Dead, to Begin With, page 6
Not that it had anything to do with ghosts. He’d had hunches in the past that had led to things of some importance, and there hadn’t been any ghosts around. He was sure of that.
There was nothing supernatural about hunches. Rhodes was sure they were based on things he’d seen or heard but hadn’t consciously processed. It just took a while for his brain to bring them to his attention.
Rhodes’s cell phone rang.
Benton and Harris turned to look at him as if he’d cussed in church. They must have thought he’d scared off their nonexistent ghost.
Rhodes grinned, shrugged, and pulled out his phone. It was the first time since he’d had it that he could remember being glad that it had rung.
“This is Hack,” Hack said when Rhodes answered. “You busy?”
“Hunting ghosts,” Rhodes said.
“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.”
“I didn’t mean I was hunting them. The good doctors Harris and Benton are doing the hunting, but it appears they believe your phone call has disturbed their communication with the spirit world. They aren’t happy with you right now.”
“I sure am sorry about that, but I had to call. You need to come back to the jail.”
“Is it an emergency?”
“Nope, you just need to get back here, is all.”
“Are you going to tell me why, or do I have to beat it out of you when I get there?”
“You might think you’re funny,” Hack said, “but you ain’t.”
“So you keep telling me.”
“Ever’body else does, too. You comin’ back, or not?”
Rhodes didn’t like the idea of leaving Seepy and Harry on their own in the theater. Jennifer could watch them, but he doubted that she’d try to keep them out of mischief. She might even encourage them.
“I’m not coming unless you give me a good reason,” Rhodes said.
“Okay. The reason is, there’s two women here to see you.”
“Do they have a reason for wanting to see me?”
“Yeah,” Hack said.
“Well, what is it?”
“They want to discuss your sex life,” Hack said.
Chapter 6
Rhodes had been hoping that he’d have time for lunch, but Hack’s call had put an end to that idea. Now he’d have to go back to the jail and discuss his sex life.
A few years ago, someone had held a writing conference at an abandoned college in Obert. One of Clearview’s former citizens who had gone on to become a model for romance novel covers had been murdered at the conference. Rhodes had investigated the crime and found the killer.
That was the good news. The bad news, at least as far as Rhodes was concerned, was that two women attending the conference had either learned something at it or had some natural talent for writing. They’d written a book about a Texas lawman named Sage Barton, a two-gun hero with .45 revolvers and the desire to use them. The book had sold well, and Sage Barton had returned in another volume. And another.
That was fine for the writers but not for Rhodes. Because the writers had known Rhodes and because Sage Barton bore a negligible physical resemblance to him, people in Clearview, where the books sold very well indeed, seemed to assume that Barton was based entirely on Rhodes.
Rhodes had enough trouble living down all the publicity he got on Jennifer Loam’s Web site, and having people think of him as some kind of action hero had made matters considerably worse. At one time there had even been movie interest in the books, but that seemed to have faded for the moment, much to Rhodes’s relief if not to the financial benefit of the authors.
Although Seepy Benton pointed out as often as possible that he and Sage Barton had the same initials, making it obvious who was really the model for Barton, no one took that argument seriously. Rhodes could understand why, but he wished they’d at least consider it. As it was, he was stuck with the identification and continued to feel that the less people heard about Sage Barton, the better.
If there was anything he didn’t need, it was to have the authors of the books in his office asking about his sex life.
Maybe he could get them to ask about Seepy Benton’s sex life. He’d try to persuade them to do that, except he hoped that since Seepy was dating Ruth Grady, he didn’t have a sex life. If he did, Rhodes didn’t want to know about it.
Rhodes parked the Tahoe in front of the jail and pulled the cap out of his jacket pocket. A man who was going to talk about his sex life shouldn’t walk into a place with his hair blown all over everywhere by the wind. Rhodes whacked the cap against the seat to remove some of the remaining dirt and gravel. There was nothing he could to about the tire track.
