t more than a couple of inches taller than Rhodes, and that was including the hat.
Thelma let go of Rhodes’s hand and put the thumb and index finger of her right hand to the corners of her mouth. She took a deep breath and then whistled so shrilly that Rhodes thought half the dogs in Clearview must have heard her. He wished he could whistle like that. He’d tried to learn the skill, but he’d never had much success. The talk and laughter stopped at once, and everyone looked at Thelma.
“The sheriff has something to say,” she told them, and reached for Rhodes’s hand again.
He stuck it out, and she grabbed it. She stepped down and sat at the table, leaving Rhodes the center of attention.
“Most of you know that Helen Harris died yesterday,” he said, and all the nods set red hats bobbing all over the room. “I’m investigating her death, and there are a few things that need clearing up. I’d like to talk to anyone who knew her well.”
Everyone started babbling again. Thelma Rice reached out and tugged at Rhodes’s shirt. “I knew her better than anybody here. Where can we talk?”
“Follow me,” Rhodes said.
They went out into the main section of the restaurant, where people were actually eating instead of visiting. Rhodes looked around at all the stuffed animal heads on the walls. Those had given more than a little trouble in the past, but they seemed to be anchored safely enough now.
Rhodes led Thelma into the office of the restaurant’s owner. He was out making the rounds of the tables, chatting up the regulars and welcoming the newcomers, and he wouldn’t mind if Rhodes used the office.
“What do you want to know?” Thelma asked when Rhodes had closed the door and shut out some of the restaurant clamor.
“I’d like to know if Mrs. Harris had any enemies,” Rhodes said. “Or if she’d had trouble with anybody in your group.”
“Why the Red Hats? Helen was in a lot of organizations. If you could call us organized. Are you going to ask the same thing at the OWLS meeting?”
“Yes. I’m not picking on anybody.”
“Well, I can tell you right now that Helen was well liked in both groups. For the most part. Like anybody, she had her detractors, but she wasn’t ever in any big arguments, if you don’t count the one with Lily Gadney.”
Lily Gadney was Truck’s wife. Rhodes hadn’t seen her among the Red Hats.
“She’s in the OWLS,” Thelma told him. “Not the Red Hats. Schoolteachers prefer a reading group. She and Helen had quite a fuss at the last meeting. I thought it might get nasty, but we got them calmed down.”
“They were arguing about the book selection?”
Thelma gave Rhodes a coquettish look from under the brim of her red hat. “I think you know better than that, Sheriff. You’re the kind of man who always knows more than he’s letting on.”
Rhodes wished that were the case. The truth of the matter was that most of the time he felt as if he knew a lot less than he was letting on. In this case, however, he was acting a little more naive than he actually was.
“Could it have been about something Mrs. Harris found?”
“See? You knew all a long.”
“Tell me about the fuss,” Rhodes said without acknowledging that he’d known a thing.
“It got a little loud.” Thelma touched her hat brim. “I know what you’re thinking. We’re a noisy bunch, but that’s the Red Hats. The OWLS aren’t like that, though. We meet in the library, and we’re very well behaved. We don’t want to disturb anybody, but Helen and Lily certainly did. I was worried that we might get kicked out and told not to come back. So was Francine Oates. I thought she was going to have a stroke.”
Francine hadn’t mentioned the argument to Rhodes, but he could understand why she’d be upset. Loud arguments in the library wouldn’t fit into her ladylike view of the world. Rhodes was sorry that Ivy hadn’t been at that meeting to tell him about the argument.
“Do you remember anything specific that was said?”
“Not really.” Thelma grinned as if thinking about the little tiff was a pleasant memory. “Well, I remember a little, I guess. I think it was about something that Helen found at the old Tumlinson place.”
Rhodes would really have liked to know what it was that Helen had found. “You didn’t happen to hear what it was, I suppose.”
“No. Is that important?”
“It might be.”
“Lily was upset, whatever it was. It was a real fracas, and it bothered all of us, especially Francine. I thought she was going to cry. Anyway, Helen said something like ‘finders, keepers’ and Lily called her a name, and that started it all. I had to stand between them because I thought it might get rough.”
Rhodes wished more than ever that he had some idea what Mrs. Harris had found. He also wished he knew why Lily Gadney would be so upset by whatever it was, and he wondered even more why Truck hadn’t mentioned anything about the little set-to. He promised himself that he’d find out after he’d finished talking to the members of the OWLS.
“You’re definitely coming to the meeting of the OWLS?” Thelma said.
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. We’re all really looking forward to seeing you.”
Rhodes couldn’t figure out why, and Thelma wouldn’t tell him. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he’d find the answer all too soon.
Chapter 16
THE CLEARVIEW LIBRARY WAS AN IMPRESSIVE WHITE STONE building built with money donated by a Houston philanthropist. Neither the city nor the county would have been able to afford such a place, and most readers in Clearview were quite pleased to have it in their town.
Rhodes remembered an earlier building that had been almost as nice, but the shifting clay soil of Blacklin County had caused the foundation to crack during a prolonged drought. The walls had soon cr
acked like the foundation, and the new building had been constructed to take its place. Rhodes hoped it was going to prove sturdier than the old one had been.
Being warm in winter and cool in summer, the library was almost as popular with the Browns as the hospital, but because it didn’t offer free food or television, they had to content themselves with the computers. The library had instituted a policy limiting its patrons to thirty minutes of computer use, unless no one was waiting. The policy had worked out well enough. The Browns were happy with thirty minutes. They’d just get back in line for another turn. Rhodes had no idea what they used the computers for, and he thought that was no doubt just as well.
Rhodes saw a couple of the Browns tapping away on the keyboards when he entered the library that afternoon. He was uncomfortably full, having taken advantage of the Round-Up’s lunch special. The baked potato had not been appreciably smaller than an official NFL football. Rhodes didn’t plan to mention to Ivy that he’d eaten it, which he had. Most of it, anyway. And he certainly hadn’t tried to remove the beef.
The OWLS were in one of the library’s meeting rooms. On his way there, Rhodes passed the circulation desk and waved to Karen Sandstrom, someone else who had been involved in the case of the mammoth bones. One thing about being sheriff in a small county, Rhodes thought, was that you never stopped running into people you’d met in your line of work. That wasn’t always a good thing, though in this case it was.
As Thelma Rice had said, the OWLS weren’t as noisy as the Red Hats. There weren’t as many of them, for one thing, though several still wore the same outfits they’d had on in the Round-Up.
Thelma got up and crossed the room to meet Rhodes at the door. “We’re really pleased that you’re here, Sheriff. Come on in.”
Rhodes allowed himself to be led to a table in the front of the room. A small lectern sat on the table, and when Thelma stood behind it, no one in the room could see her.
Rhodes was a little disappointed at the near silence. He had hoped that Thelma would have to whistle again. He thought about asking her to teach him how to whistle like that but rejected the idea as hopeless. Some people just weren’t musically talented, and he was one of them.
