Bill Crider - Dan Rhodes 09 - Death by Accident (11 page)

“What did you tell them?”

“Just a few things I thought maybe they didn’t know about.  It turns out that you didn’t tell them the whole story about the cabin.”

“I told them everything I thought they needed to know.  They’re getting on in years, and I was afraid that if I told them too much, it might just confuse them.”

“I don’t think Ty Berry would agree with you on that,” Rhodes said.  “Anyway, they didn’t get confused at all.”

Mrs. Knape sniffed again, but she didn’t say anything.

Rhodes continued.  “You didn’t mention that the Sons and Daughters of Texas had paid for the cabin’s restoration and had seen to it that it got taken care of.”

“Out at the Old Settlers’ Grounds.  It doesn’t belong there, and the heirs agreed.”

“That was before they knew about what had been done.  Somehow they got the impression that the cabin was in a pretty run-down condition and that no one was looking after it.”

Faye inspected the floor for a while, and then she looked up at the ceiling.  There wasn’t much to see up there except a spider web up high in one of the corners where Lawton couldn’t reach with his broom.

“I’m sure I don’t know how they could have gotten that idea,” Faye said finally.

“Me neither,” Rhodes said.  “But when I told them about the restoration and about the big celebration this summer, they seemed to think the best thing to do would be to leave the cabin where it is.”

Faye drew herself up straight.  “I hope you’re not counting on the votes of any Historical Society members in the next election, Sheriff.”

“When you think about it,” Rhodes said as if he hadn’t heard her, “the Grounds are the best place for the cabin.  If you brought it to town and put it in the park, more people might see it, but it wouldn’t be much of a tourist attraction.  It’s just a one-room cabin with nothing special about it.”

“It’s special to the Historical Society.”

“Then you should get together with Ty Berry and see what you can do to help with the celebration next summer.  As it stands now, the cabin gives people one more reason to drive out to the Old Settlers’ Grounds.  If your two groups worked together, we could have something really nice for the county.”

“Ty Berry’s planning to have Indian dances,” Faye said.  “There’s already been talk of trouble about that.”

“Maybe you could help him work it out so there wouldn’t be any trouble.  I imagine a woman with your ability to get along with people could work something out with Brother Alton.”

“Well, maybe, but I don’t think I can work with Ty Berry on
anything
.”

“Why don’t you give it a try?  You might be surprised. Remember, his bunch cares just as much about that cabin and about the county’s history as you and your group.”

“Very well,” Faye said.  “I’ll think about it.  But I’m not making any promises.  And I’m still not going to vote for you.”

W
hen she left, Hack said, “I really liked that part about her ability to get along with people.  That was a good ’un.”

“I thought you were watching that TV set.”

“I can watch and listen at the same time.  Besides, there’s nothin’ to see on Saturday mornin’ except cartoons.”

“I thought you liked cartoons.”

“I like
The Tick
, but that’s about it.  And that’s not on yet.”

“
The Tick
?”

“Yeah.”

Hack started to tell him about the show, but Rhodes didn’t get the details.  That was when Mrs. Vestal walked in.

M
rs. Vestal lived out on a little-traveled county road near Milsby, and she told Rhodes that she and Harold were driving into Clearview to do the weekly grocery shopping.  They saw a red Toyota truck nosed into a ditch, and Harold yelled that he could see someone inside.  Mrs. Vestal pulled over to the side of the road and got out of her car, telling Harold to stay where he was while she took a look.

“He didn’t stay, though,” she said, giving Harold a frown. “I oughta pinch his head off.”

“It was gross,” Harold said.  “I wish I
had
stayed in the car.  It smelled funny, too.”

Harold had obviously been very impressed by what he’d seen, and so had Gerri Vestal.  Rhodes took notes on the rest of their account and then sent them on to do their shopping, telling them that he would be in touch if he needed any further information.

“Can I go back in the jail and see the cells?” Harold asked.

Rhodes was about to tell him that he could, when Mrs. Vestal said, “Not today, Harold.  We have to get the shopping done before noon.  Your father will be expecting lunch.”

