by Bill Crider
Chuck Connors was in the movie, too. Rhodes had seen him recently in a TV show, playing a werewolf. It wasn’t a very good show, but—
Ivy poked her fingers into Rhodes’s ribs.
“When?” she said.
It wasn’t that the subject hadn’t entered his mind. He’d thought about it a lot. Or he had thought around the edges of it. He somehow just couldn’t quite bring himself to think about it. Even when he had given her the ring, he hadn’t set a date, not even in his mind.
Ivy jabbed him again.
“Last chance,” she said.
“February twenty-seventh,” he said. It just popped out. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. For a horrible moment there he had almost said February twenty-ninth. It would have been just a joke, but there really was a February twenty-ninth coming up, and it was possible that Ivy wouldn’t have appreciated the joke. At least he thought it would have been a joke. Maybe he was serious, but February twenty-seventh was over a month away. A lot could happen in a month.
“That sounds fine,” Ivy said. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”
“It’s all right,” Rhodes said.
He didn’t think she was pushy. He just thought that he was wishy-washy. He knew he wanted to marry her; he just couldn’t make himself say the words. Now he didn’t have to worry about it.
“You have to admit it’s about time,” Ivy said.
They weren’t watching the movie anymore, but Rhodes didn’t mind. In fact, he felt better than he had in a long time. He knew that they were doing the right thing, and he wondered why he had put it off for so long. He wondered if he would have ever made the move if Ivy hadn’t poked him in the ribs. Probably not, he decided. It was a good thing that Ivy wasn’t shy about things like that. It wasn’t that she was aggressive. Just sensible.
“I’ll have to write my daughter,” he said.
“I don’t think she’ll be too surprised,” Ivy said. She was probably right.
“I’ll have to tell Hack and Lawton, too.” Preferably while they were both in the room at the same time, he thought. “And the deputies.”
Aside from that, there weren’t many people he should inform. He didn’t have much of a social life, and never had. There was too much to do on the job, and whenever he really tried to get away, he got called back almost immediately. His free time was spent mostly at home, watching the old movies he enjoyed so much, within easy reach of the telephone when it rang. A great deal of that time had once been spent with Clare, his first wife, and now he was sharing it with Ivy. It looked as if he would be sharing even more of it with her in the future.
“We can get the judge to marry us,” Ivy said. “I don’t think we need any kind of formal service, do you?”
Rhodes didn’t. “I have to see the judge tomorrow anyway,” he said. The county judge presided over the meetings of the county commissioners, and Rhodes would have to tell him about the wrecked car.
Ivy hadn’t heard the story of the car, so Rhodes told her.
“I’d hate for you to get killed before the wedding,” she said. “Can’t you be a little bit more careful?”
“I am careful,” he said. “It seems like these things just keep happening to me.” One of the reasons he hadn’t asked Ivy to set a date, he told himself, was that his job was extremely dangerous. He didn’t want to leave her a widow a second time.
“What about the truck that hit you?” she asked. “Did you try to follow it?”
“No. By the time I picked myself up and got going, it was too late.”
He decided it might be best not to mention that he had been knocked unconscious. He hadn’t told that part of the story to Hack or Lawton either. They would have insisted that he go to the emergency room and get checked out, and Ivy would have felt the same way. Rhodes didn’t want anyone taking care of him.
“But you saw which way they went?”
“Yes,” he said, which wasn’t exactly true, but he was virtually certain they had gone south, to the area he had discussed with Hack and Lawton. He told her about that.
“And no doubt you’re planning to go in there and see if you can find the truck.”
“Well . . . yes,” he said.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
It was the best idea he had. He wasn’t going to send anyone else, that was for sure. “Maybe not,” he said. “But it’s all I can come up with.”
“Be careful, then,” she said.
That was all she said, and he was grateful. He wouldn’t have known how to handle it if she had told him not to go or to send a deputy. He had been afraid that the setting of an actual date might have made her overly protective, but he should have known better. She wasn’t going to change.
