Between the Living and the Dead (11 page)

“Louie?” Buddy gave a short laugh. “I haven't seen hide nor hair of him. That scutter might be in Dallas or Houston or Timbuktu by now for all I know.”

“We'll get him,” Rhodes said.

“Maybe he'll come visit Earl in the hospital.”

“And maybe I'll win the lottery this week.”

“You buy a ticket?” Buddy asked.

“Nope.”

“Didn't think so. You don't hold with gambling, since you put those eight-liners out of business.”

“Didn't think much of it before that, either,” Rhodes said. “Those eight-liners weren't legal anyway, not the way they were being run.”

“I know that,” Buddy said. “Just pulling your leg.”

Just as Rhodes suspected. Everybody, including Buddy, had been hanging around Hack and Lawton too much.

Buddy looked away from Rhodes, back in the direction of the pasture. “You hear that?”

Rhodes listened and nodded.

“Guess it's the ambulance,” Buddy said.

Rhodes wished he could believe that, but he didn't. “I don't think so. I think Louie's doubled back and gotten his truck started.”

“Dang. You want me to go after him?”

“No use,” Rhodes said. “He'll be long gone by the time you could get there.”

“Now he sure enough'll be headed to Dallas or Houston.”

“Or Timbuktu,” Rhodes said.

“Yeah. That's in Africa, right?”

“Wherever it is, we'll get him.”

“That's what you told me before,” Buddy said.

“I still mean it,” Rhodes said, pulling out his cell phone. He called Lawton and told him to put out an BOLO on Louie.

“You get the license number of the truck?” Hack asked.

“I didn't think I'd need it,” Rhodes said.

“You ever a Boy Scout?”

“‘Be Prepared.' I know.”

“Knowin' ain't doin',” Hack said. “We can get a license number from the records, though. Take a little longer, but not much since Mika's here.”

Hack was impressed with Mika's computer skills, among other things. He'd been suspicious of having a female deputy when Ruth Grady had joined the department, but he'd been won over quickly. He thought highly of Ruth, and he'd admired Mika's skills from the first.

“She's workin' on some fingerprints,” Hack said, “but she can take time to get that plate number. What happened to Earl?”

“He tried to run away,” Rhodes said. “Went in the woods and some hogs trampled him.”

“He gonna be okay?”

“Not sure.”

“You gonna tell me what happened?”

“Later,” Rhodes said, and silenced the phone.

“I hear the amublance now,” Buddy said. “Was them all along.”

“Good. I hope Earl will be all right.”

Buddy didn't seem to concerned about Earl. “I hope we catch up with Louie.”

“We'll get him.”

“You keep on saying that,” Buddy said.

“I keep on meaning it,” Rhodes said.

 

Chapter 9

The paramedics had a stretcher, and they managed to get Earl to the ambulance. It wasn't easy, but Rhodes and Buddy helped by pushing limbs out of the way and spelling one or the other of the paramedics on the stretcher handles now and then.

The paramedics got him loaded into the ambulance. Rhodes and Buddy watched it drive across the pasture, and Rhodes felt sorry for Earl. Bad enough to get run over by hogs, but even worse to have to be bounced across a rough field in an ambulance. Earl hadn't regained consciousness, however, so at least he didn't know he was being treated roughly.

“What now?” Buddy asked.

“We'll search the truck,” Rhodes said. “We might find a clue.”

“I hope so,” Buddy said. “I don't believe I've found a clue in a long time. I'm more of a man of action.”

“Right,” Rhodes said, “but even a man of action needs a break now and then. Let's take a look.”

They didn't find anything in the truck, however, though there were bullet holes in the windshield and back window, and the glass spiderwebbed away from them.

“Wonder how that got there,” Buddy said.

“Somebody took a shot at the pickup,” Rhodes said.

“Yeah, but who?”

“Probably whoever killed Neil.”

Rhodes got out his phone and called Hack to tell him to send Cal Autry out with a wrecker to pick up the truck.

“Tell him it's out in the pasture, down by the woods,” Rhodes said.

