Of All Sad Words (17 page)

Rhodes didn’t think he’d be lucky enough to catch Crawford in possession, not now.

“Who do you think took the still?” Mellon said.

“Somebody driving a black Dodge,” Rhodes told him, and then went on to explain what had happened when he and Ruth found the still. “Later on that night, the same truck killed a man named Jerry Kergan. So whoever was driving it is our man.”

“Your man,” Mellon said by way of correction and clarification. “Maybe it was Crawford.”

“Could be, but we haven’t been able to connect him to the truck so far. We haven’t been able to connect anybody to it.”

“You will. But as for the still, just forget it. Crawford might not even own this property. If he doesn’t, you’ll really be on shaky ground. Anyway, you have two murders on your hands. That’s enough.”

Though he didn’t say so, Rhodes didn’t agree. He wanted to get Larry Crawford for the still, too. It didn’t seem right that he should get away with making illegal alcohol.

That thought reminded him again of Rapper and Nellie, both of whom had gotten away with a lot in Blacklin County, maybe even murder.

Not that they’d gotten off scot-free. Once, Rapper had lost a couple of fingers in a fight with Rhodes. Another time, both he and Nellie had wound up in the hospital, Nellie with broken ribs and Rapper with a severe thigh wound, the result of another fight with Rhodes, who had sunk the sharp point of a hay hook in him.

Rapper and Nellie, however, hadn’t learned much from those encounters. They’d returned to the county one more time, and Rhodes had been in yet another fight with Rapper, who that time had gotten most of one ear shot off.

Each time, however, Rapper had come close to getting the better of Rhodes. He’d outthought him and outmaneuvered him on more than one occasion.

Why do I keep thinking about him? Rhodes wondered. He and Nellie are motorcycle guys. They don’t drive trucks.

“We might as well go on in,” Mellon said. “We’re not going to find anything else here.”

Rhodes thought about following the tracks, but he decided to come back later. No need to delay Mellon’s return to his home base. They went to the car, and Rhodes drove them back to town.

After Mellon had left, Rhodes checked with Hack to see what was going on with the donkey at the car wash, among other things.

“Franklin Anderson took care of him,” Hack said. “Got him roped and penned up without much trouble. Didn’t find out who owned him, though.”

Rhodes wasn’t worried about that. The owner would be calling sooner or later.

“Could be a mule,” Lawton said, walking into the room from the cell block.

“Anderson says it was a donkey,” Hack told him. “Just like I thought.”

Rhodes didn’t recall that, exactly, but he kept quiet. He didn’t want to get them started again.

“Anderson didn’t do anything about those possums, though,” Hack said.

“We’re working on it,” Rhodes told him.

“Right. That’s what I told Miz Owens, just like you said. I’ve had to tell her twice since the first call. I don’t think she took any comfort from hearin’ it.”

“It’s the best I can do right now. What else is going on?”

Rhodes hoped that Hack would say “Nothing,” but that had never happened before. Something was always going on.

“Buddy called in about that Jamey Hamilton. He can’t find out a thing on him except that he cuts a lot of hair.”

“I knew that already.”

“Buddy says it’s kind of suspicious how much hair he cuts. Lots of folks in and out of that shop. More than you’d think for a little town like Obert.”

Rhodes recalled what Michal Schafer had told him.

“Does Buddy think something else was going on?”

“He’s checkin’ some more, but he says it might be that Hamilton was sellin’ liquor out of the shop.”

Rhodes wanted to get some evidence of that and tie it back to Larry Crawford, though it wasn’t likely that anyone who’d bought liquor there would admit it.

“Tell him to keep working on it. Anything else?”

“Dave Ellendorf phoned,” Hack said.

Rhodes sighed. Ellendorf was a well-known nutcase. “What’s the trouble this time?”

“I bet it’s the flyin’ saucers again,” Lawton said, earning a hostile look from Hack.

“Is it?” Rhodes asked.

“Yeah,” Hack said, still looking at Lawton.

“What are they up to this time?”

Hack looked back at Rhodes and grinned. “Stealin’ his ’lectricity.”

No wonder Hack’s mood had improved so quickly. That was a completely new story from Ellendorf. On previous occasions, Ellendorf had variously claimed that the flying saucers—black ones, of course—were spying on him, trying to abduct his two dogs, causing his chickens to stop laying, or making his house shift on its foundation.