“I’ll be careful,” he said.
“Good. Now, are we going to live in your house or my house?”
The norther had blown through by the next day. The sun was shining, the sky entirely blue, and the temperature in the low thirties. It was a beautiful day, but still cold.
Rhodes dressed in a pair of faded jeans, a brown-and-blue flannel shirt, and an old down jacket that at sometime in the past had developed a large rip on the right side and had never been repaired.
He went out into the yard and called Speedo, who poked his nose out of his barrel tentatively then raced around the yard, barking. Rhodes broke the ice that skimmed the top of the water bowl and poured some Ol’ Roy in the food dish. Speedo wolfed down the food and lapped the water noisily.
“How would you like to do a little undercover work?” Rhodes said.
Speedo raised his head and looked at Rhodes questioningly.
“It might be dangerous,” Rhodes said.
Speedo wagged his tail as if to say he didn’t care.
“All right, then,” Rhodes said. “Let’s go.” He walked over to the pickup and let down the tailgate.
Speedo jumped in, his toenails clicking on the metal as he tried to get a grip.
“We’ll get started on our secret mission in a little while,” Rhodes said. “First, we have to see the judge.”
When they got to the courthouse, Rhodes told Speedo to stay in the pickup. Speedo didn’t appear thrilled by the suggestion, but he didn’t try to jump out.
Rhodes walked down the broad marble hall, climbed the wide stairs to the second floor, and went to the judge’s chambers. It was still early, barely eight o’clock, but he had a feeling that Jack Parry would already be in.
Rhodes tapped on the door.
“Come on in,” a voice called.
Jack Parry was sitting behind the large wooden desk, already smoking a big cigar. Rhodes didn’t mind. He liked the smell of cigars. Parry had on a dark blue three-piece suit and was studying a piece of paper. He looked as if he had been at work for hours already. When elected to his office, he had worn a full beard, but he had shaved it recently and looked several years younger, though the bareness of his face emphasized the baldness of his head.
Rhodes ran his hand through his hair, an unconscious gesture.
Parry put down the paper. “Well, Sheriff, how’s it going?”
“All right, I guess,” Rhodes said.
“I know we don’t have a county dress code, but aren’t you dressed a little casually for a sheriff?” The cigar danced as Parry talked.
“I’ve got a little undercover work to do,” Rhodes said.
“I see. Say, did you hear the one about the Aggie and the Longhorn that were rooming together for the summer?”
“I don’t think so,” Rhodes said.
“They made a bet about how many women they could get over the weekend. Well, the Aggie went out to a singles bar and got started. Finally picked one up and got her to take him home. Then went back to the room and put a mark on the wall. Found him another one, took a little longer this time. He was already getting tired, you see.”
Rhodes nodded.
“Well, he did his do, went back to the room, made another mark on the wall. By now, he’s real
ly tired, but he goes out again. Finally finds a third one, gets her to bed, goes home, puts a mark on the wall. He can barely get his pen up to make the mark. By that time, it’s too late to go back out. The weekend’s nearly over. So the Aggie just collapses on the bed, just as the Longhorn comes bounding in. The Longhorn sees the three marks on the wall and just stops cold. His mouth falls open. He can’t believe it. ‘Damn!’ he says. ‘A hundred and eleven! Beat me by two!’ ”
The judge roared with laughter. Rhodes, who had attended neither the University of Texas nor Texas A&M, was more restrained. He understood the rivalry between the two schools, but he didn’t think the joke was that funny.
“Well, you didn’t come here just to hear my jokes,” Parry said. “And this early, you must have something pretty serious on your mind.”
Rhodes told him about the car.
“The commissioners won’t be too happy with that little item,” Parry said, removing his cigar and studying the tip.
“I didn’t think they would,” Rhodes said. “It was in the line of duty. Unavoidable. I wasn’t even in the car.”
