by Bill Crider
“That’s what he said.”
“Then I’ll drive out there and see what he wants.”
“I bet you already know.”
“Yeah, I do,” Rhodes said. “He wants me to have Burt Collins’s killer behind bars.”
“Nope,” Hack said.
“What, then?”
“You’ll find out,” Hack said.
* * *
The door between Burns’s office and the reception desk was open, so Rhodes walked right in. Burns sat behind his desk, but he wasn’t wearing his usual brightly colored aloha shirt. The background of this one was dark blue, and it was covered with ukuleles of various sizes.
Burns didn’t bother to stand up. He just motioned Rhodes to a chair and asked him how the investigation into Collins’s death was coming.
“I’ve been busy,” Rhodes said, “but I have a few ideas.”
“Good,” Burns said. “That’s good. Glad to hear it, but that’s not really what I want to talk about. You know I wouldn’t call you in on a Saturday afternoon unless it was about something big, I hope.”
“I know,” Rhodes said, though he didn’t really know. He had no idea what Burns was talking about.
“You remember when I wanted to get us that M-16?” Burns asked.
“I was just thinking about that today, as a matter of fact,” Rhodes said.
“Good. That’s good thinking, but this is even bigger than that.” Burns smiled. “Much bigger.”
Rhodes still didn’t know what was going on. Burns must have noticed his puzzlement. He leaned forward and said, “Drones.”
“Drones?” Rhodes said.
Burns looked around. “Is there an echo in here?” He laughed at his own joke and said, “Not drones. I shouldn’t have said that. I meant one drone.”
“Like a spy plane?”
“Exactly. I read about a sheriff’s department in California that’s going to get a government grant to get one. We wouldn’t need one of the kind that can kill people, just something to watch them with. Not much bigger than the model planes I used to build when I was a kid. Weighs about four pounds, has a four-foot wingspan. You get somebody on a computer and fly it all over the county. Right over that meth house you busted a couple of hours ago, for instance.”
“You know about that?” Rhodes asked.
“Hack told me. Anyway, if we had one of those drones cruising the county airspace, we could find places like that before they got started good. Then you could swoop in and shut them down.”
“If you had an armed one, you could just bomb the place.”
“Man, wouldn’t that be a sight? Might be dangerous, though, blowing up a meth house. The explosion might kill whoever was inside, and we wouldn’t want that. We couldn’t handle all the lawsuits.”
“What about the lawsuits from people who think we’re spying on them?”
“Nothing wrong with a little spying,” Burns said. “We have every right to do that.” He paused. “Don’t we?”
“Some people think so,” Rhodes said. “Others, well, they wouldn’t agree at all.”
“You mean they’d actually sue? Who’d do a thing like that?”
Rhodes thought about Able Terrell in his compound down in the south part of the county.
“Able Terrell,” Rhodes said. “He wouldn’t sue, though. He’d just shoot down the drone.”
“Wouldn’t that be illegal?”
“I don’t know,” Rhodes said. “He could tie the county up in court for a long time if we tried to arrest him for it.”
Burns frowned. “Maybe we’d better hold off on the drone.”
“Not only that,” Rhodes said, “but you’d have to find someone qualified to pilot the drone from a computer console. Probably two people at least so they could work in shifts. That would be quite an expense, even if you could find someone with the expertise to do it.”
“What about that Benton fella? He did a good job helping with the county Web site.”
“As good as he thinks he is, I’m not sure he could handle something like a drone. Besides, he has a job already.”
“Yeah, I guess he does. I might better give this some more thought.”
“Probably a good idea,” Rhodes said.
“Drones are the coming thing, though,” Burns said. “People can fight it all they want to, but in ten years, every law enforcement group in the state will have drones. I don’t want to be the last county to get one.”
“You could bring it up with some of the other commissioners, see what they think about it. Maybe start working on a grant proposal. Mrs. Wilkie would probably enjoy that.”
Rhodes had no idea if Mrs. Wilkie would enjoy it, but it would give her something to work on.
