Survivors Will Be Shot Again (20 page)

In the past Rhodes had never given much thought to his nose. It just sat there in the middle of his face, and he didn't even notice it anymore when he was shaving. It occurred to him now, however, that it wasn't such a bad nose and that he was rather fond of it. He'd hate to have it bitten off by a turtle.

A scene from an old movie flashed through Rhodes's head, and he pictured Lee Marvin with a silver nose in place of the one that had been bitten off in a barroom brawl. It was a look that Marvin could pull off, but Rhodes was no Lee Marvin. He didn't think the look would be good for him.

Rhodes rolled to the side, kicking his feet in the water. He barely managed to move far enough to let the turtle slide by. The hard shell grazed his shoulder.

When the turtle splashed into the muddy water, it remained still for a second or two. Then it turned its head to allow its hard marble-sized eyes to look at Rhodes, who, if he'd been a mystical person like Seepy, would have sworn that the turtle was smiling. That was impossible, and Rhodes knew it, but he did think it was likely that the turtle was glad to be in the creek, if turtles could be glad. Maybe it was thanking him, if turtles could be thankful.

Rhodes crawled up onto the bank. He was muddy all over and wet from his knees down. His clothes were a mess.

“Did you get all of that on video?” he asked Jennifer.

“I think so,” she said, grinning.

“What Happened Next Amazed Me!” Seepy said.

“You know he's armed, right?” Buddy said.

“He wears that ankle holster,” Seepy said. “His pistol's all muddy and wet, so I think I'm safe.”

“For now,” Rhodes said.

“I could shoot him for you,” Buddy said. “There's always room for another body in the woods. Or we could feed you to the turtle.”

“Better not,” Rhodes said, nodding at Jennifer. “There's a witness, and she has a video camera. You'd have to shoot her, too.”

“That's how it is,” Seepy said. “You kill one person, and it just leads to more killing.” He turned serious. “The man by the tree is the second murder in two days. Was he killed because of the first one?”

“I don't know the answer to that,” Rhodes said. “It's possible that the two are connected, but we'll have to wait for more information before I can say for sure. That means you need to start working the crime scene, Buddy. I think I'll go home and change clothes.”

“I think I'll edit some video,” Jennifer said.

“I'll stay here with the cannabis patch,” Seepy said.

“No you won't,” Rhodes told him.

*   *   *

Rhodes had been messy and muddy before, more than once, so it wasn't a new experience. He'd never been caught on video before, but that didn't really bother him. It was about time that he was shown doing something antiheroic, even comical. Maybe that would put an end to some of the Sage Barton comparisons. It was something to hope for, anyway.

After making sure that Jennifer and Seepy had left and checking that Buddy was working the crime scene, Rhodes talked to Terry, who was a little surprised at Rhodes's disheveled appearance.

“It's a long story,” Rhodes told him when he asked about the muddy clothes. “A snapping turtle was involved. Let's leave it at that.”

“A snapping turtle?”

“Yes, but never mind him. Have you had any reports from your neighbors around here of people coming onto your place?”

Terry shook his head. “Nobody's said a thing to me. If you look around, though, you can see I don't have many neighbors.”

That was true. Houses were not exactly a feature of the landscape on the dusty county roads around what had once been Milsby.

“I did a little poking while you were down at the creek,” Terry went on. “I didn't see any tire tracks or anything, and I didn't find anyplace where somebody had parked.”

Rhodes should have cautioned Terry about poking around, but it wasn't likely that he'd disturbed any clues. If there were any, Rhodes hadn't spotted them.

“It's like that body was just dropped out of the sky,” Terry said.

Rhodes looked up at the sky. The buzzards were still circling, but they were sailing up higher, small black figures against the white clouds and blue sky. They were going to have to look somewhere else for food because Buddy would soon be calling the ambulance to take the body away.

“It didn't fall out of the sky,” Rhodes said.

“I know, but I can't figure out how it got there.”

