Half in Love with Artful Death (10 page)

Rhodes looked around the Beauty Shack. No one was paying him the least attention. Paula Jean was combing out her client's hair, and Abby was getting another client settled in front of a sink. Lonnie was greeting a client at the door. As soon as she was inside, Rhodes thanked Lonnie for the use of the phone and left.

*   *   *

The senior center didn't have many activities on Saturdays, so most of the cars parked along the block in front of the art gallery belonged to the artists or to the curious who'd come to see how the judging turned out.

Rhodes stood in the doorway and looked around. In the center of the gallery was a table with refreshments, some kind of punch, with crackers and cheese and vegetables set out on plates. Rhodes was not surprised to see Seepy Benton standing near the table. Benton liked to be near free food. He was talking to Jennifer Loam, who appeared to be listening intently. It was just as well that Andy Shelby wasn't there.

The room hummed with conversation. Don McClaren was showing someone one of the paintings that had a blue ribbon hanging from the frame. The painting was colorful, Rhodes had to admit that, with various shades of pink and red and blue, and some white thrown in occasionally. It didn't look like anything that Rhodes had ever seen before, and he figured that might be a point in its favor.

Eric Stewart and Marilyn Bradley were standing with Dr. King, the college dean, a tall woman with lacquered hair that Rhodes thought was an unnatural shade of black. Someday he'd ask Lonnie about that, though Lonnie might not want to tell him. If it didn't involve murder, Rhodes was willing to admit that confidentiality might be all right. Marilyn seemed quite agitated, and Rhodes wished he could hear what was being said.

Seepy caught sight of Rhodes, and he and Jennifer Loam came over to the door.

“Come on in,” Seepy said. “Have some punch.”

“While you're drinking it, you can tell me all about Burt Collins,” Jennifer said.

“How did you find out?” Rhodes asked.

“It was easy. I'm a reporter.”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“Just me,” Seepy said. “She knows I can be trusted, since I'm the model for Sage Barton.”

“That was an item I hadn't uncovered,” Jennifer said. “Why didn't you tell me, Sheriff? It should've been obvious to me, considering the initials, but it was the martial arts moves that clinched it.”

Seepy made an attempt to look modest and failed miserably. Modesty wasn't his best trait.

“I'm glad the truth is out,” Rhodes said. “Now maybe people will stop asking me about that character.”

“I wouldn't count on it,” Jennifer said. “After all, Sage Barton is a sheriff, while Dr. Benton is a math teacher.”

“And a darn good one,” Seepy said. “As of today, you can add award-winning painter to that list.”

“You won a prize?” Rhodes couldn't quite keep the surprise out of his voice. “I thought your painting was damaged.”

“Well, not first prize, but I did get a ribbon. The judges met and decided not to let the vandalism affect their decisions. They'd judge the painting by the way it looked before the vandalism.”

“I guess that's only fair,” Rhodes said, “as long as they could tell what the original was.”

“They'd seen them already,” Seepy said. “They knew what they looked like before they were vandalized, so they could make an informed decision.”

“Who were the judges?” Rhodes asked, but before Seepy could answer, Jennifer broke in.

“You're very sly, Sheriff,” she said, “but you're not fooling me.”

Rhodes tried to look puzzled, with about as much success as Seepy had when he'd tried to look modest. “Fooling you?”

“You know what I mean. You've managed to get the conversation well away from Burt Collins and what happened to him last night.”

Rhodes started to say that he'd had plenty of help from Seepy in leading the conversation, but then they'd be right back to Sage Barton. So Rhodes tried another tack.

“I don't know what happened to him,” he said.

“You know he's dead, and you know he didn't die of natural causes.”

That wasn't technically true. Rhodes hadn't seen an autopsy report, so he didn't know the exact cause of death. He had what he considered a pretty good guess, but until it was official, a guess was all he had.

“Not exactly,” Rhodes said.

“You're investigating his death, though. Or your deputies are. I saw two county cars at Collins's house this morning.”

