Survivors Will Be Shot Again (16 page)

BOOK: Survivors Will Be Shot Again
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Rhodes didn't know when that time would come. He didn't know enough about YouTube to find the songs anyway.

“Go ahead and tell me about your crusade,” he said.

“All right. Here's the story. I have a friend in Arizona who has crippling allergies. She can't leave the house for a lot of the year, and she has to live in only one room the rest of the time. The room's set up with all kinds of air filters that make life bearable but not much more. She's able to get medical cannabis, though, and that helps a lot. My father here in Texas, on the other hand, has the same problem, but he'd be arrested if he tried to get relief the way she does.”

“I'm sorry about your father.”

“So am I. He's getting treatment, but it's expensive and less likely to give him a good result.”

“Maybe the laws will change soon,” Rhodes said. “That seems to be the trend.”

“I hope so,” Seepy said, “and the sooner, the better.”

“They haven't changed yet, though,” Rhodes said. “I still have to find out who planted that marijuana field, and I have to get rid of it.”

“I know. It's your job. You've sworn to enforce the law, but it's a shame you have to do it in this case. Are you going to burn the patch?”

“That's usually how it's done,” Rhodes said.

“Can I help? Maybe just watch? Stand downwind and inhale?”

“I thought you said you were on a natural high.”

“I am, but it seems like a shame to waste a good opportunity like this to try something new and different.”

Rhodes wondered just how new and different the experience would be for Seepy.

“Forget it,” Rhodes said.

“If Willie Nelson were here, you'd let him watch.”

“He's not here, and I wouldn't even if he were.”

“I knew you were going to say that. But seriously, is there something I can do to help with this case?”

Rhodes thought about it for a second. He knew that Seepy couldn't tell him anything about Ike Terrell because of the confidentiality requirements of the college, but he might be able to give him a few hints about what Ike was up to.

“Ike Terrell,” Rhodes said. “How's he doing at the college this year?”

“He's in my calculus class,” Seepy said. “He's a good student. Does the homework, comes to class. He's not smoking dope in the halls as far as I know.”

“There've been a lot of burglaries down in his part of the county. I talked to Able this morning, and he says he and Ike aren't involved.”

“Ike does have a past,” Seepy said, “but considering his course load, I don't think he has time for burglaries.”

“What about growing marijuana?”

Seepy looked thoughtful. “It doesn't take a lot of time or work for that, and you don't have to stand guard if you have an alligator to do the job.”

The radio crackled, and Hack listened for a few seconds before turning to Rhodes.

“It's the alligator,” Hack said.

“What about it?” Rhodes asked.

Hack grinned. “It got away.”

“Uh-oh,” Seepy said.

 

Chapter 13

Rhodes didn't ask how the gator got away because he knew it would take Hack half an hour to tell the story.

“Let them know I'm on the way,” he said, starting for the door.

Sometimes it seemed to Rhodes as if every investigation he got involved in was like this one. No matter how hard he tried to go in a straight line, things kept pulling him in different directions. Of course, he could have simply allowed Alton and Ruth and Buddy to deal with the gator problem, but he was the sheriff, and it was his job to be sure that things went smoothly. When things got off track, he was the one who had to get them back on. He supposed that Riley Farmer and the others Rhodes wanted to talk to would just have to wait. As Hack sometimes reminded him, that's why he was paid the Big Bucks.

Seepy Benton followed Rhodes outside and said, “I'm going, too.”

Rhodes noticed that Seepy had retrieved his fedora and stuck it on his head.

“You'll just be in the way,” Rhodes said.

“I have a personal interest in this,” Seepy said. “Besides, you know that I'm good with alligators. You and I have worked together to catch one before.”

“You're a private citizen, and I can't order you to stay here,” Rhodes said, “but if you get in the way and impede our police work, I'll have to arrest you.”

Seepy looked hurt. “I won't get in the way, and I know how to catch alligators.”

“You'll have to stay out of the way this time,” Rhodes said.

“All right, if that's how you want it.”

“That's how I want it,” Rhodes said, and got into the Tahoe.

