Murder in Four Parts

by Bill Crider

  Rhodes kept his pistol trained on Cecil. Duke holstered his own sidearm and stepped up to Cecil. Cecil didn’t put up any resistance. He handed Pearson the four-ten. Duke checked to be sure it was unloaded and nodded at Rhodes.

  Now that Cecil was disarmed, Rhodes and Duke turned on their flashlights.

  “Well, now,” Rhodes said. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Duke is going to take Cecil home to his house, and I’m going to take Royce home to his. Deputy Pearson will talk to you, Cecil, and I’ll talk to Royce. After that, we’ll switch around, and after that, we’ll decide what to do with the two of you.”

  “You can’t do anything to me,” Cecil said. “I didn’t shoot at Royce, just his chickens. Maybe you should arrest Royce for disturbing the peace.”

  “Discharging a firearm in the city limits is a misdemeanor,” Rhodes said. “You’ll get a citation for that, and we’ll decide if that’s all there is to it. Maybe so, maybe not. You go with Deputy Pearson, and I’ll go with Royce.”

  Cecil didn’t like it, but he went. Rhodes watched him and Duke walk away to be sure Cecil didn’t try anything. Nothing happened. Cecil seemed docile enough. Rhodes holstered his pistol and turned to Royce. “All right. Let’s go have that talk.”

  They walked to the front of the house, Rhodes lighting the way with his flashlight.

  “Cecil’s crazy, Sheriff,” Royce said. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t know that. He’s a little excited about those chickens, but that doesn’t mean he’s crazy.”

  “This isn’t about chickens,” Royce said as they passed between the arborvitae bushes and went in through his front door. “There’s more to it than that.” He flipped a light switch. “Watch out for the books.”

  Rhodes had been prepared for the clutter, and he didn’t step on any books as he entered the room.

  “You can sit down if you want to,” Royce said, taking his own seat at the computer desk.

  Rhodes looked at the chair where he’d sat previously. The seat was covered in books, just as it had been on Rhodes’s last visit. The one on top was an old paperback called Lust Is a Woman. Rhodes moved the books to the floor and sat down.

  “Tell me about the chickens,” he said.

  “It’s more than the chickens.”

  “I know. You told me. But I want to hear what caused the ruckus the neighbors called me about. Seems it had to do with shooting at chickens.”

  “I hope they don’t blame me for it,” Royce said. “I didn’t do any shooting.”

  “I don’t know who they blame,” Rhodes said. “If you’ll tell me about it, maybe I can sort it out.”

  “Okay, here’s what happened. I was sitting right here at the computer, looking at some of my auctions, and I heard Cecil outside. He was yelling something, and then he fired off the shotgun. I jumped up and ran out there, and he fired off another round before I could get to him. I started hollering at him, and he broke open the gun. He didn’t reload, but you saw that. He yelled something about my ‘damn chickens,’ and that’s when he got crazy.”

  “About the chickens?”

  “No. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It’s not about the chickens. It might’ve started out that way, but that’s not it anymore. Not all of it, anyway.”

  “What is it then?” Rhodes said.

  “It’s Faye Lynn.”

  If there was one thing Rhodes knew about conversations like this one, it was that he never knew what kind of turn they were likely to take. Sometimes things were straightforward enough; sometimes there was a twist that he just wasn’t expecting. Faye Lynn’s name coming into it was that kind of twist.

  “What about her?” he said.

  “He accused me of having an affair with her.”

  Rhodes was so surprised he couldn’t say anything for a while.

  “Kind of surprised you, didn’t I, Sheriff?” Royce said.

  Rhodes admitted it. “I thought that after all these years of fussing and fighting, you and Faye Lynn were enemies just like you and Cecil.”

  Rhodes thought back to his earlier conversation with Faye Lynn. He couldn’t think of a thing she’d said that indicated any kind of affection for Royce. Just the opposite, in fact. Of course, that might have been because she was covering up. On the other hand, Cecil might really be crazy.