“Somebody wreck it?”

“Abandoned it,” Rhodes said, and ended the call.

“Do we search the house now?” Buddy asked.

“That's the plan,” Rhodes said.

*   *   *

The first thing they discovered in the house was that the Foshees were better housekeepers than Rhodes would've expected. The house wasn't immaculate, but there weren't dirty clothes strewn everywhere, just a sock on the living room floor and a couple of shirts lying across the back of a sofa. There weren't even any dirty dishes in the sink. The house had three bedrooms, and all three beds were made, which was even more surprising than the lack of dirty dishes. The bathrooms were clean, too.

“Guess they haven't been mixing up any meth around here,” Buddy said when they'd finished looking around the rooms.

“They're not that stupid,” Rhodes said. “They always find somewhere else to do that.”

“You think they're still doing it, even while they're out on bond?”

“Sure. That's all they know. They don't use it themselves, though. Let's check the closets.”

The closets were neat enough, too, but there were a few things that shouldn't have been there, like the sack full of unused burner phones and the bag of diet pills and cold pills.

“They might make the meth somewhere else, but they have some of the ingredients here,” Buddy said, just before he found another bag containing lithium batteries and drain cleaner. “There's enough evidence in these closets to revoke their bonds right now.”

“They forfeited their bonds when they ran,” Rhodes said. “I wish we could find something that would point to a reason for killing Neil.”

“That would be too easy,” Buddy said. “Take all the sport out of it.”

Rhodes wasn't interested in sport. He wanted to wrap things up quickly, but he had a feeling it wouldn't work out like that. They searched the rest of the house without finding anything of note. Rhodes had thought they might find some firearms, since the Foshees believed in being well armed, but nothing had turned up. The Foshees might not be geniuses, considering the meth ingredients in the house, but they weren't fools, either. They could argue that the cold pills were there in case they got sick, though the quantity was obviously suspicious. They could make a case for the batteries and the drain cleaner, too. A weak case, but a case nevertheless. As for the phones, there was nothing illegal about owning as many phones as you wanted. Weapons would have been a different story. The Foshees couldn't talk their way out of firearms possession while out on bond.

As they walked back to the county cars, Buddy asked Rhodes where he thought Louie had gone. “And don't say Timbuktu.”

“Where do you think he went?” Rhodes asked.

“I'd go to Houston if I wanted to stay in the state,” Buddy said. “A man could change his name down there and never be found. They got over two million people living down there. Easy to hide. Climate's bad, though. Traffic's even worse than the climate.”

“I don't think Louie's in Houston,” Rhodes said. “I think he's still right around here somewhere. The Foshees are big on family, and he'll be worried about Earl. He'll want to know who killed Neil.”

“He won't know what happened to Earl. He won't even know we caught him.”

“We'll make it easy for him to find out. It'll be in the paper and on the Internet.”

“You think Louie can read or use the Internet?”

“He might be smarter than we think,” Rhodes said.

*   *   *

Rhodes was on his way to the Dairy Queen to get some lunch when Hack called.

“Andy Shelby's got somethin' for you,” Hack said.

“What does he have?” Rhodes asked.

“Wouldn't tell me. I'm just the old flunky, not some hotshot investigator. Nobody ever tells me anything.”

“It's probably not important.”

“He said it was. Said he couldn't talk about it on the air.”

Rhodes wondered what Andy could've found out. “Have him meet me at the Dairy Queen.”

“You gettin' yourself a Blizzard? 'Cause a Blizzard's got a lot of calories in it if a man's watching his weight.”

“I'm not watching my weight.”

“Maybe you oughta be, then.”

“I get plenty of exercise.”

“Like what?”

“Climbing trees to avoid being trampled by hogs,” Rhodes said.

“When was that?”

“I'll tell you later,” Rhodes said, and signed off.

*   *   *

It was a little after the lunch hour, and the Dairy Queen wasn't crowded. When Rhodes entered, he saw Andy Shelby sitting in a booth to the left of the door. Unlike a lot of people who wore hats, Andy was old-fashioned and took his off when he was indoors. It sat on the seat beside him.

