by Bill Crider
He reached the bottom of the stairs. “Hack, if Hod comes down and needs a ride home, you give him one. I’ll be out for a while. But before I go, call the DPS lab and ask them to check under the butt plate on that rifle from Hod’s house. See if there’s any initials carved on the stock.”
“Sure thing,” Hack said. “I guess Lawton could handle the dispatchin’ work while I’m gone.” He turned to the phone.
There were no initials on the rifle stock. Rhodes hadn’t expected that there would be.
“Where you headed, Sheriff?” Hack asked.
“I’m going to have a little talk with Johnny Sherman,” Rhodes said, starting out the door.
Chapter 15
Johnny Sherman lived only a few blocks away from Rhodes, in a smaller and older frame house. His car was parked in his drive, and Rhodes went to the door.
Johnny came and let him in. “Hey, Sheriff,” he said. “I was just getting up and stirring around a little. Thought I might have a bite to eat and watch some TV before going on shift. Come on in.”
Rhodes stepped into a small living room dominated by a twenty-five-inch RCA Colortrak set. There was a La-Z-Boy recliner strategically placed so that its occupant could see the television set while leaning back in comfort. The only other furniture in the room consisted of an early American rocker of the kind that can often be bought on sale at major drugstore chain outlets, along with a small end table beside the recliner. The floor was covered with a cheap green linoleum that looked as if it might have been installed by an amateur. But the room was neat and clean, with no sign of sloppy bachelorhood in evidence.
There was a small window-unit air conditioner in the room’s only window, and it labored noisily. The room was dim and cool.
“Have a seat, Sheriff,” Johnny said. “Let me get you something to drink. I think I’ve got a Dr Pepper.”
Rhodes went over to the rocker and sat in it. He didn’t rock. “We need to have a little talk, Johnny,” he said.
“Sure thing, Sheriff.” Johnny smiled apologetically. “Just let me go change into something presentable.” He was dressed in a white V-necked T-shirt and faded blue jeans. He was barefoot. “It won’t take me but a minute.”
Rhodes started to protest, but before he could say anything Johnny had stepped through the doorway into the bedroom and out of Rhodes’s sight.
“Go ahead and talk if you want to,” Johnny called. “I can hear you all right.”
“I’ll wait,” Rhodes said, leaning back in the rocker, trying to relax and organize his thoughts.
In about ten minutes, Johnny was back. He had put on his uniform pants and his black shoes, and combed his hair. He had his uniform shirt in his right hand. “Still kind of warm to me,” he said. “I just had a bath before you drove up, and it got me pretty steamy. I’ll put on the shirt in a minute if you don’t mind.”
“That’s OK,” Rhodes said, leaning forward in the rocker.
Johnny sat in the recliner, but he didn’t put up the footrest. “So what did you want to tell me?”
“It’s about Jeanne Clinton. .” Rhodes began.
“I’ve been keeping my eyes open,” Johnny said. He looked earnest and solemn. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. The shirt lay in his lap. “I haven’t noticed a thing. Tell you what I think, though, is that those break-ins at Hod Barrett’s store are tied in to the murder.” He waited expectantly for Rhodes to speak.
“How’s that?” Rhodes asked. “How can you connect them?”
“Well, not with evidence or anything,” Johnny said. “But I think it’s transients. That big new power plant they’re building down near Simmonsville? Uses that lignite coal to generate electricity? No telling how many folks that’s brought into the area, and not all of them are the kind of folks we need around here, let me tell you. You ought to see how they live-little cracker-box trailers that you wouldn’t think could hold two people, and they’ve got eight or ten in there.”
Rhodes knew all about the power plant, which was in a neighboring county. “I don’t think somebody would drive all that way for a few cigarettes and beers,” he said.
“They might to see Jeanne Clinton, though,” Johnny said. “She was really something.”
“I’ve been wanting to ask you about that,” Rhodes said. “Didn’t you say you went to high school with her?”
“Yeah, I might have said that. We weren’t good friends or anything like that, but we were in the same class.”
