by Bill Crider
“You sure are gettin’ to be a friend to the felons,” Hack said. “Givin’ ’em a shoulder to cry on and all.”
Lawton bristled. “I didn’t give anybody a shoulder to cry on. I happened to hear what they were sayin’ to each other while I was cleanin’ the cell next to theirs, that’s all.”
“You gonna talk to the DA and ask him to drop the charges, Sheriff?” Hack said, ignoring Lawton.
“No.” Rhodes pushed the law books away. He took off his reading glasses, put them in his shirt pocket, and stood up. “Or maybe I will. I have to talk to Lance and Hugh first. If they cooperate, I’ll see what I can do about helping them out.”
“They might’ve decided they like it here,” Hack said. “We run a nice operation.”
“Nobody likes being in jail,” Rhodes said. “No matter how nice it is.”
“Puttin’ dangerous criminals back on the street’s not gonna get you any votes in the election,” Lawton said.
Rhodes wished they’d quit bringing up the election. “That’s next year,” he said, “and the Eccles boys aren’t dangerous. Just misguided.”
“Misguided.” Hack shook his head. “That’s what all you bleedin’ hearts say.”
“I’m not a bleeding heart.”
“That’s what you claim, but you wait till those Swift-boaters get hold of you. You’ll look like you voted for Vladimir Putin in the last election.”
“I didn’t even know he was running,” Rhodes said.
“That was just kind of an example of what they’ll do to you,” Hack said. “You get the idea.”
“I get the idea, but I don’t think my opponents will stoop to that kind of thing.”
“Sure they won’t,” Lawton said. “Do you even know who they are?”
“How could I know? I keep telling you that the election’s a year away. More than a year, if you don’t count the primary. Nobody’s even running against me yet.”
“That shows what you know,” Lawton said.
Rhodes was taken aback. “You mean I already have opponents and don’t know it?”
“I ain’t sayin’ you do, and I ain’t sayin’ you don’t.”
“I’m saying I don’t, then. I think you two are getting a little carried away. Maybe you’re worried because you think a new sheriff would make a clean sweep of this place and get him some new help around here.”
“Fine with me,” Lawton said. “I been thinkin’ it was time for me to retire.”
“Far as I can tell, you retired about six years ago,” Hack said.
“Look who’s talkin’. You haven’t hit a lick at a snake since I’ve known you.”
Rhodes decided that the best thing he could do was let them fight that one out among themselves. While they were distracted, he left the office and went back to the cellblock.
The Eccles cousins shared a cell, and both of them lay on their bunks. Hugh was in the upper, staring at the ceiling. In the lower, Lance stared up at the bottom of his cousin’s bunk. They lay flat on their backs, their hands crossed on their chests, almost as if Clyde Ballinger had laid them out for burial. All they needed was their Sunday suits instead of the swanky orange jumpsuits furnished by the county.
Rhodes tapped on the bars and said, “You fellas doing all right in here?”
“Sure,” Hugh said without moving. “We got ourselves three hots and a cot. Beats driving a truck.”
“I thought you wanted me to ask the DA to drop the charges so you could go home.”
“You hear that, Lance?” Hugh said. “I told you that old coot was listening in on us.”
Rhodes grinned when he thought of how Lawton would feel about being called an old coot. Lawton could call himself an old coot, but he wouldn’t like it even a little bit if someone else did.
“I hear you have a lawyer, too,” Rhodes said.
“That’s right. We made our phone call to Mr. Randy Lawless. He’s never lost a case.”
Rhodes knew better than that. Lawless had defended several people Rhodes had arrested. None of them were back on the streets yet.
“He did Janine Carr’s divorce,” Lance said, raising his voice. “Took Neal for everything he had.”
“I heard that,” Neal Carr said. He was in the next cell, and Lance had obviously known that. “I hate that son of a bitch Lawless.”
“You gotta admit he’s a good lawyer,” Hugh said.
“He’s scum, is what he is,” Carr said. “I had a good business at the Burger Barn. I had big plans, and things were going good for me before that skunk got hold of me.”
