Bill Crider - Dan Rhodes 20 - Compound Murder (17 page)

“Sheriff Rhodes is here about Earl,” Janet said after the introduction. “I have to go back to my office now, Sheriff, but would you please stop by before you leave?”

Rhodes said he would and asked Francie if there was somewhere they could talk.

“Right here’s fine,” she said with a wave at the panels. “We adjuncts don’t get a lot of privacy. Pull up a chair.”

It seemed as if everyone wanted Rhodes to be comfortable, or maybe they didn’t want him looming. He located a metal chair by one of the other desks and pulled it over.

“You were a friend of Earl’s,” he said, sitting down. “How well did you know him?”

“Not very well,” Francie said. “Nobody did. He was hard to know, and he didn’t have a lot of friends. I kind of liked him, though.” She shrugged. “Maybe I felt sorry for him. I was a little jealous when he got a full-time job, but now that he’s dead, I really do feel sorry for him.”

“What can you tell me about him that might help me?” Rhodes asked.

“Not a thing. Who’d want to kill Earl? Nobody that I know.”

“It was more or less an accident, I think,” Rhodes said. “An argument that got out of hand.”

“Well, that I can believe. Earl liked to argue. One thing he didn’t mind was confrontations. I think he even liked them, courted them. Some people do, you know. Not me, though. I try to avoid them. You being a sheriff, I guess you don’t mind them.”

“I take them as they come, but I don’t go looking for them.”

“Earl did. Go looking for them, I mean. Okay, he didn’t do that exactly, but he gave his students such a tough time that he had plenty of them. He had them with the parents, too. And with Dr. Sandstrom.”

Rhodes would have to ask her about that. She’d shuffled him off to Francie before he got a chance.

“You visited him in Clearview, didn’t you,” Rhodes said.

Francie looked surprised. “How did you know that?”

“I’m a trained lawman. You drive a black Silverado?”

“I do. You must be a really good sheriff to have found that out already.”

If she wanted to think that, Rhodes would let her. No need to destroy her illusions.

“He was lonesome,” Francie said. “I just went once. He gave me a call and invited me down for dinner. I went. I’d just broken up with my boyfriend and didn’t have anything better to do. I’m back with my boyfriend now.”

“That’s good,” Rhodes said.

“I guess. Sometimes I wonder. Anyway, Earl and I ate barbecue at Max’s Place. You ever been there?”

“More than once,” Rhodes said.

“Some guy was singing that night. Open mic night, maybe. He had some interesting songs. You ever hear him?”

“More than once,” Rhodes said.

“Then you know what I mean. Anyway, in between songs Earl told me some of his troubles. He wasn’t getting along with his chairman for some reason or other. He wasn’t clear about it.”

Rhodes thought he knew.

“Maybe it was the plagiarism problem,” Francie continued. “Earl thought some kid had cheated on a paper. Earl couldn’t stand that kind of thing.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“He said he was going to get the kid,” Francie said. “He didn’t say how, though. You think it was the kid who killed him?”

“I hope not,” Rhodes said.

He talked to Francie for a while longer, but he didn’t find out anything more. He thanked her and went back to talk to Janet Sandstrom. The man at the other desk still hadn’t looked up.

Janet was in her office, but she told Rhodes that she had a class in fifteen minutes.

“I won’t keep you long,” he said. “I have to ask you about any clashes you might have had with Wellington.”

“I hope you don’t think I killed him.”

“I don’t. You probably had classes here yesterday, so you have the perfect alibi.”

“How exciting.” She didn’t look excited. “I’ve never needed an alibi before.”

“You don’t really need one now,” Rhodes said. “What about those conflicts?”

“Just the usual kind of thing. Students came in all the time about things he’d said in class, little sarcastic comments, things he thought were jokes but that came across as crude and insensitive.” She paused. “Earl
was
a bit crude and insensitive, but I don’t think he was aware of it. He lacked social skills. Maybe he had a mild case of Asperger’s syndrome. Do you know what that is?”

“It means lacking in social skills,” Rhodes said.

Janet laughed. “This time I know you’re kidding me, Sheriff. I’m sorry if I sounded condescending.”

