Survivors Will Be Shot Again

by Bill Crider

  Rhodes turned around. “Where did you come from?”

  Seepy pointed behind him. “From up there. You didn’t come back, and I got worried. I thought I’d better check to make sure the alligator didn’t get you.”

  Rhodes sighed.

  “Are you all right, Ruth?” Seepy asked.

  “I’m fine,” Ruth said. “Maybe my pride is bruised a little bit.”

  “Not much we can do about the gator now,” Alton said. “It’s bound to be in the creek.”

  “If it gets out and eats somebody’s cow, they’re not going to be happy,” Seepy said.

  “It’s too little to eat a cow,” Alton said. “A dog, maybe, it could handle. Besides, it’ll have plenty of food in the creek; turtles, fish, stuff like that. If we’re lucky, it won’t come out on the bank again. And if it does, maybe it won’t be in this county.”

  Rhodes didn’t like the idea of letting someone else clean up his mess, but he didn’t see any other way to handle it. The gator wasn’t in sight, and he wasn’t going to ask Alton to go in the water and look for it. If it turned up in somebody’s stock tank later on, they’d have to go after it, but maybe that wouldn’t happen.

  “All right,” Rhodes said. “We’ll just leave it like it is for now. Buddy, I want you to stay down here and hide out to watch the marijuana patch. I’ll send Duke to relieve you later on. I doubt that anybody will show up. If they’ve heard about Melvin Hunt’s murder, they’ll stay away for good.”

  “Okay,” Buddy said.

  “You can park your car up behind the barn,” Rhodes said. “You’ll have to walk back down here.”

  “No problem.”

  “If you see the alligator,” Rhodes said, “give Hack a call.”

  “You can count on that,” Buddy said.

  * * *

  Rhodes had two stops to make in town, three if he counted lunch, but it was already too late for lunch. He supposed it didn’t matter. He’d missed so many lunches in the last few years that he’d given up trying to keep up with how many there had been. He didn’t mind missing the lunches as much as he minded not losing any weight when he missed them. It seemed only fair that a man who missed as many meals as he did would lose weight. Or if not weight, a few inches around the waist. Neither one had happened.

  Not that he was fat. It was just that he wasn’t skinny, like Buddy. And as far as Rhodes knew, Buddy had never missed a meal in his life. Yet there he was, not much bigger around than a cedar fence post, whereas Rhodes was going to have to loosen his belt another notch if things didn’t change pretty soon. He supposed that was okay. There were a couple of notches left.

  Will Smalls lived on the south side of Clearview, on a little side street with older houses that all looked a lot alike. Rhodes parked in front of the house where he’d left Joyce the previous evening. The house was small, with a neat yard that Rhodes envied. He didn’t envy the work that went into keeping it neat, however. He wasn’t fond of working in the yard, not that he ever had time to do anything like that even if he had enjoyed it.

  Rhodes stepped up on the little porch and knocked on the door. Ellen Smalls opened it after a few seconds.

  “Good afternoon, Sheriff,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

  Ellen Smalls suited the last name she’d taken when she married Will. She was only a few inches over five feet tall, unlike her larger sister, and she was whippet thin. Rhodes suspected that she ate as many meals as Buddy did, probably plenty of rich foods, too. Had ice cream for dessert several times a week. Some people just had a high metabolism.

  “I’d like to talk to Will,” Rhodes said.

  “He’s not home. He’s staying down at Joyce’s house for a while.”

  “That’s what I wanted talk to him about. Did he say why he was doing that?”

  “Said he needed to take care of the dogs. Jackie and Gus-Gus. They’re sweet boys, and they need somebody to look after them. They don’t need to be cooped up in a barn all the time.”

  Rhodes agreed with that, at least, but he didn’t think that was the only reason Will was staying there.

  “Besides,” Ellen continued, “what with all the stealing that’s been going on down there, Will didn’t think it was a good idea for the house to be left without somebody in it.”

  That wasn’t a bad reason, either, but Rhodes was still suspicious. Will had told him it was all Joyce’s idea for him to be at her house.

  “Is Joyce here?” Rhodes asked.

