Dead, to Begin With, page 17
Al was a short, compact man with a pale, wrinkled face that hadn’t seen much sunshine. His short gray hair curled out from beneath his black A+ Auto Repair baseball cap. The words in front were red. He wore a pair of half-glasses and peered at Rhodes over the tops of the lenses.
“Edsel’s fine,” Rhodes said. He sat in a heavy wooden chair and squirmed a little to get comfortable. “Runs like a new one.”
“The new ones didn’t run all that good,” Al said. “So I’m told, anyway. Good cars to work on, though, like all those old hoopies. Plenty of room under the hood so a man could get to things easy. Today it’s so crammed under there, you can’t find a crevice big enough to slip a penny in. You don’t have to know what you’re doing, either. You just hook ’em up to a computer and let it tell you what to do. Makes things easier, but it takes the fun out of knowing what’s wrong and how to fix it.” He leaned back in his chair. “I miss the old days.”
“The old days are what I came here to talk about,” Rhodes said. “I want to ask you a few things about Jake Marley.”
“Old Jake.” Al took off his half-glasses and laid them on a stack of papers. “Damn shame about him. Sure was sorry to hear it.”
Everybody said the same thing. It made Rhodes wonder why none of them had ever reached out to Jake while he was brooding his life away.
“You knew his sister, Gwen, too,” I guess.
“Sure. Pretty girl. Bad way to die. Sometimes I wonder if her car was taken care of the way it should’ve been. I was interested in cars even back then, liked to work on ’em, take an engine apart and see what made it run. The Marleys could afford to keep their cars up, though, so I guess there was nothing wrong with it. It’s just something I think about.”
Rhodes wondered how much Al thought about it.
“Seems like that kind of accident might be more related to drinking than car trouble,” Rhodes said. “You ever hear anything like that?”
Al looked at his fingernails as if he were inspecting the grease beneath them. “Gwen didn’t drink, far as I know. Too young.”
“What if there was somebody else in the car with her? Would that’ve made a difference?”
“Don’t see how. Probably would’ve been two people dead instead of one. Anyway, there wasn’t anybody else. Everybody knows that.”
“Everybody knows a lot of things that aren’t true.”
“Sure, like how you should warm up a car on a cold morning, which is baloney now with these new cars. It was true in the old days but not anymore.”
Rhodes noted the quick change of subject. “Did you see Gwen that night?”
“By herself, driving around town. Another sad story, just like Jake’s, except I hear somebody might’ve killed him.”
“Might’ve,” Rhodes said. “I’d like to find out who.”
Al leaned forward. “Good luck.”
“You know anybody who had a reason to kill him?”
“Money’s always the motive, right? I’ve seen enough TV shows to know that. Jake had plenty of money. Find out who inherits it, and you’ll find out who might’ve killed him.”
“I’ve seen his will,” Rhodes said. “You’re mentioned in it.”
Al’s eyebrows went up so high that they almost disappeared under the brim of his cap. “Me? He’s leaving money to me?”
“I didn’t say that. I said you were mentioned in his will. He wanted you to take a part in the play that will be given in the theater next year.”
“That’s a good one,” Al said. “Me in a play. I’m about as much an actor as I am a rodeo cowboy or a rocket scientist. I work on cars. I don’t get up on a stage.”
“Jake wanted you to play the Ghost of Christmas Present.”
“I don’t know about any ghosts. I don’t know much about that story they’re going to be doing except about Tiny Tim and ‘Bah, humbug.’ That’s what I say about me being in it. Bah, humbug.” Al looked down at all the papers on his desk. “I’m not gonna be in any play. We about done with this, Sheriff? I got to get to work on that Ford out there.”
“One other thing,” Rhodes said. “Someone was out at Jake’s house yesterday. Looking for something, I think. You know anything about that?”
“I haven’t been out that way in a long time,” Al said, “and there’s nothing out there I want. Now, then. I really do need to get to work. The ox is in the ditch.”
Rhodes stood up. “Maybe I’ll bring the Edsel in one day, let you look it over just to see what an old car looks like again.”
