by Bill Crider
Aluminum had been rising in value, too, and the main target of the thieves in that case was rain gutters. Rhodes had investigated a couple of drive-by gutter thefts in which someone would wheel a pickup into a front yard and an accomplice standing in the bed would rip the gutters right off the fascias on the house. The pickup would drive away in seconds with the gutters in the bed.
Some scrap dealers never reported nonferrous metals when they bought them, but Sizemore had almost always done it, at least as far as Rhodes was aware. Sizemore had slipped up only once, and that had been because he’d trusted a friend who’d told him that the metal he was selling was all his own property. It hadn’t been, and he’d been caught stealing more.
Sizemore had been brought before a grand jury, but he wasn’t indicted. Nobody had ever believed he was guilty of anything, but the friend was still serving time in some prison unit or other.
Rhodes hadn’t intended to be funny by reminding Sizemore of the incident. He wanted the scrap dealer to be a little off balance and to be honest with him.
“Sorry,” Rhodes said, though he wasn’t. “I didn’t come here to talk about scrap anyway. I want to ask something about Lloyd Berry.”
Sizemore didn’t ask Rhodes to sit down, but Rhodes sat anyway, in a rickety ladder-back chair that was the only place available.
“What about Lloyd?” Sizemore said. “I’d help you if I could, but I’ve told you about how I found him. I don’t know anything else.”
“It’s about that music he was buying,” Rhodes said. “I was wondering about that.”
“We had an argument about it. I told you that, too. I’m not somebody who likes to spend the club’s money without a good reason.”
“Lloyd had a good reason. He wanted the club to have legal copies of the songs. So I thought there might be more to the story than that.”
Sizemore folded his hands on top of the papers on his desk and looked down at them. “There’s not anything else to tell,” he said, but Rhodes didn’t believe him.
“Cecil Marsh thinks you suspected Lloyd of taking the club’s money for himself,” Rhodes said.
“Cecil. He always thinks he knows more than anybody else, but he doesn’t know anything.”
Rhodes waited to see if Darrel would continue with that line of thought, but he didn’t.
“You want to explain that?” Rhodes said.
“One thing he doesn’t know is who sent that valentine to Lindy Gomez.”
“Maybe he did that himself,” Rhodes said.
“Maybe he did.” Darrel’s tone was skeptical.
“Right now,” Rhodes said, “I’d rather hear if you think Lloyd was stealing from the chorus.”
“I never said he was.”
“Just tell me about it,” Rhodes said. “Make it easy on both of us.”
Sizemore sat quietly for a while, looking at his hands. Rhodes didn’t say anything, either. Finally Sizemore looked up.
“Okay,” he said. “Here’s the deal. I thought Lloyd was spending too much money on music mainly because I didn’t see the music. He’d give me receipts, but when it was time to practice, he’d say he forgot to bring the new music or that the company had sent the wrong songs and he’d had to send them back. He kept stalling around like that, and I wanted to get a better accounting.”
“You never did, though.”
“I never did. I don’t know why Lloyd would need money. It wasn’t that much, just a few hundred dollars. It meant more to the club than it would have to Lloyd.”
“Unless his business wasn’t doing well,” Rhodes said. “Maybe he was having problems.”
“Two or three hundred dollars wouldn’t help if that was the case.”
True. So why would Lloyd have taken the money? Maybe the excuses he’d given Darrel were actually the truth. Or maybe not. Rhodes hadn’t seen any stacks of new music when he’d searched the house.
“Lloyd must have been mighty offended when you accused him of stealing,” Rhodes said.
“I never accused him of it.”
“You hinted at it, though. Cecil Marsh caught it. You could have said more to Lloyd in private.”
“If you think Lloyd and I got into a fight and then I conked him on the head, you’re all wrong. I could never do a thing like that.”
Sizemore might not have been mentally capable, Rhodes thought, but the physical act would have been easy for him.
“I’m not accusing you,” Rhodes said. “Just wondering if you and Lloyd had discussed it at any length.”
