by Bill Crider
“That’s okay,” Al said. “Not much they could do to hurt the stuff in there.”
“There’s a big room back there we should check,” Rhodes said.
Al looked around as if he had no clue as to what Rhodes was talking about. “What big room?”
“The one with the dead bolt on the door.”
“Oh, that one.”
“Yeah,” Rhodes said. “Let’s make sure it’s okay. Maybe they broke into it.”
“You got a search warrant?”
Rhodes really wanted to say Yeah, but instead he told the truth. “No.”
“Then no looking,” Al said. “I’m gonna ask you to leave now. I got work to do.”
“You have any records of buying batteries or catalytic converters from some fellas named Guillermo and Jorge?”
“Never heard of ’em. I asked you to leave.”
“I’m leaving,” Rhodes said, “but not before we both go back to your office so I can check your records.”
“I don’t know if I can let you do that.”
“Sure you can. I’m the sheriff.”
“Yeah,” Al said.
* * *
Rhodes had to admit that the books looked good, but then they would, wouldn’t they. If they hadn’t, Al would have brought up the search warrant again.
“You satisfied?” Al asked.
“Not really,” Rhodes said. “I think you’ve done some transactions that haven’t been recorded here. Maybe you have another set of books. I also think you’ve done some business with Guillermo and Jorge and haven’t put down their names.”
Al didn’t say anything. He just smiled.
“I can’t prove it,” Rhodes said, “so from now on I’m going to have this place watched twenty-four hours a day. I’m going to check on everybody who comes in here, and if I find out you’ve been dealing in stolen goods, I’m going to shut you down.”
“I just work here,” Al said.
“You won’t. Not after I shut you down. You won’t be working anywhere, but I can promise you free room and board. The room might not be comfortable, but the board’s not bad.”
“Yeah,” Al said, and that was when Frankie stuck his head in the door.
He saw Rhodes, and his mouth dropped open. His head disappeared, and Rhodes turned to go after him.
Al stuck out a foot, and Rhodes tripped over it. He stumbled through the door and fell down the steps. As he tried to get up, Al appeared. He grabbed at Rhodes’s arms and pulled.
“Didn’t mean to get in the way,” he said. “Let me help you up.”
“Get away,” Rhodes said, but Al kept tying him up every time he tried to move. Rhodes thought they must have looked as if they were trying to re-create a scene from a Three Stooges comedy.
Rhodes got partially untangled, bent over, and pulled up his pants leg. He pulled out his pistol. With Al hung over his back, Rhodes said, “I might not be able to kill you with this, but I think I can put a hole in your foot. Or shoot off your big toe. Want me to try.”
Al slid off Rhodes’s back and moved away from him, hands in the air. “I was just being helpful.”
“Tell it to the judge,” Rhodes said, and he took off after Frankie.
Frankie had a good head start, and Rhodes saw after only a couple of seconds that there was no hope of catching him. He didn’t have any idea which way he might have gone. So Rhodes did the next best thing. He went back to the office and arrested Al.
* * *
After booking Al and charging him with everything he could think of except mopery, Rhodes tried to give Seepy Benton the cell phone.
“See if you can find Lynn’s appointment schedule,” Rhodes said.
Benton held his hands in the air just the way Al had. “I’ll get my fingerprints on it if I touch it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Rhodes told him. “We know Frankie had it. Fingerprints on a phone will be the least of his worries if he shows up again.”
Rhodes was surprised Frankie had showed up at all. He must have come into the center through a back way, or maybe he’d been there all along. That was something Rhodes wanted to take up with Al or Guillermo if he ever had a chance.
While Benton was looking at the phone, Rhodes read over the reports that Ruth Grady and Buddy had left for him earlier that morning. Neither of them had learned anything helpful from their interviews with the Beauty Shack customers. That was about what Rhodes had expected.
