Murder in the Air

by Bill Crider

  “He might be trying to lull you into a false sense of security,” Benton said.

  Rhodes didn’t think that was the case. He thought the bowman just wasn’t very accurate. He’d been able to hit the tire on Mikey Burns’s Solstice, but he might have been standing only inches away when he did it.

  First utility poles, then the tire, and now human targets. Well, not human targets, but buildings and cars with humans in them. One thing Rhodes was sure about: Robin Hood was escalating his attacks. Either he was getting more confident that Rhodes and his deputies were too incompetent to catch him, or he was sliding deeper into his delusions, whatever they were.

  Rhodes unlocked the shotgun that rode between him and Benton.

  “Wow,” Benton said. “You’re serious about this stuff.”

  “He’s shooting at us,” Rhodes said. He pointed through the windshield. “You see what one of those arrows can do to metal. I can’t go after him with a peashooter.”

  Or for that matter with a .32 caliber pistol that wasn’t accurate at much more than ten yards. For a second Rhodes wished that he hadn’t given up his .38.

  Too late for that, though. Rhodes got on the radio and called Hack.

  “Send some backup out here,” he said. “Robin Hood thinks he has us pinned down, but I’m going after him.”

  “I’ll send Buddy,” Hack said. “You better wait till he gets there.”

  “Robin Hood might be gone by then. I don’t want him to get away.”

  “Ivy won’t like it if you get your hide punctured.”

  “She’ll think it serves me right,” Rhodes said.

  He hung up the mike, took hold of the shotgun, and opened the car door. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he started to run.

  Benton gave a muffled yell just as the door closed. “Serpentine! Serpentine!”

  Rhodes thought zigzagging might work just as well, or was that the same thing? It didn’t matter, as long as he didn’t zig when he should be zagging. He held the shotgun in front of him with both hands as he jogged toward the farmhouse.

  The first arrow flew past him to the right, missing him by at least ten feet. It didn’t miss the Charger, however. Rhodes heard it gong into the side of the car. He thought he heard a muffled scream, but that was probably just his imagination.

  The second arrow didn’t come any closer, and it was too high. If it came near the car, it sailed over it.

  Rhodes didn’t look back to see. He’d reached the shelter of the wide front porch that ran along the entire front of the old house. The tree was on the left side, so Rhodes figured he’d go around the house in the opposite direction as soon as he caught his breath. The problem with catching his breath was that he caught plenty of the chicken stink along with it. He breathed through his mouth to minimize the effect.

  He looked toward the Charger. Benton still sat in the front seat, and Rhodes thought he could see a couple of cars coming along the road. He hoped Buddy was driving one of them.

  Rhodes didn’t pause long, but it was long enough to let the bowman make his getaway. When Rhodes got to the back of the house, he could see the mesquite branches moving and hear someone thrashing through them.

  There was nothing for Rhodes to do except follow along. He’d told Hack he didn’t want Robin Hood to get away, and he’d meant it.

  Mesquite thorns clawed at Rhodes as he crashed along in pursuit of the bowman. The trees were a plague all over the county, not as bad as the feral hogs that plowed up the land everywhere they roamed, but not really much better. Any cleared land never stayed cleared for long, not if it wasn’t cared for constantly. If the hogs didn’t root it up with their snouts as they dug for food, the mesquite trees would grow up and cover it. Sometimes Rhodes thought the hogs spread the mesquites in some kind of parasitical relationship.

  Rhodes had no idea where Robin Hood was going, but he was bearing to his right. If he kept going that way, he’d come to the back of Calvin Terrall’s land.

  If Hamilton had run cattle on his property, there might have been a path to follow, but there were no cattle and there was no path. Rhodes figured that even if Robin Hood knew where he was going, he was running blind.

  So was Rhodes, and he didn’t think he was gaining any ground on his quarry. The bushes were so thick that he couldn’t see much around him or in front of him, but he kept on going.

  Then he halted, not because of anything he saw but because of something he didn’t hear. The noise of the bowman’s running had stopped. It was quiet in the mesquites. A late-season mosquito hummed in Rhodes’s left ear.

