by Bill Crider
“I knew you’d find out all about it when Ruth came in.”
“Sure. She’s not like some people I could name. She doesn’t keep everything to herself. She’ll let people know what’s goin’ on.”
“We’re drifting off the subject here,” Rhodes said.
“What subject was that?”
“Seepy Benton and the haunted house.”
“Well, you know about his new business, that ghost stuff. He wanted to know if I thought you’d let him in the house.”
“What did you tell him?”
“What do you think I told him?”
“Hack,” Rhodes said.
“Okay. I told him that you were a hard man and had a mean streak, that’s what. Maybe not in those exact words, but I let him know you wouldn’t let him in there.”
“Good,” Rhodes said.
“He’s gonna come at you anyway. He swears he can find a ghost if there’s one in there.” Hack paused. “Mice, too. He said he’s good with mice.”
Ruth had been talking, all right, but Rhodes wasn’t going to give Hack the satisfaction of commenting on the mice.
“Seepy will have to find me before he can come at me,” Rhodes said. “You’d better not tell him where I am.”
“Me?” Hack said with an attempt to sound both innocent and hurt. “You know I’d never do a thing like that.”
“Right,” Rhodes said. “I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
“You ought to be,” Hack said.
* * *
The Clearview city hall was in sore need of repair and had been for years, but so far the city hadn’t been able to come up with the money to do anything about it without raising taxes, and nobody on the city council wanted to do that. They were afraid they’d be lynched by the citizens if they did. The damage wasn’t visible from the outside of the structure, however, and the old building looked quite respectable. Rhodes went in and walked down the deserted hallway to the mayor’s office. The door to the outer room was open, and Alice King sat at the desk.
Alice had been a year behind Rhodes in high school, and she’d always been full of spunk. She was a cheerleader, and she still looked as if she might leap out from behind the desk at any moment and lead some shadowy crowd in a rousing round of “Go, team, go!”
“Hey, Sheriff,” she said as he walked in, as perky as if she were at cheerleader practice. “How’s your day been so far? Great, I hope.”
Rhodes wondered if she’d think getting bounced around the Walmart parking lot by a sweaty bull qualified as great. He wasn’t going to find out, though, because he lied and said, “It sure has, Alice, and how’s yours been?”
“Fine as frog hair,” she said. “Are you here to see His Honor?”
“That’s right. Hack tells me you called.”
“That Hack,” Alice said. “He’s a sight. Told me to ask you about mice, for some reason. You have a mouse problem, Sheriff?”
Rhodes wondered if it was legal for the sheriff to shoot his own staff. If it wasn’t, it ought to be.
“No,” he said. “Not a problem. I have two cats.”
“I just love cats,” Alice said. “Especially the calico ones. Is either one of yours a calico?”
“No, they’re mostly black.”
“I like black ones, too, but mine’s a calico. She’s a real mess.”
She might have gone into more detail about what a mess her cat was, but the door to the inner office opened, and Clifford Clement poked his head out. He was losing his gray hair and kept it cut short to disguise the loss as much as possible. He had a short, neatly trimmed beard, which Rhodes thought he’d likely grown to compensate for the hair loss.
“I thought I heard you out here, Sheriff,” Clement said. “Come on in.”
He went back into his office. Rhodes looked at Alice, who shrugged, and went on through the door.
“Close it,” Clement said.
He was already seated behind his desk and made no move to get up and shake Rhodes’s hand, which didn’t bother Rhodes at all. Rhodes closed the door and sat in the visitor’s chair without being asked.
“Hack said you wanted to see me,” Rhodes said.
Clement nodded. “That’s right.”
“What for?”
“It’s about something that happened last night.”
“How did you find out about that?”
Clement started to speak, hesitated, then said, “From the Web site that young troublemaker has.”
Rhodes didn’t consider Jennifer Loam a troublemaker, but he could see how the stories she used might irritate the mayor. The stories were calculated to get people to the Web site and drive up the count so Jennifer could sell advertising, not to please the city officials. Also, Jennifer was friendly to Rhodes. Clement wouldn’t approve of that, either.
