by Bill Crider
“I’ll just look around.”
“I know you,” Seepy said. “You have a hunch about something. Let’s go with him, Jennifer. We citizens have a right to take video of the cops anytime we want to.”
“Just as long as you don’t interfere with us in the performance of our duties,” Rhodes said.
“We wouldn’t think of it,” Seepy said.
“That’ll be the day,” Rhodes said.
“John Wayne, The Searchers,” Seepy said.
“Buddy Holly,” Rhodes said, “but he stole it from the Duke.”
Rhodes headed back into the trees. He didn’t like leaving the body, but it had been there for a while without anybody watching it, and Buddy would be along in a minute. Rhodes didn’t think the buzzards would act before the deputy arrived.
As he walked, Rhodes wondered for the first time if Buddy had been named for Buddy Holly. Maybe he’d ask him.
Rhodes didn’t look back to see if Jennifer and Seepy were following him. He didn’t have to. He could hear them. They weren’t skilled woodspersons, and for that matter neither was he. However, he didn’t think he was making quite as much noise as they were.
Seepy was right about the hunch. Now and then Rhodes had one, and it usually paid to check it out. Sometimes he got lucky. Maybe this would be one of those times.
Walking half a mile over open ground was one thing. Walking half a mile through trees wasn’t quite as easy, but it didn’t take Rhodes very long to find what he’d had the hunch about. He was almost to the creek when he spotted a small cleared area with some marijuana plants growing in it.
Terry Allison was a lot like Billy Bacon, a man who owned some property that he didn’t really know what to do with, a man who seldom if ever went past the front half of the land he owned, which happened to back up on Crockett’s Creek, a nice water supply for anybody who needed it to grow a little cash crop.
The patch was fenced with the same kind of wire as the one on Billy Bacon’s land. There was a pump with a pipe leading to the creek, but there was no alligator inside the fence. There was a small puddle of muddy water, but that was all Rhodes could see. Although the puddle didn’t appear big enough to hold a gator of any size, Rhodes thought he ought to take a look. He had just opened the gate when Seepy and Jennifer arrived.
“Oh, boy,” Seepy said. “More pot.”
“It’s not for you,” Rhodes told him.
Seepy looked offended. “I didn’t say I wanted it. I’m just glad to see that someone around here is helping me with my crusade.”
“What crusade?” Jennifer asked.
“Don’t get him started,” Rhodes said, but it was too late. Seepy had already launched into his speech about the benefits of medical marijuana and how it should be tested more widely. Rhodes shut his ears and went into the marijuana patch.
He’d taken only a few steps inside the fence when something roiled the water in the puddle. Rhodes stopped where he was and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long, as an alligator snapping turtle came waddling out of the water on its clawed, webbed feet. It was as big as a manhole cover, and three ridges of spikes ran down its shell. Its tail was flat and scaly. It opened its beaky mouth, which could easily have held a softball if Rhodes had brought one with him to toss inside. It breathed like a miniature Darth Vader.
“Gosh-gosh-gosh,” Jennifer said. “What is that thing?”
“Alligator snapping turtle,” Rhodes told her. “They aren’t usually aggressive, but this one seems to be.”
Jennifer already had her camera out. “Will it hurt us?”
“Not if we don’t let it. Don’t get close. It could snap your leg in two with that beak.”
Jennifer backed up, but she kept the camera running. “Are you going to do anything heroic?”
“Are you asking me or Seepy?” Rhodes looked around. “Where is Seepy, anyway?”
Seepy stood well outside the fence and didn’t appear interested in coming inside.
“I guess you were asking me,” Rhodes said, “and I’m not going to do anything heroic. I’m not going to do anything at all unless I have to. I don’t want to shoot the turtle. It’s considered a threatened species in this state.”
There was more to it than that. In addition to the fact that the turtles were protected, Rhodes happened to like turtles. Not this particular turtle, but other, smaller, ones. He associated them with good luck and felt they’d helped him out a number of times. He liked to think he was a rational person, so he never told anybody about him and turtles. He certainly wasn’t going to tell Seepy, even though Seepy would have understood. Seepy had a mystical side and even believed in ghosts.
