Between the Living and the Dead (7 page)

Rhodes remembered the fast-food sacks in the house. “Probably so. Any way to tell the fresher tracks?”

“It's easy to see where some weeds were broken off last night,” Andy said, “but how many cars were involved is another story. More than one, I'd say, but that's just a guess. They came through where the gate used to be. Once they got in the yard, there wasn't a lot of room to manuever because of the trees, but you can see that some of them were able to turn around and drive out without backing up. Not that knowing that does us any good.”

“Maybe not, but at least it's something we know. What about inside the house?”

“There are some hamburger wrappers that should have some greasy fingerprints on them, but since they're greasy, they're likely to be smeared. Maybe some of the other stuff will have some better ones. Something for Mika to work on.”

Mika Blackfield was the newest member of the sheriff's department. Rhodes had talked the county commissioners into hiring someone to do the forensics work that had mostly fallen to Ruth Grady in the past, to the detriment of her ability to go on patrol. Mika had a law enforcement degree, and she'd been looking for work since moving to Clearview with her husband, Todd, who was a pharmacist at Walmart. Rhodes hoped that he hadn't come outside to witness the episode with the bull.

Mika wasn't a full-time member of the department, but she was on call and could come in just about anytime. She and Todd didn't have any children yet, though they were hoping that would change.

“Anything besides the fast-food remains?” Rhodes asked.

“Traces of something that looks like marijuana and something that might be meth,” Andy said. “More stuff for Mika. That's all, though. No shell casings or anything like that.”

Rhodes thought it over, then said, “It's possible somebody's been dealing drugs here for a while.”

“Looks like it,” Andy said, “and that somebody would be Neil Foshee.”

He was probably right. Foshee's cousins were the ones who cooked the meth, and it wouldn't be much of a surprise if they had a marijuana operation going, too. There were plenty of places in the county where they could cultivate it. Rhodes had broken up a big operation a few years ago.

“Why do you think he was killed?” Andy asked. “Drug deal gone wrong?”

“Could be,” Rhodes said, “but it's too early to go that far without speculating. We need to get more information.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“We'll start talking to people. Maybe somebody will tell us what we need to know, and if that doesn't work out, we'll find what we need some other way.”

“You sound awfully sure of that.”

A big drop of water fell from one of the trees and plopped down on Rhodes's bare head. He wiped a hand across it and said, “It's always worked out that way before.”

“Then maybe it will again,” Andy said. “You want me to go around and talk to people at the closest houses to see if they saw anything last night?”

“Take your evidence by the jail first and come back. Ask about the last few weeks, not just last night.”

“Got it,” Andy said. “You see that old pickup over there?”

He was referring to the rusted-out heap with the hackberry tree growing up through the engine compartment.

“Hard to miss,” Rhodes said.

“That thing's older than I am,” Andy said. He gave Rhodes an appraising look. “It might even be older than you are. This place has been deserted a long time. I heard it's supposed to be haunted.”

“So they tell me,” Rhodes said.

Andy took off his hat and shook off a drop of water. Rhodes envied him again.

“Most people probably stay away from it if it's haunted,” Andy said as he settled the hat back on his head. “Makes it a good place for drug deals.”

“You didn't run into any ghosts while you were in there, did you?”

“Nope. They don't come out in the daytime, do they?”

Rhodes shook his head. “I'm not sure what they do. How about mice? See any of those?”

Andy grinned, and Rhodes suspected that Ruth had made some sort of comment to him.

“I think mice are like ghosts,” Andy said. “They only come out at night.”

“Maybe so,” Rhodes said. “Are you about through here?”

“I want to look around inside some more. Probably another hour and I'll be done.”

“Don't forget to ask the neighbors if they've seen or heard anything unusual lately, not just last night.” Rhodes didn't think they'd get any information, but he liked to be as thorough as possible. “By the way, Jennifer Loam's out front, taking pictures.”

Andy looked alarmed. “I hope you don't think I told her about this.”

“I know you didn't. She heard about it from Ruth.”

“Yeah, I was there. Ruth thinks Seepy Benton needs to look this place over. You know about his new business?”

“Clearview Paranomal Investigations,” Rhodes said.

“Right. If there are any ghosts here, he can find them. Maybe they saw the murder and can tell us who did it.”

Rhodes laughed. “That would sure save us a lot of work.”

“Are you going to let Benton look it over? See what he can find?”

“You think he'd find anything?”

“You never can tell,” Andy said. “It might be worth a try.”

“Probably not,” Rhodes said. “Besides, the results might be skewed because of what happened last night.”

“How's that?” Andy asked.

“There might be a brand-new ghost haunting the place now.”

Andy took off his hat and held it in front of him in both hands as if out of respect for the dead. “You're right, but that would be even better.”

“How could it be better?”

“We wouldn't have to question the other ghosts. We'd just ask Foshee's ghost who shot him.”

“If it were only that easy,” Rhodes said.

 

Chapter 6

Rhodes was on his way back to the jail when Hack called him on the radio.

“You need to stop by the mayor's office,” Hack said.

“He's in his office?” Rhodes asked.

“That's what his secretary said.”

The city of Clearview contracted its policing services out to the county, but the mayor, Clifford Clement, liked to think of himself as Rhodes's boss. Rhodes didn't feel that way. He was paid by the county, and the county was paid by the city, so Rhodes thought of the county commissioners as being his employers.

Clement's position as mayor was purely a part-time job, and not a well-paying one, either. Clement didn't need the money, having achieved success in life the old-fashioned way, by selling mutual funds and managing other people's money. Rhodes thought that Clement liked being the mayor because it gave him the opportunity to order the city employees around. Or try to.

Clement usually spent the mornings at his place of business or on the local golf course and came into his office in the afternoons if there was anything that needed his attention, which is why Rhodes was surprised to hear that he was in the office this early in the day.