“You didn’t. It was a logical thing to ask.”

“Maybe. Anyway, Earl had problems, but they weren’t terrible ones. He could get by, and he was a conscientious teacher. He kept good records—excellent records, in fact. He never missed his classes, and he turned his grades in on time. You might be surprised to hear that not everybody we hire for adjunct work is like that. There’s a good reason. We pay them very little, and we demand a lot. It’s hard to blame them if they’re a little lax, but Earl never was.”

“So you didn’t have any hesitation in recommending Wellington for a full-time job.”

“That’s right. He’d worked for several years here, and this was his chance to get paid an amount commensurate with his degree. He deserved it.”

“You were getting rid of a problem, too.”

Janet bristled. “That never entered into it.”

Rhodes believed her, or he believed that she believed herself. He nodded and stood up.

“Have I been any help at all?” Janet asked.

“You have,” Rhodes said, “and I appreciate your talking to me.”

“Before you go,” Janet said, “I have a favor to ask.”

Rhodes couldn’t imagine what sort of favor he could do for her, but he said, “I’ll help if I can.”

“I hoped you’d say that.”

Janet opened the top drawer on the left side of her desk and took out a book. Rhodes’s heart sank when he saw the title.
Piney Woods Terror Attack
.

“I know you didn’t write it,” Janet said, laying the book on her desk and opening it to the title page. “I hoped you wouldn’t mind signing it, though. Everybody says you’re the model for the main character.”

“You must be disappointed that I left my pearl-handled .45s in the car,” Rhodes said.

“Now you’re making fun of me again.”

“Not at all. I’ll be glad to sign the book.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Rhodes didn’t think he had any choice. “How do you want me to sign it?”

Janet handed him a pen. “Just your name and title would be great.”

Rhodes wrote “Sheriff Dan Rhodes” in the book and returned the pen.

“These books are really well written,” Janet said. She put
Piney Woods Terror Attack
back in the drawer. “Not that I plan to teach them in my classes, but I enjoy reading them. So do a lot of other people here.”

“I’m not anything like Sage Barton,” Rhodes said. “Just so you know.”

Janet looked him over. “You’re much too modest, Sheriff Rhodes. Much too modest.”

“Now who’s kidding whom?” Rhodes asked.

“Whom?”

“I’m not just some uneducated jerk,” Rhodes said.

Janet smiled. “You really are a kidder, Sheriff.”

“Not always,” Rhodes said.

Chapter 15

Driving back to Clearview, Rhodes wondered if his trip had been worthwhile. He decided that it had. While what he’d learned about Wellington hadn’t been entirely new, it had helped him fill in his ideas about the man. It had already been clear that Wellington had problems with students and administrators, but added to that was that he seemed to enjoy the confrontations that resulted. Maybe he even encouraged them. He didn’t have the social skills that would have helped him get along better with his colleagues and students, but he was a conscientious worker. He was more strict than most teachers and didn’t mind speaking to his students when they did the least thing he considered wrong. He was exactly the kind of person who might get into an argument that turned violent.

Wellington had even mentioned Ike Terrell to Francie Solomon and had said he was going to “get” him. Rhodes didn’t know what that meant, and Welllington was no longer around to tell him. Rhodes would have liked to ask him. It would have made things a lot easier.

Another thing that Rhodes had discovered was that Wellington’s chairperson at the main campus had given him a good recommendation because she believed he deserved it. The question was, had she been telling the truth? Rhodes thought she had. She seemed like someone who could handle the kind of problems that Wellington caused without too much difficulty, so she might have expected someone else to have the same capability. Not everybody did, however. Harris seemed to have a little trouble handling things, or at least he was building up resentment because of the problems in his department.

That reminded Rhodes that Francie Solomon had mentioned something about Wellington having a problem with Harris in Clearview. There had been the plagiarism thing, but she appeared to have been talking about something else, even if she didn’t know what it was. Wellington had trouble with everyone, though, so just one more might not make much difference.

It was a little before noon when Rhodes got back to Clearview, so he thought he’d stop by the college and see if he could talk to some people before they all left for the afternoon. He knew that lots of the instructors had evening classes, and those who did seldom spent much time on campus between lunch and the start of the later sessions. Also, there was no cafeteria in the building, so even the instructors who were there in the afternoon might leave the building to go home for lunch or to go to a restaurant.