  A much louder hum on his right was followed by the sound of an arrow slicing through mesquite leaves. Rhodes didn’t know exactly where it had come from, but he fired the shotgun in what he hoped was the right general direction.

  The shotgun wasn’t designed for long-distance shooting, but it was deadly against most mesquite limbs within the area. Rhodes looked through thin wisps of gunsmoke at the clearing he’d created.

  He didn’t see anyone, but through the ringing in his ears he heard somebody running. Rhodes went after him. Before he’d gone fifty yards, he heard a car start.

  Rhodes ran as fast as he could, but the bushes in the mesquite thicket slowed him down. He came to a barbed-wire fence that separated Hamilton’s property from the dirt road that ran between Hamilton’s land and that owned by Calvin Terrall. The fence had been cut, probably when the bowman had made his way onto Hamilton’s place.

  Rhodes looked to his right and saw a cloud of dust that obscured a car headed in the general direction of Clearview. Because of the dust and distance, Rhodes couldn’t tell what kind of car it was, much less read the license plate. He let out a long breath and started back to the farmhouse.

  Now that he wasn’t pursuing the bowman, he noticed the stink more than ever. It was so strong it could have been tracked on radar. Rhodes wouldn’t have been surprised if birds flying overhead had been overcome by it, dropped out of the sky, and plopped dead at his feet. He breathed through his mouth and walked on.

  He was about halfway back to the farmhouse when he saw the arrow that had buzzed by him. It lay near a mesquite that it must have hit. Rhodes picked up the arrow and noticed that it didn’t have an arrowhead attached. The rounded wooden tip was blunt and bare.

  While he puzzled about that, he heard noises. He started to walk again. The closer he got to the farmhouse, the more the noises sounded like a commotion.

  Rhodes picked up his pace. As he got nearer, he could tell that there was an all-out ruckus going on. He wondered what the trouble was this time.

  When he rounded the corner of the farmhouse, he got his answer. In front of the red building and surrounding the county car were about a dozen naked women.

  14

  The sight momentarily made Rhodes forget all about the smell of the chicken farm.

  The women weren’t entirely naked, Rhodes saw, when he recovered from his initial surprise and took a second look. Or possibly it was a fourth or fifth look. He hadn’t counted. At any rate, the women all wore something that might have been bikinis covered with what appeared to be feathers. Maybe chicken feathers, but probably fake ones.

  They also carried signs. When Rhodes got closer he could read some of them.

  CHICKENS HAVE FEELINGS, TOO!

  SAVE OUR FEATHERED FRIENDS!

  IF YOU CUT THEM, DO THEY NOT BLEED?

  Rhodes thought about his grandfather and that chicken they’d had for Sunday dinner. It was a good thing his grandfather wasn’t here to see this. For several reasons.

  A number of cars were parked all around. Buddy’s county car was parked beside Rhodes’s, and Buddy was making quite a bit of the noise Rhodes heard. The deputy had a bullhorn, and he was yelling into it.

  “Put down your signs and get in your vehicles! Vacate these premises at once!”

  The women ignored him and chanted the slogans that were on their signs.

  Seepy Benton sat on the hood of Rh
odes’s car, looking like a happy Jewish Buddha in a fedora. Rhodes imagined a wide grin beneath the surgical mask.

  Jared Crockett and several of the workers from the chicken farm were standing in front of the red headquarters building. They didn’t look happy at the disturbance, but at the same time they were eyeing the women. When they saw Rhodes, they moved away from Crockett and went behind the building. Rhodes figured Crockett had told them to get back to work.

  While Rhodes watched the scene, another car arrived. Jennifer Loam got out.

  “No press!” Buddy yelled into the bullhorn. “No press!”

  Jennifer walked over to him and said something. Rhodes couldn’t hear what it was, but he could imagine it. It would have to do with freedom of the press and the Constitution. Buddy didn’t stand a chance.

  When she was through with Buddy, Jennifer went over to the women. One of them, a redhead, stopped chanting and spoke to the reporter. Jennifer must have identified herself, because the woman smiled, and Loam pulled out her little recorder.

