by Bill Crider
“You ain’t near as funny as you think you are, you know that?”
“I should. People keep telling me.”
“Well, they’re right about it,” Hack said.
“I’ll try to do better.”
“Don’t do that. Just stop tryin’ to make jokes.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“You do that,” Hack said.
Rhodes hung up and told Ivy that he wouldn’t have time for breakfast. He didn’t mention the doughnuts.
“I have to get right on over to Roger’s house,” he said. “I don’t want Seepy to get impatient.”
“I don’t think he’s the impatient type,” Ivy said. “I think he’s at one with the universe.”
“Now who’s getting philosophical?” Rhodes asked.
“Not me,” Ivy said. “Speaking of being at one with the universe, where’s Yancey?”
“Still asleep,” Rhodes said. “He rests better than I do.”
“Then wake him up. Time for him and me to have some fun.”
Rhodes whistled, and Yancey came into the kitchen, his claws clicking on the floor. He danced around Rhodes’s ankles until Rhodes told him that Ivy was going outside with him.
Ivy went to the back door, and Yancey ran over to her, not looking back at Rhodes.
Maybe Ivy was right about Yancey and Speedo having more fun with her than with him. He had to admit, but only to himself, that it did make him a little jealous. He thought he’d get over it, though, especially if Roger had a buttermilk doughnut. Or two.
* * *
Clearview in the early morning was not a bustling hive of activity, but Rhodes did see a few people out on their lawns. One man was drinking coffee, and he raised his cup to Rhodes as the sheriff drove by. Another was smoking a cigarette, and a third was looking for something in his pickup. A mother urged a couple of teenagers into a car. In a little while they’d be going off to work or school without much of a thought for Lawrence Gates or the old schoolhouse in Thurston or Madison Russell or any of the other crimes and misdemeanors of Blacklin County.
Most people were likely to be unaware of the crime that went on all around them other than the sensationalized stories that Jennifer Loam put on her news blog. Most of them never considered all the things happening most of the day and night, like driving under the influence or while distracted by texting, or doing something else on a phone. The people he saw in their yards knew that Rhodes and the Charger represented the law, and they no doubt had some respect for the law, depending on their experience or their lack of experience with it, but few of them understood what was involved in policing even a sparsely populated county like the one they lived in. They had their own lives to live, going to work, taking the kids to school, paying the bills, and all the ordinary living involved.
Rhodes wondered if it mattered that people didn’t know any more than they did about the criminal underbelly, such as it was, of the county. If he ran for reelection, he’d have to remind them of all the things his department did to keep the county safe. Some of them might be appreciative, but others might be scared to think that they lived in a place where such things happened. Whoever ran against him, and there would inevitably be somebody who thought he or she could do the job better than Rhodes, would try to scare people a lot more than anything Rhodes said would scare them.
Everything either of them said would get plenty of publicity from Jennifer Loam. The stories she’d done about Rhodes in the past might even be brought up again, not by his opponent but by Jennifer, who was a good newsperson but who couldn’t resist a bit of exaggeration when it came to getting clicks on her blog. The publicity might help Rhodes’s campaign if he ran again, but he didn’t like the idea of having that kind of thing mentioned over and over. He liked to do his job and keep a low profile.
Running for office wasn’t anything he had to worry about at the moment, though, and he put it out of his mind. Right now what concerned him was finding out who killed Lawrence and who burned the schoolhouse. Not to mention whether Roger had picked up any buttermilk doughnuts.
Seepy Benton was already at Roger’s house when Rhodes arrived. He was going up the sidewalk to the door, but when Rhodes pulled to the curb, Seepy stopped to wait for him. Rhodes got out of the Charger and joined him.
“So you’ve cracked the case,” Rhodes said.
Seepy kicked at a crack in the sidewalk. “I might have overstated things a little.”
“I was afraid of that. How much is a little?”
“Let’s go inside, and I’ll tell you. Roger might want to hear it, too, and he’s my client, after all. Plus he said he’d have doughnuts.”