Clement didn't like Rhodes very much because he'd been a suspect in a murder investigation at one time. Rhodes had told him there was nothing personal in the investigation, but Clement still resented it.

“Did his secretary mention what the mayor wanted with me?” Rhodes asked Hack.

“I meant to say administrative assistant,” Hack said.

“That's okay,” Rhodes said. “Alice wouldn't mind being called a secretary.”

Alice King was the mayor's secretary, or administrative assistant, and Rhodes suspected that she did most of the work that got done in the office.

“Whatever you want to call her, you need to go by there,” Hack said.

“I'm on my way,” Rhodes said. “Anything else?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Hack said, which immediately caused Rhodes to worry.

“Tell me,” he said.

“Well, Miz Loomis has called three times.”

“Turn signals,” Rhodes said.

“You got it. Hard to believe, but some people just won't use 'em.”

“She give you their plate numbers?”

“Always does.”

“You told her we'd send them all a citation, first thing?”

“Just like I always do. One of these days, she's gonna catch on though.”

“We'll cross that bridge when we have to. What else?”

“That's about it.”

“You're sure?”

“Nothin' to tell,” Hack said. “Just that Seepy Benton's been by here.”

Now they were getting down to it. “What did he want?”

“He was just askin' if I knew what you might think about somethin'.”

“What specifically did he want to know about?”

“That haunted house. The one where the murder was. The murder you wouldn't tell me about last night. That one.”

If there was anything Hack knew how to do, it was to hold a grudge.

“I knew you'd find out all about it when Ruth came in.”

“Sure. She's not like some people I could name. She doesn't keep everything to herself. She'll let people know what's goin' on.”

“We're drifting off the subject here,” Rhodes said.

“What subject was that?”

“Seepy Benton and the haunted house.”

“Well, you know about his new business, that ghost stuff. He wanted to know if I thought you'd let him in the house.”

“What did you tell him?”

“What do you think I told him?”

“Hack,” Rhodes said.

“Okay. I told him that you were a hard man and had a mean streak, that's what. Maybe not in those exact words, but I let him know you wouldn't let him in there.”

“Good,” Rhodes said.

“He's gonna come at you anyway. He swears he can find a ghost if there's one in there.” Hack paused. “Mice, too. He said he's good with mice.”

Ruth had been talking, all right, but Rhodes wasn't going to give Hack the satisfaction of commenting on the mice.

“Seepy will have to find me before he can come at me,” Rhodes said. “You'd better not tell him where I am.”

“Me?” Hack said with an attempt to sound both innocent and hurt. “You know I'd never do a thing like that.”

“Right,” Rhodes said. “I'm sorry I mentioned it.”

“You ought to be,” Hack said.

*   *   *

The Clearview city hall was in sore need of repair and had been for years, but so far the city hadn't been able to come up with the money to do anything about it without raising taxes, and nobody on the city council wanted to do that. They were afraid they'd be lynched by the citizens if they did. The damage wasn't visible from the outside of the structure, however, and the old building looked quite respectable. Rhodes went in and walked down the deserted hallway to the mayor's office. The door to the outer room was open, and Alice King sat at the desk.

Alice had been a year behind Rhodes in high school, and she'd always been full of spunk. She was a cheerleader, and she still looked as if she might leap out from behind the desk at any moment and lead some shadowy crowd in a rousing round of “Go, team, go!”

“Hey, Sheriff,” she said as he walked in, as perky as if she were at cheerleader practice. “How's your day been so far? Great, I hope.”

Rhodes wondered if she'd think getting bounced around the Walmart parking lot by a sweaty bull qualified as great. He wasn't going to find out, though, because he lied and said, “It sure has, Alice, and how's yours been?”

“Fine as frog hair,” she said. “Are you here to see His Honor?”

“That's right. Hack tells me you called.”

“That Hack,” Alice said. “He's a sight. Told me to ask you about mice, for some reason. You have a mouse problem, Sheriff?”

Rhodes wondered if it was legal for the sheriff to shoot his own staff. If it wasn't, it ought to be.

“No,” he said. “Not a problem. I have two cats.”

“I just love cats,” Alice said. “Especially the calico ones. Is either one of yours a calico?”

“No, they're mostly black.”

“I like black ones, too, but mine's a calico. She's a real mess.”

She might have gone into more detail about what a mess her cat was, but the door to the inner office opened, and Clifford Clement poked his head out. He was losing his gray hair and kept it cut short to disguise the loss as much as possible. He had a short, neatly trimmed beard, which Rhodes thought he'd likely grown to compensate for the hair loss.

“I thought I heard you out here, Sheriff,” Clement said. “Come on in.”

He went back into his office. Rhodes looked at Alice, who shrugged, and went on through the door.

“Close it,” Clement said.

He was already seated behind his desk and made no move to get up and shake Rhodes's hand, which didn't bother Rhodes at all. Rhodes closed the door and sat in the visitor's chair without being asked.

“Hack said you wanted to see me,” Rhodes said.

Clement nodded. “That's right.”

“What for?”

“It's about something that happened last night.”

“How did you find out about that?”

Clement started to speak, hesitated, then said, “From the Web site that young troublemaker has.”

Rhodes didn't consider Jennifer Loam a troublemaker, but he could see how the stories she used might irritate the mayor. The stories were calculated to get people to the Web site and drive up the count so Jennifer could sell advertising, not to please the city officials. Also, Jennifer was friendly to Rhodes. Clement wouldn't approve of that, either.

“What did you want to know about the man who was killed?” Rhodes asked.

“He was just a drug dealer, wasn't he?”

Rhodes didn't like the word “just” in that context or the direction in which the conversation seemed to be headed.