“We have to look at every angle,” Rhodes said.

“I'll help you,” Benton said. “Do you know how many hits the video of the riot yesterday has had already? Thanks to me and my martial arts skills.”

“How many?” Rhodes asked, glad to change the subject.

“A lot,” Benton said. “How can I help with the investigation?”

“You can tell me who the judges were, to start with.”

“Don McClaren and Eric Stewart.”

That made sense. McClaren was an art teacher and an artist, and Stewart was the one who ran the gallery. He'd know at least a little bit about art.

“Now that we have that out of the way,” Benton said, “do you want to give me a badge and swear me in?”

Rhodes wasn't paying much attention to Benton, as the conversation among McClaren, Stewart, Dr. King, and Marilyn Bradley had become heated. Rhodes thought it might be a good idea to see what was going on.

Before he could get to them, riot number two had begun.

 

Chapter 9

Rhodes, of course, wouldn't have called it a riot, but Jennifer Loam did on her video account of it, so that's the way it was later viewed in the county. Rhodes had to admit that it did involve the throwing of vegetables and a good bit of yelling, though he still didn't believe that flung vegetables and some loud voices constituted a riot.

The person doing most of the yelling was Marilyn Bradley, and she was yelling at Don McClaren and Eric Stewart, both of whom backed away from her and started edging toward the doorway into the back part of the building, that one being the nearest to them.

Marilyn was right behind them, and as she passed the food table, she picked up one of the plates of vegetables. She then used the vegetables as missiles. Broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots sailed through the air.

If she'd had good aim and hit only her intended targets—that is, if McClaren and Stewart were indeed the targets—things might not have gotten out of hand. However, she also hit some of the others in the room, so they decided to join in the fun by hurling vegetables of their own. Crackers were also involved.

Rhodes thought that Dean King might have prevented Marilyn's actions before they got out of hand, but instead the dean just stood and watched in amazement. So did everyone else who wasn't throwing something, so it was up to Rhodes to put a stop to things.

By the time he got to Marilyn, Stewart and McClaren had escaped into the rear of the building, pulling the door shut behind them. Marilyn stood in front of the door, still yelling but no longer tossing vegetables. Others were, however, and Rhodes had to slap aside a couple of cauliflower florets and some broccoli on his way to her.

He snatched the platter away from Marilyn and handed it to Benton, who was following along right behind him.

“Hold that,” Rhodes said.

Jennifer Loam was there, too, her little camera recording everything. Rhodes was starting to have serious doubts about the new forms of journalism.

“You want me to subdue her?” Benton asked.

Rhodes knew he meant Marilyn, but for one unworthy second he wondered what would happen if Jennifer were subdued and her camera confiscated.

“No,” he said. “Move away.”

Something in his tone must have gotten through to both Benton and Jennifer, and they stepped back so Rhodes could confront Marilyn.

“What's the matter with you?” Rhodes asked.

The noise behind him died down, and no more vegetables flew through the air. Quite a few of them lay on the floor, though.

“I'm upset,” Marilyn said. Her body was taut, and her orange hair was even wilder than before, as if it might be reflecting her mood. “I needed to vent.”

“This isn't exactly a good time or place for that,” Rhodes said.

“I know,” Marilyn said. Some of the tension went out of her body. “It was a mistake to let myself lose it like that.”

Rhodes looked around. Everyone was watching them. Benton stood there holding the platter.

“It's okay,” he told Marilyn. “Just a little error in judgment.” To Benton he said, “See if you can find anything left to eat and eat it.”

He turned back to Marilyn. “We can't talk here. We'll go outside.”

He took her arm to be sure she went with him and guided her through the curious crowd and out to the sidewalk. He was glad Benton and Jennifer hadn't tried to follow.

“I'm sorry,” Marilyn said as soon as they were out the door. “That was terrible behavior, and I let my temper get the better of me. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I'm not in that business,” Rhodes said. “I just try to keep the peace. You're not making it easy for me.”