  “We don’t like each other as far as I know,” Royce said. “I told you Cecil was nutty. If that accusation doesn’t prove it, I don’t know what will. I think the county ought to lock him away where he won’t hurt anybody. Next time he might use that shotgun on me instead of just trying to kill my chickens.”

  “Did he kill any this time?”

  “I don’t think so. You’d have to hit one in the head with that four-ten to kill it. I don’t think he’s that good a shot. He wished he was shooting at me, though, I can tell you that.”

  “Did he give you any reason for thinking you and Faye Lynn were fooling around?”

  “How could he? We weren’t fooling around. Cecil might be nuts, but I’m not.”

  “What did he say, exactly?”

  “Exactly? I don’t know He was yelling. So was I. It was pretty confused.”

  “Approximately, then.”

  Royce looked thoughtful. “He said something like ‘I know what you’ve been up to with Faye Lynn.’ He called me a name or two. He said the evidence was clear, or something like that. I don’t have any idea what he was talking about. I just know he’s crazy.”

  Rhodes was beginning to think Royce had a point. He said, “Is that all you can remember about it?”

  “Look, Sheriff, he had a gun. For all I knew he was going to shoot me, and that birdshot stings even if it doesn’t kill you. Instead of listening to Cecil, I was wondering why I ever went out there in the first place and wishing I’d stayed in the house. I wasn’t too worried about the nonsensical ravings of a lunatic mind, but I was worried about the gun. So no, I don’t remember anything else that Cecil said.”

  Something Royce said had a familiar ring to it.

  “Young Frankenstein,” Rhodes said. “I didn’t know you were a movie fan.”

  “Only of certain movies. Anyway, the line seemed to fit Cecil pretty well. He’s a lunatic, for sure.”

  “Maybe not,” Rhodes said. “I’m going over to ask him about all this. You stay right here. Deputy Pearson will be coming over to talk to you.”

  “I don’t have anything else to say. You have it all.”

  Rhodes didn’t bother to explain that he wanted to see if Royce would tell essentially the same story to Duke or if things would change. He just said, “You might think of something.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “We’ll see,” Rhodes told him.

  21

  WALKING OVER TO THE MARSH HOUSE, RHODES WONDERED about what he’d just heard. Was it possible that Marsh was right about his wife and Royce? If he was, it might explain why Weeks had sent the singing valentine to Lindy Gomez. He could have been trying to show Faye Lynn that Marsh was being unfaithful, so there was no reason why she shouldn’t be.

  There were a few problems with that idea, however. Rhodes didn’t know that Royce was the one behind the valentine, and he’d gotten the impression that the affair, if there even was one, had been going on for a while. At this point, Faye Lynn wouldn’t need any persuasion. Besides, Rhodes believed Royce was telling the truth and had never had any kind of romantic relationship with Faye Lynn.

  Duke Pearson came out the Marshes’ front door and met Rhodes on the sidewalk.

  “I didn’t get much out of either one of them,” he said when Rhodes asked. “I never knew of anybody to get so upset over a bunch of chickens, though.”

  “Supposedly there’s more to the story,” Rhodes told him. “You go talk to Royce and get his side of things while I see what the Marshes have to say. Then we’ll go to the jail and sort through it.”

  Duke said that was fine by him. Thunder rumbled in the north
, and lightning flashed in the thick clouds.

  “We’re going to get wet if we aren’t careful,” Duke said and went over to Weeks’s house.

  Rhodes knocked on the Marshes’ front door and entered without waiting for either of them to come let him in, which was just as well since neither of them did.

  Rhodes found them sitting in the living room. The copy of Southern Living was still on the coffee table beside the Harmonizer, and the big yellow candle was still unlit. This time, however, it was Cecil who sat in the swivel rocker. Faye Lynn was on the couch. Neither of them said anything to Rhodes, so he sat on the end of the couch opposite Faye Lynn.

  “Okay,” he said, “who wants to start?”

  “Start what?” Cecil said.

  “Start telling me what the heck is going on here. Shooting chickens, rousing the neighborhood, yelling at the top of your lungs. There must be a good reason.”

  “Those damn chickens bother me,” Cecil said.