Rhodes went to the counter, placed his order, paid, and took the little slip with his number on it over to the booth. He slid in across from Andy, who was eating a strip of fried chicken.

“You beat me here,” Rhodes said.

Andy put down the chicken strip and wiped his mouth and fingers with a skimpy napkin. Rhodes could remember a time when napkins in the DQ and other fast-food places had been substantial enough to do some good, but those days were long gone.

“I was close by,” Andy said. “Did Hack tell you I found something?”

“He did,” Rhodes said. “He didn't tell me what it was, though. I think you hurt his feelings.”

“It wasn't something I wanted to put on the air. I'm not sure I even want to say it in here.”

Rhodes looked around. Nobody was nearby. “I think we're safe enough.”

“Let's wait till your food comes. What'd you order?”

“A burger,” Rhodes said, feeling a little guilty. He blamed Hack for that. “And a Dr Pepper.”

“Which burger?”

“The one with the deep-fried jalapeño strips and pepper jack cheese.”

“It have that jalapeño ranch dressing on it, too?”

“That and some lettuce,” Rhodes said.

“A well-balanced meal,” Andy said, as the woman behind the counter called Rhodes's number.

Rhodes got his food and returned to the booth. When he'd unwrapped his burger and rammed his straw down through the plastic top on the Dr Pepper, he said, “Now you can tell me what you found out.”

“I talked to a man named Turner. Brad Turner. You know him?”

“I don't think so.”

Rhodes bit into his burger. It might not be as well balanced as Andy had said, but it was satisfying.

“He lives a couple of blocks from the Moore place,” Andy said. “In that little shotgun house on the corner. Painted green.”

“I know the house,” Rhodes said.

“Crotchety old guy, not friendly in the least. Didn't want to talk to me. I could tell he knew something, so I kept after him, but you need to see him. I think he knows more than he's telling.”

“He did tell you something, though.”

“I think he did it just to get rid of me,” Andy said. “After arguing with me for a good while and trying to make me leave, he told me he saw somebody around the Moore place last night.”

“Did he say who it was?”

Andy looked around, then leaned across the table and whispered, “He thinks it was Mayor Clement.”

“Uh-oh,” Rhodes said.

Andy leaned back. “That's putting it mildly.”

Rhodes put down his burger. He wasn't feeling hungry anymore. “What else did Turner say?”

“Nothing. He said he'd told me all he knew, but I don't believe him.”

Rhodes took a sip of his Dr Pepper, then said, “Why not?”

Andy shrugged. “I can't really say. Kind of a hunch, I guess. A feeling. You know?”

Rhodes knew. After you'd been in law enforcement for a while, you developed a kind of instinct, a little something in the back of your head that sent out a signal when somebody was lying. Maybe there was more to it than that. Body language, tone of voice, a look in the eyes, something that didn't register consciously but that sent out a warning to you.

“There's one other thing,” Andy said. “It doesn't have to do with the Moore house, though.”

“Tell me anyway,” Rhodes said.

“He wears a tinfoil hat,” Andy said.

“A tinfoil hat?”

“Sort of. You go and talk to him. You'll see.”

Rhodes decided he was hungry after all. He took another bite of his burger. If someone in a tinfoil hat was claiming he saw the mayor, there wasn't a lot to worry about.

“At least he didn't claim it was aliens he saw,” Rhodes said after he'd chewed and swallowed.

“This time,” Andy said.

“This time?”

“You never know what people might come up with, and I think there's more to it. You need to talk to him.”

“As soon as I finish this burger,” Rhodes said, and he took another bite.

*   *   *

The narrow green house was in bad need of a new coat of paint, and the yard wasn't kept much better than the one at the Moore place, which hadn't been touched by a mower in many long years.

Rhodes stopped the county car in front of the house and got out. He saw a man sitting on the little front porch in an old recliner that leaned to one side. There was a wooden kitchen chair beside the recliner that also leaned a little. The man didn't get up.