Ruth had checked the fingerprints on the purse and the hair dryer. There were prints on the purse, all of them too smeared to make out. Rhodes thought the prints were probably from Frankie, Guillermo, and Jorge, who’d handled the purse to see what was inside it. Not much help there, though it would’ve been interesting if Jeff Tyler’s prints had showed up. The prints on the dryer were smeared, too. Nothing but a couple of partials looked good. Not much help there, either.
“I’m going out for a while,” Rhodes said to Hack. “You know where to reach me.”
That was the code they used in front of others when Rhodes was going to his office in the courthouse. He hardly ever used that office unless he needed to get away for a while and think things over.
“Got it,” Hack said.
“Don’t you want the appointments?” Benton asked.
“You have it already?” Rhodes asked.
“Sure. They aren’t even password protected.”
“Does she have anybody down after five o’clock yesterday?”
“Yeah,” Benton said.
Rhodes wondered if Benton might be related to Al. “Who was it?”
“Jeff Tyler,” Benton said.
Chapter 18
Rhodes sat in his courthouse office drinking a Dr Pepper and thinking about all he knew and didn’t know about the death of Lynn Ashton. He realized that he didn’t know a lot more than he did.
He knew that Jeff Tyler had been Lynn’s late appointment. He knew that her purse had been found in the trash behind Tyler’s antique store, so there was a nice connection. Except that Rhodes found it hard to believe Tyler would be so stupid as to steal the purse and put it out where anybody could see it. Maybe Tyler had known Frankie and his friends and their visits to the alleys. If so, he might have put the purse out there so they’d take it. Although what was Tyler doing with it in the first place?
Rhodes wondered how much Lonnie knew about the purse and about Tyler’s late appointment. Rhodes was sure Lonnie hadn’t told him everything, but he wasn’t sure what he hadn’t been told.
Even if Lonnie knew about the appointment, that didn’t explain who’d killed Tyler. That murder was different from Lynn’s, which appeared to have been a spur-of-the-moment thing. Whoever had killed Tyler had planned it, at least to some extent. Someone had gone to Tyler’s place with a gun and had been ready to use it.
How many men had Lynn blackmailed or tried to blackmail? She might have been successful with some of them, but certainly not all. Randy Lawless wasn’t the only one who would have refused to go along with her. What about Mikey Burns and Clifford Clement? Had they really broken it off with Lynn because of another man, or had blackmail been the problem?
Rhodes would also have liked to know if there was any connection between the Environmental Reclamation Center and the deaths. It didn’t seem likely that there was one, but he couldn’t rule it out. There were plenty of odd things going on at that place.
While he was thinking about it, he used the phone on his desk to call the county judge to request a search warrant to take a look in the locked room. The judge granted it without any questions.
“I’m in the building,” Rhodes said. “I’ll stop by and pick it up on my way out.”
“Hiding out, are you?” the judge asked.
“Just taking a break.”
“Right,” the judge said. “Give me half an hour. My secretary, I mean administrative assistant, will have the warrant ready when you get here.”
Rhodes thanked him and hung up. Before he executed the s
earch warrant, he should probably talk to Sandra again. She might have thought of something helpful by now, and he should let her know that it wasn’t at all likely that the men in the old hotel building had been the ones who’d killed Lynn.
The truth was that Rhodes wasn’t much closer to finding the killer than he’d been at the start. He had plenty of suspects, but that wasn’t helping.
Rhodes finished his Dr Pepper and got up to leave just as Jennifer Loam came in.
“Caught you,” she said.
She’d located him in the courthouse before, so it hadn’t taken much detection for her to run him down.
“I’d like to talk to you about the murders,” she said. “If you can spare the time, that is.”
“I can’t,” Rhodes said. He continued to stand, hoping she might leave.
“Maybe I can help you,” she said, sitting in one of the big chairs across from the desk.
Rhodes sighed and sat back down. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”
“I can’t really do much for you,” Jennifer said. “It’s just that getting a big story would mean a lot to me. Really, I’m the one who needs help.”
“Why would that be?” Rhodes asked.
“It would be because my job with the Herald is just about over.”