Rhodes stood up. The rocker was not very comfortable to him. “It seems natural that a man might want to drive by some night to see how his old friend was doing,” he said.
“Now wait a minute, Sheriff,” Johnny said.
“No, Johnny, I’ve already waited too long,” Rhodes said. “Let me say what I have to say, and then we’ll see what you think about it.”
“OK,” Johnny said, leaning back in the recliner. “I’ll listen.”
“Good. Let’s say you might have driven by to see Jeanne. You might not have even wanted to stop, but it would be easy to see that Elmer wasn’t there. In fact, taking into account all the visitors that she had, I’d be surprised if you didn’t see one or two of them at her house some night or the other.”
“Not saying I did, Sheriff, but so what? If she had all those visitors like you say, why should I mention it?”
“Early on, it might not have made any difference,” Rhodes said. “Later it did. When Jeanne was killed you surely should have mentioned it to me, especially if you knew any of them. It might have been important to me. But you didn’t mention
“Next I guess you’re going to tell me I robbed Hod Barrett’s grocery store,” Johnny said with a good-natured grin. “You know better than that, Sheriff. I can afford to buy beer.”
“I’m sure you can,” Rhodes said. “I don’t think you robbed anybody. I think Billy Joe Byron robbed that store. When I picked him up, he smelled like a brewery; and he had enough Merit cigarettes stashed in his clothes to last him quite a while. I guess I know where he got ‘em. You can rest easy on the robbery business.”
“Meaning I can’t rest easy on something else?” There was a hard edge in Johnny’s voice, and he wasn’t grinning anymore.
Rhodes sighed. “I should have figured it out sooner, but I trusted you. You were one of my men. You were dating my daughter. That’s my only excuse. It was right there all the time.”
“I don’t follow you. What was right there?”
“That fight with Terry Wayne and his pal. They weren’t lying. They were telling the truth. You were coming back in, and you needed some way to explain the scratches and the blood, even if there wasn’t much. So you spotted those guys in the Paragon lot, stopped, and started a fight with them. You knew we’d all believe your side of it.”
“I guess that makes me a pretty clever guy,” Johnny said, a trace of a smile back on his face. “Even if it were true, which it isn’t, it’s still my word against theirs.”
Rhodes walked behind the rocker and put his hands on the chair back. “Yeah, but they’ve got Billy Don Painter on their side, and I’m afraid that they’ve even got me on their side. Anyway, I don’t know how many times you’ve washed the shirt you wore that night, but blood’s mighty hard to get out. There might be enough left for the lab boys to type.”
“That’s pretty slim pickings to go to trial on.”
“I’d have to agree with that. But of course that’s not all. You and I both know there was a witness to whatever happened in Jeanne Clinton’s house that night. I’m beginning to wonder just how many witnesses there were. They must have been lined up three deep.”
For the first time Johnny Sherman betrayed surprise. “You’re really getting over my head now, Sheriff. Three deep? Why haven’t all these witnesses come forward?”
Rhodes shoved down on the rocker, causing it to slide a bit on the linoleum floor. “Because two of them are dead. You missed the third one, though.”
&
nbsp; “You’re crazy,” Johnny said, and Rhodes was taken slightly aback. He’d been sure of his man, as sure as he could be without hard evidence, but Johnny sounded convincing. He really didn’t seem to know what Rhodes meant.
Rhodes thought for a minute. “Let’s start with Billy Joe,” he said. “Lawton didn’t leave that cell door open. You opened it. I’d bet you even led Billy Joe right down to the door to the office. Then you got out that magazine with the spicy pictures in it and showed it to Hack and Lawton. A little loud talking and laughing, and Billy Joe could be out the front door and on his way home, which was the only place he knew to go.”