Rhodes couldn't figure it out, either, but the body was there, nevertheless. Sooner or later he'd have an answer as to how it got there. Right now he just wanted to be sure who it was, Riley Farmer or someone else.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me about?” Rhodes asked Terry.

Terry gave him a puzzled look. “Like what?”

“Like the marijuana patch down by the creek.”

Terry laughed. “That's a good one, Sheriff. You ought to know me better than that. I don't even know what marijuana looks like, much less how to grow it.”

“Somebody does,” Rhodes said. He wasn't laughing.

“You're not joking?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“It must just be some wild stuff. I think I've heard that it can grow wild. Maybe birds dropped some seeds back in there. Like I said, I don't know all that much about it.”

“It's not growing wild,” Rhodes said. “There's even a nice little fence around it.”

Terry no longer looked amused. He looked worried. “I don't know anything about it. Really. A fence? How could there be a fence? I didn't build one. I don't even go down to the creek. I just come out here to sit in my little camp house and read a book or listen to the radio. My wife comes with me sometimes. She likes the birds and squirrels. We get away from town, relax a little, you know how it is.”

Rhodes didn't really know how it was. He'd tried to relax only a day ago, and it hadn't turned out well. Maybe if he had a little place in the country with a camp house, it would be different.

“Are you going to arrest me?” Terry asked.

“Not today. Maybe you're telling the truth. Maybe you didn't know anything about the marijuana.”

“I didn't,” Terry said. “I swear it.”

He sounded as if he were telling the truth. Rhodes had been watching his eyes, waiting for the glance upward and to the left, supposedly the telltale sign of lying. Terry's eyes were right on Rhodes and didn't move.

It was a curious coincidence, though. Two marijuana patches, two dead men. Both patches and both dead men on an area of property that the owners said they never looked at. Both dead men discovered by those owners. Could Billy Bacon and Terry Allison be involved together in a marijuana-growing conspiracy? It didn't seem likely, but then nothing about the whole situation was likely. The possibility of a conspiracy between Billy and Terry was something Rhodes would have to consider. Along with a lot of other things.

“Do you own a gun?” Rhodes asked.

“Damn,” Terry said. “You've already accused me of farming marijuana. Are you going to accuse me of murder now?”

“I haven't accused you of anything,” Rhodes said. “I'm just asking questions.”

“Right. Like those talk-show guys on the radio. ‘Is our president secretly working with the radical underground to destroy our nation? I'm not saying he is.
I'm just asking.
'”

Rhodes thought of Will Smalls and Gene Gunnison. Terry was like a combination of both of them.

“It's not like that at all,” Rhodes said. “It's my job to find things out when somebody's killed. You have to admit that the situation's … interesting.”

“Well, I didn't plant the marijuana, and I didn't kill anybody. And to answer your direct question, I don't own a gun. I used to have a pistol that I carried with me in the car when I was traveling, but I sold it when I retired. Sold it legally, in case you were wondering. To a dealer. With paperwork and everything.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Rhodes said.

“Besides, I wouldn't have called you about the dead man if I'd put him there. I'd have let the buzzards and the hogs take care of him.”

“I don't think you have anything to worry about,” Rhodes said, “but I have to ask the questions. If I didn't ask them, I wouldn't be able to find anything out.”

“I guess I can understand,” Terry said. “I just don't like being accused.”

“I wasn't accusing, remember. Just asking.”

Terry grinned. “Okay, I get it. It's your job. You have to ask questions, no matter who it is you're asking.”

“You're right, and I appreciate your help. If you get any ideas about that marijuana patch or if you hear about anybody coming onto your property, you give me a call.”

“I'll do that,” Terry said.

“I might have to ask you some more questions later.”

“Okay,” Terry said. “As long as you're just asking.”

*   *   *

Rhodes drove home and put the muddy clothes in the hamper. He took a shower and changed, then got out his gun-cleaning kit. He spread a plastic garbage bag on the kitchen table, put newspapers down on top of it, and got some paper towels.