They went up the walk, and Rhodes knocked on the door. Roger opened it and invited them inside.
“Let’s go in the kitchen,” he said. “I bought some doughnuts at Freshie’s Doughnut Hole, and I have coffee ready.”
“What kind of doughnuts?” Seepy asked.
“All kinds,” Roger said. “I got an assortment.”
That sounded promising to Rhodes.
The kitchen was old-fashioned, with white Formica countertops, a white porcelain sink, and cabinets that had a couple of sagging doors. Three chairs sat at a small maple table with foldout sides. A white box with a dozen doughnuts sat open in the middle of the table, and Rhodes was happy to see that two of them were buttermilk. Cake plates sat on the table in front of each chair, with a paper napkin, fork, and teaspoon beside each one.
“Have a seat,” Roger said. “Coffee?”
“None for me,” Rhodes said. “It smells good, but I’ll take water.”
“I’ll have a cup,” Seepy said. “Black with sugar.”
“Help yourselves to the doughnuts,” Roger said.
Rhodes didn’t hesitate. He took his fork and nailed a buttermilk doughnut. Seepy went for a plain glazed one.
Roger set a cup of coffee on a saucer in front of Seepy and put a dish with sugar packets beside it.
“I’ll let you sweeten your own,” he said to Seepy while placing a glass of water beside Rhodes’s plate.
Seepy paused his doughnut eating and opened a packet of sugar. He poured the contents into his coffee and stirred.
Roger sat down with his own coffee, took a chocolate-filled doughnut from the box, and said to Seepy, “You told me that you’d solved the case. I’m ready to hear about it. Did it have to do with the encrypted files?”
“Yes,” Seepy said. He took a sip of coffee and another bite of his doughnut, moves that Rhodes recognized as classic stalling techniques.
“Well?” Roger said.
“Let me ask you something first,” Seepy said. “You never did tell us why Lawrence moved here.”
“Sure I did,” Roger said. “College buddies, remember? Reconnected on Facebook, and so on.”
“That’s not a reason,” Seepy said. “Not a real one, anyway. He came here for something. He must have. He started the blog, or if he didn’t, it was his idea. He was obsessed with the Thurston school.”
“I don’t see that it matters,” Roger said. “We were friends. That was good enough for me.”
Seepy stirred his coffee again. “Maybe it doesn’t matter, but I think it does. It couldn’t have been just friendship. He was collecting information on people in Thurston, mainly the Reeses, the Falkners, and the Hunleys.”
“My suspects,” Rhodes said. “Did he have anything on Kenny Lambert?”
“Nothing,” Seepy said. “He had plenty on the others, though.”
“For example?” Rhodes said.
“Let’s start with the Reeses, or Charlie Reese,” Seepy said. “You know him?”
“I’ve talked to him and his wife a few times lately,” Rhodes said, not giving anything away.
“You know how he made his money?”
“Yes,” Rhodes said. “Wheeling and dealing, a fine old Texas tradition.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Seepy said. “Lawrence had dug into some of the dealing. Hi
s conclusion was that it wasn’t all on the up-and-up.”
“Did he have specifics?”
“Not in every instance.”
Rhodes resisted a sigh. “Name one.”
“It happened in another county. Some man named Ross Ellisor bought some land from Reese. Reese carried the loan himself and naturally charged interest. Not an unfair amount. Ellisor was injured in a car accident a few years later and couldn’t keep up the payments. Reese took back the land after Ellisor missed one payment. Ellisor and his wife were both upset by the way it was handled. Ellisor’s argument was that he could’ve continued the payments after he got back on his feet. He needed a little time, but he’d pay eventually. Reese didn’t care. The loan agreement Ellisor signed said that he’d lose the land if he missed a payment. Reese didn’t care about being paid eventually. He kept the land and later sold it again for a good bit more money.”
“I can see the article on the blog now,” Roger said. “That was the kind of thing Lawrence loved.”
“Except he didn’t publish it,” Seepy said. “There are a couple of similar incidents that as far as I know were never on the blog, either. Not that I was a regular reader.”