He put the cap on, got out of the Tahoe, and went into the jail.
The authors, whose names were Claudia and Jan, sat by Hack’s desk, laughing at something he’d said. All three of them looked at the door when Rhodes came inside.
Claudia had blond hair and startlingly blue eyes. Jan had dark hair, brown eyes, and dimples. She’d probably used those dimples to great effect in getting what she wanted from men in the past, but they wouldn’t work on Rhodes. He was immune to that sort of thing.
“Took you long enough to get here,” Hack said.
“County business,” Rhodes told him. “That always comes first.”
“We didn’t mean to keep you from your work,” Jan said with a smile that showed off her dimples.
Rhodes grinned, then changed the grin to a frown. He didn’t want her to think the dimples were working.
“That’s right,” Claudia said. “We don’t want to interfere with your job. I like the cap, by the way. You should wear one all the time.”
“I might start doing that,” Rhodes said.
“He’s just tryin’ to hide that thin spot in the hair at the back of his head,” Hack said.
Rhodes ignored that remark. “Hack tells me you two have some questions for me.”
Claudia laughed. “We heard what he said on the phone. He was just joking. That’s not what we want to talk to you about at all.”
“Well,” Jan said, “it sort of is.”
Rhodes pulled out his desk chair. “Why don’t you bring your chairs over here so we can have a private conversation?”
Hack bristled. “You don’t never want me to be in the loop.”
“Don’t start that,” Rhodes said. “This isn’t county business, and you don’t need to hear it.”
He knew that Hack would listen to the conversation and that he’d hear it without any trouble. Their desks weren’t that far apart, but Hack enjoyed complaining.
Jan and Claudia moved their chairs as Rhodes settled into his. When they were comfortable, Rhodes asked, “Now what’s this about my sex life?”
The women laughed, and Claudia said, “I told you it wasn’t really about that.”
“But Jan said it sort of was, so what’s going on?”
“It’s about Sage Barton’s sex life,” Jan said.
Rhodes couldn’t figure out what that had to do with him, and besides, Sage Barton didn’t have a sex life as far as Rhodes knew. When he mentioned that, Claudia said, “That’s the problem. Our publisher has noticed a little bit of a drop-off in sales, and our editor says that we might need to spice things up a little in the next book.”
“By ‘spice things up’ you mean—”
“Sex,” Jan said.
Rhodes noticed that she wasn’t blushing. “I don’t know what this has to do with me.”
“Everybody knows you’re the model for Sage Barton,” Claudia told him.
Rhodes wished she hadn’t said it. “Don’t joke about that.”
“She’s not joking,” Jan said.
Rhodes looked over at Hack, who was trying both to pretend that he wasn’t listening and to hold in his laughter.
“Okay,” Rhodes said, “even if that’s true, and I don’t believe it even for a second, I still don’t know what it has to do with me.”
“You’re a lawman,” Jan said. “Sage Barton is a lawman. So what we want to know is whether you have time for—”
“Sex,” Claudia said.
Rhodes had had some strange conversations in this office, most of them with Hack and Lawton, but he’d never had a conversation quite like this one.
“You drove all the way down here from Dallas to ask me that?”
“It’s not that far,” Jan said, “and it’s tax deductible.”
“We like to check in now and then and see how you’re doing, too,” Claudia said. “You being our model and all. You never know what we might learn. We didn’t know about the cap, for one thing. What do you think, Jan? Should we give Sage Barton a cap instead of that Western hat he wears?”
“I think Western hats are sexier,” Jan said, “which brings us back to the point.”
Rhodes was hoping they’d forgotten the point.
“So are you going to tell us?” Claudia asked. “About the sex, I mean.”
This wasn’t just the strangest conversation Rhodes had ever had in the office. It was the strangest he’d ever had anywhere, and it was also the most uncomfortable.
“Maybe we should’ve asked Ivy,” Jan said. “She might be more forthcoming.”