“Come back some other time,” Rhodes said.  “I’ll give you the guided tour.”

“Can I?” Harold asked him mother.

“Maybe next Saturday,” she said.  “I’m sure it’s quite educational.”

Rhodes had never thought of it that way, but he said, “It sure is.”

Chapter Seventeen

R
hodes drove out to where the Toyota truck sat in the ditch.  The day was bright with sun, but there was a thick purple cloud bank massing in the direction of Dallas, a sure sign that a blue norther was on the way.  Rhodes knew that when the wind hit, the sky would darken and the temperature would drop far and fast.  It might even rain, but he hoped not.

He recognized the Toyota immediately as the one he’d seen in Randall Overton’s driveway.  Overton himself wasn’t quite so easy to identify, though there was a tiny bit of the Joe Camel T-shirt left intact.

No one else had passed by since Mrs. Vestal, or if they had passed they hadn’t been curious enough to stop and look.  There was no sign that anyone had touched the truck or disturbed the area around it.

Rhodes called Hack and asked him to send Ruth Grady to meet him.  He wanted all the help he could get in going over the scene, and he didn’t want any mistakes.

“S
o what do you think?” Ruth asked a couple of hours later when they had completed their investigation.  “Spontaneous combustion?”

The norther had hit while they were doing their work.  The sky was black and the wind was whistling through the barbed wire of the fence across the ditch.  There was no rain, but the temperature had already dropped into the low forties.  Rhodes was glad that he’d been carrying a coat in the car.

“You’ve been hanging around Hack too long,” he told Ruth. “That’s exactly what he said before I left the jail.”

“He didn’t mean it, though, did he?”

“No more than you did.  What do you really think?”

“I think we’ve got something that looks a lot like another accident.”

“It’s not an accident,” Rhodes said.  “Not this time, for sure.”

“I don’t think so, either,” Ruth said.  “I said it
looks
like an accident.  And somebody went to a lot of trouble to make it look that way.  I might even believe it
was
an accident if it weren’t for —”

“— for the others,” Rhodes said, finishing her sentence for her.  “You can stretch coincidences only so far.  This wasn’t any accident.”

There were two empty whiskey bottles in the Toyota, one in the floor and one in the seat beside Overton.  The whole truck stank of liquor.  It was supposed to appear that Overton had been drinking heavily and had pulled off the road, either because he realized that he was too drunk to drive or because he wanted a smoke.

There was an empty Camel Filters package in the floor of the truck not far from the whiskey bottle.  Overton had been drunk, had spilled whiskey all over himself, and had tried to smoke a cigarette.  Either the flame from the butane lighter that was also on the floor had ignited the alcohol fumes or the cigarette had done that.  Or that was what someone wanted Rhodes to think.

Overton had been too drunk to get out of the truck or even to open a door or window.  He hadn’t really burned to death, or at least Rhodes didn’t think he had.  It was more likely that he’d suffocated, but it would take the autopsy to prove it.

Either way, his death had been highly unpleasant.

And it could even have been an accident.

But Rhodes didn’t believe it for a minute.  He could accept a hit-and-run.  Things like that happened now and then.  And people drowned, too.  People probably even caught on fire in their cars and either burned to death or suffocated.

But not in Blacklin County, not within weeks and days of one another.  Something was going on, and Rhodes was going to find out what it was.

He didn’t know exactly how, but he was determined that he was going to do it, one way or the other.

H
e started with Kara West, who once again asked if he had come with news about her husband.

“I’m afraid not,” Rhodes said.  “There’s been another accident.”

He told her about Overton, whom she professed never to have heard of until the previous Wednesday evening.

“So you heard Brother Alton’s sermon,” Rhodes said.

“No.  I don’t usually go to church on Wednesday.  But someone told me about it.  I knew that there had been some problems with the roof, of course.  Surely you don’t think Brother Alton had anything to do with this, do you?  He’s a minister of the gospel.”

Rhodes had known a minister or two that he thought might be capable of murder, and he’d once had a personal tussle with Brother Alton, who’d jumped on him from a tree.  You could never be sure what the preacher might do.  But there was no need to mention that to Mrs. West.