Rhodes snorted.
“Well, maybe I was,” Seepy said. “That’s beside the point. He had the information and didn’t use it. Why not?”
“I have no idea,” Roger said.
“What about the Falkners?” Rhodes asked.
“That’s a good one,” Seepy said. “You know how they got their money?”
“The old-fashioned way,” Rhodes said. “They inherited it.”
“That’s right,” Seepy said, “but do you know where the money came from?”
“Some rich relative who started a fast-food chain out in California,” Rhodes said, “or that’s the story I’ve heard. I don’t think anybody knows for sure.”
“Lawrence knew,” Seepy said. He looked at his plate, which had nothing on it but crumbs. “I think I’ll have another doughnut.”
Roger stood up. “I’ll get you some more coffee.”
Rhodes took advantage of the opportunity to spear the second and last buttermilk doughnut.
Roger came back to the table with a carafe of coffee and poured some in Seepy’s cup. He put the carafe back in the coffeemaker and sat down.
“Are you going to tell us what Lawrence knew,” Rhodes asked, “or are you just going to let us guess?”
“The money didn’t come from a fast-food franchise,” Seepy said. He took a bite of doughnut.
Rhodes thought Seepy was looking more and more like Lawton every day. “So tell us where it did come from.”
“Marijuana,” Seepy said. “Or cannabis as I prefer to call it.”
“They were dope dealers?” Roger said.
“Not them. The rich relative. He wasn’t a dealer, exactly. He was a medical cannabis grower. Perfectly legal in California. Not so legal in Texas, although it should be.”
“That doesn’t sound like such a big deal,” Roger said.
“It is, though,” Seepy said. “Think about how it would look on your blog with a clickbait headline. Besides, as I said, this isn’t California. In Texas the idea of cannabis use of any kind is considered sinful and worse. The Falkners would be ostracized by most of the population of the county.”
“You might be underestimating the people around here,” Rhodes said.
“I could be,” Seepy said, “but I don’t think I am.”
It was an argument that Rhodes didn’t want to get into, and Seepy was right about how Lawrence could have approached the story. He could have made things seem much worse than they were.
“I’ll concede the point,” Rhodes said. “What else did you find out?”
“That’s all about the Falkners.”
“So that leaves the Hunleys.”
“Right,” Seepy said. “That’s kind of tricky.”
More stalling. “How tricky?”
“It’s not easy to get military records, but that’s what Lawrence was trying to do. I guess he couldn’t dig up anything on Con or Pete in recent years, so he was going back to their military careers.”
“It’s hard even for law enforcement to get military records,” Rhodes said. “It can be done, but it’s a long, slow process.”
“Lawrence was pretty closemouthed about what he was doing,” Roger put in. “I didn’t know about any of this stuff. He did let one thing slip, though.”
“What would that be?” Rhodes asked.
“He had an uncle who served in the first Gulf War,” Roger said. “That’s all I know.”
“Who was the uncle?”
“He didn’t tell me that. It was just a passing remark when I asked him what he was working on. I don’t know much about his family.”
“You know his mother and father,” Rhodes said. “You got in touch with them about Lawrence’s murder.”
“Yes,” Roger said.
“If you could get the name of the uncle for me, I’d like to ask him if he knew what Lawrence was working on.”
“I’ll call,” Roger said. “I don’t even know if his uncle is still alive. He could’ve been killed over there for all I know.”
“It would be good if you could call right now,” Rhodes said.
“Sure,” Roger said. He stood up. “My phone’s in the other room. I’ll be right back.”
“Do you think the uncle will be any help?” Seepy asked as Roger left the kitchen.
Rhodes shrugged. “Who knows?”
“I guess I didn’t really crack the case,” Seepy said, “but I did give you some information that you can use when you question your suspects again.”
“I’ll give you credit for that,” Rhodes said. “You should learn not to exaggerate, though.”
“I got carried away,” Seepy said. “What do you think about the Falkners and the Reeses now?”