  “No, she’s at the funeral home making the arrangements for Melvin. I’d have gone with her, but I don’t like to leave the house with nobody in it. Those thieves could show up here any time at all and kill me like they did poor Melvin. It’s so sad that something like that could happen to him. Have you caught the person who killed him?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I hope you do. It’s not right that the killer could be loose right here in Clearview. Who knows who he might kill next?”

  Rhodes said he hoped nobody else would be killed. He thanked Ellen for her help, though she hadn’t been any help at all, and left. He thought about getting a hamburger on the way to Riley Farmer’s house but decided against it, even though Riley lived near the Dairy Queen and a Jalitos Ranch Burger would really hit the spot. Sometimes a man had to make sacrifices, though it seemed to Rhodes that he was making more than his share.

  Riley lived on the other side of town, not too far from the water tower. Rhodes had spent some time around that area when Seepy Benton had helped him out with the ghost-hunting case, but he hadn’t run into Farmer. It was an older section of town, even older than the one where the Smallses lived. Farmer lived on a street that once had been somewhat fashionable. A doctor had lived in the house next door to Farmer long ago, but no one had lived there for years. The doctor had died, and his family had simply boarded up the house after cleaning it out. Weeds and bushes and trees had grown and multiplied and swallowed up the house. It was hardly visible from the street, and most passersby probably didn’t even know it was there. Farmer’s house, while it wasn’t hidden by shrubbery, wasn’t in prime condition, and his lawn was mostly dead weeds.

  Rhodes parked in the street, got out of the Tahoe, and walked up two concrete steps to the cracked sidewalk leading to the sagging porch. The screen door didn’t fit into the frame, and it sagged, too. The windows were covered with venetian blinds that didn’t hang any better than the screen did.

  Rhodes couldn’t see into the house. He knocked on the door and waited. Nobody responded, and Rhodes looked off to the side at the old pickup sitting in the driveway. Unless he was off with someone else, Farmer was at home, so he should have come to the door. Rhodes knocked again.

  Once again there was no answer.

  Rhodes walked over to the pickup, a Chevrolet from the previous century, and glanced into the bed, which was empty. He looked through the window on the driver’s side but saw nothing unusual. The window was open, so Rhodes reached through and honked the horn. That should get Farmer’s attention.

  It didn’t, or if it did, Farmer wasn’t going to show himself to Rhodes. After waiting for a minute or so, Rhodes went on around to the back of the house. The backyard looked better than the front, and in the detached garage sat an old pickup. Or it sort of sat in the garage. It didn’t quite fit. The back end stuck out into the driveway for a yard or more.

  Rhodes went to the back door and knocked on it. Nobody responded, but Rhodes thought he heard a cat howling inside. He thought about that for a while. Did a howling cat give him a sufficient legal reason to enter the house? He thought over some possible rationalizations and decided that the owner of the cat might well be incapacitated. Farmer could have had a heart attack or a stroke. He might have fallen and hit his head.

  Rhodes opened the screen and tried the knob on the back door. It turned easily. Farmer wasn’t worried that anyone was going to rob him. Rhodes gave the door a little push, and it opened slowly, whining a bit on its hinges.

 
As soon as there was room, a gray tabby cat shot out past the door, its tail puffed out and a ridge of hair standing up on its back. It fled across the backyard, ran into a hedge, and disappeared. Rhodes was starting to get a bad feeling about things, but he waited until the door was all the way open before calling Farmer’s name. When there was no answer, Rhodes went on inside.

  The little kitchen where he found himself was clean. No dishes stacked in the sink, no dirt on the floor, no dust on the breakfast table, or none that Rhodes could see. The top of the small gas range was clean. Farmer was a good housekeeper even if his yard and the house itself didn’t show any care.

  To the right was an entrance to a hallway. Rhodes went into the hall. A bathroom was in front of him. To his right was a bedroom, and another bedroom was to his left. In front of the left-hand bedroom was the living room. Like the Hunts, Farmer had a big new flat-screen TV set. Rhodes walked through the house looking around, but Farmer wasn’t there. The house had the feeling that houses do when no one is home. In a way that was a relief. Rhodes had half expected to find Farmer’s body.