When he'd gone a couple of blocks, he checked the rearview mirror. Sure enough, Seepy was right behind him. Seepy was still there when Rhodes drove through the gate at the B-Bar-B, and he followed right on to the inner gate, which Rhodes got out to open.

“You can close the gate after you drive through,” Rhodes called to him. “You might want to wait at the barn. I can't promise you'll be safe from the gator.”

“I'm not worried about the gator,” Seepy said. “I can handle the gator. I know several alligator-wrestling techniques.”

“You told me that the last time we had a gator to catch.”

“You didn't let me prove it, though.”

“I'm not going to let you prove it this time, either,” Rhodes said. “Remember?”

“I remember.”

“Good.”

Rhodes got in the Tahoe and drove through the gate, not waiting to see if Seepy closed it and followed, but before he'd crested the hill on the way to the marijuana patch, Seepy was behind him again. They stopped in the pasture not too far from the patch and parked beside Alton Boyd's van and Buddy's county car.

“You stay here,” Rhodes told Seepy. “I'll see what's going on and tell you when it's safe.”

Seepy got out of the Escape. “I'm not worried about my safety.”

“Maybe not,” Rhodes said, “but I am.”

“All right. I'll stay here, but let me know if Ruth is okay.”

“I will,” Rhodes said, walking away.

Alton, Buddy, and Ruth weren't at the marijuana patch. Rhodes looked around and thought about the situation. If he were an escaped gator, where would he go? The creek, naturally, so Rhodes headed in that direction. In a minute or so he spotted Alton and the deputies through the trees as they stood on the bank of the creek not far from the irrigation pipe.

“What happened?” he asked when he reached them. “Where's the gator?”

“In the water,” Alton said around the cheap, unlit cigar he had clamped between his teeth.

“We think,” Ruth added. “We didn't see him go in, but he was headed in this direction.” She pointed to a muddy spot on the bank. “See?”

Rhodes saw a smooth track in the mud near the water where a gator might have slid in.

“How did he get away?” Rhodes asked.

Nobody spoke up.

“Well?” Rhodes said.

“It was my fault,” Buddy said finally.

“Not really,” Ruth said. “It was more like my fault.”

“They're right,” Alton said, removing his cigar and looking at it.

Rhodes thought it was a soggy mess, but Boyd didn't seem to mind. He stuck it back in his mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘They're right'?” Rhodes asked.

“I mean it's their fault,” Alton said.

Rhodes had just about given up on ever getting a straight story from anybody, not at first. He said, “Tell me what happened.”

“I'll tell it,” Buddy said. “Since it was my fault.”

“More like mine,” Ruth said.

“Hold it,” Rhodes said. “Let's not start that again. You tell it, Alton.”

“Sure.” Alton removed the soggy cigar and stuck it in the pocket of his shirt. “You remember that last gator we caught?”

“I remember,” Rhodes said.

“Okay. I figured to get this one the same way. Rope it, get its mouth shut, and use the duck tape on it. It's not as big as the last one. We'd just chunk it in the back of the van, and that'd be that.”

“It didn't work out that way, though,” Buddy said. “It was my fault. I let him get away.”

Buddy was short and wiry, but he was stronger than he looked. Rhodes wondered how he'd let the gator escape. Maybe eventually somebody would tell him.

“What happened was that Buddy opened the gate,” Alton said. “He should've waited for the professional to do it.”

“I thought the gator was asleep,” Buddy said.

“They look lazy, but they can run like the wind,” Alton said. “Ten or eleven miles an hour if they don't have to run far, and that one didn't. He came charging through those plants and hit that wire gate. Knocked it out of Buddy's hand and knocked Buddy flat on his butt. Knocked Ruth down, too.”

“I was standing too close to Buddy,” Ruth said. “If I'd been back a little way, I might've been able to stop the gator.”

“Nope,” Alton said. “You couldn't. Only way to stop one moving that fast is to kill it, and you have to get a pretty good shot at him from the front to do that. He was already headed down to the creek before you could've got out your gun out. Gators need to be in the water, and that one wanted to get back to it as quick as he could.”