“That might be best,” Burns said. “It sure would be great to be able to watch what was going on all over the county, though, like they do in the big cities. Cameras on every corner.”
“The drone would be watching you, too,” Rhodes told him.
“I don’t have anything to hide. I’m a law-abiding citizen.”
“That’s good to know,” Rhodes said.
Chapter 17
Rhodes didn’t bother to go by the jail again. It was late afternoon and time to go home. He parked in his driveway and went around back to see Speedo, the border collie, who had his own private Styrofoam igloo to live in. Speedo came bounding up to greet him. The collie was always glad to see Rhodes, any time of the day or night, which was more than Rhodes could say for most humans he knew, especially humans like Clifford Clement.
Speedo was eager to play, but Rhodes knew that he couldn’t neglect Yancey, who was barking at the screen door and asking to be let outside. Rhodes started for the door, but he’d only taken a couple of steps before Ivy opened it. Yancey hopped down the two concrete steps and out into the yard, where he proceeded to harass Speedo, circling him and yipping.
Ivy followed Yancey outside and sat on the top step. “Those two have more energy than I do,” she said.
“More than I do, too,” Rhodes said, looking around for the rubber squeaky toy the dogs liked to play with.
“You look a little raggedy,” Ivy said. “Rough afternoon?”
Rhodes had known Ivy would notice his clothes.
“Just the usual gun battle with meth cookers,” he said. “The good guys won.”
“You know I worry about you, don’t you? All the time?”
“Comes with the territory.”
“The gun battles or the worry?”
“Both,” Rhodes said. “It wasn’t much of a battle. Three of them and two of us. They didn’t stand a chance.”
Ivy sighed. “If you say so.”
“I do. Did you get Vicki taken care of?”
“Yes, Ruth took her home. She’s coming back on Monday to file charges against Neil Foshee.”
“Good,” Rhodes said. “I have her purse at the jail. She’ll need it.”
“She’s had a bad time since her divorce,” Ivy said. “She made a big mistake with that Neil.”
“Her husband was no prize, either, not if she was telling the truth about him.”
“I heard that story, too,” Ivy said. “I believe it. Vicki needs someone to keep her on the straight and narrow.”
“Are you volunteering?”
“I’m thinking it over,” Ivy said.
Rhodes found the squeaky toy, a green and yellow frog, lying in the grass near the steps. He picked it up and mashed it, making it squeal. Yancey and Speedo bounded over and stood a couple of feet away from Rhodes, watching him with wary anticipation.
With a flick of his wrist Rhodes sent the frog spinning across the yard a few feet above Speedo’s head. The dogs turned and went after it. It wasn’t possible for Yancey to keep up with Speedo, but Yancey never seemed to catch on to that fact. He always charged headlong toward the frog as if he knew, just knew, that this time it was going to be different. This time for sure, somehow or other, he was going to get to the frog first.
> He didn’t, but as Speedo scooped it up in his mouth and turned back to Rhodes, Yancey made his play, leaping up and grabbing one of the frog’s legs in his mouth. Speedo shook his head, and Yancey fell to the grass. Speedo didn’t even look at him but instead ran back to Rhodes. He didn’t give up the frog at first. He made Rhodes work for it, and when Rhodes had it in his hand, Speedo waited for the next toss.
Yancey, meanwhile, was lying low in the grass back where the frog had hit the ground the first time. He couldn’t outrun Speedo, but he could outsmart him if only Rhodes would cooperate.
Rhodes did. He spun the frog in Yancey’s direction, and the little Pomeranian pounced on it with doggish glee as soon as it hit the grass. Instead of bringing it back to Rhodes for another round, he took off around the yard with Speedo tearing after him.
When Speedo caught up, Yancey hunkered down and growled at him through teeth clenched on the frog.
“It takes so little to keep them happy,” Ivy said.
“You say the same thing about me,” Rhodes told her.
“Only because it’s true. Except I can tell that you’re worried today.”