  Rhodes looked at Faye Lynn, who was looking at the candle as if it were the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.

  “So you didn’t make any accusations against Royce?” Rhodes said.

  “Did he tell you I did?”

  Rhodes hadn’t expected this to go well, or easily, and he’d been right.

  “Yes. He said you accused him of—”

  “Never mind what I accused him of. He’s a liar and the truth’s not in him. You can’t believe a word he says. I went over there to shut those chickens up, and that’s all there is to it.”

  “Shooting at them just got them excited,” Rhodes said. “It made things worse instead of better.”

  “If I’d had a twelve-gauge, I’d have shut them up.”

  “You’d better be glad you didn’t have one. You’d be in worse trouble than you already are.” Rhodes paused. “Faye Lynn, I sure could use a glass of water if you wouldn’t mind getting me one.”

  Faye Lynn jumped up from the couch as if she’d been waiting for the chance. “I’ll get you a glass of ice water,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  When she was out of the room, Rhodes said, “Okay, Cecil, do you want to tell me what you and Royce were arguing about now, or do you want me to take you to the jail?”

  Cecil looked around the room as if he expected Faye Lynn to pop back in without warning. Rhodes had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Maybe I said something to Royce,” Cecil said after assuring himself that Faye Lynn was nowhere around. “I don’t remember for sure.”

  “Your memory’s not that bad, Cecil,” Rhodes told him.

  “That’s what you think. It’s got to where I can hardly remember my name.”

  “A sure sign you’re getting older. You can remember what you said to Royce, though.”

  Cecil looked down at his hands and laced his fingers together. Rhodes waited. Finally Cecil said, “I accused him of having an affair with Faye Lynn. I didn’t want to say that. I hope you’re satisfied.”

  Rhodes didn’t feel any particular satisfaction, but he was glad Cecil was cooperating.

  “Why would you accuse him of something like that? They don’t even like each other.”

  “That’s what you’d think, but you never can tell. Living right next door to each other, and me being gone all day. Faye Lynn gets lonesome, and Weeks is over there by himself, playing around with that computer of his. Things can happen.”

  “You’re wrong about that, Cecil. Nothing ever happened between those two.”

  Cecil shook his head. “How come you know so much about what goes on around here?”

  “I talked to Royce. He says nothing happened, and I believe him.”

  “Well, I don’t.”

  “You must have more than just your suspicions.”

  “I’m not saying anything else.”

  “I think you’d better. Just to clear the air before your wife gets back in here. Otherwise, you’ll have to talk about it with me and her. I’m not leaving until you tell me.”

  Cecil unlaced his fingers, cracked his knuckles, and rolled his shoulders.

  “This is my house,” he said. “You’ll leave if I tell you to.”

  “It may be your house, but I’m the sheriff,” Rhodes said. “I’m investigating a complaint from your neighbors. You can’t just throw me out.”

  “I could try.” Cecil flexed his fingers, which were thick, strong, and calloused from using a hammer. “I might not be able to, but I might have fun trying.”

  “It wouldn’t be as much fun as you think. Don’t forget that I have a pistol.”

  “You wouldn’t shoot me, Sheriff. I know that much about you. I’m an unarmed man. That other cop locked up my shotgun in his car.”

  “You’re right. I won’t shoot you. You won’t try to throw me out, though, because deep down you want to tell me what’s going on. So go ahead and do it.”

  Cecil relaxed his hands and looked around the room. “Sure is taking Faye Lynn a long time to get you that drink,” he said.

  “She knows we need to talk. So talk.”

  Finally Cecil did. He said, “Here’s how it is. I found things in the house, stuff I didn’t give Faye Lynn. That’s how I know.”

  “What kind of things?” he said.

  “The kind of things a man might give a woman if he was courting her.”

  Rhodes seemed to remember that when he was in school, his English teacher always told him to be specific. Cecil must have had a different teacher.

  “Candy?” Rhodes said. “Flowers? Love poems?”

  “None of that stuff. What I found was toys. Those kind of soft little animals that kids like. You know the kind of thing I’m talking about?”