  Rhodes walked past a couple of the women, who looked warily at his shotgun. It didn’t disturb them enough to quiet them. In fact, they seemed to get louder. Rhodes put the gun in the Charger and closed the door. Benton watched him from the hood of the car. The arrow poked up beside him.

  “You knew this was going to happen,” Rhodes said.

  Benton’s voice was muffled but cheerful. “I didn’t know for sure. I thought it might. Dr. Qualls got in touch with a couple of animal rights organizations and asked for their help. I guess one of them decided to do something.”

  Before Rhodes could respond, Buddy ran up to him, the bullhorn at his side.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Sheriff. Just look!” Buddy was scandalized. “These women are indecent! They’re outside agitators, and they’re out of control! Hack said something about you needing help with Robin Hood, but he never mentioned anything about this!”

  Buddy had a puritanical bent, and Rhodes knew he’d like nothing better than to arrest the women and toss them in the clink for eighty years, if not a hundred.

  “They have a right to assemble peaceably,” Rhodes said.

  “Peaceably! They’re not even dressed. They could cause a riot.”

  “I don’t see anybody who’s likely to riot.” Rhodes turned to Benton. “Are you thinking of rioting?”

  “Not me,” Benton said. “I’m just enjoying the scenery.”

  Jennifer Loam, having finished her interview, got a camera from her car and started to take pictures.

  Buddy saw what she was doing. “Stop that! You can’t put pictures like that in the paper!”

  “Sure she can,” Rhodes said. “If the publisher will let her.”

  Jennifer snapped a shot of Rhodes and Buddy. She didn’t give them any warning, so Rhodes didn’t get a chance to frown appropriately. He didn’t care. He didn’t think the picture would ever appear in the newspaper.

  Jennifer put the camera back in her car. She shut the door and walked over to the lawmen.

  “Hey, Sheriff. What do you think of the demonstration?”

  “We think it’s unlawful assembly and a disgrace besides,” Buddy said. “We’re gonna arrest all of them.”

  “No, we’re not,” Rhodes told him. “We’ll let them have their fun, and then they can go back home.”

  “We can’t let them get away with this, Sheriff.” Buddy put the bullhorn to his mouth. “Return to your vehicles! Clear the area at once!”

  The women ignored him. They weren’t bothering to chant anymore, but they walked around, raising and lowering their signs.

  “Nobody’s paying any attention to us, Buddy,” Rhodes said. “You can go on back to town. Robin Hood’s escaped, and I think I can handle this on my own.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, Sheriff,” Buddy said. “I’ve seen TV commercials for those Girls Gone Wild tapes. I don’t think you know what we’re dealing with here.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Indecent exposure,” Buddy said. “We could arrest them for that. You gotta admit that they’re indecently exposed.”

  “I’ll make a closer examination before I’m sure,” Rhodes said.

  Buddy looked at him. “You wouldn’t be making fun of me, would you, Sheriff?”

  “No way. You know me better than that. You already have the demonstration under control. There’s nobody here to see it, so the appearance of the demonstrators isn’t threatening the county’s morality. I can take it from now on. You get back on patrol, and I’ll get these people moved out.”

  “Well,” Buddy said. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Buddy nodded and went to his car. He tossed the bullhorn into the backseat, then turned to look at Rhodes.

  Rhodes gave him a two-fingered salute. Buddy shook his head, got in his car, and drove away.

  The women began to chant again. This time Benton chanted with them. Rhodes ignored all of them and went to talk to Jared Crockett. Jennifer Loam followed him.

  “This place smells terrible,” she said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Jennifer looked at the ground. “What are all these arrows doing here?” she asked.

  Rhodes hadn’t noticed before, but several arrows lay at their feet. They weren’t sticking out of the ground. Like the one he’d picked up, they had only blunt tips. It could be that Robin Hood wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. He used the arrowheads only when shooting at buildings. Or cars.

  “What was the deal with the shotgun?” Jennifer asked. “What did Buddy mean about Robin Hood?”