“You do that,” Al said, but Rhodes could tell he didn’t mean it.
Chapter 19
Rhodes knew he wasn’t Sherlock Holmes, and he knew that CSI: Blacklin County was never likely to become a hit TV series. Or any kind of TV series. Rhodes relied mainly on talking to people and waiting for someone to lie to him or make a mistake that would lead him to the answers he was looking for.
Talking to the Tunstalls and the others who’d known Jake, Rhodes had been told so many half-truths and heard so many misleading statements that he wasn’t sure what to believe or disbelieve. He needed to go somewhere and think things over, and what better place than home, where Ivy might be able to help him sort things out? He called Hack on the radio to let him know where he was going.
“Nope,” Hack said. “You’ll be going somewhere else. I was just about to call you. We got a little emergency you need to handle first.”
“A ‘little’ emergency?”
“Yeah. That means nobody’s hurt. Yet.”
Sundays were usually slow days for the sheriff’s department. Rhodes couldn’t imagine what kind of emergency there could be, but Hack would get to it eventually.
“Where’s the emergency?”
“Out at the Walmart parkin’ lot.”
Rhodes turned a corner and headed in the direction of Walmart. It wouldn’t take long to get there.
“What’s the trouble? Shoplifting? Somebody making meth in a car trunk? In a restroom?”
“Nothin’ like that. It’s a road rage thing.”
Road rage incidents could be serious. Rhodes wondered why this one wasn’t.
“Tell me about it,” Rhodes said.
“It’s a couple of guys must’ve had a fender-bender. They’re standin’ around jawin’ at each other. No guns in sight yet. Got a crowd watching. You might wanna get on out there.”
“I’m practically there already,” Rhodes said. “Send me some backup.”
“Duke’s on his way, but he was out toward Thurston. Might take him a little longer than you. Don’t get shot before he gets there.”
“I thought you said there weren’t any guns.”
“Yet. I said no guns yet. You never know what might happen.”
“That’s the truth,” Rhodes said. “If I get shot, you be sure I get a nice obituary that mentions there were no guns pulled until I got there.”
“You ain’t gonna get there if you don’t get goin’.”
“I’ll be there by the time you sign off.”
Driving toward the Walmart, Rhodes once again wished he had the luxury to work on one thing at a time. Instead of trying to figure out who was lying to him about Jake’s death, he was going to have to break up a fistfight. He hoped he wouldn’t forget any important things he’d heard. He’d written down a few points last night that he remembered from his conversations with Ron and Ed, but he hadn’t had time for note-taking this morning. It would be a shame if a road rage incident made him forget something important.
It took Rhodes two minutes to get to the Walmart parking lot. Walmart on Sunday was like Walmart on any other day, which meant that it was busy. Rhodes wasn’t sure there were days of the week as far as Walmart was concerned. Every day was as busy as any other, and on the inside, it was like being in a Las Vegas casino in one way: no clocks. Time didn’t exist once you entered. When you came out, maybe you were ready for a little excitement, like watching two men fight over some kind of silly driving incident.
Rhodes saw a small crowd gathered near the highway, so he parked the Tahoe nearby and went over to see what was going on. The crowd was orderly, but there was a bit of yelling. Rhodes could make out a few words that sounded like “Come on, Pert, give it to him” and “Don’t just stand there, Latham, slug him!”
A man at the edge of the crowd turned and saw Rhodes. He recognized him and yelled, “Sheriff’s here! Let him through.”
People moved out of the way, and Rhodes walked past them to the front of the group. He saw two men standing practically nose to nose, not saying anything. The crowd had quieted, and nobody was egging them on now that Rhodes was there.
Rhodes didn’t know the two men, but he’d heard their names. He said, “Which one of you is Pert?”
The man on Rhodes’s left turned his head. He was short and squatty, at least six inches shorter than the other man. His head was shaved, which Rhodes figured solved the problem of any thin spots, and his eyes were set close together. His nose was a bit crooked, as if it might’ve been broken at least once before.