“Worried about Burt Collins,” Rhodes admitted. “His killer, that is. I think I may have missed something.”
“Do you know what?”
“I have an idea or two. I need to make a phone call. You keep the dogs entertained.”
“They don’t like the way I throw the frog.”
“You may never have to throw it,” Rhodes said. “I don’t think Yancey’s going to give it up. I’ll be right back.”
He went past Ivy and into the house. He could’ve called from his cell phone, but he didn’t like cell phones. He preferred a landline when he could get to one.
The two cats were sleeping peacefully in the kitchen. They didn’t need entertainment as long as they had a good place to sleep. They were even easier to keep happy than the dogs. Sam opened one eye and looked at Rhodes. When he saw who it was, he closed the eye.
Rhodes sneezed as he picked up the phone.
Seepy Benton answered Rhodes’s call on the first ring.
“What’s up, Sheriff?” he asked. “Any crimes you want solved? Any rowdies you want me to subdue?”
“Nothing that hard,” Rhodes said.
“Subduing the rowdies wasn’t hard. You just have to know how to use the pressure points. It’s not tricky. I could show you how it’s done if you want me to. I was Professor Lansdale’s star pupil.”
“Never mind that. What I want to know is the time of the closing ceremonies for the art conference tonight.”
“Seven o’clock. Why?”
“I’m invited, I suppose.”
“It’s open to the public, so that would include you. It won’t be as good as it could be because of the damage to some of the work, but we hope a few people show up. We might have a good crowd because of the extra added attraction.”
Rhodes didn’t like the way that sounded.
“We’re going to have live entertainment,” Benton said. “People like live entertainment while they’re looking at art.”
“I wouldn’t know about that.” Rhodes almost hated to ask his next question. “What kind of entertainment will there be?”
“I’m going to sing.”
Worst fears realized. Benton had been singing his own compositions and accompanying himself on guitar at a barbecue restaurant on Saturday evenings, but the owner, Max Schwartz, had decided to try something new, or that was the way Benton had explained it to Rhodes. Schwartz had replaced Benton with a barbershop quartet called the Next Edition. Rhodes had seen one of their videos on YouTube, a barbershop version of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” that he thought was a bit better than Benton’s warblings.
Benton had been somewhat less impressed than Rhodes, or so he’d said. “The tenor’s okay,” he’d told Rhodes. “Not a bad falsetto, but I can’t say much for that lead singer.”
Rhodes thought Benton was just upset because he’d been replaced, but Benton claimed that wasn’t the case. Rhodes supposed it didn’t matter so much now that Benton had an opportunity to perform again, even if it was just a one-shot. Since it was an audience that for the most part hadn’t heard him before, maybe it would go all right.
“You’ll be there, won’t you?” Benton asked.
“Is there going to be food?”
“Major snacks,” Benton said. “Not a meal, though. Isn’t the entertainment enough of a draw? I have some new numbers. You’ll like them.”
Rhodes doubted it, and he wondered what a major snack was. Whatever it was, it would be better than nothing at all. He hoped.
“I’ll be there,” he said. “Ivy, too.”
“Good. She loves my work.”
Rhodes knew better, but he didn’t say so.
“Ruth’s coming,” Benton said. “Practically the whole department will be there.”
“Are you counting yourself?” Rhodes asked.
“Well, I’m not officially part of the department, as you keep reminding me, but I do feel as if I’m an informal helper.”
“Don’t be saying that to anybody,” Rhodes told him.
“The secret is safe with me,” Benton said. “Working undercover is just my speed. I’ll see you this evening.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Rhodes said, wondering if Benton could tell he was lying.
* * *
When Rhodes went back outside, it was getting close to sundown, and the air was cool. Speedo was still trying to get the frog from Yancey. Every time the collie made a move toward the frog, Yancey would jerk backward, keeping just out of his reach.
“They could keep that up all day,” Ivy said. “Why doesn’t Speedo just jump on Yancey and take the stupid frog?”