After each of the calls, Rhodes had paid a visit with his special “saucer detector,” which consisted of a couple of circuit boards from old transistor radios. No saucers had been detected, and Ellendorf had been happy. Until the next time.

“How does he know they’re stealing his electricity?” Rhodes asked.

“Because it went off right after they flew over. He says they sucked all the ‘lectricity right out of the house. He heard this high-pitched whinin’ noise and went out in the yard. Saw four of those black saucers hoverin’ over the house. Soon’s he saw ’em, they whooshed straight up in the air and took his ‘lectricity with ’em.”

“Sounds serious,” Rhodes said.

“Sure is,” Lawton said. “Man without an air conditioner’s in big trouble in weather like this.”

“Did you tell him to call the electric company?” Rhodes asked.

“Nope. I figured you’d better go out and have a look first. Takes the ‘lectric company too long to do anything anyway. It might be tomorrow before they got somebody out there. If it’s something you can’t solve, you can tell him to give ’em a call. They might get there in a couple of hours, or it might be a couple of days. Depends on what else they got to do.”

“All right,” Rhodes said. “I’ll see if I can take care of him. Then I might drive down to Thurston to have a look at Jerry Kergan’s house.”

“He had an apartment here in town now.”

“He still owned his place in Thurston, didn’t he?”

“Far’s I know.”

“Then I need to have a look around. You get in touch with Ruth and have her check the apartment.”

“You be sure to let me know where you are,” Hack said.

“I will.”

“Ruth always lets me know where she is.”

Rhodes ignored the implied criticism and started for the door, but Seepy Benton came in before he got there.

“We need to talk, Sheriff,” he said.

“What about?”

“The Crawfords. I told you I knew a few things that might be important.”

“All right,” Rhodes said. “Come on over to the desk.”

He sat at his desk and Benton sat beside it in an old wooden chair that might have been new when the jail was built. He kept his hat on, but Rhodes didn’t mind.

“Those authors I met today were really interested in our case,” Benton said.

“Hold it,” Rhodes said. “
Our
case?”

“Well, the one you’re working on. I’m just a public-spirited citizen who’d like to help out.”

“Right. Did you tell Claudia and Jan anything you haven’t told me?”

“Two things. I’d have told you, but you didn’t seem interested.”

“I’m interested now.”

“Good. The first thing’s about the Schwartzes. I think you’d better question them again.”

“Why should I do that?”

“I’m not sure I should say.”

Rhodes stood up. “And you have every right not to. I have some things I need to do anyway.”

Benton grinned. “I guess I asked for that. I came here to tell you, and then I didn’t. I don’t blame you for being a little irritated.”

“He gets like that all the time,” Hack said from across the room. “I don’t know why he does.”

Rhodes detected no trace of irony in his voice.

“Anyway,” Benton said, “the Schwartzes were pretty upset with the Crawfords. They talked to a couple of us in the academy class about doing something about them.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“I didn’t want them to get in trouble, and I didn’t really think they were serious. That was before I heard the story of what Terry did in the store. I thought it was just about the meth lab, and—”

“There wasn’t a meth lab,” Rhodes said.

“If you say so. But we thought there was. I told them we couldn’t do anything ourselves, that it was your job. You emphasized that in your class.”

Rhodes was glad someone remembered. He’d been clear about citizens’ responsibilities and how they differed from the responsibilities of the sheriff’s department.

“I thought they agreed with me,” Benton said. “They seemed to lose interest. Now I wonder if I was right. They were pretty upset, even now, about Terry Crawford.”

“Does Schwartz keep a gun in his store?” Rhodes asked.

“I don’t think so. If he did, Jackee might have used it on Crawford.”

Rhodes hadn’t thought of that. Jackee didn’t look like the type, but he knew you could never tell what a person might do by looking at her.

“You said there were two things. What’s the other one?”

“I saw somebody at the Crawford place today, at the gate.”

“You’ve been watching it?”

Benton stiffened, as if he’d been insulted.

“Watching? No. I just happened to look up that way when I was leaving home this morning.”