“You were running around on Janine, is what I heard,” Hugh said.
“That’s a lie, made up by that snake Lawless to get my money.”
“He must be pretty good, then,” Lance said. “Just the kind of fella we need on our side.”
“I wanted to talk to you about your side of things,” Rhodes said. “I’ve looked into the alligator laws, and you’re in the clear there.”
Lance sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and sat up. He had to lean forward because there wasn’t enough clearance for him to sit up straight.
“We aren’t in here because of the alligator,” he said. “We didn’t have one on our land, and even if there was one, it wasn’t ours.”
“You’re right,” Rhodes said. “You’re not here because of the gator. You’re here because you assaulted me and sicced a dog on me.”
“I wish I’d had a dog,” Carr said.
“You be quiet,” Rhodes said. “I’m not talking to you.”
“You want something from us, don’t you, Sheriff,” Hugh said. He still lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling. “I wonder what might it be.”
“It might be that if you cooperate with me a little, you won’t have to spend the night here.”
“That reminds me,” Lance said. “What about Bruce? He might die locked up in that truck where you left him. He needs somebody to look after him.”
“Bruce has a good foster home. You don’t have to worry about him.”
“Maybe we’ll just leave him in the foster home. He eats too much, and he didn’t do anything to save our chickens from that damn ga—that damn coyote.”
Hugh turned over on his side. “You never did get around to saying what you wanted, Sheriff.”
“Cooperation,” Rhodes said. “I mentioned that.”
“Cooperation. That’s just a word. What’s it mean?”
“It means I want to know what made you two so contentious at the Rollin’ Sevens yesterday,” Rhodes said.
“You pissed us off,” Hugh said. “Comin’ in there like that, like you owned the place. We wanted to relax and play a few games, and you busted things up, chased people out, spoiled the fun.”
That wasn’t what had happened, and Hugh must have known it. Rhodes pointed it out anyway. “Then,” he said, “when I came out to your place today, you acted the same way. If I were thin-skinned, I’d think you two didn’t like me.”
“We like you fine, Sheriff. You shouldn’t intrude where you aren’t wanted, that’s all. If you’d mind your own business, we wouldn’t get upset with you.”
“That’s what I say,” Carr piped up from the neighboring cell. “What business is it of yours if I want to protest my treatment by that goober Randy Lawless?”
“It’s not the protesting,” Rhodes said. “It’s the way you did it.”
“How’d he do it?” Lance said. “The protest, I mean.”
“He wore panty hose.”
“Hoo-ha! A man in panty hose. Now that’s something to think about, especially here in the jailhouse.”
“He had on tighty whities, too,” Rhodes said.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Hugh said.
Rhodes would never have guessed that Hugh was a Seinfeld fan.
“Don’t you two get any ideas,” Carr said. He stood at the front of his cell, his hands gripping the bars. “It was part of the protest, and that’s all
it was. It was symbolic.”
“I bet it was,” Lance said. “You still got ’em on?”
This was worse than Hack and Lawton, Rhodes thought. He said, “Carr, I told you once to be quiet. Go sit on your bunk and don’t say anything. Not a word.”
Carr tried to look tough, but he couldn’t pull it off. He went and sat on the bunk.
“Now,” Rhodes said when Carr was out of the way. “Do you two want to help me out, or do you want to stay here for a while?”
“We’ll stay,” Lance said. “We got the best lawyer in Blacklin County. He’s gonna make you wish you’d never arrested two honest men like me and my cousin.”
“Yeah,” Hugh said. “Two honest men, locked up for no reason at all.”
Rhodes could see he wasn’t going to get anything out of them, but he still thought something was going on between them and Wilks. He didn’t know what, but he’d find it out, even if it took a while.
“If that’s the way you want it,” he said. “You can get in touch with me any time you change your minds.”
“We won’t be doing that,” Hugh said and rolled over on his back.
“Yeah,” Lance said. He lay back down and looked up at the bottom of his cousin’s bunk.
Rhodes left them there like that.