Rhodes barely had time to take in any details, because almost as soon as Pert turned his head, Latham slugged him hard in the left ear.
Pert staggered, whirled, and flailed at Latham with his right fist, but Latham was rangy and had a much longer reach. He hardly had to move backward to avoid the blow.
The crowd got excited again, and people started calling encouragement to their favorites.
“Way to go, Latham! Take his head off!”
“C’mon, Pert! Don’t let a little stinger on the ear slow you down!”
Rhodes had hoped to stop the fight by talking to the two men and getting them to settle down. Obviously that wasn’t going to work, thanks to Latham’s sneak attack. Rhodes was about to step between the two men when Duke touched his shoulder.
“Need some help, Sheriff?”
Duke was as tall as Rhodes, and wider. Since he was able to wear a Western hat without looking silly, he always wore one, and it made him appear even bigger than he was. Rhodes often thought Duke’s nickname had been given to him because of his slight resemblance to John Wayne, a resemblance that didn’t hurt one bit when it came to dealing with rowdy Blacklin County residents. He was the perfect ally to have when it was time to stop a fight.
“You take the short one,” Rhodes said. “I’ll take the tall one.”
“You got it,” Duke said.
He stepped forward and grasped the still slightly dazed Pert in a bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides with no trouble at all, while Rhodes advanced on Latham.
“We need to talk about this little incident,” Rhodes said to Latham. “Get everything settled.”
“He started it,” Latham said, backing away. “I was coming over the hill into town, minding my own business, and he zoomed past me and cut me off. Nearly scared me to death. I followed him in here and told him he needed to learn how to drive, and he started cussing me and making remarks about my appearance. He said I looked like a snake with legs. I don’t let anybody talk to me like that.”
Rhodes loved the “he started it” phrase. It sounded like something a four-year-old would say, and it always amused Rhodes when someone who was supposedly adult tried it. It happened more often than people might guess.
“He might not see it the same way you do,” Rhodes said. “You come along with me, and we’ll all talk it over.”
“I’m not going to jail,” Latham said.
He ran forward, giving Rhodes a hard shove and surprising him. Rhodes stumbled back several paces, and Latham made a run for his car. Rhodes went after him, but Latham’s long legs covered the ground quickly. He was into the car and behind the wheel by the time Rhodes got there. The door slammed before Rhodes could make a grab for him.
“Open the door, Latham,” Rhodes said, tapping on the window, but Latham ignored him and started the car. He peeled away, and his front tires screamed as they laid rubber on the parking lot.
Duke had put Pert in the county car and was coming back to help Rhodes. Latham nearly ran over him, but Duke was able to jump out of the way.
“He’s sure in a hurry,” Duke said as Rhodes passed him on the way to the Tahoe. It took a lot to get Duke excited.
“You take Pert to the jail,” Rhodes said. “I’ll get there when I can.”
He jumped into the Tahoe and took off after Latham, who’d made a rookie mistake. The county line was only a couple of miles to the east, but Latham had headed west. He’d be in Blacklin County for a while, and Rhodes thought he could catch him.
The problem was that Rhodes didn’t like car chases. They put others at risk. Luckily it was Sunday and church was still in session, so the streets would be practically deserted after they got out of the vicinity of Walmart.
They got out of that vicinity quickly, and Latham tried to elude Rhodes with a few quick rights and lefts through a residential section of the town. It was a good plan, since the Tahoe wasn’t the most maneuverable vehicle Rhodes had ever driven. However, he was familiar with all the streets and didn’t have much trouble keeping up with Latham. In only a couple of minutes, they were headed down a street Rhodes knew even better than the others. It was the street his house was on.
A couple of large pecan trees grew in Rhodes’s front yard, and the local squirrels, of which there were many, liked to climb around in them or to look for pecans under and around them. As Latham approached Rhodes’s block, a squirrel tried to make a jump from a tree branch to a telephone line. It missed and fell into the street almost directly in front of Latham’s onrushing auto.