“Billy Joe saw me at Jeanne’s, right? So I let him out of jail? You’ll have to do better than that, Sheriff. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes sense all right. Billy Joe’s never been scared of me in his life, but he ran from me that morning I picked him up. It wasn’t me he was running from. It was the uniform and the car. He thought I was you. We’d picked him up for window peeping a few years back. I guess he was doing it again. But this time he saw something he didn’t bargain for. He saw you beating Jeanne Clinton. I think after it was over, he even went in and tried to help her, but it was too late. I think you let him out of jail to kill him, and you would have if I hadn’t come along so soon.”
“You must think I’m a pretty mean fella, Sheriff,” Johnny said. “Next you’ll even tell me you have a motive for me.”
Both men were silent as the air conditioner’s hum filled the room. Then Rhodes spoke. “I’ve got one,” he said. “You were always a little hot tempered, a little fast with your fists. I think that with Jeanne you lost your temper when you tried to go a little farther than she wanted to go. You saw all those visitors, decided to have a little fun yourself, and didn’t believe it when she told you that all she did for those men was talk to them.”
“It’s pretty hard to believe, you’ll have to admit,” Johnny said.
“I admit it. I didn’t exactly believe it at first, myself. But it was true. Too many people told me for it not to be true.”
“So Billy Joe was scared of me,” Johnny said, changing the subject again. “Then why did he come out when I opened his cell? Why’d he follow me out? Why not just stay where he was safe?”
“I haven’t figured that one out yet,” Rhodes said. “It’s bothered me some, but I’ll get it if I keep after
“Billy Joe won’t cut too much of a figure on the witness stand,” Johnny said. “He isn’t too smart, you know.”
Rhodes let go of the chair back and flexed his fingers. He’d been squeezing too hard. “No, he surely won’t. But with everything else, maybe we won’t need him. It’s too bad we don’t have Bill Tomkins and Mrs. Barrett with us anymore.”
“What have they got to do with this?”
Once again, Johnny’s surprise looked real. He should have been an actor, Rhodes thought, not a deputy sheriff.
“They probably saw you, too,” Rhodes said. “That’s why you had to kill them. I really wish you’d stopped with Jeanne.”
“Sheriff, I never killed anybody,” Johnny said with sincerity and conviction. There was no quaver in his voice as far as Rhodes could tell. “I hope you believe that. I may have done some wrong things in my time, but I never killed anybody. And that’s the truth.”
“I’d like to believe that, Johnny, I really would. And if it is the truth, you’ll be as much in my good graces as you ever were. We have to find out, though, and the best way to do that is for you to come on down to the jail with me. I imagine you can hire Billy Don Painter; you won’t have to spend long in jail with him on your side. He’ll get you a low bail setting, and you’ll be out right up till the trial.”
“There won’t be any bail, Sheriff, or any trial,” Johnny said. “I won’t be going in with you.”
“‘Yes, you will,” Rhodes said. “One way or another, you will.”
“If you believed me, I think I would,” Johnny said. “But I don’t think you believe me, even though I’m telling you the truth that God loves. And if you don’t believe me, then I might have more trouble than I need if the case comes to trial.” He took his hand from under the shirt in his lap. He was holding his.38 Police Special.
Rhodes stood there looking at the pistol. He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he kept quiet. He felt a little like a fool. He would have felt more like one if he’d said something like, “You’ll never get away with it.”
“I’m sorry about this, Sheriff, I really am,” Johnny said “Now if you’d just take your thumb and first finger and pull your own pistol out of the holster, I’d appreciate it.”
Rhodes did as he was told. The pistol dangled from his hand.
“Now lay it on the floor,” Johnny said.
Rhodes laid the pistol down, then straightened. “If you’re really innocent, Johnny, this is going to look mighty bad for you,” he said.
“I know that. Ever since you came in, I’ve been trying to think what to do. Every idea I’ve had has been worse than the one before it, though, and like I said-if you don’t believe me, a jury sure wouldn’t. So I guess I’ll just have to disappear.”
“It can’t be done, Johnny. This is 1986, not 1934. Bonnie and Clyde could do it, for a while, but they couldn’t do it forever. I don’t think you’ll last as long as they did.”