“That would spoil their fun,” Rhodes said, sitting beside her on the step. “It’s such a nice night, why don’t we go out for dinner?”
Ivy gave him a suspicious glance. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Rhodes said, trying to look innocent. It wasn’t easy to do, as he’d learned from hundreds of interviews with guilty parties over the years, but he thought he pulled it off. “I just thought it would be fun.”
“I was planning to fix chicken meat loaf,” Ivy said.
While Rhodes thought that sounded better than vegetarian meat loaf, it wasn’t exactly enticing.
“You could have that some other time. What about going out?”
“I’d like that. Where will we go?”
“I thought the closing event for the art conference might be fun,” Rhodes said. “They’re having major snacks.”
He thought it might be best not to mention the extra added attraction.
“This is work, isn’t it,” Ivy said.
“But fun, too. Business and pleasure.”
“They don’t mix, I’ve heard.”
“This time they do. Trust me.”
“You’re going to shower and put on fresh clothes, I hope.”
“Naturally.” Rhodes stood up and put down a hand. Ivy took his hand and pulled herself up beside him.
“There’s still something you’re not telling me,” Ivy said.
“It’s a surprise,” Rhodes said. “An extra added attraction.”
He went down the steps and across the yard, where he grabbed the frog away from Yancey.
“Go on inside,” Rhodes said to Yancey. “I have to feed Speedo.”
Yancey pranced across the yard, looking back at Speedo a couple of times on the way as if to say, “You didn’t get the frog, nyah, nyah, nyah.”
“He’s a real caution, isn’t he?” Rhodes said, watching Yancey go.
Speedo barked twice.
Rhodes took that for a yes.
Chapter 18
There had been a time that still remained in the memory of a lot of people living in Clearview when the downtown area on Saturday night was the place to be if you wanted to see people you knew. The stores were open late, and the streets were crowd
ed. The cotton farmers all came to town on Saturday, and it wasn’t easy to find a parking place on the streets in front of the stores.
That had all changed now. The streetlights still came on when the sun went down, but the streets were deserted. The old buildings were dark, and it was impossible to tell now what kind of businesses had been in them. Even the movie theater facades were anonymous, and most of the older residents had forgotten exactly where the Saturday matinees had been shown.
Tonight, however, there was one exception to the darkness. The lights were on in the art gallery, and their glow spilled out onto the sidewalk. Cars lined the street in front of the building. Although the senior center was closed, the outside was lighted. It was almost as if the town had come alive again.
By the time Rhodes and Ivy arrived at the art gallery, the festivities had already begun. The crowd was bigger than Rhodes had expected. Seepy Benton sat on a stool at one end of the gallery, strumming his guitar softly. When Rhodes and Ivy walked in, he was explaining that his next number was called “The Medical Marijuana Song.”
“It’s available on my YouTube channel,” he said. “Seepybenton’s channel. Seepybenton is one word. You can watch me anytime.”
Rhodes looked around the gallery. People were moving around and chatting. Some of them were picking up food from the long table in the middle of the room. Very few of them seemed to be listening to Seepy.
The lack of interest in what Seepy had to say didn’t prove to be a deterrent, however. Seepy launched right into his big number, which sounded vaguely familiar to Rhodes, especially the chorus, during which Seepy sang, “All we are saying … is give weed a chance.”
“What are the chances of that happening?” Ivy asked.
“You mean giving weed a chance?”
Ivy nodded.
“This is Texas,” Rhodes said. “So I’d have to guess the chances are zero.”
“That’s what I think, too,” Ivy said. “It might be just as well that nobody’s really listening. They might get the wrong idea about Seepy.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” Rhodes said.
Ivy laughed. “Let’s look at some of the paintings.”
They strolled around, and Rhodes noted some of the works that he hadn’t seen before. One of them was of a group of people with umbrellas walking along what appeared to be Clearview’s main street. The old buildings looked familiar, but the scene didn’t. It wasn’t raining rain. Or violets or pennies from heaven, for that matter. It was raining feathers that swirled in the air and pooled in the street.