“What about your husband?” Rhodes asked.  “Did he know Overton?”

“I just don’t have any idea.  He might have known him.  Maybe he bought some auto parts from John.  I didn’t spend much time at the store.”

“And you never had any roofing done?”

“Never.  We bought this house five years ago, and the roof had just been replaced.  I don’t know who did the work.”

Rhodes didn’t suppose it mattered.  Kara West didn’t appear to have any connection with either Yeldell or Overton.  He told her that he would let her know as soon as he found out anything new about her husband’s death and left to visit the Free Will Church.

B
rother Alton was sitting in his office, reading his Bible.

“The judgment of the Lord is swift and sure,” he said when Rhodes came in.  “I told you that God would provide a judgment for Mr. Overton if you didn’t.”

“I remember that,” Rhodes said.  “And you told me that you’d help me and my deputies to see that no liquor was brought into the Old Settlers’ Grounds during the celebration.  What I’m wondering now is whether you helped God bring about that judgment on Randall Overton.”

Brother Alton closed his Bible.  “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“You said that before, too,” Rhodes reminded him.  “But did you help Him out?”

“I am a servant of the Lord,” Brother Alton said.  “And the commandment says, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’”

“And you wouldn’t break a commandment.”

“I didn’t say that.  Man is a weak reed, even a man devoted to the work of the Lord.  But the story I heard was that Mr. Overton died by accident.  Don’t people call accidents ‘acts of God’?”

“I don’t,” Rhodes said.  “And I don’t believe it was an accident.”

“I’m sorry you’re suspicious of me, Sheriff.  I admit that I’ve given you cause in the past, but I’ve repented of my sins and confessed them to my flock.”

“That’s not all you’ve been talking to your flock about.  I’d hate to find out that one of your members got it in mind to kill Overton after listening to your sermon last Wednesday night.”

“I didn’t tell them anything but the truth.”

“What exactly did you say, anyway?”

“I said that Randall Overton had robbed the church and that robbing the church was an affront to God.”

“And that’s all you said?”

“I might have said a bit more.  I don’t remember.”

“Let me help you out.  You called down the fire on him, didn’t you?”

“I might have said something about fire,” Brother Alton admitted.  “But if you think that I or someone in the church killed Mr. Overton, you’re forgetting your own good influence on him.”

“You mean my little talk with him did some good?”

“That’s right.  He came by on Thursday to say that he was going to finish the repairs this weekend.  He especially asked me to let you know that he’d been here and that he was going to do the job.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because he hadn’t done it yet.”  Brother Alton raised his eyes, either to the roof or to heaven.  Then he looked back at Rhodes.  “And now I guess he never will.”

Chapter Eighteen

I
t was getting on toward the middle of the afternoon when Rhodes left Brother Alton, and Rhodes had missed lunch again.  He thought about stopping by the Dairy Queen for a Blizzard, but he knew that if he did he’d feel guilty for the rest of the afternoon.  So instead he went by his house and ate a sandwich made of low-fat cheese and turkey bologna.

Rhodes supposed that turkey bologna was really just as tasty as the real thing to most people.  It probably tasted like its plastic packaging to him only because he knew it was made of turkey instead of pork lips, or whatever it was that they put into real bologna.  At least there was real Dr Pepper to wash it down with.

When he had finished eating, Rhodes tidied up the kitchen and went outside to see how his dog, Speedo, was doing.  The cold wind was moaning through the nearly bare limbs of the pecan trees in Rhodes’s yard, and dry leaves were blowing everywhere.  Rhodes hoped they’d all blow into his neighbor’s yard.  Raking leaves wasn’t one of his favorite pastimes.

Speedo was glad to see Rhodes, and unlike most humans Rhodes knew, Speedo didn’t mind so much when the north wind blew and the weather turned cold.  In fact, he enjoyed the cold.  He dashed around the yard for a few seconds and then brought Rhodes an old yellow squeeze toy that he liked to play with.  He dropped it at Rhodes’s feet and looked at him hopefully.