by Bill Crider
“I can see that,” Rhodes said, “but I can’t see what the situation is.”
“We’re not exactly sure. All we know is that Dr. Benton and Dr. Qualls seem to have gotten into some kind of tussle.”
“Tussle?” Ruth asked.
“Yes. Not a fight. A tussle. Dr. Qualls ran out of the part-timers’ office, and Dr. Benton was with him, or chasing him. It isn’t clear.”
“Where are they now?” Rhodes asked.
“Well, that’s the problem. It seems they’re up on the roof.”
So that’s what the students were looking for. Maybe they hoped someone would jump or fall. Although the building had only two stories, a fall to the concrete would do plenty of damage. It might even be fatal. So far as Rhodes could see, however, no one was near the edge.
“What are they doing up there?” he asked.
“That’s another thing we don’t know,” Sue Lynn said.
There was a lot more they didn’t know than they did know. Rhodes decided he’d have to go to the roof himself if he wanted to find out.
“What about your campus security?” he asked.
“That would be Officer Sanders,” the dean told him. “He’s keeping order inside.”
“We’ll go have a look,” Rhodes said, and he and Ruth entered the building.
Officer Sanders wore a black uniform and looked quite official, but he wasn’t doing much to keep order. Students milled around in the hallway, and their chatter echoed off the walls and floor. Rhodes didn’t see any of the instructors. He supposed they were in their classrooms and offices, staying out of the way. A wise decision.
“How do I get to the roof?” Rhodes asked Sanders, who was trying to herd the students back into their classrooms.
“There’s the stair,” Sanders said, jerking his head toward the stairs leading to the second floor. “Goes right on up to the roof.”
Rhodes thanked him, and he and Ruth took the stairs.
“It’s not like Seepy to get into trouble,” Ruth said. “He’s very calm, and he doesn’t like violence.”
“Nobody mentioned violence,” Rhodes said.
They reached the second floor and continued up to the door that opened onto the roof. Rhodes stood by the door for a while, listening, but it was made of steel, and he couldn’t hear anything from the outside.
“I’ll go first,” Ruth said. “You’re not armed.”
Rhodes hoped they wouldn’t need weapons, but you didn’t go unarmed through a door onto a roof when there was “a situation,” not if you didn’t know what the situation was.
“Try not to shoot anybody,” he said.
Ruth drew her sidearm, a .38 revolver.
“I won’t shoot to kill,” she said.
She moved past Rhodes and threw open the door.
Rhodes hoped she was telling the truth.
26
Rhodes didn’t see anyone on the flat asphalt roof other than Ruth as she stepped out the door, her revolver at the ready in a two-handed grip.
The day was clear and cool, and a north wind blew across the roof. A piece of crumpled paper that might have been part of a student’s homework skittered across the asphalt.
At the opposite end of the building there was an enormous cooling tower, and Rhodes thought he heard voices coming from behind it.
Ruth started in that direction, and Rhodes was right behind her. When they reached the tower, they turned, putting their backs flat against it. Ruth pointed the .38 at the roof and looked at Rhodes.
He put a finger to his lips, and they stood silently, trying to hear what Qualls and Benton were saying. Rhodes couldn’t make out any words because of the wind. He glanced at Ruth. She shrugged, so he figured she couldn’t hear, either. He pointed to the right, and Ruth moved out.
They turned the corner. Seeing no one, they continued to inch along the side of the cooling tower. Ruth paused just before the corner and looked back. Rhodes indicated that it was okay for her to go on.
She turned the corner with the .38 extended in front of her.
“Freeze,” she said.
Rhodes stood behind her. Benton and Qualls looked as frightened and as guilty as if they’d just burgled the bursar’s office.
“Hands in the air,” Ruth said.
“But we—” Benton said.
Ruth wiggled the pistol. “I said, hands in the air.”
Benton and Qualls raised their hands. It was apparent that neither of them was armed, not that Rhodes had expected them to be.
“It’s okay,” he said to Ruth. “You don’t have to shoot them.”
“What if I want to?”
“It wouldn’t be legal.”
“What’s the use of being a cop if you can’t shoot whoever you want to?”
Rhodes grinned. “You have the satisfaction of taking the perps off the streets.”
“I guess that’ll have to do,” Ruth said, and she lowered her pistol.
“Let’s go back inside,” Rhodes said. “This wind bothers me.”
“You two go first,” Ruth told Benton and Qualls. “I’ll be behind you with the pistol.”
“You wouldn’t really shoot us, would you?” Benton asked.
“Try me,” Ruth said, and the two men got in front of her, looking hangdog.
“Go on,” she said, and they did.
Before they got to the second floor Rhodes suggested that Ruth holster her pistol.
“We don’t want to frighten the students,” he said. “Or Officer Sanders, if he’s there.”
Sanders wasn’t there, and the students moved out of the way as the four people made their way to Benton’s office. The office didn’t look any better than it had the day before, and there was no more room than there had been, either. Rhodes told Ruth to go downstairs and let everyone know that things were under control.
“Tell them nobody’s going to jump off the roof,” he said. “Nobody’s going to get shot or hurt. They can go on with their classes.”