  Rhodes nodded.

  “She had a lot of them hidden in her closet. That’s where I found them.”

  Rhodes didn’t ask why Cecil was going through his wife’s closet. Instead he asked why Cecil suspected Royce of being the one who gave Faye Lynn the toys.

  “Because he’s right here, right next door, and he’s just the kind of rat who’d sneak around and do something like that to get back at me.”

  He might have said more, but Faye Lynn came in with a glass of ice water in one hand and a napkin in the other. She wrapped the napkin around the glass and handed it to Rhodes, who didn’t really want a drink. He took a couple of sips and handed the glass to Cecil.

  “I could use a refill,” Rhodes said.

  Cecil wasn’t one to take a hint gracefully, but after giving Rhodes a look that would peel paint, he took the glass and left the room.

  “Your turn,” Rhodes said to Faye Lynn. “I guess you heard pretty much everything we said.”

  Faye Lynn sat on the couch. “I heard. I can’t believe Cecil could be that dumb. He should know I’d never run around on him, certainly not with Royce Weeks. What was he thinking?”

  Rhodes couldn’t tell her. Sometimes a man didn’t think, at least not rationally. Instead, he did stupid things, like shooting at his neighbor’s chickens with a four-ten shotgun.

  “So you and Royce aren’t friendly?” he said.

  “Good Lord, no. We don’t like each other even a little bit. That’s just some notion of Cecil’s.”

  In spite of her denial, Rhodes got the sense that she wasn’t telling him everything.

  “And you don’t get lonesome here in the house by yourself all day?” he said.

  Faye Lynn didn’t have anything to say to that. She looked at the door through which Cecil had left the room.

  “I never said that.”

  So maybe she had been fooling around, but not with Royce. Rhodes waited for her to go on.

  “I don’t get lonely, though. That’s not it. I just get bored. Did you ever try to watch TV during the day?”

  Rhodes had at one time enjoyed TV in the afternoon, but it had been twenty years or more since the afternoon movie had been worth watching. For that matter, there wasn’t an afternoon movie to watch anymore.

  “All
that’s on is talk shows and judge shows,” Faye Lynn said, and Rhodes thought of Hack. “I hate those things. I read sometimes, and I do a little yard work, but I still get bored.”

  By now Rhodes thought he knew exactly where things were headed, but he waited for Faye Lynn to tell him.

  “What happened was that somebody told me about this place where there was gambling,” she said. “Not like Las Vegas or anything, but you could win a little prize, like a stuffed animal.”

  “Rollin’ Sevens,” Rhodes said.

  “So you know about it?”

  Rhodes told her that he did indeed know about Rollin’ Sevens.

  “Then you know what it’s like. It’s kind of a family atmosphere, and it’s not like you’re really gambling. They even have door prizes, but I never win one.”

  Rhodes didn’t remember having seen Faye Lynn in Rollin’ Sevens, but there was a good reason for that.

  “I haven’t been in a while,” she said. “Cecil was looking for an old work shirt of his that he thought might’ve gotten put in my closet, and he must have found my stuffed animals. He didn’t mention them to me, and I never told him I was gambling. I knew he’d think it was a waste of money.” She paused. “Maybe it was, but I liked having something to do with my time.”

  “You never thought about getting a job?”

  “Cecil’s old-fashioned about that kind of thing. He says a wife’s place is in the home. But we never had any kids to take care of, and there was never that much for me to do. After all those years, I had to get out for a while. Just had to.”

  Rhodes could have offered her some more suggestions. She could have joined a club. She could have done some volunteer work at the hospital. Or any number of other things. He didn’t think she’d listen to him. She’d found her outlet without his help.

  He started to tell her anyway, but he thought of something else he wanted to ask.

  “Do you ever see the Eccles cousins there?” he said.

  Faye Lynn smiled. “Those two redheaded truck drivers? They’re there now and then. They’re luckier than I am.”

  “Do they ever give anybody any trouble?”

  “Why, no. There’s never any trouble. It’s more like they take care of the place to make sure of that.”