Red, White, and Blue Murder

by Bill Crider

  “Um,” Rhodes said.

  Being noncommittal had worked so far, and he wasn’t going to risk changing tactics.

  “I don’t think you should run for office again,” Ivy said, the tone of her voice leaving Rhodes no doubt that she meant it.

  He decided that he’d better speak up. He said, “I have to run again. Who else would put up with Hack and Lawton?”

  “Don’t try to be funny,” Ivy said. “You know how I feel about this.”

  It was a discussion they’d had once or twice before. Ivy didn’t like the risks Rhodes took. She really believed it was time for him to find a different line of work.

  Rhodes didn’t feel that way at all. He couldn’t imagine what the different kind of work could possibly be. Being a greeter at Wal-Mart? Grilling burgers at McDonald’s?

  “You could run for commissioner,” Ivy said. “There’s an opening.”

  “I don’t think that would look good,” Rhodes said. “After all, I killed the last man in the office.”

  “You did not!”

  “What? Just a second ago, you said—”

  “I don’t care what I said. You know I didn’t mean it. I was just upset.”

  Rhodes thought it was time to revert to his former strategy, so he said nothing.

  “I’m sorry,” Ivy said. “I get upset sometimes. I know you like your job, and I know you’re good at it. I don’t want you to quit. Well, I do. But you know what I mean.”

  Rhodes wasn’t sure he did know what she meant. He couldn’t always follow her logic.

  He said, “I don’t want to quit. I think I’m doing a good job. But you never know about the voters. They might have a different idea. Maybe they’ll find a candidate they like better and retire me at the next election.”

  “Why would they do that? You’re the best sheriff this county ever had.”

  “Not everyone feels that way.”

  “Then they’re crazy.”

  “I can never quite figure you out,” Rhodes said.

  “Good. That’s the way I like it. I wouldn’t want to be predictable.”

  “That’s something you don’t have to worry about.”

  “Good,” Ivy said, “I think that does it for your head. What do you think?”

  They were in the bathroom, and Rhodes was sitting in a chair in front of the mirror over the double basin. The door was closed, and Yancey was yipping around outside it. Rhodes could see his own face in the mirror, as well as Ivy’s, but he couldn’t see the back of his head.

  “I can’t tell a thing,” he said.

  Ivy picked up a mirror and held it behind him. Now he could see the back of his head reflected in the mirror in front of him.

  “Looks fine to me,” he said, though he really couldn’t tell a thing about it.

  “You’re going to have quite a knot. You probably won’t be up to any more exercise tonight, what with your back and your head both being messed up.”

  “What kind of exercise did you have in mind?” Rhodes asked.

  Ivy smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “Sure. Go ahead and tell me.”

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you like surprises?”

  “Sometimes. But only good ones.”

  “I think you’ll like this one, then,” Ivy said.

  29

  THE NEXT MORNING RHODES SAT ON A STEP OF THE BACK PORCH AND watched Yancey torment Speedo. Or maybe Speedo was having as much fun as the smaller dog. Rhodes couldn’t figure dogs out.

  It seemed to Rhodes that it was a little cooler than it had been for a while, but he might have been imagining things. He hadn’t seen the weather report the previous night, so he didn’t know what the prediction was for the day.

  He was feeling fine, though his head was a little sore. He’d had to sleep on his side, and every time he rolled over, the little thrill of pain in his head woke him up. His back and side had caused him a couple of twitches, too, but he thought that as long as he didn’t make any sudden moves, he’d be all right.

  Rhodes wasn’t worried about his head or his back, however, and he wasn’t worried about the weather. He was worried about the death of Grat Bilson. He tried to think back over everything that had happened and figure out what he knew about the murder and what he was only supposing.

  It turned out on reflection that he didn’t know a lot.

  Bilson had been hit in the head with a whiskey bottle, or by something. It would be a while before Rhodes got the lab report on the bottle he’d sent away for testing, and even then the report might not be conclusive.