Claudia stood up. “That’s a good idea. Does she still work at the insurance office?”
“Sit down,” Rhodes said.
Claudia sat.
“I’m not Sage Barton,” Rhodes said. “I’m married. He’s not.”
“Married people have sex,” Claudia said. “I’m married. Jan’s married. We have—”
Rhodes held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear about it. What I’m trying to tell you is that what I do has nothing to do with Sage Barton. You can give him a rich and rewarding sex life with all those beautiful women he meets, and you don’t have to worry about mine. I’ve read the books, and Sage Barton is the kind of man who’ll make time for sex even if it’s in the middle of one of those big gun battles he’s always having.”
Claudia looked at Jan, who pulled a ballpoint pen and a notepad from her purse.
“I knew we were right to come here,” Jan said, bouncing a little in her chair. “This is the best idea ever. It will come as a big surprise and spice up our next book more than anybody could ever expect.”
“What will?” Rhodes asked.
“Sex during a gun battle,” Claudia said. “Can’t you just see it?”
Rhodes didn’t want to see it. “It doesn’t sound … practical.”
Jan looked up from the pad she was writing on. “Practical? Since when does sex have to be practical?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Rhodes said, wishing they’d quit twisting his words. “I meant that it’s highly unlikely anybody’s going to have time for sex during a gunfight.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Claudia said. “We’ll figure something out. Right, Jan?”
“Right.” She closed the notebook and looked at Rhodes. “We’ll be sure to mention you in the acknowledgments.”
“Please don’t,” Rhodes said. “Really.”
Both women stood up, and Rhodes did as well. Claudia said, “A mention in the acknowledgments is the least we can do after you’ve given us such a good idea. Something like ‘And a special thanks to Blacklin County sheriff Dan Rhodes for the sex advice.’”
Rhodes heard something that sounded like choking coming from Hack’s desk, but he didn’t rush over to perform the Heimlich maneuver. He knew the sound was only smothered laughter.
“Thanks, Sheriff,” Jan said. “You’ve been a huge help.”
“Really,” Claudia said. “We needed a little creative nudge, and you’ve given us one. Mentioning you in the acknowledgments is only right. Credit where credit is due.”
“No,” Rhodes said. “That’s not necessary. Just knowing I’ve been able to help is all the thanks I need.”
“We’ll consider that,” Claudia said, but Rhodes knew they wouldn’t. They were going to put his name in the book as their sex adviser or something like that. He’d never live it down.
“Let’s go, Jan,” Claudia said. “We can get back to Dallas in time to write that gunfight scene if we don’t dawdle.”
They breezed out the door, laughing and talking. Rhodes thought about calling them back and trying to persuade them to forget about the acknowledgment, but knew it wouldn’t do any good.
Hack was leaned over his desk, practically strangling with laughter. Rhodes sat back down and said, “Hack.”
Hack sat up, but he couldn’t answer. Rhodes gave him a couple of seconds to get control of himself, then said, “Hack,” again.
Hack got control of himself and turned around. “Yeah, Sheriff?”
“If word of that conversation ever gets out, I’m going to lock you up in one of our cells for a week.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Yes, I would.”
“What would the charges be?”
“I’d think of something. Mopery, maybe.”
“There ain’t no such a thing.”
“There might be. I’ll check the statutes.”
Hack wasn’t laughing now, but he didn’t appear worried in the least. “That would be false imprisonment.”
“You’d have to convince a judge of that. I don’t think you could. I’m the sheriff, and you’re the dispatcher.”
“I’m the one does all the work around here, though. How about if I tell Lawton and nobody else?”
“You especially can’t tell Lawton. You weren’t supposed to be listening in the first place.”
The telephone rang, ending the conversation, for which Rhodes was grateful, and Hack answered the call. Rhodes didn’t try to listen in. He turned to his desk and started entering a report on Jake Marley’s death into his computer.
Hack interrupted him. “Sheriff, we got trouble.”
