by Bill Crider
30
THEY STARTED WALKING TOWARD CLEARVIEW, OR LIMPING TOward Clearview in Fulton’s case. By then Rhodes thought he had things figured out.
“You killed Lloyd Berry, didn’t you?” he said.
Fulton just shrugged.
“It was the GPS,” Rhodes said. “He did get it from you, but he didn’t buy it. He got it as a door prize and didn’t return it. You looked for it in his apartment but didn’t find it there. I should have thought of that thing sooner. It has a serial number on it somewhere, and it can be traced to you.”
Fulton kept his mouth shut.
“You went to his shop to get it back. He’d had some kind of falling-out with Wilks, probably over money, and he’d threatened to come to me about the GPS scheme. You were in it with Wilks. Your business wasn’t doing so well, and Wilks must have paid you a little to help him out. Maybe it was even your idea to begin with. You couldn’t let Lloyd tell what he knew.”
Fulton still wasn’t talking.
“The GPS was in Lloyd’s car,” Rhodes said. “You didn’t look there, did you?”
Fulton kept limping but said nothing.
Rhodes was a little worried about the silence. If he didn’t get a confession, all he had was the GPS as evidence against Fulton.
At least that was all in the murder case. Rhodes had plenty against Fulton in the attempts on Happy Franklin’s life. Except a motive.
“What I can’t figure out,” Rhodes said, “is why you wanted to kill Happy.”
That got Fulton started. “Who said I wanted to kill him?”
“Bullets through the wall of the barn,” Rhodes said.
“Ha. If I’d been trying to kill him, he’d be dead. All I wanted to do was get him out of there.”
Something clicked into place in Rhodes’s head.
“You made the noise at the house, hoping he’d look for you and let you into the barn.”
“Yeah, but the old lady called you. That’s all they ever did, was call you. You’d think they’d at least go outside for a look around. Don’t they have any curiosity?”
“Some people don’t,” Rhodes said.
“I guess not. I thought I’d try one more time tonight. I wasn’t going to shoot again. Just bang on the walls of the barn and get him out of there for a while. I thought maybe I could get in before you got there if they called, but instead you came snooping around too soon and didn’t give me a chance.”
“What did you want Happy out of the barn for?”
Fulton didn’t answer. Rhodes could come up with only one idea. Fulton must have wanted to get something out of the barn when Franklin went to look around. What could he have wanted? Not the flower stands. Rhodes tried to remember what else he’d seen. Black plastic trash bags had been by the stands. If they’d come from behind Lloyd’s shop, they might have had some artificial flowers in them. Or if they came from some other place, there might be something else. Receipts? Records?
“You should always shred things when you throw them out,” Rhodes said. “I’d say there are even some things you shouldn’t keep records of in your business, like who’s rented a GPS.”
“The damn shredder stopped working,” Fulton said.
“So Happy Franklin has the goods on you.”
“He grabbed those trash bags. I was talking to Lloyd when he was out back.”
“That was before you hit Lloyd.”
“Wilks sent me to talk to him. It wasn’t my idea. I didn’t mean to hit him. He got mean with me. Called me a crook. Said I was as bad as Wilks. I just wanted my GPS. I figured if I had that, I’d be in the clear.”
“But you forgot the records.”
“They were in the trash,” Fulton said. “Another half hour and they’d have been gone to the dump.”
“Happy has them now, though.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
Fulton should never have tried to get them back, Rhodes thought. Happy would most likely have tossed out the receipts or whatever they were without ever looking at them.
“He shoved me,” Fulton said. “When we were arguing. That wrench was there, and I grabbed it to protect myself.”
“You can save that stuff for your lawyer,” Rhodes said.
He saw headlights coming toward them on the road.
“Better get off to the side,” he said.
They did, and the car stopped in front of them, its headlights catching them in their beams. Duke Pearson got out of the car and looked them over.
“Some people say a man’s made out of mud,” he said, and he laughed. “Just an old song that came to mind. You two need a ride?”
“We could use one,” Rhodes said. “You can take me back to Happy’s, and you can take the prisoner to the jail and book him.”
“What charges?”
“I’ll make a list,” Rhodes said. “It’ll be a long one.”
Guy Wilks wasn’t at home when Rhodes went by. The house wasn’t locked, but Wilks’s car was gone. Rhodes had a feeling that Wilks was on a long trip and wouldn’t be coming back to Clearview, at least not voluntarily. Rhodes would put out an APB on him.
Wilks’s hasty departure meant that Rollin’ Sevens wouldn’t be opening its doors again. Rhodes would see to that. He wondered what he’d do with the eight-liners. He hoped the county didn’t have to store them. The Houston solution would be better.
He didn’t kid himself that illegal gambling was at an end in Blacklin County. Another place would open soon enough, and whoever opened it would have figured out a way around the law about prizes before the first winner walked through the door. Rhodes thought someone needed to go after Whipsnake, but that wasn’t his job.
Rhodes left Wilks’s house and drove home. Ivy wasn’t stunned at his condition. She’d seen him when he was even muddier, but Yancey got pretty excited about it. Sam, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice or even care that Rhodes was at home.
“You need a shower,” Ivy said.
“I need to clean my pistol,” Rhodes told her. “And I should call Jennifer Loam and let her have the story.”
“Later.”
“Right,” Rhodes said. “Later.”
The barbershop chorus sang at Lloyd Berry’s graveside service the next day. They did only one number, “Amazing Grace,” and Rhodes liked the way it sounded in four-part barbershop harmony. It was too bad that Lloyd wasn’t there to hear it. He’d have been proud of them. Max Schwartz directed the group in Lloyd’s place, and as far as Rhodes could tell, he did a good job.
It was a fine day, not too warm but with plenty of sunshine, and from the hill where the cemetery was located Rhodes could see the railroad tracks heading off into the distance both north and south, though the ruined roundhouse was too far away for him to get a glimpse of it.
After the service, Seepy Benton caught up with Rhodes while he was enjoying the view.
“How’d you like our singing?” Seepy said.
Rhodes told him the singing was just fine, and Benton said, “Have you changed your mind about joining us?”
Rhodes hadn’t even thought about it. “Lloyd didn’t really want me to join. He just wanted some protection from Cecil.”
“I don’t think that was it.”
“Sure it was. If you’d ever heard me try to sing, you’d know.”
“Being a member might do you some good at the next election.”
Rhodes wished people would quit mentioning the election.
“It’s too soon to worry about that,” he said.
“If you say so.” Seepy paused. “You don’t mind if I’m dating your deputy, do you?”
“I didn’t know you were.”
“Well, I haven’t actually asked her out yet.”
“Why don’t you do that and then ask me how I feel about it. How’s Bruce, by the way?”
“He’s fine. I think he likes it at my place.”
Rhodes was glad to hear it. “I saw Cecil and Royce singing in the chorus. They didn’t get into a fight
at the rehearsal, I hope.”
“No. I think they’ve settled things, except about the chickens. That’s still a problem.”
The Marshes had problems besides chickens to worry about. Rhodes hoped they could work them out.
“We’ll let the city council deal with the chickens,” Rhodes said.
“What about alligators?” Seepy asked.
Rhodes laughed. “Them, too,” he said.