  But it was conclusive that Bilson had been hit. It was almost equally certain that someone had started a fire in the hope that the evidence of the murder would be covered up.

  That, Rhodes had to admit, was about all he knew for sure. He didn’t know whether Yvonne had killed her husband or whether someone else had done it.

  If Jay Beaman was the killer, then that would be the end of things, but Rhodes didn’t have any evidence to prove that Beaman was the guilty one.

  Vernell Lindsey didn’t seem to be a likely possibility, though Rhodes still wasn’t sure just what her relationship with Bilson had been. That was something he’d probably need to look into more deeply.

  As for Linda Fenton, it was likely that she was long gone. Rhodes hadn’t gotten a call from Hack, so he assumed that Beaman didn’t have a lake house, which meant there was no place that they could look for Fenton unless they could find out where she’d been living.

  She’d told Rhodes that she wasn’t living in Blacklin county, but it would be easy enough for Rhodes to call the sheriffs of the four surrounding counties and see if she was living in one of them, not that Rhodes expected her to go home and stay there. If she had any sense at all, she’d go to another state, take another name, and live as happily ever after as was possible. Rhodes was sure that she wouldn’t be coming back to Blacklin County anytime soon.

  But the more he thought about her, the more he thought she might be the one who had killed Bilson. The fireworks stand was close to where the murder had occurred, and she was a convicted arsonist. If she thought Bilson’s snooping was a danger to Beaman, the only man who’d treated her like a human being, at least according to her, she might have gone to talk to Grat, gotten angry, and hit him with the bottle. The fire would have been the first thing she thought of when she considered a cover-up.

  And if she wasn’t guilty of something, why hit Rhodes with the ashtray? Even if he’d taken her to the jail for questioning, he wouldn’t have a reason to hold her.

  Rhodes stood up. The sudden movement didn’t make his head hurt too much. It did cause a little pain in his side, however.

  Yancey had located a rubber bone that was one of Speedo’s favorite toys and was running around the yard with it in his mouth. Speedo was trying to catch him, but Yancey, while slower than Speedo, was quicker. He eluded him by making sharp stops and turns. Rhodes envied the small dog’s agility.

  “Come over here, Yancey,” Rhodes said, whistling for him. Yancey paid him no mind, but Speedo trotted over to see what Rhodes wanted.

  “I was just trying to get your bone back for you,” Rhodes said.

  Speedo panted and wagged his tail in appreciation of Rhodes’s generous nature, or maybe just because that was what he felt like doing at the moment.

  Ivy came to the door and called Yancey, who instantly dropped the rubber bone and ran over to the porch.

  “Come on in,” Ivy said, and Yancey pranced up the steps and went inside.

  “I can’t figure out how you do that,” Rhodes said.

  “It’s the command voice,” Ivy told him. “Some of us have it, some of us don’t.”

  Rhodes didn’t think that was it at all, but he knew better than to say so.

  “The command voice,” he said. “I guess that’s it.”

  Speedo wandered off and located the rubber bone. He brought it over to Rhodes and dropped it at his feet, and gave Rhodes a h
opeful look.

  Rhodes bent over with only minor discomfort and picked up the bone. Then he threw it to the other side of the yard. Speedo dashed off after it, grabbed it in his mouth, and brought it back. This time he didn’t drop it. He waited for Rhodes to reach for it, then backed away.

  Rhodes leaned forward and grabbed one end of the bone. Speedo growled and wouldn’t let go. Rhodes gave the bone a light shaking, and Speedo planted his feet and tried to pull away. Or pretended to try.

  “I don’t know who’s crazier,” Ivy said to Rhodes. “You or those dogs.”

  “I’d like to think it was the dogs,” Rhodes said. “But I wouldn’t bet the farm on it.”

  He let go of the bone, and Speedo’s head bobbed up. The dog looked at Rhodes for a second or two, saw Rhodes wasn’t going to reach for the bone, and then moved closer. Rhodes made a grab, but Speedo moved his head aside and Rhodes missed. Rhodes laughed, and Speedo looked immensely pleased with himself.

