Dead, to Begin With, page 9
“You don’t mind a bit sounding like an English teacher,” Seepy said. “I know you don’t because I like to sound like a math teacher. Do you want to hear my lecture on linear regression?”
“Not right now,” Harry said. “I’d rather tell the sheriff about Jacob Marley. You see, in Dickens’s story, Marley doesn’t appear in the flesh. He’s dead to begin with, and his ghost appears to Scrooge.”
“A ghost just like the one in the theater right now,” Seepy said.
“Perhaps,” Harry said, “but without the clanking chains that Dickens’s Marley forged in life. Rather heavy-handed symbolism, and of course real ghosts don’t go around clanking chairs.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Rhodes said. “It would make it easier to find them, though.”
“Yes, wouldn’t it,” Harry said. “But back to Jacob Marley. In the story he was a selfish man, one who didn’t care about anyone else’s hardships or sufferings. He cared only about himself and making money. Do you see the parallels with our own Marley?”
Rhodes thought about the real Jake, sitting there in his big house, not seeming to care a thing about the community or the people in it, doing nothing to help the town or the people who didn’t have the resources that he had. Also, according to Bradley West, Jake had been making quite a bit of money along the way, piling it up for himself alone.
“I can see what you’re getting at,” Rhodes said, “but that doesn’t mean Jake saw his life that way.”
“Of course not, but there’s more to it. Because of those bad qualities, Marley’s ghost is doomed to wander forever, seeing the things he did nothing about and, now that he realizes the pain and suffering on the earth that he’d ignored before, not being able to do anything about them.”
Rhodes thought it over, then said, “Jake was going to take the part of Jacob Marley in the play.”
“Well,” Harry said, “there you go.”
“So,” Ivy said, “do you think Jake came to realize his life was like Jacob Marley’s and that’s why he started doing things in the community?”
Rhodes realized that Ivy had hit on a possible answer to his own question about Jake, who could’ve been happy now because he’d finally found a purpose for his life beyond staying in his house and making money. If it wasn’t the answer, it was an answer.
“I’m an English teacher,” Harris said, “not a psychologist. I can’t explain Jake’s motives. I’m merely saying that he might have seen parallels between the character in the Dickens story and himself, and it’s interesting that he was going to play that part.”
“We can ask him about it if we get in touch with his ghost,” Seepy said.
“That’s not going to happen,” Rhodes said.
Seepy smiled. “You can’t be sure of that.”
“I’m sure,” Rhodes said, and then his cell phone rang.
Chapter 10
The phone call was just a coincidence, Rhodes told himself later. It was inevitable that he’d get it as soon as Dr. White completed the autopsy, considering what he had to tell Rhodes.
Rhodes excused himself to Seepy and Harry by telling them that he had to do some county business. Ivy didn’t ask what it was until they got to Rhodes’s old truck.
“It’s the autopsy report on Jake Marley,” Rhodes said. “It looks like his death might not have been an accident.” They got in the truck and clattered away from the restaurant. “I’ll drop you at home and take the county car. I might need it.”
Ivy didn’t ask when he’d be home. She said, “Try not to stay out too late.”
“I’m not expecting to be late,” Rhodes said, “but you never know.”
“I’ll have a surprise for you when you get there,” Ivy said.
“What kind of surprise?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Ivy told him.
* * *
Dr. White didn’t usually stay around to discuss autopsy results with Rhodes. His reports spoke for him. This time, however, Dr. White was waiting with Clyde Ballinger, the funeral director, in the small brick house behind Ballinger’s Funeral Home. Ballinger let the county use the funeral home for autopsies for a small fee.
Clyde always wore a dark suit and tie, and tonight was no different. Dr. White was dressed less formally in khaki pants and a blue shirt. He had a fringe of white hair and a few age spots on his bald head. He’d obviously cleaned up since doing the autopsy, and his hands and face looked freshly scrubbed.