Rhodes didn’t think Benton could see the gate from the road in front of his house, but it might be barely possible.

“What did you see?”

“A black truck. There were two men in it.”

Rhodes hadn’t been too sure of the accuracy of the information about the Schwartzes, but this was more interesting.

“Could you tell what they looked like?”

“Not until they got out of the truck. The windows were too dark.”

“Well?” Rhodes said.

“One of them was short and hefty. Not fat, but he had a big belly. It looked solid, like a barrel.”

“Did he walk with a limp?”

“How did you know?”

“Call it a lucky guess. What about the other one?”

“Skinny, wore a baseball cap, black jeans, and a black T-shirt.”

Rapper and Nellie. No wonder Rhodes had been thinking of them. Maybe he’d recognized them in the truck without even realizing it.

“You can really see well from your place,” Rhodes said. “Do you have binoculars?”

“No. After I saw them, I drove up that way instead of coming to town.” Benton put up a hand. “I wasn’t investigating. I didn’t put myself in any danger. I was just doing what a responsible citizen would do.”

“You’re right,” Rhodes said. “This county needs more responsible citizens who’re ready to help out law enforcement now and then.”

“I’m always happy to help out,” Benton said.

“Good,” Rhodes told him. “Because I have a little job for you.”

Chapter 20

“THAT WAS A PRETTY MEAN TRICK,” HACK SAID WHEN BENTON was gone.

Rhodes shook his head. “He said he wanted to help.”

“Yeah,” Lawton said. “Maybe so, but I don’t think he knows much about possums.”

“What’s there to know?” Rhodes said. “He goes up in the attic and chases them out. One citizen helps out another.”

“Miz Owens won’t like it,” Hack said.

“Sure she will. She just wants to get rid of the possums. She doesn’t care who does the job.”

“She asked for you, though.”

“She’ll like Benton. Everybody does.”

“He did seem like a nice fella,” Lawton said. “Maybe he’ll bring his guitar around and give us a concert.”

Benton had mentioned his guitar playing before leaving. He always manages to work it into the conversation, Rhodes thought.

“I’d like to hear him,” Hack said.

“We work here,” Rhodes reminded them. “This is a jail, not a music hall.”

“Irritable,” Hack said, turning to Lawton. “Like I said.”

“Kinda sad,” Lawton said. “He didn’t use to be like this.”

Rhodes left before they could say any more.

Dave Ellendorf looked like a perfectly normal guy. He was nearly seventy, with white hair so thin that Rhodes could see the pink skin of his scalp. He wore glasses and baggy pants that slid down and lapped over the tops of his shoes because of the belly that pooched out over his belt. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, Rhodes thought, reminded that he couldn’t always be sure of seeing his own belt buckle.

Appearance aside, however, there was something distinctly odd about Ellendorf, and it wasn’t just his belief that black flying saucers were hovering around and stealing his electricity. It had something to do with his high-pitched voice and the way he never quite looked directly at whomever he was talking to. His small eyes darted to the left and right and never stopped darting around.

“Where’s your saucer detector?” he asked Rhodes first thing.

“I didn’t think I’d need it,” Rhodes said. “The saucers are gone, right?”

Ellendorf nodded. “Sure they are. They got what they wanted, and they were gone in a flash. Sounded like they’d been sucked right up into the sky in a big vacuum cleaner. Took that electricity with ’em, dammit.”

“We’d better check,” Rhodes said. “Maybe they brought it back.”

“I didn’t see ’em.”

“They’re sneaky, though.”

Ellendorf thought that over. “I guess you’re right about that. But the electricity’s still gone. I’ll show you.”

The house was small, and it was located just outside the city limits. There was a fenced chicken yard in back, and a couple of dogs slept in the shade on one side of the house.

Ellendorf took Rhodes into the cramped one-car attached garage, leading him past an old Ford Escort that was red, faded, and dusty. Its nose almost touched the door to the interior of the house. There was a dirty plastic light switch beside the door, and Ellendorf flipped it up. The light didn’t come on.

“See?” he said.

“What about the rest of the house?”

“I’ll show you that, too.”

Ellendorf opened the door. They went into a utility room that was almost too small for the washer and dryer it held. Ellendorf flipped the light switch on the wall by the door. Nothing happened.