“We might have if he hadn’t been dead when I got there,” Sizemore said, “but he was.”
A bell rang on the wall behind Rhodes, and Sizemore said, “Somebody’s on the scale. I know you have a job to do, Sheriff, but I have to earn a living, too.”
Rhodes took the hint and left. He wasn’t going to get any more out of Darrel anyway. Besides, he was hungry. He wasn’t going to miss lunch two days in a row, so he went to the Dairy Queen and had a Heath Bar Blizzard. It wasn’t exactly a balanced meal, but it was exactly what he wanted.
Fortified by the Blizzard, Rhodes drove to the jail. He wondered if Jennifer Loam had escaped Hack and Lawton, and he wanted to find out what else was going on in the county. As Roseanne Roseannadanna used to say, it was always something.
16
JENNIFER LOAM HAD ESCAPED THEIR CLUTCHES, BUT HACK AND Lawton were primed for another victim. The big news was that the man doing the jumping jacks in the nude had returned to the Lawj Mahal.
“He wasn’t wearin’ a jockstrap this time, though,” Hack said.
“Nope,” Lawton said. “He’s a lot more fashionable now.”
Both men were grinning like possums eating persimmons, so Rhodes knew the story had taken a bizarre turn, as if it weren’t bizarre enough already.
“How does fashion enter into it?” Rhodes said.
“Not so much fashion,” Hack said, “as style. Ain’t that right, Lawton?”
“That’s right. Style. I shouldn’t’ve said fashion. It’s definitely style we’re talkin’ about here.”
Rhodes hated to break up the act, but he figured they’d had their fun with Jennifer Loam and could afford to cut things short.
“What was he wearing?” he said.
Sometimes Hack and Lawton would respond to a direct question with a direct answer, though not always. This time they were willing.
“Panty hose,” Hack said. “And heels.”
“Stilettos?” Rhodes said.
“Nope,” Lawton said. “Not that kind of heels.”
“What kind, then?”
“Cowboy boots,” Hack said. “You can bet Buddy burned rubber when he got the call, but the fella was gone by the time Buddy got there.”
“And nobody recognized him?”
“Nobody’s lookin’ at his face,” Lawton said. “There’s not that many people downtown anyway, and it’s the getup that grabs the attention of the ones that are, not the fella’s face.”
“Have Buddy talk to Lawless about it,” Rhodes said. “I think Lawless knows more than he’s telling us.”
“He hasn’t told us anything,” Hack said.
“That’s what I mean. He must know why somebody would pull a stunt like that. He might even know who it is.”
“He won’t tell if it’s a client. Anyway, whoever the fella is, that’s the most excitin’ thing to happen downtown since the last building collapsed.”
“That’s a pretty sad commentary,” Rhodes said.
“Yeah, but that’s the way it is. I hope the fella gets away with it.”
“Lots more important stuff for us to worry about,” Lawton said.
“Like Lloyd Berry,” Rhodes said. “I think I’ll work on that a little more.”
“You mean you don’t have anybody arrested for that yet?”
“You’ll be the first to know when I do,” Rhodes said. He stood up and started for the door.
“Where you goin’?” Hack said.
; “School,” Rhodes said.
Clearview Elementary, HOME OF THE CATAMOUNT CUBS! according to the marquee out front, was located on the northeast side of town, not too far from the local cemetery. It was a new building, or at least not a very old one, with a lot of amenities that had been missing in the school Rhodes had attended, which of c-ourse had been torn down years ago. A housing development had sprung up on the old playground where Rhodes had played softball and touch football.
Rhodes parked in a slot marked VISITORS in the school parking lot, thinking that almost everywhere he’d been lately had reminded him of somewhere else, somewhere that either didn’t exist anymore or wouldn’t be around for much longer. He was beginning to feel like an exhibit in Jurassic Park.