  Rhodes went back outside and closed the door. The cat was nowhere to be seen, but it would probably show up again when it got hungry. Maybe Farmer would be back from wherever he’d gone in time to feed it. Before he went back around to the front, Rhodes took a look in the garage to see why the pickup didn’t fit it.

  The garage was small to start with, having been built early in the previous century when cars weren’t as wide or long as they’d become. It wouldn’t be easy for Farmer to open the door and get in and out of the pickup, but he must have been able to manage it.

  The pickup wouldn’t fit in the garage because most of the space was taken up by gasoline-powered mowers that sat on the dirt floor in various stages of disassembly. A shelf attached to the wall held some greasy rags and tools. Farmer was a tinkerer, and Rhodes recalled that he made a little money by repairing old power mowers for a fee. He also took in mowers that people wanted to get rid of, fixed them up, and sold them. It brought in a little money. Not enough money to afford a new big-screen TV, however. Maybe he had other sources of income.

  Rhodes left the garage and walked back around to the front of the house, where a man was standing on the sidewalk.

  “Hey, Sheriff,” the man said.

  He was tall and skinny, with thin white hair and droopy, clean-shaven cheeks. He looked about a hundred years old. Rhodes thought he knew him, but he wasn’t quite sure.

  “I’m Harry Garrett,” the man said. His voice sounded a little husky, as if he didn’t do much talking. “Used to cut your hair when you were a just a little shaver.” He chuckled. “Little shaver. Some barber humor for you there.”

  Rhodes recognized the man now. He hadn’t seen him in many years, not since the barbershop had closed. There wasn’t a barbershop in Clearview now, at least not one like Garrett had owned, three chairs, two barbers most of the time, and on the weekends you could even get a shoeshine. For a second Rhodes had a flashback to sitting on a board set between the two arms of the big barber chair, the smell of shaving cream and hair tonic and talcum powder filling the air.

  “Good to see you, Mr. Garrett,” Rhodes said.

  “Just call me Harry. Good name for a barber, don’t you think?”

  Rhodes smiled. “A little more barber humor?”

  “Right you are. Been a long time since I saw you last. I live across the street there.” He pointed to a neat little house that was as old as Farmer’s but in much better shape. “I don’t get out a lot since I quit cutting hair. Mostly sit at home and watch TV. You watch a lot of TV?”

  “Not much,” Rhodes said.

  “I do. Watch all the time. I like the game shows on the cable. My wife likes the soap operas, but there’s not many of those left. We got two TVs, so we don’t have any fights about it. I just go in the bedroom when the soaps come on and watch my shows in there. You ever watch the soaps?”

  “Never had time,” Rhodes said.

  “Didn’t think so,” Harry said. “Anyway, the soaps aren’t what I came over here to talk about. You looking for Riley?”

  “Yes, I am. Have you seen him?”

  “Yep. Don’t see much of him. Too busy watching TV. That Family Feud is pretty good, but I like The Chase, too.”

  “I’m sure they’re good,” Rhodes said. “But have you seen Farmer recently?”

  “That’s what I came over here to tell you, ’cause I figured you were looking for him. I saw him a couple of days ago. It was late in the day. He went off with somebody. Didn’t ever see him come back.”

  “Do you know who he went off with?”

  “Nope. Just some pickup truck was all I saw.”

  “What kind of pickup?”

  “Don’t know one from the other. Lots of those around. Seems like everybody in town has one.”

  “Was it new? Old? Did you notice the color?”

  “I don’t see as good as I once did,” Harry said. “I can see well enough to watch TV, though. I like those game shows. Anyhow, I thought you’d want to know Farmer was gone, since you were looking for him.”

  “I appreciate you telling me,” Rhodes said.

  “Glad to help out. It was just an accident that I saw him go off. Like I said, I don’t get out much. Wouldn’t have seen him leave if it hadn’t been for me coming out to pick up the newspaper. He might’ve come back and I just missed him, but since you were looking for him, maybe he didn’t.”

  Garrett turned to leave. He took a couple of steps, but then he stopped and turned back around.