“What about these two?” Ruth asked. “Are you sure you don’t need my help with them?”
“I think I can handle them. You can go on patrol when you have the campus settled down.”
Ruth looked at Benton. “I’m not sure I’d trust them.”
Benton looked woebegone. He slumped and sighed, but he didn’t say anything.
“I didn’t say I trusted them,” Rhodes told her. “I said I could take care of them.”
Ruth was reluctant to leave. “Well, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” He didn’t add that he’d made A’s in PE. “You two sit down.”
Benton sat in the desk chair. Qualls shoved a couple of books out of the other chair onto the floor, then sat in the chair. Qualls didn’t look at all woebegone. He looked angry, and he sat with his hands in his lap, the right covering the left.
“They won’t cause any more trouble,” Rhodes told Ruth. “You can leave now.”
Ruth gave Benton a withering look and left the office, closing the door behind her. Rhodes stood where he was and looked from one man to the other, saying nothing.
Benton cracked first.
“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. Do you think Ruth is upset with me?”
“That would be my guess,” Rhodes said, “but at least she didn’t shoot you.”
“She was only joking,” Benton said, but he didn’t sound entirely sure of himself.
Qualls had nothing to say about any of this. He sat unmoving in the chair.
“What caused the little tussle between you two?” Rhodes asked.
“Tussle?” Benton said.
“That’s what the dean called it.”
Benton sighed. “She’s going to do worse than shoot us.”
Qualls spoke up. “If she dismisses me, I’ll see you in court. This was all your doing.”
Now they were getting somewhere.
“How was it his doing?” Rhodes asked.
“That’s between us,” Qualls said. “Or it
had better be.”
“Is that a threat?” Rhodes asked.
Qualls wasn’t going to cooperate. “Take it any way you want to.”
“All I did was talk to him,” Benton said. “A friendly conversation. That’s all it was.”
Qualls laughed without humor.
“What was the conversation about?” Rhodes asked.
Benton sat up straighter. “I noticed that he had something wrong with one of his hands. I wondered if he’d hurt himself, and I asked him about it. He didn’t like that.”
“My hands are my own business,” Qualls said.
“They look all right to me,” Rhodes said.
Benton pointed. “He has his left hand covered. It’s his index finger that’s hurt. Ask him to show it to you.”
“I don’t have to show anything to anyone,” Qualls said. “In fact, I don’t have to sit here and listen to this unless I’ve been charged with something. Have I been charged, Sheriff?”
While tussling wasn’t against the law, Rhodes thought he might charge Qualls and Benton with disturbing the peace. In the long run, though, that would be more trouble than it was worth for both him and the college. Not to mention for Benton and Qualls.
“No,” Rhodes said. “You haven’t been charged with anything.”
“Are you going to charge me?”
“I don’t think I will.”
“I’m glad to see you’re sensible.” Qualls stood up, careful to keep his hand concealed. “Now if you two gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll be going. I have a class to teach if the dean doesn’t fire me.”
“I’ll talk to her about that,” Rhodes said.
“I thought you might.” Qualls opened the door with his right hand. He held his left in front of him where Rhodes couldn’t see it. “Good-bye, gentlemen.”
When the door closed behind Qualls, Benton said, “I don’t much like the way he said ‘gentlemen.’ I don’t think he was sincere.”
Rhodes didn’t respond.
“Okay,” Benton said, “maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I wasn’t subtle enough. I didn’t think Qualls would overreact the way he did, but you can see he’s guilty. Otherwise, why would he run out of the office when I mentioned his hand?”
Rhodes was surprised, too, now that he stopped to think about it. Qualls had seemed to Rhodes to have better control of his emotions than he’d displayed with Benton. Maybe it was the setting, or the surprise. Or maybe Rhodes should have confronted Qualls about his hand during the interview at the jail, though at the time Rhodes hadn’t thought Qualls would be so easy to crack.
“You’re right,” Rhodes said. “He’s guilty. The question now is, how much is he guilty of?”
“Do you want me to try to find out?”
“No,” Rhodes said. “Somehow I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Rhodes left Benton to his own devices, of which Rhodes was certain there were many, and went down to talk with Dean King. The dean wasn’t too receptive at first, but when Rhodes explained that Benton had been working for him, unofficially, of course, she relented.
“I hope you aren’t going to arrest them,” she said. “If you do, then there’ll be all kinds of trouble.”
Trouble, in the college setting, was likely to involve considerable paperwork, Rhodes assumed. Not to mention meetings. Lots of meetings.
“I don’t have any reason to arrest them,” he said. “Neither one of them will cause any more trouble.”
“More trouble? Is one of them in trouble now?”
“No. You don’t have to worry about them. They’ll be on their best behavior. I can guarantee it.”
That was overstating things, particularly in Benton’s case. Rhodes could never predict what Benton might do, nor could anyone else, but if the math teacher was interested in keeping Ruth Grady happy, he’d have to watch his step.
Qualls, on the other hand, would have to be careful not to do anything to attract attention to himself. Whatever he did now would be open to scrutiny, and he knew that Rhodes was onto him. Rhodes believed that meant the end of Robin Hood. Qualls wouldn’t risk trying anything with his bow and arrows again.