“That would be a big loss for the paper,” Rhodes said. “For the town, too. You’re very good at what you do.”
“Thanks, but nobody really cares about that. It’s all about money now, and newspapers are losing money all over the country. Little ones like the Herald are barely hanging on. Since the Herald went weekly, they don’t need me anymore.”
“Can’t you get a job with a bigger paper?”
“They’re laying people off,” Jennifer said, “not hiring them.”
Rhodes couldn’t see where this was going. “So how would a big story help you?”
“I’m starting an Internet news site. I’m calling it A Clear View of Blacklin County.”
Rhodes just looked at her.
She smiled. “Okay, I’ll admit it’s corny, but it’s catchy enough to work. Mostly I’ll have crime news, of which there seems to be plenty around here. Not just murders, but wrecks and burglaries and things like that. Smelly chicken farms. I’ll have social notes, too. I’m going to line up advertising, or try to, and maybe I can earn enough to make a go of it.”
“I hope it works,” Rhodes said, trying to keep his skepticism out of his voice, “and I think we can help each other.”
“Good. You help me first. Give me all you have on the murders.”
“I would if I had anything, but I don’t. What I do have is a different story, something you can investigate for your Web site. You can break the story there, and it’ll get a lot of attention.”
Jennifer leaned forward. “Tell me about it.”
“I have a question first. Since you’re working for the newspaper, would it be ethical for you to be working on a story for your Web site at the same time?”
“You know I said my job was just about over?”
Rhodes nodded.
“In this case, ‘just about’ means it’s over today. This afternoon. I’ll turn in my last stories for the Monday edition, and my illustrious career as a newspaper reporter will come to an end.”
“How long have you known?”
“Awhile. I didn’t want to mention it to anybody. So you don’t have to worry about ethics, if that makes you feel any better.”
“It does,” Rhodes said. “I do have ethics, you know.”
“I do know.”
“Thanks. Now here’s the story.”
Rhodes told her what he knew and suspected about Al, whose last name had turned out to be Swanson, and about the Environmental Reclamation Center, which was now closed for business as far as Rhodes knew, since Al was in jail.
“I’m not even sure who owns the place,” Rhodes said, “even though there’ve been some problems there before. Maybe you can find out who the owner is, and then maybe you can find out what Frankie and his friends have to do with the place. Enough people have had their copper wiring and their batteries stolen to guarantee you a good-sized readership for a story like that. It would get you off to a good start.”
“If I hook them at first, they’ll keep coming back,” Jennifer said. “I’ll start poking around. Thanks, Sheriff.”
“No,” Rhodes said, “thank you. I appreciate the help.”
It was true. If the commissioners would hire a few more deputies, he wouldn’t have to resort to using amateur assistance, but Jennifer was a professional at gathering information, and looking for it wouldn’t put her in any danger. Benton loved helping out, and he could be useful as long as he didn’t interfere with the investigation.
Jennifer left the courthouse, and so did Rhodes. He thought he’d better have a little talk with Sharon Lawless before Randy got home.
* * *
Sharon Lawless was an attractive blonde who didn’t work anymore, though she’d once been a clerk in Billy Lee’s drugstore. Rhodes found her at home, and she invited him into her computer room, which was small and neat. Her computer desk didn’t have any dust on it, and there was nothing there except the computer and a few sheets of paper.
“I need the computer to keep up with things,” she told him.
Although Sharon didn’t have a job, she volunteered. She was president or vice-president of so many organizations that Rhodes couldn’t keep up with them. She was on the historical commission and in the Garden Club, the Friends of the Library, the AAUW, the DAR, the Daughters of the Republic of Texas, and others.
She also had on the biggest diamond ring Rhodes had ever seen.
“This is why I didn’t have any reason to worry about Lynn Ashton,” she told Rhodes as she held out her slim hand for him to see the ring. “Randy was very contrite about straying. I accepted his apology, and we’re very happy now that things have settled down.”