Yancey danced around, watching the preparations as excited as if he'd never seen anything like them before, although Rhodes had cleaned his pistol many times in Yancey's presence. The cats took no interest in the proceedings at all. They weren't interested in much of anything other than eating, grooming themselves, and having a good nap. Not necessarily in that order.

Rhodes sat at the table to clean the gun. As soon as he opened the solvent, Yancey left the room. The smell must have bothered him. If it bothered the cats, they didn't show it. They continued to sleep in their usual spots.

The pistol didn't seem too much the worse for its dip in the creek. It had been protected in the holster, which was fabric and easily cleaned, and it wasn't muddy. Rhodes knew that rust was always a possibility, however, so a good cleaning and oiling seemed called for.

While he worked on the pistol, Rhodes thought things through. If the body at Terry Allison's place was indeed Riley Farmer, and the odds were certainly in favor of that, then there was undoubtedly some connection between his death and the death of his friend Melvin Hunt. Just what the connection was, Rhodes didn't know. Yet. He'd have to figure it out. The only way to do that was to keep on asking questions, even if it irritated people like Terry Allison.

So far nobody was admitting to anything, as was almost always the case, but somebody was guilty. It might be somebody that Rhodes hadn't even talked to yet. He didn't think so, but it could be that way. He'd have to find out more about Farmer's friends and acquaintances if he could, although Farmer might not have had many friends other than Hunt. He seemed like a man who kept to himself. He did have a nice new TV set, which was something that Rhodes was still puzzling over. It wouldn't have seemed so odd, he supposed, if Hunt hadn't also had one. Both men had come into money some way or another.

At the moment, Rhodes had more questions than answers, but that was often the way things went. He'd at least heard and seen a few things that had given him some ideas. That was usually how his cases worked. They weren't so much mysteries as they were puzzles. He had a lot of the pieces. He just had to find out where they fit. At first they were scattered all around. He'd try one piece here and another one there, and for a while the whole picture would be more or less a jumble. If he kept at it long enough, however, the pieces would start to fit together.

That wasn't the whole story. Sometimes pieces of the puzzle were missing. The picture would start to look like something, but it would be incomplete. Rhodes would have to go looking for the missing pieces, which might turn up anywhere. He'd find one here and one there, and sooner or later there would be a complete picture, clear as could be. Or clear enough for Rhodes to make an arrest, at any rate.

The marijuana patches were obviously connected to each other, even if the murders weren't, yet. They both had the same kind of fencing, and both were guarded by formidable reptiles that would scare just about anybody who happened on them. That wasn't a coincidence.

Rhodes still wondered about Allison and Bacon. Both of them said they never went to the back of their holdings, but was that really likely? He could see that it might be in Terry's case, since Terry didn't have any cattle and didn't look like a man who'd do much walking. Billy didn't do much walking, either, because of his bad knee, but he could drive to the creek if he wanted to.

The sign Billy had nailed on his post was another thing that made him look like a good suspect, which was why Rhodes kept coming back to it.
SURVIVORS WILL BE SHOT AGAIN.
If Melvin had been shot only once, the sign wouldn't have seemed too incriminating. Billy hadn't helped himself by pulling the sign down and hoping Rhodes wouldn't see it. Had he removed the sign because he knew it was practically an admission of guilt? Or was the sign just a coincidence? Rhodes didn't care for coincidences, though from time to time he was forced to admit their existence.

The failure to report the body at first was another strike against Billy, and Rhodes was sure Billy was guilty in that instance. The extra day would have given Billy time to get to Farmer's house, get him into his pickup on some pretense or other, and kill him. Getting him into the woods on Terry Allison's place wouldn't have been easy, but Billy could have done it. Rhodes wasn't sure how he could have done it, but there was no doubt that it was possible.

Ivy had said that Joyce Hunt had to be Melvin's killer simply because she was Melvin's wife, but maybe Ivy would change her mind now that there had been a second murder. Rhodes would have to ask her.