“You’ll get to tell it to them,” Parry said. “They might think twice about that computer you’ve been wanting, though.”
“Insurance will cover the car,” Rhodes said.
“You’re probably right. Nothing to worry about, unless the rates go up too much. You didn’t give yourself a ticket, did you?”
They laughed together.
Parry put his cigar in an ashtray shaped like a boot. “Those the guys you’re planning to drop in on in your disguise?”
“Those are the guys.”
“I’ve never heard a good word about them,” Parry said.
“Me neither,” Rhodes said. I’ll be careful.”
“You do that. I’d hate to lose a good sheriff.” Parry picked up the cigar and stuck it back in his mouth, even though it was no longer burning. “And be sure you’ve got good insurance on that truck.”
“There’s one other thing,” Rhodes said.
“What’s that?”
“I want you to marry me and Ivy Daniel.”
“Well, well. I was wondering when that was going to take place. Anytime soon?”
“February twenty-seventh,” Rhodes said.
“I’ll put it on my calendar,” Parry said, riffling through the pages of his desk calendar, which lay open on his desk. “What time of day?”
Rhodes hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t know. How about two o’clock?”
“Fine by me,” the judge said. He made a note on the calendar. “Is this a secret or can I tell people?”
“Who’d want to know?”
“You’d be surprised,” Parry said. “There’s even a pool up in the courthouse here. I’ll have to check to see what day I got.”
Rhodes was surprised to hear there were that many people taking an interest in his personal life. He’d thought that hardly anyone even knew he was going out with Ivy.
“I’m shocked,” he said, “to discover that gambling is going on here.”
“Wait a minute, I know that one,” Parry said. “Don’t tell me. Uh, it’s from Casablanca, right? Peter Lorre?”
“Claude Rains,” Rhodes said.
“I was close, anyway,” Parry said.
“Close doesn’t count,” Rhodes said.
“I know, I know. Except in horseshoes and hand grenades. See you at the commissioners’ meeting—and on February twenty-seventh.”
“I’ll be there,” Rhodes said.
There was nothing of great interest happening at the jail. Rhodes told Hack to have Ruth Grady get in touch with Washburn and ask him to come in.
“She doesn’t have to tell him that he’s a suspect in a murder investigation,” he said, “but if he gives her any trouble about traveling up here, she can get tough.”
“I’ll tell her,” Hack said.
“Where’s Lawton?”
“Checkin’ the cells. We got us a couple of Sunday drunks up there that need watchin’.”
“Get him down here.”
“What’s goin’ on?” Hack said.
“Nothing. Just call him.”
Hack went to the door that connected the office area with the jail proper and called Lawton.
“All right,” a voice replied. “I’m comin’.”
In a minute or two Lawton entered the office. “What’s the trouble?” he said.
“No trouble,” Rhodes told him. “I just wanted to say something to you two.”
“What?” Hack said.
“Ivy and I are getting married.”
The two old men looked at each other, then back at Rhodes.
“When?” they said, almost in the same breath.
“In February.”
“When in February?” Hack said.
“The twenty-seventh.”
Hack looked at Lawton. “When did you have?”
“I can’t remember,” he said, “but I think it was in March anyway.”
“Better’n me,” Hack said. “I got April. There’s a lot took June, though. We came closer than they did.”
“What are you two talking about?” Rhodes said, though he thought he knew.
“The pool,” Hack said. “There’s a pool over at the courthouse about when you and Ivy’re gonna get hitched.”
“How much did it cost you to get in this pool?” Rhodes said.
“Just five bucks,” Lawton said. “I hear there’s nearly forty people in on it. That’d be about two hunnerd bucks for the big winner.” He looked at Hack. “I wonder if anybody’s got February twenty-seventh?”
Hack shook his head. “I don’t know. If nobody does, whoever got closest is the winner. That’s the way it was set up.”
“I can’t believe this,” Rhodes said.
“I don’t see why not,” Hack said. “Ever’body gets interested in a thing like this. You know how it is in a little town. If the sheriff gets married, it’s a big deal.”