“Didn't you go after him?” Rhodes asked.

“Sure,” Alton said, “but first I had to be sure Buddy and Ruth weren't hurt.”

“Were they?” Seepy Benton asked.

Rhodes turned around. “Where did you come from?”

Seepy pointed behind him. “From up there. You didn't come back, and I got worried. I thought I'd better check to make sure the alligator didn't get you.”

Rhodes sighed.

“Are you all right, Ruth?” Seepy asked.

“I'm fine,” Ruth said. “Maybe my pride is bruised a little bit.”

“Not much we can do about the gator now,” Alton said. “It's bound to be in the creek.”

“If it gets out and eats somebody's cow, they're not going to be happy,” Seepy said.

“It's too little to eat a cow,” Alton said. “A dog, maybe, it could handle. Besides, it'll have plenty of food in the creek; turtles, fish, stuff like that. If we're lucky, it won't come out on the bank again. And if it does, maybe it won't be in this county.”

Rhodes didn't like the idea of letting someone else clean up his mess, but he didn't see any other way to handle it. The gator wasn't in sight, and he wasn't going to ask Alton to go in the water and look for it. If it turned up in somebody's stock tank later on, they'd have to go after it, but maybe that wouldn't happen.

“All right,” Rhodes said. “We'll just leave it like it is for now. Buddy, I want you to stay down here and hide out to watch the marijuana patch. I'll send Duke to relieve you later on. I doubt that anybody will show up. If they've heard about Melvin Hunt's murder, they'll stay away for good.”

“Okay,” Buddy said.

“You can park your car up behind the barn,” Rhodes said. “You'll have to walk back down here.”

“No problem.”

“If you see the alligator,” Rhodes said, “give Hack a call.”

“You can count on that,” Buddy said.

*   *   *

Rhodes had two stops to make in town, three if he counted lunch, but it was already too late for lunch. He supposed it didn't matter. He'd missed so many lunches in the last few years that he'd given up trying to keep up with how many there had been. He didn't mind missing the lunches as much as he minded not losing any weight when he missed them. It seemed only fair that a man who missed as many meals as he did would lose weight. Or if not weight, a few inches around the waist. Neither one had happened.

Not that he was fat. It was just that he wasn't skinny, like Buddy. And as far as Rhodes knew, Buddy had never missed a meal in his life. Yet there he was, not much bigger around than a cedar fence post, whereas Rhodes was going to have to loosen his belt another notch if things didn't change pretty soon. He supposed that was okay. There were a couple of notches left.

Will Smalls lived on the south side of Clearview, on a little side street with older houses that all looked a lot alike. Rhodes parked in front of the house where he'd left Joyce the previous evening. The house was small, with a neat yard that Rhodes envied. He didn't envy the work that went into keeping it neat, however. He wasn't fond of working in the yard, not that he ever had time to do anything like that even if he had enjoyed it.

Rhodes stepped up on the little porch and knocked on the door. Ellen Smalls opened it after a few seconds.

“Good afternoon, Sheriff,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

Ellen Smalls suited the last name she'd taken when she married Will. She was only a few inches over five feet tall, unlike her larger sister, and she was whippet thin. Rhodes suspected that she ate as many meals as Buddy did, probably plenty of rich foods, too. Had ice cream for dessert several times a week. Some people just had a high metabolism.

“I'd like to talk to Will,” Rhodes said.

“He's not home. He's staying down at Joyce's house for a while.”

“That's what I wanted talk to him about. Did he say why he was doing that?”

“Said he needed to take care of the dogs. Jackie and Gus-Gus. They're sweet boys, and they need somebody to look after them. They don't need to be cooped up in a barn all the time.”

Rhodes agreed with that, at least, but he didn't think that was the only reason Will was staying there.

“Besides,” Ellen continued, “what with all the stealing that's been going on down there, Will didn't think it was a good idea for the house to be left without somebody in it.”

That wasn't a bad reason, either, but Rhodes was still suspicious. Will had told him it was all Joyce's idea for him to be at her house.

BOOK: Survivors Will Be Shot Again
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