When Rhodes got back to Hack and Lawton, they weren’t speaking. Hack was watching Judge Judy on his little TV set, and Lawton was sweeping the floor.
Rhodes didn’t ask what was going on. He didn’t want to know. He hoped to get out and on his way home before they said anything, but he didn’t quite make it. He had his hand on the doorknob when Lawton spoke up.
“You want to tell Hack about his TV?” he said.
Rhodes didn’t turn around. This was a new argument, and he didn’t want any part of it. He had to make a response of some kind, however, so he said, “What about his TV?”
“About how it’s not gonna be any good in a little while.”
“This little TV works fine,” Hack said. “I don’t care what you say.”
Rhodes knew then what the problem was. Lawton had brought up the fact that TV signals would all be digital soon, and Hack’s little TV, an old analog model, wasn’t going to be able to receive the signals. They’d talked about this before, and Hack knew very well what the situation was. However, he was deep in denial. Rhodes didn’t know how they’d gotten onto the topic from their earlier argument, but it didn’t take much for a conversation between those two to jump the rails.
“We’ll see about getting you another TV if that one doesn’t work any longer,” Rhodes said.
“Took forever for me to get this one,” Hack said. “I doubt I’ll ever get another one.”
“If the county won’t buy it, I’ll take up a collection.”
“Don’t count on me to put anything in the plate,” Lawton said. “A man talks to me like Hack did don’t deserve a TV.”
Rhodes didn’t ask how Hack had talked to Lawton. He said, “That TV is like the election. It’s something we don’t have to worry about right now.”
“I never said I was worried,” Hack told him. “That was Lawton.”
“You’ll see I’m right about it,” Lawton said. “You just wait.”
Rhodes opened the door and got out before Hack could say anything. The two of them would be at it for a while. Rhodes didn’t know why Hack needed a TV set anyway. He had more fun arguing with Lawton than he did watching television.
Rhodes didn’t want to argue with anybody. He wanted to spend some time relaxing at home while he tried to sort out everything he knew about Lloyd Berry’s murder. He kept thinking there were some things he’d heard or seen that hadn’t quite registered with him. If he had time to think, maybe the pieces would fall into place.
But of course he didn’t get any time.
At first things went just fine after Rhodes arrived at home. Ivy had gotten off from work a little early, and she’d made her famous meatless meatloaf. The first time she’d made it, Rhodes asked if meatless meatloaf wasn’t an oxymoron.
“Like government intelligence,” he said.
Ivy hadn’t thought it was funny, and Rhodes hadn’t brought it up again. He still didn’t believe you could have meatloaf without meat, but it wasn’t bad. In fact, it was pretty good. Maybe it was the sauce, which was tasty and tangy and disguised the flavor of whatever meatless ingredients were in the dish. Rhodes had never asked what they were.
Sam watched them eat from his place near the refrigerator, while Yancey, calm for once, lay by the back door, waiting for Rhodes to finish eating and then take him out to play with Speedo.
That’s what Rhodes would have done if the telephone hadn’t rung.
“You want me to answer it and tell them you’re in Timbuktu?” Ivy said.
The ringing excited Yancey. He jumped up and ran to Rhodes’s chair, where he started to yip and dance. Sam eyed him with suspicious disdain.
“How do you know it’s for me?” Rhodes said.
“It’s always for you.”
She had a point, and for a fraction of a second, Rhodes was tempted to let her answer and see if anyone would believe he was in Timbuktu. Or, even better, Kathmandu. However, his sense of duty got the better of his momentary whimsy.
“I’ll take it,” he said.
Hack was the caller. “What’s that noise?” he said.
“One of the dogs. He’s excited.”
“He needs to calm down. You might want to get over to Cecil Marsh’s place right quick. There’s a fight goin’ on. Shots fired. One of the neighbors called it in. Duke’s already headed that way.”
“Me, too,” Rhodes said.
20
DUKE PEARSON’S COUNTY CAR PULLED TO THE CURB IN FRONT OF the Marshes’ house, and Rhodes pulled in right behind him.