Rhodes still couldn’t believe it.
“I wonder how Miz Wilkie is gonna take this?” Hack said.
Mrs. Wilkie’d had Rhodes in her sights for a long time. She didn’t take it too well when he began seeing Ivy, and she still hadn’t given up her hopes entirely.
“Maybe nobody’ll tell her,” Lawton said.
“I don’t know about that,” Hack said. “She’s into ever’thing that goes on around here. She’ll find out, sure as shootin’.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rhodes said. He hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with Mrs. Wilkie again. She was a hard woman to ignore. “There’s something else I have to tell you.”
“You gonna tell us why you’re dressed like a duck hunter?” Hack said.
“That’s exactly right,” Rhodes said. “I’m taking your advice and not going down below the lake in the county car. I thought I’d go like this and drive my pickup. That way I might have a chance to see something or talk to someone.”
“Surely you ain’t about to go down there all by yourself,” Hack said. “You got to have a backup.”
“I’ve got Speedo with me,” Rhodes said.
Hack snorted.
“I was only kidding,” Rhodes said. “He’s part of the disguise. I want you to tell Ruth Grady to stand by to get me out of any trouble I get into. Send her down to the lake and tell her to give me two hours.” He glanced at his watch. “If I don’t meet her at Mrs. McGee’s house by eleven-thirty, tell her to head south and look for me.”
“There won’t be nothin’ left of you for her to find,” Hack predicted. “They’ll have you buried in a garbage dump ‘fore she ever gets there.”
“I’ll try to hang on,” Rhodes said.
“Some people’ll do anything to keep from gettin’ married,” Lawton said.
“Not me,” Rhodes said. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Speedo was still in the pickup bed, but Rhodes could tell that the dog wanted to get out and get into action, even if the only act
ion he got into was running around the truck. Rhodes rubbed his head. “It won’t be long now,” he said.
The drive to the lake was pleasant. The weather had warmed up into the forties, and the country station Rhodes was tuned in to had been playing songs that he liked to hear, George Jones’s “He Stopped Loving her Today,” which Rhodes thought was maybe the perfect country song, though he had to admit it didn’t mention one of the topics Steve Goodman once said were necessary for the perfect country song: prison, trains, mamas, and trucks.
Speedo enjoyed the ride, too. He barked at the passing cars, his ears flapping in the frigid breeze, his nose pointed into the wind. It wasn’t often that he got to go for a long ride. Rhodes told himself that he should take the dog out more often.
Things became less pleasant as they headed south past the lake. The county commissioners didn’t get any votes from down in there, and the roads were not kept up nearly as well as the ones near the better property. There were deep ruts in some places, and Rhodes had to keep a firm grip on the wheel. The ditches on the roadside rarely got cleaned, and they were choked with brush, not to mention aluminum beer cans. Now and then there were wide, washed-out places that someone had used for a trash dump, filled with plastic garbage bags, grocery sacks, cans, and assorted papers. There was no one around to enforce the littering laws.
Rhodes drove until he came to a house. It was set back off the road, but not far. There was no hint of grass in the front yard, not because of the winter cold, but because the dirt was too hard-packed to allow grass to grow. The yard was even more rutted than the road from the cars that had been driven into it and parked.
The house itself looked as if it had been put together by a drunk man, and maybe it had. It was a frame house up on wooden blocks that had probably been made from cedar stumps. Part of one side was painted blue, and the rest of it was painted white. There was no clear line where one color left off and the other began. The windows appeared to have no glass in them, but it was hard to tell because they were all covered with quarter-inch plywood. There were a couple of pitiful cedar trees in the yard, and an old Ford, about a ‘67, was parked beside the house. On the small front porch there was a gigantic red-and-green candle, probably a leftover Christmas decoration. A black stovepipe poked through a roof that was mostly tarpaper minus the shingles, but there was no smoke coming from the pipe.