Of All Sad Words (25 page)
As he said that, he threw the fork at the dry ground, tines-first. The ground was so hard that the fork didn’t penetrate it. It hit and bounced about six inches straight up before falling flat. Rhodes thought the hard ground might even have bent the tines. If that happened, Crawford would probably want to sue him.
Crawford picked up the fork and wiped it on the front of his apron. Hamilton sat where he was, not saying a word.
“You’re the sheriff,” Crawford said to Rhodes. “You can come here and throw my fork on the ground, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Jamey, though, he owns this place, and he can ask you to leave. What about it, Jamey?”
“You want to leave, Sheriff?” Hamilton said. He didn’t sound happy about having to say it. “I mean, if you’re through causing trouble and all.”
Rhodes was through. He’d found out what he wanted to know. Hamilton was guilty of selling whiskey, and Crawford was guilty of making it. They hadn’t admitted it, and Rhodes might not be able to prove it about either of them, but he was convinced. It wasn’t that their crime was so terrible, and it wasn’t that they shouldn’t pay for breaking the law. It was the fact that they felt like they were putting something over on him that bothered him most. He knew that wasn’t a good thing, but he couldn’t help it.
“I’ll be leaving now,” he said. “You two enjoy those steaks. They don’t serve meals like that in the prison units. They don’t have beer, either, and they don’t allow smoking. You wouldn’t like it there very much.”
“Yeah,” Crawford said. “That’s why we’re not going.”
“You be careful on your way to town,” Hamilton said. “And don’t hurry back.”
Rhodes left them there, both men laughing at their cleverness.
AFTER A HEARTY DINNER OF VEGETARIAN LASAGNA, RHODES went out to play with the dogs in the backyard for a while. Even though it was well after dark, the heat hung on. Neither he nor the dogs could work up much enthusiasm, so after a couple of minutes, Rhodes made sure that Speedo’s water dish was filled with clean water and then sat on the back steps.
While Yancey chased Speedo halfheartedly around the yard, Rhodes sat on the back steps and thought about the murder of Terry Crawford and the disappearance of Rapper and Nellie.
No matter how hard he tried, Rhodes couldn’t make all the facts fit any scenario he could devise. It was like looking at a jigsaw puzzle with all the pieces laid out on the table but not finding any two that fit neatly together. Oh, you could jam one of the tabs into the place where it looked as if it belonged, but it was clear that it really didn’t go there.
Why would Rapper kill Kergan? Rhodes had thought he knew the answer to that question, but it had turned out that he was wrong.
Why would Rapper kill Terry Crawford? That was something that needed considerably more thought. The most likely answer was that Terry was competition for Rapper, who had taken his usual direct route to getting rid of anyone who got in his way. If that was the case, however, Rapper certainly shouldn’t have killed Kergan, who could have put him in touch with the people who’d been buying from the Crawfords.
A couple of other things were wrong, too, but Rhodes couldn’t quite wrap his mind around them. He knew they were in there somewhere, slipping around just out of reach of his consciousness. He caught hints of them, but then they’d slip away from him.
He heard the telephone ring inside the house, but he didn’t get up. If it was important, Ivy would come and get him. High in the sky, an airplane’s light flashed in the darkness, moving from west to east. Rhodes wondered where the plane had been and where it was going. What were the people on it thinking about? Not about two murders in Blacklin County, he was sure.
Ivy came outside and sat beside him on the steps.
“That was Mikey Burns on the phone,” she said. “What have you done to make him mad?”
“Nothing. I just got into the middle of an argument he was having with Mel Muller. I thought they liked each other, but I was wrong.”
“About the department’s Web site?”
“Yes. Is that what he called about?”
“That was one thing. He said he was holding you responsible for that Web site, and that if it wasn’t on line by next week, you’d be sorry.”
“Why would he say that to you?”
“Because I told him you weren’t here and that I’d take a message.”
“I am here, though.”
Ivy patted his knee. “I thought you needed a break.”
“You were right about that. Thanks. What was the other thing?”
“He said there’d been two murders in his precinct and that you hadn’t done a thing about either one of them. He wants you to come in for a meeting tomorrow and make a report to him.”
“I don’t have to report to the commissioners.”