  “It’s a long story,” Rhodes said.

  “This is a real mess, Sheriff,” Crockett said as they reached him. “What’s this woman doing with you?”

  “I’m not with him,” Loam said. “I represent the Clearview Herald, and I’m here to get a story.”

  “I don’t have anything to say to you. I read what you wrote in yesterday’s paper. Not a word of truth in it. I don’t know where you got your information.”

  “My sources are confidential.”

  “They’re confidential liars, then.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I’m telling you they are.” He waved a hand at the demonstrators. “I guess you’re gonna write this up, too.”

  “It’s news, so it should be in the paper.”

  “Publicity’s exactly what those people want,” Crockett said. His face had started to get red. “Lester’s dead, so what good is this going to do anybody?”

  “What difference would it make if Lester was alive?” Rhodes asked. “They’re calling attention to a situation they think is wrong. It doesn’t matter to them if Lester’s dead or not. They didn’t know him. It’s the situation they don’t like.”

  Jennifer Loam looked at him. “You’re pretty good, Sheriff. That’s almost exactly what Maddie Spencer told me.”

  “Who’s Maddie Spencer?” Rhodes asked.

  “The woman I interviewed. She says she and her friends object to the inhumane treatment of the chickens here, and it doesn’t matter if the owner’s around or not. The harm is still going on.”

  “There you have it,” Rhodes said to Crockett. “Aren’t you going to invite us in?”

  Crockett clearly didn’t want to, but he said, “All right, come on.”

  He turned and went into the building. Rhodes and Loam were right behind him.

  Once inside, Crockett sat behind his desk. Rhodes and Loam took the two folding chairs without waiting to be asked.

  “Tell me about Robin Hood’s attack,” Rhodes said.

  Loam got out her little recorder and turned it on.

  “This is all off the record,” Crockett said.

  “Nothing’s off the record,” Rhodes said. “It’ll all be in my report, and that’s a public document.”

  Jennifer smiled and got out a notebook to use for backup in case the recorder failed, which Rhodes figured wasn’t imposs
ible.

  “All right, then,” Crockett said. He turned to glare at Jennifer. “Print this. Some maniac tried to kill me and some of the employees. Then a bunch of crazy people came out here and danced around naked.”

  “Tell me more about the maniac,” Jennifer said.

  “I was outside, giving some instructions to the fellas who work here. The next thing I knew, something banged into the roof of this building.” Crockett looked up as if he expected to see the tip of an arrow protruding into the office. He looked back down. “Before we could run, I got hit.”

  “You don’t look wounded,” Rhodes said.

  “The arrow bounced off. A couple of the guys were hit, too.”

  “The arrows bounce off them, too?”

  “Yeah, and then we got our butts inside. We could hear the arrows hitting the building. Sounded like a hailstorm.”

  Rhodes doubted that. There were quite a few arrows lying around, but not enough to have made that much noise. Rhodes would have to remember to gather up the arrows. He wondered if there was a note attached to any of them.

  “Nobody was hurt, though?” Jennifer asked.

  “No. Make a better story for you if they were, wouldn’t it.”

  Jennifer didn’t bother to answer.

  “You said you’d have another story about the farm in the paper today,” Crockett said. “What’s it about?”

  “You’ll have to buy a copy and see.”

  “I wouldn’t buy that rag. Mr. Hamilton subscribed. I’ll read his copy.”

  “Who do you think might have been shooting the arrows?”

  Rhodes said, to get things back on track.

  “I can give you plenty of names. Nobody who lives here likes me.”

  “You?” Rhodes asked.

  “I meant Mr. Hamilton. They complain about the smell. I don’t know why.”

  “I know,” Jennifer said. “They complain about other things, too.”

  “That stuff about the incinerator was a lie.”

  Jennifer smiled.

  “Back to the arrows,” Rhodes said. “Any ideas?”

  “I told you. Anybody around here. They’re all whiners and complainers.”

  Crockett was a charming guy. Rhodes wondered if he had any more friends than Hamilton did.