“People make soup out of turtles like that,” Seepy called from his position outside the fence. “Just one more good reason to become a vegan.”
While the conversation had been going on, the turtle had lumbered closer. It didn’t appear to have any intention of stopping. Rhodes had seen several snappers in his lifetime, but he’d never seen one like this. They were usually shy and incurious. This one didn’t appear to be either.
“If they bite down on your arm or leg,” Seepy called, “they won’t let go until it thunders.”
“That’s just an old wives’ tale,” Rhodes said. “Don’t worry about that. Besides, if that thing bites you, it won’t have to hold on. It’ll cut right through bone and all. We’d better get out of here, Jennifer.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. She was already on the way out. The turtle kept right on coming.
“Shut the gate,” Seepy said when Rhodes and Jennifer were outside the fence, but Rhodes wasn’t listening. He was looking around for a fallen tree limb. He’d decided to do something after all. He saw a limb about the size of a baseball bat not too far away and went to pick it up.
“He’s coming out the gate,” Seepy said.
“You could use one of your karate moves on him,” Rhodes said. “The ones you learned from Professor Lansdale.”
“Not karate,” Seepy said. “Chen Shuan. And he didn’t teach me how to fight turtles. I don’t know where the pressure points are.”
Rhodes picked up the limb and swished it through the air.
“You going to hit him with that thing?” Buddy said, walking up through the trees. “Because if you are, I’ll have to arrest you.”
“You’re supposed to be working the crime scene,” Rhodes said.
“Terry told me you were wandering around in the woods, and I thought you might need some help. Sure enough, you do.”
“What about the buzzards?”
“I told Terry to stand by the tree and scare ’em off if they decided to pay a visit. I told him to be careful about the crime scene. He’s already walked around there anyway.”
“You have any ideas about this turtle?” Rhodes asked.
Buddy patted the big Magnum at his hip.
“That would be a lot worse than hitting him with this stick,” Rhodes said. “I’d be the one who’d have to arrest somebody if you shot him.”
“Better call Alton Boyd, then. He’s the animal expert.”
Rhodes wasn’t going to call Alton. He thought he could handle the turtle by himself. It had stopped moving. Maybe it was tired. It was about ten feet from Rhodes, and it looked right at him as if daring him to come closer.
“I’ve just never seen anything like that before,” Jennifer said. “It looks like something that escaped from Jurassic Park.”
“Only smaller,” Seepy said.
The turtle took a step forward.
“Not small enough,” Jennifer said. She started the camera again.
Rhodes took a step toward the turtle and extended the tree limb. The turtle’s head flashed out like a striking snake, and its beak bit down on the limb.
“Gosh-gosh-gosh,” Jennifer said. “That’s really scary. I’m glad I got it on video. It’ll look great on the Web site. It might be a little shaky, though.”
“Heroic Sheriff Confronts Pre
historic Beast,” Seepy said. “What Happened Next Will Amaze You!”
“Great clickbait headline,” Buddy said.
“What will happen next?” Jennifer asked.
The turtle hadn’t broken the limb, and true to the old wives’ tale, it was hanging on. Rhodes started to drag it.
“I’m going to see if I can get it to the creek,” Rhodes said. “It will be a lot happier there than it was in that puddle.”
“What if it decides it would rather clamp down on you instead of that limb?”
“I’ll make a run for it,” Rhodes said. “I might be slow, but I think I can still outrun a turtle.”
“Have that camera ready, Jennifer,” Seepy said.
“I’m ready.”
“Let the games begin,” Seepy said.
Chapter 16
The turtle proved cooperative for most of the short distance to the creek. It didn’t let go of the limb, and it didn’t dig in with its claws and try to prevent Rhodes from dragging it. Once it even walked forward a couple of steps on its own. Rhodes thought later that he should have known it wouldn’t be that easy all the way to the creek.