“I think he knows that. He was just trying to throw his weight around a little.”
“He should throw it at me, not you.”
“I didn’t mind,” Ivy said. “He needed to let off some steam, and he did. I’m sure he feels much better now.”
“I’d feel better if I had Rapper and Nellie in jail,” Rhodes said.
“You’ll catch them sooner or later.”
“Right,” Rhodes said.
When Rhodes went to bed that night, he thought that maybe everything would fall into place.
When he woke up the next morning, it hadn’t happened. He was still as puzzled by everything as he’d been when he went to bed. His head didn’t hurt, however, and the knot was smaller than it had been. The bruise on his chest was still colorful, but his shoulder was less sore. All in all, he had to believe things were getting better.
He went out to feed Speedo and check the water dish. It was another hot day, already in the eighties, and the sun was barely over the horizon. It’s a dry heat, though, Rhodes told himself. That was supposed to be good. And so far, not a single person had asked if it was hot enough for him. That was good, too. It was only a matter of time until someone did ask, but he was glad of the temporary relief.
As he drove to the jail, something he’d thought of while sitting on the steps came back to mind, the idea that Rapper had killed Terry to get rid of the competition.
Rhodes believed that Rapper was fully capable of killing a man just to get rid of him, but the method didn’t seem to be one Rapper would choose. A .25-caliber pistol? Rapper would prefer a .45, if not a twelve-gauge shotgun. Or a big Dodge pickup. Rhodes hadn’t managed a good look at Nellie’s pistol, but he was pretty sure it had been bigger than a .25. Nellie wasn’t like Rapper, but he’d prefer a weapon with some stopping power.
That thought led him back to the Schwartzes. Max had told Rhodes he’d been wrong about Terry’s having insulted Jackee. Had he just been trying to mislead Rhodes, or had he been telling the truth? Rhodes had believed him at the time, but that was when he’d thought Rapper was the killer.
There was no getting around the fact that Rapper had killed Kergan, however. Max couldn’t be tied to that. Neither could Mikey Burns, though Rhodes wouldn’t have minded pinning it on him. The black pickup, however, belonged to Rapper.
Rhodes arrived at the jail. He wondered what the bad news would be this morning. It didn’t take him long to find out.
“Sonny Streeter’s wife’s left him again,” Hack said before the door had closed behind Rhodes.
“We don’t do divorce work,” Rhodes said.
“Sonny don’t want a divorce,” Lawton said.
“What does he want, then?”
“He wants his keys back,” Hack said. “Miz Streeter took ’em all with her. Took the car keys, house keys, and even the keys to his store.”
Streeter owned a little video-rental store in a strip mall near the Wal-Mart. His wife, Sandy, worked there with him. They had frequent arguments about the operation of the store, the family finances, and other things. Sometimes the arguments got so loud that the other store owners would complain. Now and then, one of the Streeters would call to report the other for some petty thing. Though they never got violent, they separated every three or four months. They always got back together, and then things started all over again.
“Sonny says he’s going to file on her for theft,” Lawton said.
“I told him those keys were prob‘ly community property,” Hack said. “He doesn’t own but half of ’em.”
“We’ll see what we can do about getting his half of them back,” Rhodes said. “You tell Ruth to find Sandy and see if she can talk her into giving Sonny the keys.”
“They’ll be back together by tomorrow,” Hack said. “They always are.”
“We’ll see,” Rhodes said. “Is there any good news?”
“Could be. That Benton fella called. He was all excited, wants to talk to you.”
Somehow, Benton hadn’t struck Rhodes as being a morning person. He looked more like someone who preferred to sleep until around noon.
“When did he call?”
“’Bout a half hour ago. Here’s his number.”
Hack handed Rhodes a piece of notepaper with a telephone number scrawled on it in pencil. Hack didn’t like pens.
Rhodes went to his desk and made the call. Benton answered on the first ring.
“You’re up early,” Rhodes said.
“I haven’t been to bed, but that’s not the point. I have a surprise for you.”
“A good one, I hope.”
“A good one. Write this down.” Benton read off a Web site URL. “We were up most of the night getting it done.”
“You and Mel?”
“That’s right. She’s great. She even knows math.”