Rhodes thought of his suspicions about Jake’s death. “You’re right, but then we always have trouble.”
“I’m not talkin’ ’bout what you’re workin’ on. There’s a fight at a yard sale over on Hick’ry Street. Corner of Vine. You’re closer’n anybody.”
Rhodes saved his work on the computer. Some times, and this was one of them, he wished he were like the big-city cops on TV, the ones who never had to work but one case at a time and didn’t have to worry about fights at yard sales or women wanting to take revenge for a bad haircut by attacking a beauty shop with a sledgehammer or any of the other petty crimes that cropped up constantly in a small town.
On the other hand, there was really no reason to think that Marley’s death was anything more than an accident except for one little abrasion, and dealing with all those petty problems did a lot to keep life interesting.
“Who’s having the yard sale?” Rhodes asked.
“Robbie Atkins is the one who called. You know her, the one who claims she’s related to Chet. Never claimed it till after he died, though. Mighty suspicious if you ask me. I bet she’s not any more kin to Chet Atkins than I am.”
Rhodes didn’t want to get into a discussion of Robbie Atkins’s ancestry.
“I’ll go see what I can do about the fight,” he said.
“Prob’ly be over before you get there,” Hack said. He gave Rhodes a doubting look. “You gonna wear that cap?”
“What’s wrong with the cap?”
“I don’t think it’s a good look for you, no matter what those women said.”
“It’s windy out there. I need a cap.”
“Yeah, I guess it keeps that thin spot warm.”
Rhodes stood up and tugged the bill of the cap. “It does, at that,” he said.
Chapter 7
Rhodes thought it was too cold for a yard sale, but the wind had calmed down a little, and the sun was shining, which helped. The temperature was probably nearer to fifty now than it was to forty, and even in the worst of circumstances people had a hard time resisting a yard sale. Weather like this wouldn’t be a hindrance at all. Rhodes didn’t need the cap anymore, but he decided to keep it on, anyway.
Robbie Atkins’s house was an old white frame building with a hurricane-wire fence around the backyard. All the action was in the front, however, where several long tables were lined up along each side of the cracked concrete driveway. The tables were covered with sale items: clothes, glass and metal knickknacks, a couple of lamps, kitchen utensils, dishes, and other assorted castoffs.
The four or five people at the sale weren’t looking at the tables, however. They were watching the two men off to the side in the yard. “Watching” wasn’t the right word, really, since three of them were recording the events on their smartphone cameras. Rhodes knew that at least one of them would send the video to Jennifer Loam. Nothing was too trivial for A Clear View of Clearview, and a fight at a yard sale was sure to get some hits, especially if Jennifer came up with a clickbait headline. Rhodes knew she would.
Robbie Atkins ran over to the Tahoe as Rhodes got out. Robbie was tall, big-boned, and red-faced. She had a blue scarf tied around her head, and she was breathing hard.
“You need to stop them, Sheriff,” she said. “I think Ted has a gun.”
Ted Hensley was one of the men in the yard. The other man was Dick Blanchard. Rhodes knew who both men were. Ted owned a feed store that someone else managed for him. Blanchard was a retired postal worker. At the moment they were standing about ten feet apart, glaring at each other like two mean dogs trying to decide which one was going to make the first jump. Rhodes was surprised they weren’t growling and their hair wasn’t bristling.
“What’s their problem?” Rhodes asked Robbie.
“It’s that paper sack Ted’s holding,” Robbie said. “I don’t know who picked it up first, but Dick claims he did and that Ted grabbed it from him. I’m afraid Ted’s going to pull his gun.”
Rhodes nodded and walked over to the men, careful not to get too close.
“You stay out of this, Sheriff,” Ted said. He was at least a head taller than Blanchard. He was also heavier, and he was armed, too, if Robbie was right. “This is between me and Dick.”
“You don’t want to be fighting over a paper sack,” Rhodes said.