“What did you want to know about the man who was killed?” Rhodes asked.
“He was just a drug dealer, wasn’t he?”
Rhodes didn’t like the word “just” in that context or the direction in which the conversation seemed to be headed.
“He hadn’t been convicted yet,” Rhodes said. “Now he never will be.”
Clement looked surprised. “He won’t?”
“We don’t convict dead men.”
Clement recovered his composure. “Of course not, but he would’ve been if he hadn’t been killed.” Clement’s tone left no room for doubt. “People like that are a black eye on our town. Trash, that’s all they are. It’s a waste of city and county funds to spend too much time investigating what happened to him. We have too many of his kind around here. One less is good news.”
Rhodes was liking the conversation less and less. “We investigate every crime, especially something like this. It doesn’t matter if the dead man’s a drug dealer or a mayor.”
Clement’s eyes snapped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Rhodes said, “except that we owe it to the county and the city to do the best job we can, and if somebody’s been killed, we owe it to the victim and his family to find the killer. It doesn’t matter who the victim is.”
“You don’t owe anything to a dead man,” Clement said, “and as far as the family goes, those Foshees are a plague on this county. They’re nothing but trouble. We don’t owe them anything at all.”
“Let me see if I have this right,” Rhodes said. “A man’s been killed, and you want me to slough off the investigation.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
“Maybe you just inferred it.”
There were times when Rhodes thought that everyone in the world had changed into Hack and Lawton, but maybe it was his own fault. Maybe he brought out the worst in people. He stood up.
“I don’t want to argue with you, Mr. Mayor,” he said. “I’m going to investigate this crime just like any other one. If you think it over, I know you’ll figure out that you want it done that way.”
“You’d better keep things on the quiet,” Clement said. “I don’t want the reputation of this town spoiled by some meth dealer’s death getting splattered all over the Internet.”
“I don’t think Jennifer Loam has many readers outside the county,” Rhodes said, though he didn’t really know. “You don’t have a thing to worry about.”
Clement did look worried, though, and it made Rhodes wonder why. It wasn’t just the town’s reputation that was bothering him.
“I’d better not see any sensationalism about this on that site,” Clement said.
“I don’t have anything to do with it,” Rhodes said, “and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to interfere with the freedom of the press. Or is that just something I’m inferring?”
“Don’t get smart,” Clement said.
Rhodes grinned. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that happening.”
Clement snorted, and Rhodes left him there.
Alice King smiled a perky smile at Rhodes when he came back into the outer office.
; “Did you two have a nice talk?” she asked.
“Just peachy,” Rhodes said.
“That’s great. You have a great day, now.”
“You, too,” Rhodes said, and got out of there.
* * *
When he got back to the county car, Rhodes got Hack on the radio and asked if he’d heard anything from Buddy about the Foshee boys.
“He’s out around Milsby somewhere, lookin’ for ’em,” Hack said. “They gave an address out there when they bonded out.”
Milsby had once been a little town, but there wasn’t much left of it now. The meth lab that the Foshees were running had been in a deserted house in that area.
“Tell him to call for backup if he locates them,” Rhodes said.
“He’s not gonna try to arrest ’em,” Hack said. “Just bring ’em in for questioning.”
“Earl and Louie don’t take kindly to being asked to come in for questioning.”
“Since they’re out on bond,” Hack said, “they wouldn’t want to mess up and get thrown back in the pokey.”
“You’re giving them credit for more of a thought process than they’re likely to go through.”
“Yeah, I guess so. They’re both about two tacos short of a number four dinner at the Jolly Tamale. I’ll let Buddy know. You gonna be his backup if he needs it?”
“Give me a call,” Rhodes said. “I’ll be at Ace’s Auto Parts.”
“You got car trouble?”
“I have to question a suspect,” Rhodes said. He signed off and racked the mic before Hack could ask him anything else.