  “Come here, Sheriff,” he said. “Let me get a look at your head.”

  “My head?”

  “I’ll take a look at your haircut. Give you a little free barberly advice.”

  Rhodes wasn’t sure he wanted any barberly advice, free or not, but since Garrett had helped him out a little, he walked over to where the retired barber stood.

  Garrett crossed his right arm over his stomach, rested his left elbow on his hand, and fingered his chin with his left forefinger and thumb as he gave Rhodes the once-over.

  “Not bad,” Garrett said. “Lemme see the back.”

  Rhodes turned around.

  “Got a little thin spot back there,” Garrett said.

  “I know,” Rhodes said.

  “Might try some of that Minoxidil on it. Could work. You never know.”

  “I don’t think so,” Rhodes said.

  Garrett dropped his arms to his side. “I guess not. Anyway, like I said, not bad. Not like a real barbershop haircut, but I guess it’ll do.”

  “I hope so,” Rhodes said. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Glad to do it. I gotta get back now. Don’t want to miss too much of Family Feud.”

  “I can’t blame you for that,” Rhodes said.

  As Garrett returned to his house, Rhodes thought about the situation. He didn’t know what to make of the information about Farmer. The fact that he’d gone off with someone and hadn’t come back didn’t have to mean anything sinister. On the other hand, Rhodes didn’t think people just went off with someone, leaving the house open, and didn’t come back. He didn’t know anyone who was related to Farmer, so he didn’t know who to call about him. His best friend was Melvin Hunt, and he wasn’t going to be any help. Maybe Joyce would know something.

  Rhodes got in the Tahoe and started back across town. It would be a good idea to go by the jail and check in to see what was going on around the county before he talked to Joyce. He had a lot more to worry about than Hunt’s murder, and though that was the most important, he couldn’t neglect the other parts of his job, even if they were insignificant. The voters, he knew, would never forgive him if he did.

  Chapter 14

  When Rhodes got to the jail, Hack and Lawton were laughing about something. That was a bad sign. Jennifer Loam was there, too, an even worse sign, and she was laughing with them. Rhodes didn’t know what they found so amusing, but he was sure it would b
e on the Internet very soon.

  “Hey, Sheriff,” Jennifer said when Rhodes came in.

  She was young and blond and very bright. Her Web site was probably already making more money than the local newspaper. The owners probably regretted letting her go when they’d downsized.

  Rhodes greeted her. He went to his desk, sat down, and asked what the laughter was all about, knowing that Hack and Lawton would try to make him drag it out of them. He hoped that Jennifer might spill the beans and tell him immediately.

  She didn’t, and Rhodes thought, not for the first time, that she had fallen in with Hack and Lawton in their conspiracy against him.

  “It’s about the Baldwins,” Hack said. “You know the Baldwins?”

  “Retired schoolteachers?” Rhodes said.

  “That’s them. They had a problem.”

  “Not them, exactly,” Lawton said.

  Hack shot him a look. When Hack started telling a story, he regarded it as his alone and didn’t like to be interrupted, much less by Lawton. Lawton just grinned. He enjoyed raising Hack’s temperature.

  “Did they need our help?” Rhodes asked.

  “Sure enough did,” Hack said, looking back to Rhodes. “They said they’d been robbed, like all those folks in the southeast part of the county.”

  Rhodes tried to remember where the Baldwins lived. On a hill out from Mount Industry, he thought, not too far from the chicken farms that had caused so much trouble not long ago. Hundreds of thousands of chickens can make a big stink, and the Baldwins had been some of the chief complainers in the past. The problem had been settled temporarily, but the complaints had started again. Bad odors weren’t Rhodes’s job, however, but burglary was.

  “They wasn’t robbed, exactly,” Lawton said.

  This time Hack did more than look. “Who’s tellin’ this story?”

  “You are,” Lawton said.

  “That’s right.” Hack turned back to Rhodes. “What was it I was sayin’?”

  “Baldwins. Robbery.”

  “Yeah. They called to say they’d been robbed. Well, not they. It was Mrs. Baldwin that called. She taught in the grammar school. That’s what we used to call it, anyway. What do they call it now?”