The security in the school building only made that feeling grow stronger. When Rhodes was a youngster, parents and friends could come to the school, walk through the front door, and go straight to a classroom. Not anymore. Even the county sheriff had to stop by the principal’s office, get a visitor’s badge, and stick it on his shirt.
That is, that’s what he’d have to do if he were planning to visit a classroom. Rhodes wasn’t there to do that. He was there to see the principal, and for some reason he felt a little wary, the way he’d always felt when he was sent to the principal’s office. He looked around and saw the administrative assistant, whose name badge said she was Connie Calder. She recognized Rhodes at once.
“Hello, Sheriff. I read your book.”
Rhodes was puzzled for a second, but then he figured it out.
“You mean Blood Fever.”
“That’s right. I never knew things in Blacklin County were so exciting. I guess I lead a sheltered life.”
“Well, it’s not really my book,” Rhodes said. “It was written by a couple of women from Dallas, and I’m not anything like Sage Barton.”
“Now you’re being modest.”
“I wish. I’m just telling you the truth. And another thing. That stuff in the book was just made up. None of it ever happened, not one single thing.”
“Can they do that? Just make things up about us?”
Rhodes figured that by us she meant the county. “They don’t say the book takes place here. I think they named the county in the book something else.”
“I noticed that, but they told a reporter that you were the model for the sheriff. I read it in the Herald.”
Jennifer Loam had enjoyed writing that article, Rhodes knew. He thought the tone had been a little sarcastic, but Ivy had told him it was only his imagination.
“I’m only the model for his looks,” Rhodes said. “Is the principal in?”
“Sure. You need to talk to her?”
Rhodes nodded.
“She’s not in trouble, is she? About that valentine? She seems like such a nice person, and that wasn’t her fault. I have to admit that it was kind of romantic. The quartet sounded great. They stood right here and sang to her through the open door.”
“She’s not in trouble,” Rhodes said. “I just need to talk to her.”
“All right. I’ll tell her you’re here.”
Connie disappeared into Lindy Gomez’s office, closing the door behind her. She came back in a few seconds and told Rhodes he could go right in, which he did.
The office was carpeted, and the desk was shiny black wood. It had a few neatly arranged papers on it, and nothing more. Pictures on the wall showed some of the classes from past years, and in the middle of the wall opposite the desk was a large framed drawing of the school mascot, the Catamount Cub, done in black and white.
Lindy Gomez got up to greet Rhodes. She was almost as tall as he was, with very black hair and eyes. She had on a brown pantsuit with thin white stripes. Rhodes didn’t know much about clothes, but he could tell it was expensive. She didn’t seem to be wearing much makeup, if any, but Rhodes wasn’t very good at being able to tell that kind of thing. She was just on the pretty side of plain, and there was no nonsense about her. She stuck out her hand, and Rhodes shook it. Her grip was dry and firm.
“Did you come to scare my students straight, Sheriff?” she said after they’d introduced themselves.
Rhodes grinned. “I’ve never been much good at scaring people, even kids. No matter what your administrative assistant thinks.”
“Connie really liked that book about you. She thinks of you as Sage Barton.”
“Did you read it?”
“I did. I think everybody in the county’s read it.”
In his darker moods, Rhodes thought the same thing.
“It wasn’t about me,” he said. “I hope you didn’t believe any of it.”
“Not for a minute. Why don’t you have a seat and tell me what’s on your mind.”
Rhodes could tell she’d used that line or a very similar one on many parents. She’d be good at dealing with them when they came to call, and Rhodes knew they’d come to call. Parents did that kind of thing now. His own parents had visited the principal only once that Rhodes could remember, and that was because of an insurance problem when he’d been hurt playing football. Will-o’-the-Wisp Dan Rhodes. A lot of years and a few pounds ago. More than a few.
Rhodes sat in a comfortable red leather chair, and Lindy went back behind her desk.
“You don’t have any children in school here, do you?” she asked.
Rhodes was a little too old for that. “No. I have a daughter who lives in Dallas. She’s an elementary teacher there.”
“I’m sure she’s a good one.”