Rhodes couldn’t blame her for being happy. The ring would have choked a horse had the horse been so unfortunate as to swallow it.
“Weren’t you angry before you got the ring?” Rhodes asked.
Sharon smiled. She had great teeth. “Of course. That’s why I have the ring. Anyway, if you’re thinking of me as a suspect in Lynn’s death, I have an alibi. Lynn died yesterday afternoon, I believe. I was in a committee meeting with several people from four until nearly seven. I can give you a list of names.”
Rhodes said that would be fine, and she wrote down the names on a sheet of paper from her desk. She handed him the paper and said, “I hope this will get me off the hook.”
“I’m sure it will,” Rhodes said, and he was sure it would. It was time for him to get back to the jail.
* * *
“Gone?” Rhodes asked when Hack told him that Al had bonded out. “Already?”
“Didn’t take him long,” Hack said. “Made his phone call and bonded out fifteen minutes later. Got some powerful friends, I guess.”
So much for the little chat Rhodes had hoped to have with him. It didn’t matter, however. Guillermo and Jorge might do just as well.
Jorge seemed to be the more cooperative of the two. Lawton was lounging by the door, so Rhodes told him to bring Jorge to the interview room.
“There’s somethin’ else you might want to hear first,” Lawton said. “There’s a problem. See—”
“I’ll tell it,” Hack said. “I’m the dispatcher here.”
“Sure,” Lawton said. “You go right ahead. I didn’t mean to take over your job.”
“Sure you didn’t,” Hack said.
“The problem?” Rhodes asked.
“Pregnant nanny,” Hack said.
Rhodes didn’t know of anybody in Blacklin County who had a nanny. He said, “A child-care problem?”
“Not that kind of nanny,” Hack said.
“The goat kind,” Lawton added.
Hack’s head turned so fast that Rhodes wondered if it was on ball bearings. “What was
that you said about not doin’ my job?”
“Just thought I’d help you out a little,” Lawton said.
“I don’t need no help.” Hack turned back to Rhodes. “It’s not Mary Poppins. It’s a goat.”
“Would be a good name for a nanny goat,” Lawton said. “Mary Poppins, I mean.”
Hack ignored him and said to Rhodes, “You know Vernell Lindsey’s goats?”
Vernell was a romance writer who’d had some moderate successes. She also kept goats, three of them, named Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy. Like a lot of goats, they didn’t like to stay penned up, and they could get out of just about any kind of enclosure. Vernell tried to keep them on her property, but it wasn’t always possible.
“I know them,” Rhodes said.
“Turns out Shirley has strayed from the straight and narrow,” Hack said.
“I can believe it,” Rhodes said, “but goat morals aren’t a problem for the sheriff’s department.”
“Vernell blames Otis King’s Old Ben,” Lawton said.
Old Ben got out now and then, too.
“I’m tellin’ this,” Hack said.
“Never mind that,” Rhodes said before Lawton could chime in. “Alton’s the animal control officer, and he does what he can. He’s taken Old Ben back home more than once.”
“Not soon enough,” Hack said. “Accordin’ to Vernell, that is.”
“I still don’t see what she expects us to do about it. Provide goat birth control?”
“That ain’t the problem,” Lawton said.
Hack ignored him again. “That ain’t the problem. Seems like Shirley’s escaped again, and pregnancy’s not agreein’ with her.”
“Nannies gone wild,” Lawton said.
Hack sat stone still. The silence grew until Rhodes said, “Just tell me what happened.”
“Let Lawton tell it,” Hack said. “Seems like he’s the one knows all about it.”
“It’s your story,” Lawton said. “You tell it.”
Rhodes reached in his pocket, pulled out a quarter, flipped it, and caught it on the back of his wrist, covering it with his hand. “Heads, it’s Hack. Tails, it’s Lawton.” He uncovered the coin. “Heads. Tell it, Hack.”
Rhodes put the quarter back in his pocket. He hadn’t looked at it, but he knew Hack would be mollified. He liked to win.