* * *
Although Vicki Patton lived in Railville, she’d found a job in Clearview after getting to know Ivy. She knew a little about cars, and while Ace Gable had been hesitant about hiring someone from out of town, she’d proved to be an asset to his store, which was located in a little strip center just up the highway from Walmart.
Ace’s was the biggest store in the center. The sign out front just said ACE’S. It had once said ACE’S AUTO PARTS, but there had been too much trouble with people painting out part of the P in the sign. Because whoever had been altering the sign had never been caught, Ace had a slight grudge against Rhodes for a while. He’d pretty much gotten over it since Vicki, who had used Rhodes as a reference, had turned out to be such a good employee.
Rhodes parked outside the store. An old gray Pontiac Bonneville with the hood up was parked in the space next to him. Now that Pontiacs weren’t being made any longer, the Bonneville might become a collector’s item. Ace was helping a man remove the car’s battery. The man was Bob Strother, who had retired from his job with the gas company back when there had been a gas company in Clearview.
“We’ll just take ’er in and put her on the tester,” Ace said, taking the battery by the handle provided by the manufacturer. “If she’s a bad ’un, we can fix you up. If she just needs charging, it won’t cost you a thing.”
Ace was a big man, taller than Rhodes, and had arms muscled like a weight lifter’s. His short-sleeved black polo shirt with ACE’S stenciled in red over his heart showed off his biceps. On his right biceps he had a tattoo of an ace of spades with a flash of lightning running diagonally across it. On his left was a Big Daddy Roth Rat Fink tattoo. Both biceps bulged as Ace lifted the battery out of the car as if it didn’t weigh any more than a small box of corn flakes. He also wore a black baseball cap with ACE’S AUTO PARTS in red across the front. He’d moved to Clearview about five years previously to open his parts store, and it had been a success from the beginning.
“I bet it’s bad,” Strother said. “If I hadn’t got a jump start from my neighbor this morning, I’d still be stuck at home.”
Rhodes got out of the county car, and Ace said, “Hey, Sheriff. What brings you back out this way? We don’t have any bulls for you to wrangle.”
“You see the video?” Rhodes asked.
“Nope, heard it from a customer who said he was there when it happened.”
Strother laughed. “You been riding bulls, Sheriff? Maybe you oughta enter the rodeo this summer.”
“No, thanks,” Rhodes said. “I’ve had enough of bulls to last me a while.”
Ace didn’t seem to notice he had a car battery dangling from his hand. “If it’s not about bulls, what’s it about? Whatever it is, I’m innocent.”
Strother laughed again. He was easy to please.
“I need to talk to one of your employees,” Rhodes said.
Ace’s eyes narrowed. “Which one?”
“Ms. Patton.”
“Vicki?” Ace was immediately defensive. “What’s she supposed to have done?”
“Not a thing. I just need to ask her about someone she used to know.”
Ace’s eyes narrowed. “Who would that be?”
Ace seemed a bit overprotective for an employer, and Rhodes wondered if he had any rules against the boss fraternizing with the help.
“She can tell you that later if she wants to,” Rhodes said. “I won’t keep her long.”
For just a second Rhodes thought that Ace might throw the battery at him, but then the big man relaxed and said, “Okay. She’s at the counter. It’s about time for her break anyway. Come on, Bob. Let’s me and you see about this battery.”
Strother and Ace went into the store, and Rhodes followed. Vicki was indeed behind the high counter, which held two big electronic cash registers and a couple of computer monitors. The auto parts were arrayed on racks that lined the big room in back of the counter, whereas the room Rhodes was in held racks of items that customers could pick up for themselves, things like car wax, bulbs for various lights, fuses, polishing cloths, motor oil, bucket seat covers, floor mats, and just about anything else a person might need for a car or truck. And plenty of things that nobody would ever need, which probably sold just as well as or better than the rest of the merchandise.