Rhodes could have arrested him and charged him, but not with anything serious. At best, Qualls would have had to pay a fine. At worst, Rhodes wouldn’t be able to prove his case. Certainly the callus on Qualls’s hand wasn’t enough to convict him. It wasn’t even enough for Rhodes to bring the charges.
“I’ll have to trust you, Sheriff,” the dean said. “If you promise there’ll be no more trouble, we’ll let this go. I’ll have a word with Dr. Benton and Dr. Qualls just to make sure they understand.”
Rhodes didn’t think that would hurt. He thanked Dean King for her time and left the college.
Rhodes’s next stop was Mikey Burns’s office. The commissioner wouldn’t be happy to see him. It seemed as if nobody was happy to see Rhodes these days.
“I think he’s still upset about the car,” Mrs. Wilkie told Rhodes when he presented himself.
“Or about Hal Gillis,” Rhodes said.
“That’s so sad.” Mrs. Wilkie put on what Rhodes assumed was supposed to be a mournful expression, though it looked more like she’d swallowed a pickle. “Mr. Gillis was a nice man.”
Not so nice if what Jennifer Loam had said was true, but Rhodes didn’t tell Mrs. Wilkie that. No need to disillusion her.
Mrs. Wilkie let Burns know that Rhodes was there and told Rhodes he could go on into Burns’s office.
“Should I carry my hat in my hand?”
“You don’t have a hat,” Mrs. Wilkie pointed out.
“Maybe I should buy one,” Rhodes said.
“I don’t think you’d look good in a hat.”
“I wouldn’t. You can take my word for it. I’m the only sheriff in Texas who doesn’t wear one.”
“You’d better go on in,” Mrs. Wilkie said, puzzled by the direction of the conversation. Once again Rhodes reflected that he spent too much time talking to Hack and Lawton.
“Thanks,” he said and entered Burns’s office.
27
Burns’s aloha shirt was mainly red, with gray leaves and flowers. The red was about the same color as his Solstice, and it matched the color of his face. Rhodes wondered if the commissioner had blood pressure problems.
“This chicken mess has gotten out of hand,” Burns said. Then, as if realizing that didn’t sound right, he said, “Situation. That’s what I mean. This chicken situation. Hal Gillis is dead, Les Hamilton is dead, and there’s a maniac running loose and shooting tires out with hunting arrows. It has to stop.”
“How many tires have been shot?” Rhodes asked.
Burns gripped the edge of his desk with both hands and pulled himself forward an inch or two in his rolling desk chair. Rhodes was surprised he didn’t leave thumbprints in the wood.
“The number of tires isn’t what’s important,” Burns said. “It’s the idea that the maniac’s out there ready to strike at any time.”
“He won’t strike again,” Rhodes said.
Burns opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “You’ve made an arrest?”
“Not exactly.”
Burns’s upper lip curled. “How can you ‘not exactly’ arrest somebody?”
“It’s easy. Let’s just say I think I’ve put a stop to Robin Hood’s reign of terror.”
“You know who he is?”
“I’m pretty sure I do, and I’m pretty sure he won’t be doing anything else to harass you or anybody else.”
Rhodes wished he were as confident as he sounded. What worried him most was that he still suspected Qualls might have done worse things than shoot a few arrows. He might have killed a couple of people. Rhodes wasn’t going to mention that to Burns.
“You have to arrest him,” Burns said. “He has to be punished for what he’s done. He has to make restitution.”
“There’s a problem with that,” Rhodes said.
“What’s the problem?”
“Fine. I’ll take your word for it. However, that’s not going to pay for my tire.”
“Sorry about that,” Rhodes said.
“Right. And what about Hal Gillis and Les Hamilton? Are you going to ‘not exactly’ arrest anybody for killing them?”
“Sooner or later.”
“It had better be sooner. We don’t need to have any more killings around here.”
Rhodes couldn’t have agreed more, but he couldn’t guarantee anything along those lines.
“Well,” he said, “I won’t take up any more of your time. I just wanted to let you know that Robin Hood was out of the picture.”
Burns didn’t look thrilled. Rhodes hadn’t expected him to be.
“Speaking of getting things done,” Rhodes said, “what about the problems with the chicken farm? Have you managed to get anybody from the state to do anything?”
“Not exactly,” Burns said.
Rhodes grinned.
Burns didn’t, not for a couple of seconds, and then the corners of his mouth turned up. Not much, but a little.
“All right,” he said. “You got me on that one. I’ve been on the phone most of the day, but I can’t get anybody to promise me anything. They’re as bad as you are.”
“At least they’re listening.”
“They have to. Qualls has flooded them with letters and petitions, and that demonstration yesterday got their attention. I think they’ll send somebody up here eventually.”
“That might not be soon enough for the people in Mount Industry.”
“I know that,” Burns said. “It’s the best I can do.”
Rhodes had been ready to leave, but he didn’t move.
“I know how that sounds after my mouthing off,” Burns said. “I was wrong. You want a written apology?”
“I think we can call it a draw,” Rhodes said.