Rhodes thought that Seepy Benton usually brought his own healthy lunch, whatever that might be. Green tea to drink, maybe, and vegetables to eat. Rhodes wasn’t into healthy lunches himself.

He got to the building just as the eleven o’clock class was ending, and the hall was full of students, most of them already chatting or texting on their cell phones as soon as they cleared the classroom door. Rhodes wondered if they were telling someone what they’d learned that day or how awesome their instructor was. He didn’t think it was likely, but anything was possible.

He went up to Seepy Benton’s office. The door was shut, so he waited, hoping that Seepy would show up soon. He did, only seconds later. He was followed by a student who was asking something about a chain rule and spatial variation and functions. Rhodes didn’t understand a word of it.

Benton evidently did, however. He greeted Rhodes, opened his office door, and invited Rhodes and the student in. Before they could get through the door, Benton was at the dry-erase board, writing something that looked like fractions, except with letters. As far as Rhodes was concerned, he might as well have been writing in ancient Greek. As he wrote, he talked, and the student was jotting things down on a pad that he held.

When Benton was finished, he asked the student if he understood. Evidently he did, and he left with a smile.

Benton watched him go. “That’s why I’m awesome,” he said. “Well, that’s
one
reason why I’m awesome. I can explain things so students understand them.”

“Can’t every teacher do that?” Rhodes asked.

“Could all of yours?”

“Maybe,” Rhodes said. “It’s been a long time. I can’t remember. That’s not why I’m here, though.”

“You’re here on our case,” Benton said. “I haven’t done a lot of investigating, but—”

“Stop right there,” Rhodes said. “You’re not supposed to be investigating. You’re not a deputy. You’re a college math teacher. You stick to that. It’s better for everybody.”

Benton looked pained. “But you need my help. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

“You can help me by not getting in the way of the investigation.”

“I wouldn’t do that. Didn’t you want to talk to some of the faculty members who were here when Wellington died?”

“Yes, but I didn’t want you to talk to them first.”

“I didn’t plan to.”

The words were hardly out of Benton’s mouth when Mary Mason appeared at his office door.

“Am I interrupting anything?” she asked.

“We were just talking about you,” Benton said.

“You were?” she asked.

“We were?” Rhodes asked.

“You wanted to talk to some of the people who hang out in the lounge in the mornings,” Benton said. “Mary’s one of them.”

Mary wore a light blue blouse and navy slacks, with a blue turquoise pendant and earrings. She had blue eyes, too, not that Rhodes was really paying attention.

“Let’s talk,” Rhodes said.

Benton cleared books and papers off the two office chairs for Rhodes and Mary to sit in. Benton sat at his desk and tried to be unobtrusive, which didn’t come easily for him.

Rhodes told Mary that he’d heard about Wellington being one of the early-morning visitors to the faculty lounge. She was one of those people who liked to talk, and that was enough to get her started.

“You should see it in the morning,” she said. “People line up at the coffeemaker with their cups in their hands. Some of them are even shaking a little. They just can’t wait for that first jolt of caffeine.” She laughed. “I should talk. After all, I’m one of them. Usually the first one in the line.”

“What about Earl Wellington?” Rhodes asked.

“He wasn’t one of the bunch,” Mary said. “Not really. He tried to be a couple of times, but it just never worked out. You know?”

Rhodes thought he knew, but he said, “I’d rather you told me.”

“He was kind of standoffish, if that’s the right word. He didn’t have much to say, and when he did say anything, it was kind of … odd. Just … off. I can’t really explain it, but when he tried to say something funny, it was never funny, and when he laughed at something someone else said, it was always too loud. Mostly, though, he didn’t laugh because he didn’t get the joke.”

“No social skills,” Rhodes said.

“That’s the truth. I think he was never a part of the group because he didn’t know how to be part of a group. He just couldn’t fit in, and after a while he stopped coming by. There was more to it than that, though. Earl was a smoker, and there’s no smoking in the building. He’d get coffee from a machine and drink it outside while he smoked.”