On most occasions when Rhodes and Ballinger met, Rhodes made small talk with the funeral director about his habit of reading old paperback books with sensational covers, and the first thing Ballinger asked when Rhodes came through the door of his office was whether there had been any books at Ms. Atkins’s yard sale.
“No books,” Rhodes said.
He didn’t ask how Ballinger knew about the yard sale, in the hopes that the funeral director would drop the subject.
“Baseball cards, though,” Ballinger said.
“That’s right.”
Ballinger turned to Dr. White. “Did you know that some baseball cards were worth a lot of money?”
“I’d heard that,” Dr. White said.
Ballinger shook his head. “I should’ve been buying baseball cards instead of books.” He looked at Rhodes. “You didn’t some here to talk about books and baseball cards, though.”
“Nope,” Rhodes said.
“You must have wanted a quick autopsy because you were suspicious about Jake Marley’s death,” Dr. White said.
Rhodes nodded. “I had a feeling something was off about it, and I did notice a contusion on the forehead that didn’t seem likely to have been caused by the fall.”
“I thought that might be it. The problem is that it’s hard to tell which injuries on a person’s body were inflicted in the few minutes before death and which ones happened shortly afterward or at about the same time. When someone’s fallen from a height, there can be cuts and scrapes that are hard to pin down.”
“I understand,” Rhodes said.
“I’m sure you do,” Dr. White said. “In this case, however, I believe that the contusion on the forehead was inflicted shortly antemortem.”
“How can you tell?”
“It’s as much a cut as a contusion, although the cut is hard to see without a close examination. It didn’t bleed much because Jake Marley died so soon after being struck.”
“You think somebody hit him?”
“Either that or he bumped his head against something.”
Rhodes had been able to stand on the grid without having to worry about hitting his head, and Jake had been shorter than he was by a couple of inches. It wasn’t likely that he’d bumped his head.
“Could hitting him with a bare hand have caused the contusion?” Rhodes asked.
“Doubtful. If someone were wearing a ring, that would be one thing that might have caused it. Jake’s skull wasn’t cracked, but he had a pretty hard blow. He died of a broken neck in a fall. That’s certain. However, someone might have struck him and caused him to fall. It’s a tricky situation, but I believe that’s what happened.”
“So someone murdered him,” Ballinger said.
“That would be up to a jury to decide,” Dr. White said. “He could’ve been hit accidentally. I do have a recommendation, however.”
“The sheriff should investigate,” Ballinger said.
“Exactly,” Dr. White said.
* * *
When Rhodes got home, Yancey, the little Pomeranian, was as excited to see him as if he’d been gone for a month.
“Do they make tranquilizers for dogs?” Rhodes asked Ivy as Yancey danced around his feet.
Ivy ignored the comment. “Let’s go in the kitchen and see about your surprise.”
Rhodes had forgotten about the surprise. He followed Ivy into the kitchen, with Yancey threatening to trip him up at every step of the way.
“Have a seat,” Ivy said when they arrived in the kitchen, and Rhodes sat at the little wooden table.
The two cats, Sam, the black one, and Jerry, the tuxedo cat, slept over by the refrigerator. Yancey’s yipping and constant motion didn’t bother them at all. Just looking at the cats made Rhodes think he needed to sneeze, but Ivy had almost convinced him that his cat allergy was all in his imagination.
“Do you want to know what I found out from Dr. White?” Rhodes asked.
“I know what he told you,” Ivy said, opening the refrigerator.
“How do you know?”
Ivy took something out of the refrigerator and closed the door. “He wouldn’t have called if there hadn’t been something suspicious.”
“That’s right. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
Yancey had gotten tired of bouncing around and gone over to sniff at the cats.
“Leave them alone,” Rhodes said, although the cats didn’t appear to be bothered. They didn’t even wake up.
Yancey knew he was being addressed and turned back to Rhodes to give him a pitiful look.
“Go on to bed,” Rhodes said. “The excitement’s over.”