  “Crazy or not,” Ivy said, “the two of you are certainly alike in one way.”

  “What way is that?” Rhodes said.

  “It takes so little to make you happy.”

  “You’re right about that. Would you say that’s a good quality or a bad one?”

  “In dogs or men?”

  “Either one. Or both.”

  “Well, I don’t know about dogs, but it’s a quality I admire in men.”

  Rhodes made another quick grab for the bone and felt a slight twinge. Speedo danced away.

  “How’s your back?”

  “It’s all right. A little sore. But that surprise I got last night took some of the soreness out.”

  “And what about your head?” Ivy asked.

  “It feels fine. I think that antibiotic did the trick. Or the surprise.”

  “Maybe it was both.”

  “Could be.”

  Rhodes stood up. Speedo watched him warily.

  “I guess I ought to be going on to work,” Rhodes said.

  “Actually, that’s what I came out here to talk to you about,” Ivy said. “Hack called. He said that there was nobody still at work in the courthouse yesterday afternoon when Ruth called him about Beaman having a lake house, so he couldn’t find out anything.”

  “I thought he could just check the phone book,” Rhodes said.

  “Some people go to the lake to get away from telephones,” Ivy said. “Unlike you.”

  “I don’t have a lake house.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Rhodes figured this was another one of those times when he should keep quiet, or at least change the subject. He said, “So does Beaman have a lake house or not?”

  “He does. There’s no telephone, but Hack knows where it’s located. He found out this morning. He said you could either call him or come by the jail and he’d tell you.”

  “I’ll call,” Rhodes said.

  He went up the steps, but Ivy stood in the door in front of him.

  “You’ll be careful when you go out there, won’t you?”

  “I’m always careful,” Rhodes said.

  “Right. That’s why you have a knot the size of a jumbo egg on the back of your head.”

  “I learned a valuable lesson from that experience,” Rhodes said. “I won’t turn my back on Linda Fenton again.”

  “Good. The next time, she might have something more lethal than an ashtray.”

  “The ashtray was bad enough,” Rhodes said.

  He looked over his shoulder. Speedo was still standing near the steps, the bone in his mouth.

  “Why don’t you play with Speedo for me while I make the call,” Rhodes said.

  Ivy walked down the steps and said, “Speedo, bring me the bone.”

  Speedo trotted over and dropped the bone at her feet.

  Ivy turned to look at Rhodes, smiling.

  “Command voice,” she said.

  30

  RHODES DROVE DOWN A DUSTY DIRT ROAD NEAR THE LAKE. THE leaves of the trees that lined the road were covered with sand stirred up by passing cars. There hadn’t been any rain to wash it off, and it clung there, making the leaves look even browner than they were.

  The part of the lake where Rhodes was hadn’t been developed the way some of the other areas had. There were no little parks with picnic tables, no boat ramps, no fancy houses. If a man wanted to get away from people or his job, or both, this was the place to come.

  Rhodes passed a couple of trailers set off in the trees and followed the road around a slight curve that took him to within thirty yards of the water, or where the water should have been. The drought had shrunk the lake considerably. However, if the directions Rhodes had gotten from Hack were right, and if he’d followed them correctly, he should see Beaman’s house just about any second.

  While it was possible that Linda Fenton might be there, Rhodes didn’t have any real hope that she would. She might have spent the night in the house after eluding Ruth, but she was surely gone by now. She had no reason to stay, and plenty of reasons to leave. Ex-convicts who assault police officers usually didn’t fare too well with the judges in Blacklin County, and Rhodes was sure that Linda had other reasons for leaving, too.

  So he was surprised when he saw Beaman’s old pickup parked in front of a ramshackle house that backed up to the shore, or to what had been the shore. The water had retreated at least forty yards into the lake, and there was nothing but mud where it had been, mud with a dry crust on top like that at the stock tank where Rhodes and Yvonne Bilson had had their little tussle. The crust was cracked in a pattern that almost made it look like floor tile.