Ace and Strother walked along the counter to the back of the store where the battery tester was, Ace giving Vicki a grin as he passed by, and Rhodes went up to the counter.
“Hey, Sheriff,” Vicki said. “You need some auto parts today?”
Vicki had red hair, freckles, brown eyes, and a nice smile. Rhodes could see why Ace might be interested in her.
“I wish that was it,” Rhodes said. “Ace told me it was about time for your break. Can we go outside and talk?”
Vicki looked uncertain. “I shouldn’t leave the counter.”
“It’s okay, Vicki,” Ace called from the back of the store. “I’ll watch the counter.”
Rhodes wasn’t surprised that Ace had been listening, but he was a little surprised that his hearing was so good.
“I’ll be right back,” Vicki said.
“Take your time,” Ace said. “It’s not like we’re covered up with customers right now.”
Vicki walked to the front of the counter, pushed up a hinged section, and stood by the door. Rhodes joined her, and they went outside. No one was on the walk, so it was as good a place to talk as any.
“What’s this about?” Vicki asked.
“Neil Foshee,” Rhodes told her. “It’s not good news.”
“Couldn’t be good news if it was about him,” Vicki said. “He get arrested again?”
“No,” Rhodes said. “Somebody killed him.”
Chapter 7
Vicki’s eyes widened at Rhodes’s words. “Neil’s dead?”
Rhodes nodded. Vicki didn’t seem to be unhappy about it.
“Who did it?” she asked after a second or two.
“I was hoping you might be able to help me with that,” Rhodes said. “Maybe you know someone who might want to kill him.”
“I didn’t go out with him that much,” Vicki said. “Just a few times. You know what he did to me. If I could’ve killed him then, I might’ve done it myself, but I’m over that now.”
“I didn’t think you did it. Did he ever mention any enemies to you, people he didn’t like or who didn’t like him?”
&nb
sp; “Everybody liked him,” Vicki said. “He was Mr. Personality, and he had the stuff that made them feel good.”
“You didn’t know that at first.”
“No, and I liked him then. He was fun to be around. He seemed nice, and he was a good dancer. He wasn’t nice at all when I found out about him and said I was going to tell the law.”
That was when Foshee had taken her clothes and left her at the roadside park. She was right. He wasn’t nice at all.
“Had he called you since he got out of jail? Made any threats?”
Vicki looked through the store window. Ace was behind the counter now, talking to Strother, but he was looking out at Rhodes and Vicki. The sun was getting high, and Rhodes was uncomfortably aware of the thin spot in his hair. He was going to have to get a hat or a cap or a toupee. Maybe Ace would give him a baseball cap.
Vicki turned back to Rhodes and lowered her eyes to look at the sidewalk. “I’d’ve told you if he called.”
“I know. Something’s happened, though. You want to tell me what it is?”
“It’s nothing.” Vicki still wasn’t looking at Rhodes. She stared at the engine of Strother’s old Pontiac. “Just … he came here a couple of days ago. He was looking for a muffler for his truck, or that’s what he said. He claimed he didn’t know I was working here. He said some things to me that were pretty bad.”
“If he threatened you, you should’ve called the jail. He was violating his probation by visiting you.”
“He was a customer,” Vicki said, looking out at the highway.
Yeah, right, Rhodes thought. “Did he buy anything?”
“No, and he didn’t stay long. Ace … Mr. Gable came up to the front before Neil could buy anything. Neil left.”
Rhodes didn’t blame Foshee for leaving. A man the size of Ace wasn’t anybody to mess around with.
“Ace thinks a lot of you,” Rhodes said. “You’ve been a big help here at the store.”
Vicki finally turned her eyes on Rhodes again. “I’m pretty good with auto parts. My daddy likes to work on cars, and sometimes he’d let me help when I was little.”
“Did Ace say anything to Foshee when he was in the store?”
Vicki grinned. “He told him to get out and never come back. He told him that if he did, he’d break him in two.” She paused. “He could do it, too.”