Yancey hesitated. Sam woke up, yawned, stretched, and looked at Yancey, who didn’t need any further encouragement. He ran out of the kitchen and headed for the spare bedroom where his doggie bed was. Sam stared after him for a couple of seconds, then closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
Rhodes looked at Ivy, who was holding something in her right hand. “What do you have there?”
“The surprise,” Ivy said, sitting across from him at the table and setting a green-and-red can in the middle.
Rhodes looked at the can. It was a Dr Pepper can, but he’d never seen one like it before.
“Put on your glasses,” Ivy said.
Rhodes put on his reading glasses to look at the can more closely, and then he saw the little red circle with the white words centered in it: MADE WITH REAL SUGAR.
“You need to give up your boycott,” Ivy said. “It’s time to enjoy life again.”
Rhodes loved Dr Pepper, but for several years he’d been boycotting the drink because the company had shut down the bottling plant in Dublin, Texas, where Dr Pepper was still being made with sugar. Rhodes had been tempted to drink a Dr Pepper more than once since he’d begun his boycott. He’d even been tempted to try a Pibb Xtra, but so far he’d resisted either of those things. Now he was being tempted again. Severely tempted.
“I thought you only approved of healthy food,” Rhodes said, speaking to Ivy but still looking at the can.
“That’s right, but I hate to see you pining for something you enjoy. Now you can have the real thing.”
“Unfortunate choice of words,” Rhodes said.
“What?” Ivy looked puzzled. “Oh. I see what you mean. I’d forgotten that slogan. Are you going to try it or not?”
“For some reason I’m thinking of serpents and apples.”
Ivy grinned. “I doubt the consequences of drinking a Dr Pepper will be as severe as the ones you’re thinking of.”
Rhodes removed his glasses, folded the earpieces, and slipped the glasses back into his shirt pocket. He reached out and took the can.
“It’s nice and cold,” he said.
“I know. Go ahead. Give it a try.”
Rhodes popped the pull tab. “Maybe I should just forget it. I’ve probably lost weight since I stopped drinking these things.”
“No, you haven’t.”
She was right. Rhodes hadn’t lost any weight. That was a flimsy excuse. He lifted the can and took a swallow of the Dr Pepper. It was cold and sweet and fizzy, and if the taste wasn’t exactly as he remembered, it was close enough. Drinking it was like hearing an old song and being reminded of a happy time in the past.
“Good?” Ivy said.
“Good,” Rhodes said, setting the can back on the table. “There’s something else I meant to mention to you.”
“What’s that?”
“Some people came by the jail today to ask about our sex life.”
Ivy grinned. “I hope you didn’t shock them.”
“I tried not to.”
“So who were these people?”
“Claudia and Jan. They needed some material for their next book.”
“This is October, isn’t it? Not April Fool’s Day?”
Rhodes picked up the can and took another swallow of the Dr Pepper. It was just as satisfying as the first one had been.
“I’m not joking,” he said. “They were serious about it.”
“Was Hack listening in?” Ivy asked.
“Hack always listens in.”
“I guess whatever you told them will be on the Internet by tomorrow, then, if it’s not already.”
“I didn’t tell them anything,” Rhodes said. “I like to keep a few secrets.”
“So do I,” Ivy said. “Did I mention that I might have another surprise for you tonight?”
“No, you didn’t mention that.”
“Well, I might.”
“Can I finish my Dr Pepper first?”
“If you hurry,” Ivy said.
* * *
Early the next morning Rhodes sat on the back steps, as he did on most days, and watched Yancey and Speedo, a border collie who lived outside, tussling over one of their squeaky toys. Ivy came through the back door and sat down beside him. She was wearing a gray wool sweater, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
“It’s cold out here,” Ivy said.
Rhodes nodded. It was cold, but the wind wasn’t blowing, and when the sun was all the way up, it would be a nice day.
“The dogs like the cold,” Rhodes said.
“I’m thrilled for the dogs,” Ivy said, giving an exaggerated shiver. “What about Jake Marley?”