“We’ll see. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to get lost these days if you know what you’re doing. How many thousands of people do you think are living right on the streets of a city like Houston, pushing their belongings around with them in shopping carts? You think anybody ever stops one of them to check an ID? Hell no. Nobody cares. So don’t worry about me.”
“You wouldn’t like living like that,” Rhodes said.
“Maybe not, but it’d beat the hell out of living in one of those prison farms like we send people to. I wouldn’t look good in a white uniform, and I wouldn’t feel good crawling around weeding a field on my hands and knees. Besides, I never said I was going to Houston. I just said that’s one way to disappear.” He stepped closer to Rhodes.
“Now, Sheriff, I hate to hurt you, but if you’ll just turn around. .”
Rhodes didn’t turn. Instead, he made a lunge for Johnny, who had apparently been waiting for just such a move. Anyway, he wasn’t surprised. He clubbed downward at Rhodes’s head with the barrel of his pistol.
Rhodes flung up his arm and managed to take the force of the blow with that instead of his head, but the pistol connected nevertheless. Rhodes felt the side of his head hit the floor, and then Johnny was kicking him. Hard.
Rhodes groaned as the kicks thudded into his ribs and tried to twist away. He wasn’t able to escape, however. He was too weak, and Johnny was too quick. He could hear Johnny’s breath coming in short gasps that sounded almost like laughter. Maybe it was laughter. Johnny liked violence.
Finally Rhodes lay still. The pain from his rib cage weakened him. He raised his head. Johnny kicked him again.
The next thing he felt was Johnny’s hand in his front pants pocket. He must have blacked out momentarily, because he had no idea how he had gotten turned over on his back.
Johnny’s hand was gone, then, and Rhodes heard shoe heels on the linoleum floor. He opened his eyes slightly. At the door, Johnny was putting on his shirt. Rhodes closed his eyes.
The door slammed. Rhodes rolled over, pain shooting up and down his rib cage. He knew that several of his ribs must be cracked. He hoped that the damage was no more severe than that. He’d be in big trouble if one of them had punctured a lung.
He heard a car start outside. The county car. Johnny would have a beefed-up engine, and he’d be able to tune in the radio. He’d taken the keys from Rhodes’s pocket. The thought didn’t make Rhodes feel any better.
He tried to sit up, pushing with his arms. It wasn’t easy but he made it. He edged over to the recliner and pulled himself erect, looking hurriedly around the room. His pistol wasn’t there. Well, he hadn’t re
ally thought it would be.
He heard the county car pulling out of Johnny’s drive, and forced himself to stand still. It wouldn’t do to go to the door too soon and get shot with his own pistol. When he heard the car ease down the street, he moved. Slowly. Holding one arm wrapped around his ribs, he made his way to the door.
Johnny’s pickup was parked farther down the drive. It wasn’t exactly the vehicle that anyone would choose for a chase, but Rhodes didn’t have much choice. He hobbled down the drive.
One of the things that both criminals and lawmen know is how to hot-wire an automobile. Rhodes took out his pocket knife and had the pickup started in under five minutes. It was an old green Chevy six cylinder, with a top speed of maybe eighty when it was new. Rhodes didn’t have much hope of doing any good, but he backed it down the drive. At least there was more than half a tank of gas.
There were plenty of roads into and out of Clearview; three of them led eventually to major highways. The third, the one closest to Johnny Sherman’s house, took longer to get to a major thoroughfare and wound through some pretty wild country on the way. Rhodes figured that Johnny would choose that one. It offered plenty of opportunities to turn off onto little-traveled county roads, and there wasn’t much likelihood that there would be any highway patrol cars cruising in that area. Rhodes headed in that direction, praying that he was right.
The little Chevy chugged right along. Johnny obviously kept it tuned up, but he had a pretty good head start and Rhodes wasn’t sure that he could catch up even if he had picked the right road. He was quite surprised when he spotted the county car only a half mile ahead.
Rhodes pushed down on the accelerator, causing the pickup to give a forward jerk, but without attaining any great increase in his forward speed. He groaned as his back hit the seat cushion.