“I think they’re good suspects for murder, but then I always did. I’ve been interviewing them for a couple of days. They’ve always been suspects.”
“Not the Hunleys?”
“Them, too, but I can’t find a motive for them. Maybe the uncle will give us one.”
“Because he was in the Gulf War?”
“Pretty chancy,” Rhodes said, “but right now it’s all we have.”
“It doesn’t seem like much,” Seepy said.
“That’s because it’s not.”
Roger came back into the room. “I called Lawrence’s parents. The uncle’s name is Henry Gates. I wrote down his number.”
He handed Rhodes a piece of paper. Rhodes folded it and stuck it in his pocket.
“I’ll give him a call from the jail,” Rhodes said. He stood up. “I’d better get on over there and find out what’s going on around the county.”
“If you can get Hack and Lawton to tell you,” Seepy said.
“They always tell me,” Rhodes said, “but very slowly.”
Roger pushed the doughnut box in Rhodes’s direction. “Better take one for the road.”
Rhodes looked into the box. No more buttermilk doughnuts, but there was one with chocolate frosting that tempted him.
“I’ll get you a fresh napkin to wrap it in,” Roger said, getting up from the table.
That was all Rhodes needed to hear to give in to the temptation. He took the doughnut and wrapped it in the napkin that Roger handed him.
“You’re going to tell me what the uncle said, aren’t you?” Seepy asked.
“I’ll keep you in the loop,” Rhodes said.
Chapter 24
Amazingly enough, Hack and Lawton didn’t have any stories to tell other than the one about Madison Russell, and Hack had already given that one away.
“Why would she say somethin’ like that?” Hack asked Rhodes when Rhodes had gotten seated at his desk. “She doesn’t look like an incorrigible.”
“What does an incorrigible look like?” Rhodes asked.
“Like that Kenny Lambert with the snake tat
tooed on his neck. You can bet he’ll be back, and more than once.”
“If somebody doesn’t shoot him first,” Lawton said.
Rhodes thought it would make his job a lot easier if he could identify criminals by their appearance, but he’d never been able to do that. All his suspects in the murder of Lawrence Gates looked like fine, upstanding citizens. Maybe they were. Maybe he was on the wrong track and had been all along, although he didn’t think so.
He stood up. “I’m going over to the courthouse. Don’t tell Jennifer Loam if she comes asking.”
“We don’t have to tell her,” Hack said. “She knows where to find you if you’re in town. You need a new hideout.”
“That’s a good idea,” Rhodes said. “Any suggestions?”
“You could go home,” Lawton said. “Nobody there during the day.”
“I think I’ll stick with the courthouse,” Rhodes said. “I’ll be back later.”
As soon as he left the jail, Rhodes drove straight home. Yancey was glad to see him, if a little puzzled as to why Rhodes had shown up at such an unusual time. Rhodes went into the kitchen with Yancey yipping along behind him. The cats looked him over, then closed their eyes. They didn’t care when he came home.
Rhodes set his wrapped doughnut on the kitchen table and went to the refrigerator, where he got out a Dr Pepper. He popped the can open and set it on the table by the doughnut. Three doughnuts and a Dr Pepper with real sugar. Life was good.
“You’re not going to tell Ivy, are you?” he asked Yancey.
Yancey yipped. Rhodes knew he wasn’t a squealer, but he wasn’t so sure about the cats. They could be watching even when they didn’t appear to be. Cats were sneaky that way. Rhodes didn’t care. He sat down, unwrapped the doughnut, took a bite, and savored it. He followed with a swallow of Dr Pepper.
“I know it’s not good for me,” Rhodes told Yancey, “but I can quit any time I want to.”
That was true. He’d quit Dr Pepper before, and his boycott had lasted for at least a couple of years. He was glad he’d given the boycott up, though.
After a couple of bites of the doughnut and a couple of swallows of his drink, Rhodes started to think about the case of Lawrence Gates. He’d been adding little things up almost since the beginning, and he had a list of them now. He wanted to talk to Henry Gates before seeing how they all added up, so he made the call, using his new cell phone.