Yes, sir, Rhodes thought. Dr. Phil wouldn’t stand a chance against me.
“I don’t see how you got it done so fast.”
“Mel had already started, so with my expertise and hers, we were able to do it all in one night. It was a long night, but we had fun putting it together. You’re going to love it.”
Rhodes hoped Mikey Burns loved it, but he wasn’t going to tell Burns yet.
“Thanks,” Rhodes said. “I know you did a great job, and I haven’t even seen it.”
“Yet another example of my helping out county law enforcement. Mel and I still have some tweaking to do, so don’t worry if there are a few little problems. We’ll take care of them. And don’t bother to call me back after you’ve seen it. I’m going to bed.”
Rhodes thanked him again and hung up. Then he read off the URL to Hack, who typed it into his computer.
“Would you look at that,” Hack said.
The home page had a picture of the jail and a picture of Rhodes, along with contact information. There were other pages and other pictures, including one of Hack, who couldn’t believe he was on the Internet.
“Where’d they get that?” he said. “I didn’t know they had that.”
Rhodes suspected that Mel had been in touch with Jennifer Loam, who’d taken some photos at the jail months ago.
“It’s a good likeness,” Lawton said. “Too bad they didn’t get one of me to go on there. I guess they didn’t dare. They didn’t want all the women coming around, chattin’ me up and interferin’ with our business.”
“That’s bound to be it,” Hack said. “Either that or they didn’t want to scare anybody.”
Lawton didn’t respond to the gibe. Hack looked disappointed, but he soon turned back to the computer to look at the Web site.
“I didn’t think they’d come up with anything this nice,” he said after awhile.
Rhodes was pleased, too. He’d seen the Web sites of a couple of other departments, and he thought this one was as good as those and maybe even better. He didn’t see any problems that needed tweaking. It’s about time, he thought, that I got some good news.
The telephone rang, and Hack answered. He listened for a few seconds and then said to Rhodes, “It’s for you. Max Schwartz.”
Rhodes picked up his phone and said hello.
“I need you to go with me to see that Ellendorf guy,” Schwartz said. “I just talked to Benton, and he told me to get off the phone and let him sleep.”
“He’s been busy all night. I thought you needed his help when you met Ellendorf.”
“I wanted him to explain how the saucer repeller works. He made it sound complicated and logical.”
“Ellendorf won’t care about that, as long as it works. I guarantee it’ll work. The less we have to tell him about it, the better.”
“If you say so. I guess I could tell him how to turn it off and on, but I don’t know where he lives.”
“I’ll pick you up and go with you. Where are you?”
“At my store.”
“It’s still early,” Rhodes said. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Rhodes spent the next hour working on his reports. He was just about caught up by the time he left to get Schwartz, who was waiting for him behind the counter. He was drinking coffee from a big green mug. No music was playing this time, and Rhodes missed it.
A small mahogany box sat on the counter in front of Schwartz. The box had two black knurled knobs on the front and three small red lightbulbs on top. The bulbs pulsed on and off in sequence. One lighted up, then two, then all three. After that, all went off. Then the first lighted up and went off. The second did the same, followed by the third, before the first sequence repeated. A distinct hum sounded as each bulb lighted on, and when all three were on at once, the hums made a pleasing chord.
“If that doesn’t repel flying saucers,” Rhodes said, “I don’t know what will.”
“So you like it?” Schwartz said.
“It’s perfect. Are you ready to go?”
Schwartz took a swallow of coffee. “I’m ready.”
ELLENDORF WAS THRILLED WITH THE LITTLE MACHINE Schwartz had made.
The box sat on his kitchen counter by the sink, the lights pulsing and humming. Ellendorf watched, fascinated.
“You control the lights with this knob,” Schwartz said, touching the one on the left. “It turns the machine on and off.”
“I don’t want to turn it off,” Ellendorf said. “I want it on all the time.
“It’s all right to leave it on,” Schwartz said, “but you’ll need to change the batteries.” He showed Ellendorf how to do that. “They’ll last longer if you keep the volume low. That’s what the other knob is for.”
Ellendorf turned the volume up and down.
“I’ll leave it set about in the middle, so I can hear it good. I really do appreciate this, Sheriff. You, too, Mr. Schwartz.”