  Rhodes stopped the county car behind the pickup and got out. The air smelled faintly of dead fish and sand. The yard around the house was mostly sand, with a few blades of grass sticking up here and there. It would be a good place to grow watermelons, Rhodes thought. His feet made deep impressions in the sand as he walked over to Beaman’s truck to have a look inside.

  The window on the driver’s side of the truck was rolled down, and the dash was dusty. So was the seat. If the window stayed down, they’d get even dustier, but Rhodes didn’t think that was any of his concern. A much-folded road map lay on the seat and there were a few receipts for gasoline on the floor, but there was nothing of any interest to Rhodes.

  He walked on up to the house, which looked as if it had been built from used lumber left over from demolished buildings. It was probably sturdy enough, but it wasn’t very attractive. It didn’t appear to have been painted since it was built. Although some of the boards had paint on them, it seemed to Rhodes that the paint had been put on the boards a long time ago, when they were part of some other structure. He counted at least three different shades of white. On all the planks that he could see, the paint was old and flaking.

  The dry, dusty leaves rattled in the trees, and a fresh breeze whisked up the sand in the yard and whirled it into the air. It even dried the sweat on Rhodes’s face.

  Rhodes looked to the north. The sky was a deep blue, and he thought he saw a flicker of lightning high up in the clouds. The wind was moving on the water of the lake, making little waves that rippled in the sun. A couple of bass boats sat out on the water, and Rhodes could see one of the fishermen casting a lure toward an old rotten tree that was sticking out of the shallow water.

  It had been a long time since Rhodes had been fishing, too long, and he wished he could go more often. The bass were supposed to bite just before a front came in, he thought. Or was it just after a front had gone through? Rhodes wasn’t sure, not that it mattered. He didn’t have time for fishing at the moment. He had other things on his mind.

  He walked around to the back of the house. There was a little pier built out from the former shoreline, and normally it would have extended out over the water of the lake. Now it just extended out over the mudflat where the lake had been. There was a snapping-turtle shell lying empty on the former lake floor not far from the pier, as if the turtle had decided for reasons of his own
to leave home for good. Rhodes could see a few muddy bottles and aluminum cans sticking out of the mud.

  Linda Fenton was sitting on the end of the pier, looking out at the lake. Rhodes climbed the steps to the top of the pier and walked out to join her.

  She didn’t turn around, but he hadn’t tried to sneak up on her. He knew she’d heard him coming. He stood there for a while, waiting for her to acknowledge him. When she didn’t, he said, “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

  She didn’t turn. She continued to gaze out at the diminished lake. There was nothing there to see except the two bass boats that Rhodes had noticed earlier. The fishermen didn’t seem to have had much luck, and the boats were moving away across the water. Rhodes heard the distant buzz of the outboard motors and saw the water turn white and foam in the boats’ wakes.

  “I didn’t think I’d be here, either,” Linda said. “But I started thinking about where I’d go, you know? It turned out that there wasn’t anywhere.”

  “You must have a place.”

  “I rent a room. That’s not really a place. I didn’t want to go there.”

  “I would have found you if you’d gone there and stayed.”

  “Yeah. I knew that. And I decided I didn’t want to run. What’s the use, you know?”

  Rhodes eased himself down on the end of the dock beside her, careful not to twist in a way that would affect his side. He let his legs dangle off the end of the pier.

  “Why did you hit me?” he asked. “I wasn’t going to do anything to you.”

  “I figured that out later. But you were asking too many questions, and I was getting tired of answering.”

  “I didn’t get around to the main one.”

  “You were working up to it, though. Just because a girl burns a place down doesn’t mean she’s a killer.”

  “You were right there near where Grat Bilson died,” Rhodes said, “working at that fireworks stand. And when I started talking about Bilson last night, you whacked me with the ashtray. That seems like the reaction of somebody who might be guilty.”

  “I’m sorry I hit you,” Linda told him. “I wish I hadn’t done it. I know you can lock me up for it.”