Speedo dropped the toy, a green rubber frog, and Yancey snatched it up. He ran as fast as he could, but his short legs were no match for Speedo’s longer ones. The collie overtook Yancey and ran right over him. Speedo got the toy between his teeth and took off.
“Let’s say someone killed him,” Rhodes said. “It wouldn’t be easy to find anyone with a motive. Hardly anyone knew him. He didn’t have contact with anyone in town until recently. He was trying to do something for the community. Why would someone kill him?”
“Maybe it was an accident.”
“Maybe,” Rhodes said, though he didn’t believe it for a second.
Across the yard, Speedo was stretched out beside the green Styrofoam igloo that he stayed inside of on cold nights. He had the frog between his front legs and bit it time after time, causing it to make its squeaky noise. Yancey hopped around nearby, occasionally making a grab for the frog but not having any luck.
“You thought he was killed all along,” Ivy said. “You and Bradley West both. That’s why he gave you that list of people that Jake wanted in the play. He thinks one of them might have killed Jake.”
“What makes you say that?” Rhodes asked.
“For one thing, you told me that Jake wanted you to be at the play. That sounds to me as if he thought something might happen to him.”
Rhodes was still puzzled about that part of the will. What good would it do for him to be at the play? Everybody already knew the story’s basic outline, and Harry was just going to rewrite it with a Texas setting.
“There’s something else,” Ivy said. “Harry didn’t quite get around to summarizing it last night, but the ghosts who visit Scrooge show him his past, present, and future. Scrooge tells the last ghost that he’s going to change, and he does. He becomes a happy man.”
“Jake had already changed,” Rhodes said. “He didn’t need any visits from ghosts. He was happy. Or different, anyway.”
Yancey trotted over and gave Rhodes a pleading stare while Speedo watched, head up, ears alert, feet still holding the frog to the ground.
“Are you going to help him?” Ivy asked.
“Nope. He has to do it on his own.” Rhodes motioned with his hand. “Go on, Yancey. You can do it.”
Yancey looked doubtful, but he took off to pester Speedo again.
“Maybe Jake was already happy because of something one of the people on that list did,” Ivy said.
“Why would one of them kill him, then?”
“You’re the sheriff,” Ivy said. “That’s what you’re paid to find out.”
Rhodes reached inside his jacket and pulled out the folded paper with the list of names Bradley had given him. He handed it to Ivy, who unfolded it and read off the names and their parts.
“Scrooge, Ed Hopkins. Ghost of Christmas Past, Glenda Tallent. Ghost of Christmas Present, Al Graham. Ghost of Christmas Future, Ron Gleason. I know all those people.”
“Everybody in town knows all those people. They’ve lived here forever.”
“That’s true,” Ivy said. “I wonder why there are only four of them.”
“Jake was going to play Marley’s ghost.”
“That’s still only five. There are a lot of other characters.” Ivy handed the list back to Rhodes. “One of them’s a woman. Why?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Rhodes said. “Aren’t all the ghosts in the story men?”
“Yes. That’s going to be an odd change.”
“Diversity,” Rhodes said, although he was pretty sure Jake Marley didn’t give two hoots for diversity.
“I wonder how the play will work with them wearing boots and cowboy hats,” Ivy said.
“What I wonder is what those people have to do with Marley,” Rhodes said. “Ed Hopkins has something to do with Aubrey Hamilton. She used to work for him, and she’s the one who sold Marley the theater building. Ed would have liked to work that deal, so there’s a connection. Al has the A+ Auto Repair. I doubt that he ever had to work on Marley’s cars, since they were always new. Glenda sells insurance. She’s your competitor.”
“I’m not a salesperson,” Ivy said. “I just work there.”
“Right, so she’s Thad Aiken’s competitor. She sold Jake the insurance on the theater, so Thad might’ve been upset that he didn’t get that contract.”
“It wasn’t that big a deal,” Ivy said. “Surely you don’t think Thad killed Jake.”
“No. He’s not even a suspect. On the other hand, there’s Ron Gleason. He used to work for the city. Ran the water department, but he’s retired now. I don’t see any connection there.”