Rhodes thought so, too, but he didn’t like to brag.
“You didn’t come here to talk about teaching, though, I’m sure,” Lindy said. “I suspect Lloyd Berry’s the reason.”
“He’s one of them.”
Lindy’s eyebrows went up. “There’s another one?”
“Cecil Marsh,” Rhodes said.
“Oh. I should have known.”
“I’m just trying to get a picture of what’s going on,” Rhodes said, shifting his weight in the chair. It had looked comfortable, but it wasn’t. That was probably deliberate, to keep people from hanging around too long.
“I was very sorry to hear about Lloyd,” Lindy said. “You don’t think the valentine thing has anything to do with his death, do you?”
“That’s what I’d like to find out,” Rhodes said.
“This whole thing has been very embarrassing for me.”
“I can imagine. Why would Cecil Marsh send you a singing valentine?”
“I just don’t know. He did some work at my house when I moved here last summer. He came highly recommended, and he did a good job. But that’s all there was to it. I wasn’t even there most of the time he was working. We were hardly acquainted.”
She sounded sincere, but then an elementary school principal would have had a lot of practice at that.
“What about Royce Weeks? Do you know him?”
“I don’t think so. I’m sure he doesn’t have any children in the school. He was in the quartet that sang for me, and that’s the only time I’ve ever seen him.”
“Did you know Lloyd Berry?”
“I knew he had the floral shop. I’ve been in there, so I knew him that way, and he was in the quartet. I didn’t know him other than that.”
Rhodes believed her. “Did you know any other members of the barbershop chorus?”
“I know Darrel Sizemore,” she said. “He was in the quartet, and he sings in the choir at the church I attend. He’s short, but he has a big voice.”
“Do you sing in the choir?”
Lindy laughed. “I can hardly carry a tune. I just like to listen. And if you’re asking whether I know Mr. Sizemore any better than I know any of the others, I don’t.”
That didn’t mean that Sizemore might not have his eye on her, however, and he might have had some motive for framing Cecil. Rhodes would have to look into it.
“I wish I could do more to help you, Sheriff,” Lindy said, “but I’m as much at a loss to underst
and what happened as you are.”
“I can see that.” Rhodes stood up, glad to be out of the red chair. “If you think of anything that might help me, give me a call.”
“I’ll do that.”
Lindy got up to show him out of the office. Connie Calder put her hand on his arm to stop him before he could get out of the building.
“I wonder if you’d do me a favor,” she said.
She held her other hand behind her back, and Rhodes wondered what she was up to.
“That depends on what the favor is,” he said.
She brought her hand out from behind her back, and Rhodes saw that she was holding a copy of Blood Fever.
“I couldn’t go to Wal-Mart when you were signing these,” she said. “I hoped you’d sign it for me now.”
Rhodes didn’t mind kidding around about being a handsome, crime-busting sheriff, but he didn’t like being a local celebrity, especially since he’d really had nothing at all to do with the book. He was lucky there hadn’t been a movie deal. He’d never have been able to live that down.
“I’ll be happy to sign it,” he lied, and Connie handed him the book.
While he was fumbling it open to the title page, she got a ballpoint pen from her desk and gave it to him.
“Would you mind writing something besides just your name?”
“Like what?” Rhodes said.
Connie blushed. “I thought maybe you could say something like ‘From the real Sage Barton.’ ”
Rhodes gritted his teeth silently. “All right. I’ll do that.”
He put the book down on Connie’s desk and inscribed it as she’d requested, then handed her the book and pen. She thanked him and started to ask something, but Rhodes told her he had to leave and escaped the building into the chaos outside.
When Rhodes was young, kids had walked home from school, or ridden their bicycles. Nobody thought anything of it. Now that the elementary building had been moved so far from the center of things, however, walking and riding bikes were things of the past. Big yellow school buses lined the school’s drive, and the line of cars driven by parents who’d come to pick up their children stretched for blocks. It was going to be hard for Rhodes to get out of the parking lot.