Rhodes had seen a place where the bank had a little cut in it that would allow him to walk down close to the water’s edge. There were some cow tracks in it.
Rhodes thought that if he left the turtle at the top of the cut, the turtle would figure out for itself that being in the creek was preferable to being in a mud hole. The creek would have fish and frogs in it, and the turtle could fend for itself rather than depending on someone to bring it some food. It occurred to Rhodes that it might be hungry. That might explain why it was so aggressive.
Rhodes’s foot slipped as he started down the bank. There was nothing to grab hold of, and he couldn’t stop himself as he slid down to the creek. He’d kept his hold on the limb, so the turtle was coming right along with him. However, just as Rhodes’s feet touched the water, the turtle decided it was time to let go. Because it was also sliding at that point, it was sliding straight toward Rhodes.
Rhodes’s feet didn’t find any purchase in the slimy mud of the creek bottom. He looked at the turtle and saw that it was heading directly for his face, its mouth wide open.
In the past Rhodes had never given much thought to his nose. It just sat there in the middle of his face, and he didn’t even notice it anymore when he was shaving. It occurred to him now, however, that it wasn’t such a bad nose and that he was rather fond of it. He’d hate to have it bitten off by a turtle.
A scene from an old movie flashed through Rhodes’s head, and he pictured Lee Marvin with a silver nose in place of the one that had been bitten off in a barroom brawl. It was a look that Marvin could pull off, but Rhodes was no Lee Marvin. He didn’t think the look would be good for him.
Rhodes rolled to the side, kicking his feet in the water. He barely managed to move far enough to let the turtle slide by. The hard shell grazed his shoulder.
When the turtle splashed into the muddy water, it remained still for a second or two. Then it turned its head to allow its hard marble-sized eyes to look at Rhodes, who, if he’d been a mystical person like Seepy, would have sworn that the turtle was smiling. That was impossible, and Rhodes knew it, but he did think it was likely that the turtle was glad to be in the creek, if turtles could be glad. Maybe it was thanking him, if turtles could be thankful.
Rhodes crawled up onto the bank. He was muddy all over and wet from his knees down. His clothes were a mess.
“Did you get all of that on video?” he asked Jennifer.
“I think so,” she said, grinning.
“What Happened Next Amazed Me!” Seepy said.
“You know he’s armed, right?” Buddy said.
“He wears that ankle holster,” Seepy said. “His pistol’s all muddy and wet, so I think I’m safe.”
“For now,” Rhodes said.
“I could shoot him for you,” Buddy said. “There’s always room for another body in the woods. Or we could feed you to the turtle.”
“Better not,” Rhodes said, nodding at Jennifer. “There’s a witness, and she has a video camera. You’d have to shoot her, too.”
“That’s how it is,” Seepy said. “You kill one person, and it just leads to more killing.” He turned serious. “The man by the tree is the second murder in two days. Was he killed because of the first one?”
“I don’t know the answer to that,” Rhodes said. “It’s possible that the two are connected, but we’ll have to wait for more information before I can say for sure. That means you need to start working the crime scene, Buddy. I think I’ll go home and change clothes.”
“I think I’ll edit some video,” Jennifer said.
“I’ll stay here with the cannabis patch,” Seepy said.
“No you won’t,” Rhodes told him.
* * *
Rhodes had been messy and muddy before, more than once, so it wasn’t a new experience. He’d never been caught on video before, but that didn’t really bother him. It was about time that he was shown doing something antiheroic, even comical. Maybe that would put an end to some of the Sage Barton comparisons. It was something to hope for, anyway.
After making sure that Jennifer and Seepy had left and checking that Buddy was working the crime scene, Rhodes talked to Terry, who was a little surprised at Rhodes’s disheveled appearance.
“It’s a long story,” Rhodes told him when he asked about the muddy clothes. “A snapping turtle was involved. Let’s leave it at that.”
“A snapping turtle?”
“Yes, but never mind him. Have you had any reports from your neighbors around here of people coming onto your place?”