“I drove in from Happy Franklin’s place,” Pearson said when Rhodes got out of the car. “Everything’s quiet out there. What’s going on here?”
Pearson was a big, cheerful man whose thick black hair was turning gray. He hadn’t been with the department long, but he wasn’t new to law enforcement. He’d been a deputy in west Texas before he and his wife had moved to Clearview, her hometown, to take care of her mother. Rhodes felt lucky to have another experienced officer on his staff.
“I think Cecil Marsh and Royce Weeks are at it again,” Rhodes said.
“Again?”
Pearson hadn’t been in town long enough to know all the details of the feud, and Rhodes didn’t have time to fill him in on everything.
“They don’t like each other,” Rhodes said. “Never have. They’ve had arguments before, bad ones, but up until now there hasn’t been any shooting.”
As he spoke, he heard raised voices, two men yelling at each other.
“Doesn’t sound like shooting,” Duke said. “Guess we should be careful, though.”
“Absolutely,” Rhodes said, and both men drew their sidearms, Rhodes taking his from the ankle holster and thinking again that it might be time to change its location. Maybe he’d return to using the middle-of-the-back holster, but that was hard to hide if he didn’t wear a coat, which he never did in the summer.
“Sounds like it’s coming from over there,” Duke said, pointing with the pistol barrel in the general direction of Weeks’s chicken coop.
“Better take flashlights,” Rhodes said.
It was already getting dark, and heavy clouds hung in the north. The wind was picking up, and it looked as if rain was on the way.
“Right,” Duke said.
Before they could get the lights from the cars, Faye Lynn Marsh came down her front walk.
“Sheriff, is that you?” she said.
“It’s me,” Rhodes answered. “And Deputy Pearson. What’s going on here, Faye Lynn?”
“It’s Cecil,” she said. “He’s trying to kill Royce’s chickens.” Her voice cracked; she sounded as if she might start crying at any second.
“What got them started this time?” Rhod
es asked.
“The chickens were fluttering around and getting ready to roost. Cecil was already upset, for some reason, and the chickens do make a good bit of noise. Cecil said he couldn’t stand it any longer. That’s when he got the shotgun. It’s a little four-ten loaded with birdshot.”
Rhodes considered that good news. A four-ten wasn’t a formidable weapon even against a chicken when it was loaded with birdshot. That didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous, but at least Cecil wouldn’t be as likely to kill somebody with it as he would with a bigger-caliber gun.
“Do you want me to talk to him, Sheriff?” Faye Lynn said.
It was a little too late for that, Rhodes thought, now that Cecil was running around with a shotgun in his hand.
“I don’t think so,” Rhodes said. “I’ll do the talking.”
Faye Lynn looked at the pistol Rhodes held down at his side against his leg.
“You aren’t going to shoot Cecil, are you?” she said.
Rhodes noticed that she hadn’t mentioned anything about not shooting Weeks.
“We’re not going to shoot anybody,” Rhodes said. “We’re just being cautious. Come on, Duke.”
Rhodes and Pearson headed in the direction of the yelling, Rhodes a little in the lead. When they got closer, Rhodes waited for a lull in the argument and then announced that he and his deputy were there and that they were coming to talk.
“You can’t talk to this big lunk,” Royce Weeks said. “You better watch him, Sheriff. He has a gun.”
Rhodes was close enough to see the two men now. Cecil did indeed have a gun, a single-shot four-ten. Rhodes was glad to see that it was pointed at the ground and open at the breech.
The chickens were still disturbed. Rhodes heard them clucking and fluttering around in the henhouse as they tried to get settled. It wasn’t a bothersome noise, at least not to Rhodes. A gunshot would have been much more disturbing.
“Hey, Cecil,” Rhodes said. “Deputy Pearson’s going to take your gun. It’s not loaded, is it?”
“Not now,” Cecil said. “Why should I let him take it?”
“Because I said so and because you don’t want him to have to take it away from you. Too risky. You could get a broken finger that way.”