Rhodes watched as Latham jerked the wheel hard to the right in an attempt to avoid the squirrel. He succeeded in that, but he didn’t miss the pecan tree. The car smashed into it. The sound was like an explosion in the still Sunday morning air. The car’s airbag inflated, and the driver’s door sprang open. Latham, a little dazed from the impact of the airbag, stumbled out of the car. Leaves and pecans were still raining down from the pecan tree.
Rhodes stopped the Tahoe and jumped out. Latham saw him and ran across Rhodes’s front yard. He turned down the driveway and headed to the back of the house. Rhodes glanced at Latham’s car as he passed it. It was probably totaled.
As he jogged after Latham, Rhodes thought that at least Jennifer Loam wasn’t there to be getting everything on camera. Maybe this time, he’d escape without any publicity.
Rhodes had nearly caught up with Latham when Latham pushed open the gate in the back fence and ran into the yard. Rhodes slowed to a walk. He didn’t think Latham could climb the fence to escape, and there was no other gate.
Speedo must have thought that Rhodes had brought a new friend over for a playdate, because as soon as he saw Latham, he grabbed his squeaky toy and ran toward him. Latham stopped and turned toward the back door of the house just as Ivy opened it and Yancey streaked out into the yard.
Yancey appeared to have the same idea as Speedo, and he headed straight for Latham, who must have been more surprised than frightened to see the little fuzzball bouncing toward him. He turned and ran toward the back fence with both dogs at his heels, Yancey yipping as loudly as he could, which wasn’t very loud, and Speedo with his jaws clamped down on the squeaky toy.
Rhodes stopped walking and looked at Ivy.
“Somebody you know?” she asked.
“He’s the guy who hit our pecan tree.”
“I heard the crash,” Ivy said. “I was glad to see the tree was still standing. Who is he? The dogs seem to like him.”
“They like everybody.”
Ivy pointed. “He’s trying to climb the fence.”
Rhodes turned back to see what was happening. Latham had a grip on the top of the board fence and was trying to climb over, but Speedo had dropped his squeaky toy and had a firm grip on Latham’s right pants leg. Yancey danced around trying to bite the other pants leg.
Rhodes laughed. Latham wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’m glad you enjoy your work,” Ivy told Rhodes, “but I wish you wouldn’t bring it home with you.”
Rhodes walked over to the fence, where Latham stood with his hands still gripping the top of it. He turned his head and gave Rhodes a dejected look. Speedo still had hold of one pants leg, and now Yancey had hold of the other one. Speedo was quiet, but Yancey shook his head and emitted his version of a fierce growl.
“You should consider deputizing those dogs,” Ivy said.
“I might do that,” Rhodes said. “They’re almost as helpful as Seepy Benton, and he’s been a deputy before.”
“Damn dogs,” Latham said.
“Don’t insult my animal companions,” Rhodes said. “Just face the fence and put your hands behind your back.”
Latham didn’t resist. He lowered his hands and put them behind him. Rhodes pulled a pair of zip-tie handcuffs from his back pocket and put them on him.
“We’re going to walk over and sit on the steps,” Rhodes told Latham. “My wife is going to call for someone to come get you. Now turn around.”
Latham turned around, but it wasn’t easy with a dog hanging on each pants leg. He had to drag a dog along with each step, although Speedo helped out by walking a bit. Yancey just got carried. On the way, Rhodes bent down and picked up the squeaky toy.
“Did you say something about me?” Ivy asked as they approached the steps.
“I thought you might call Hack and have him send a wrecker. Tell him to send Duke out here for the prisoner. I think I’ll stay for lunch.”
“Prisoner?” Latham said. “I’m not a prisoner.”
“Do you like ‘arrestee’ better?” Rhodes asked. “I’m going to give you your Miranda warning now.”
“I’ll go make that call,” Ivy said, as Rhodes reeled off Latham’s rights.
Latham shook his left leg. “Can you get these dogs off me?”
“Sure,” Rhodes said, and he tossed the squeaky toy across the yard.
Speedo and Yancey let go of Latham’s pants at the same time and went tearing across the yard after the toy.