Terry shook his head. “Nobody’s said a thing to me. If you look around, though, you can see I don’t have many neighbors.”
That was true. Houses were not exactly a feature of the landscape on the dusty county roads around what had once been Milsby.
“I did a little poking while you were down at the creek,” Terry went on. “I didn’t see any tire tracks or anything, and I didn’t find anyplace where somebody had parked.”
Rhodes should have cautioned Terry about poking around, but it wasn’t likely that he’d disturbed any clues. If there were any, Rhodes hadn’t spotted them.
“It’s like that body was just dropped out of the sky,” Terry said.
Rhodes looked up at the sky. The buzzards were still circling, but they were sailing up higher, small black figures against the white clouds and blue sky. They were going to have to look somewhere else for food because Buddy would soon be calling the ambulance to take the body away.
“It didn’t fall out of the sky,” Rhodes said.
“I know, but I can’t figure out how it got there.”
Rhodes couldn’t figure it out, either, but the body was there, nevertheless. Sooner or later he’d have an answer as to how it got there. Right now he just wanted to be sure who it was, Riley Farmer or someone else.
“Is there anything else you want to tell me about?” Rhodes asked Terry.
Terry gave him a puzzled look. “Like what?”
“Like the marijuana patch down by the creek.”
Terry laughed. “That’s a good one, Sheriff. You ought to know me better than that. I don’t even know what marijuana looks like, much less how to grow it.”
“Somebody does,” Rhodes said. He wasn’t laughing.
“You’re not joking?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“It must just be some wild stuff. I think I’ve heard that it can grow wild. Maybe birds dropped some seeds back in there. Like I said, I don’t know all that much about it.”
“It’s not growing wild,” Rhodes said. “There’s even a nice little fence around it.”
Terry no longer looked amused. He looked worried. “I don’t know anything about it. Really. A fence? How could there be a fence? I didn’t build one. I don’t even go down to the creek. I just come out here to sit in my little camp hou
se and read a book or listen to the radio. My wife comes with me sometimes. She likes the birds and squirrels. We get away from town, relax a little, you know how it is.”
Rhodes didn’t really know how it was. He’d tried to relax only a day ago, and it hadn’t turned out well. Maybe if he had a little place in the country with a camp house, it would be different.
“Are you going to arrest me?” Terry asked.
“Not today. Maybe you’re telling the truth. Maybe you didn’t know anything about the marijuana.”
“I didn’t,” Terry said. “I swear it.”
He sounded as if he were telling the truth. Rhodes had been watching his eyes, waiting for the glance upward and to the left, supposedly the telltale sign of lying. Terry’s eyes were right on Rhodes and didn’t move.
It was a curious coincidence, though. Two marijuana patches, two dead men. Both patches and both dead men on an area of property that the owners said they never looked at. Both dead men discovered by those owners. Could Billy Bacon and Terry Allison be involved together in a marijuana-growing conspiracy? It didn’t seem likely, but then nothing about the whole situation was likely. The possibility of a conspiracy between Billy and Terry was something Rhodes would have to consider. Along with a lot of other things.
“Do you own a gun?” Rhodes asked.
“Damn,” Terry said. “You’ve already accused me of farming marijuana. Are you going to accuse me of murder now?”
“I haven’t accused you of anything,” Rhodes said. “I’m just asking questions.”
“Right. Like those talk-show guys on the radio. ‘Is our president secretly working with the radical underground to destroy our nation? I’m not saying he is. I’m just asking.’”
Rhodes thought of Will Smalls and Gene Gunnison. Terry was like a combination of both of them.
“It’s not like that at all,” Rhodes said. “It’s my job to find things out when somebody’s killed. You have to admit that the situation’s … interesting.”
“Well, I didn’t plant the marijuana, and I didn’t kill anybody. And to answer your direct question, I don’t own a gun. I used to have a pistol that I carried with me in the car when I was traveling, but I sold it when I retired. Sold it legally, in case you were wondering. To a dealer. With paperwork and everything.”