Ghost of a Chance
Table of Contents
A
G
HOST
OF A
C
HANCE
A
LSO BY
B
ILL
C
RIDER
S
HERIFF
D
AN
R
HODES
B
OOKS
Death by Accident
Winning Can Be Murder
Murder Most Fowl
Booked for a Hanging
Evil at the Root
Death on the Move
Cursed to Death
Shotgun Saturday Night
Too Late to Die
P
ROFESSOR
C
ARL
B
URNS
M
YSTERIES
A Dangerous Thing
Dying Voices
One Dead Dean
O
THERS
Murder Is an Art
The Texas Capital Murders
Blood Marks
A
G
HOST
OF A
C
HANCE
A S
HERIFF
D
AN
R
HODES
M
YSTERY
B
ILL
C
RIDER
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS
ST.MARTIN’S MINOTAUR
NEW YORK
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS
.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
A GHOST OF A CHANCE
. Copyright © 2000 by Bill Crider. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Crider, Bill.
A ghost of a chance / Bill Crider.—1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 0-312-20889-8 ISBN: 978-0-312-20889-9
1. Rhodes, Dan (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Sheriffs—Fiction. 3. Texas—
Fiction. I. Title.
PS3553.R497 G48 2000
813′.54—dc21
00-027163
First Edition: July 2000
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
This Book Is Dedicated to
the Memory of
D
ON
S
ANDSTROM
,
The Guy in the Plain Brown
Wrapper
A
G
HOST
OF A
C
HANCE
1
S
HERIFF DAN RHODES DIDN’T BELIEVE THAT THE BLACKLIN
County Jail was haunted. Neither did Lawton, the jailer.
But the dispatcher, Hack Jensen, said that it didn’t make any difference what they believed.
“Those fellas back there in the cells believe it,” he said. “And that’s all that matters.”
Lawton was leaning with one shoulder on the frame of the door that led to the lower cellblock. He had his hands clasped around the handle of the push broom that he held in front of him, right hand high, left hand low. He had a hard round stomach, and his olive-drab coveralls were a little strained across the middle.
It had been threatening rain all day. There was a flash of lightning outside, followed by a roll of thunder that rattled the windows.
“Good day for ghosts,” Lawton said. “I remember that we had some dealin’s with a haint not so long ago. In that college out there at Obert.”
Rhodes wondered just what Lawton meant by
we
, since the way he remembered it, he was the only one who’d really been involved in that little incident. But Rhodes knew better than to say anything. If he did, he’d just hurt Lawton’s feelings.
Hack, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care whose feelings he hurt.
“Wasn’t a ghost,” he said. “Just a dead man.”
Lawton shifted his weight on his short legs. “Dead man’s just about the next thing to a ghost, I guess. You could look it up on that computer of yours.”
Hack was the dispatcher, and he had argued for years that the jail needed a computer. Now that he had one, he was inordinately proud of the things it could do. Lawton, who wasn’t as enamored of technology as Hack was, liked to tease him about the new machine.
Hack grinned. “That’s right. I could look it up, all right. If I wanted to.”
“Right. It’s all part of the information in that GCIC thing.”
Hack stopped grinning. Rhodes knew why. Hack didn’t like for anyone to make slighting remarks about the computer. At the beginning of the Obert college case, Hack had explained to Lawton about the computer’s link to the National Crime Investigation Center, and Lawton had suggested that they tap into the Ghost Crime Investigation Center for some up-to-date information on what was going on in Obert. Hack hadn’t thought it was funny.
“There’s no such thing as the GCIC,” Hack said now. “And you know it. But I can by God find out about jailhouse ghosts on the Internet.”
The jail’s Internet connection was new. Hack had suggested it to Rhodes, who had seen the value of it and had signed the jail up with a provider.
“All right, let’s see what you can find,” Lawton said, pushing his broom over to Hack’s desk.
There was another rumble of thunder. The windows shook in their frames.
“Maybe I oughta unplug the computer,” Hack said. “Wouldn’t want to take a chance on it getting hit by lightning.”