“I know, and I apologize. I really am sorry. I want to apologize to the judges, too.”

“What got you started in the first place? Did they say something?”

“I don't want to talk about it. I've apologized to you, and I'll apologize to them. Isn't that enough?”

Rhodes thought it over. No real harm had been done, and maybe it was a private matter. He looked through the door and saw that Stewart and McClaren had come back into the gallery. They were talking to Dr. King and taking an occasional glance outside.

“All right,” Rhodes said. “We'll go back inside so you can apologize.”

“Do I have to do it now? I'm really embarrassed.”

“You have to do it now,” Rhodes said.

Marilyn stood where she was. “I can't.”

“Sure you can. Let's go.”

Rhodes went through the door, hoping that Marilyn would follow him. He didn't want to put his hand on her this time. She might get upset and start throwing things at him if he did.

He needn't have worried. She caught up with him and walked beside him over to where McClaren, Stewart, and Dr. King stood. Everyone else in the room was careful to ignore them except for Seepy Benton and Jennifer Loam, who made no attempt to conceal their curiosity. They stayed well away, however.

McClaren and Stewart looked a bit wary of Marilyn, but she said, “I'm very sorry for what I did. It was stupid and silly. I don't blame anyone but myself. I want to apologize.”

Rhodes thought that sounded all right, but McClaren and Stewart still appeared a little bit put off by Marilyn. Finally Stewart said, “Well, then, I accept your apology. Let's just forget all about it.”

Rhodes didn't think that was possible. No matter what people said, they never forgot all about it.

“I accept, too,” McClaren said. “Let's see if we can get some of this mess cleaned up and carry on with the ceremony.”

“Ceremony?” Rhodes said. “What ceremony?”

“The announcement of the winners,” Stewart said. “The ribbons are on the paintings, but the official announcement hasn't been made.”

Rhodes didn't think he'd stay around for that. What he'd come for was a word with Seepy Benton. He looked around and saw Benton talking to Loam again.

“Excuse me,” Rhodes said. “I have to speak to someone.”

He left McClaren and Stewart with Marilyn and went over to Benton.

“Come outside for a minute,” Rhodes said, taking Benton's arm. “I need to ask you some questions.”

“What about?” Jennifer asked.

“Nothing you'd be interested in,” Rhodes said. “They're about to announce the winners. You'll want to get video of that.”

“I'm one of the winners,” Benton said.

“I won't keep you long,” Rhodes told him, giving him a gentle tug on his arm. “Come on.”

Benton went with him out of the building. “I really need to get back inside,” he said.

“In a minute. They have to get the vegetables off the floor before the announcement. You don't need to help with that. Tell me about the reception last night.”

“It was very nice. I was dressed to the nines. I even wore leather shoes.”

“I didn't want a fashion report. I want to know who was there. I want to know especially about Marilyn Bradley, Eric Stewart, Lonnie Wallace, and Don McClaren.”

“Why them? What's this about?”

“I'm just trying to find out if they all have alibis.”

“Alibis? I thought you told Jennifer you didn't know the cause of death for sure.”

“I don't. That is, I don't have an official cause of death. What I
think
happened was that somebody hit Burt in the head with a bust of Dale Earnhardt.”

“Junior or Senior?”

“Does it matter?

“It does to NASCAR fans.”

“Junior, then. Don't mention any of this to Jennifer Loam. Or to anyone else, for that matter.”

Seepy touched his lips with his forefinger. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good,” Rhodes said. “Now what about the alibis?”

“Well, all the people you named were there, if that's what you mean.”

“From when until when?”

“The reception started at seven, and just about everybody was there on time. You know how these things are. Everybody was gone by nine thirty or ten.”

Rhodes thought about that. He'd found Burt about eleven thirty, and Burt had been dead for a while. Not long, maybe an hour, and it would be hard to establish a more exact time of death. It seemed to Rhodes that anyone who'd been at the reception could've killed him. So much for Lonnie's alibi.

“Nobody hung around to clean up?”