Murder Among the OWLS (6 page)
Read Murder Among the OWLS Online
Authors: Bill Crider
“Did anything happen while you were there?”
Billy Joe nodded again and went inside his house. Rhodes waited, since he hadn't been asked to follow. He looked at the poker-playing dogs, who seemed to be having much more fun than Rhodes was. Maybe that was because they couldn't smell the dump. Rhodes wondered if they were playing Texas Hold 'Em, which seemed to be the latest fad. Which reminded Rhodes of Leonard Thorpe, who had more than once been in trouble for illegal gambling. He'd set up some poker tournaments in his trailer, planning to turn a profit on them. An anonymous tipster always turned him in, and Rhodes had raided three of the proposed tournaments.
When Billy Joe came back, he was holding an old electric fan. Rhodes asked what it was, and Billy Joe explained in his roundabout way that he'd found it outside Mrs. Harris's back fence. She'd put it out to be picked up by the trash truck, but Billy Joe had found it first.
Rhodes had no idea what Billy Joe would do with a fan, since his house didn't even have electricity, but Billy Joe seemed quite happy with his find. No matter how many different ways Rhodes approached the topic of Mrs. Harris, however, Billy Joe couldn't, or wouldn't, tell him anything more about what he'd seen in the neighborhood.
After a few fruitless minutes, Rhodes gave up and told Billy Joe that it had been a pleasure to talk with him.
“Me ⦠too,” Billy Joe said, which Rhodes interpreted to mean that Billy Joe had enjoyed the conversation, no matter how tortured it had been. Probably not too many people took the time to have a conversation with Billy Joe. It was too frustrating for them.
Rhodes walked back to the county car. The smell of the dump was out of his nostrils, and he was thinking about lunch when the radio crackled.
“You anywhere near the trailer park?” Hack said.
“Close enough. Why?”
“You'd better get over there.”
“What's the problem?”
“Some fella runnin' around with a chain saw.”
Rhodes had already turned the car in the direction of the mobile-home park. “Is his name Leatherface?”
“Nope, but he's actin' like it was, chasin' some other fella around the park and sayin' he's gonna cut him up in pieces and wrap the parts up for sale.”
“Call Ruth for backup,” Rhodes said.
“She's already on the way. You're the backup. Watch out for your hands and feet.”
“I'll try to remember,” Rhodes said. “If it's not Leatherface, who is it?”
“Leonard Thorpe,” Hack said.
THE ENTRANCE TO THE TRANQUILITY MOBILE HOME PARK HAD A white brick wall on each side, with flowers planted in front. The brick had recently been cleaned and dazzled in the sunlight.
At the front of the park, the trailers were all new. They had awnings over the doors, with little lawns and flower beds in front. A couple of them even had small fishponds with fountains in them, and several had aboveground pools in the back. But the farther from the entrance Rhodes drove, the more run-down the trailers became.
At the very back of the park were the trailers that had been there from the park's opening, at least thirty years earlier. Some had sides streaked with rust. Others had green and black mildew growing on them. The skirts around many of them were either only partially intact or gone completely. One or two of the trailers had been kept up well, and their small yards and flower beds were
the equal of any in the front of the park, but mostly the lawns were scraggly and weedy, more dirt than grass.
the equal of any in the front of the park, but mostly the lawns were scraggly and weedy, more dirt than grass.
Rhodes saw Ruth's county car parked near one of the oldest trailers in the place. Thorpe's trailer. Rhodes stopped behind the county car.
A small crowd had gathered in front of the car, surrounding Ruth. People were talking loud, and some of them were laughing. A couple of dogs barked and frisked around the edges of the group.
When Rhodes got out of his car, he could hear the roar of a gas-powered chain saw above the babble, but he couldn't tell where the sound was coming from. He walked over to join Ruth, who pointed at a small wooded area in back of the mobile-home park. The trees were close together, and vines of wild grapes hung from some of the limbs.
Though he could still hear the saw, Rhodes didn't see either the saw or the man wielding it.
“They're back in the trees,” someone said in Rhodes's ear. “They'll show up in a minute.”
“Who?” Rhodes said to Ruth.
“I'm not sure,” she told him.
“It's that Thorpe fella,” said the voice in Rhodes's ear.
Rhodes turned to see who was talking to him. The man must have been around seventy. He was tall, skinny, and his cheeks were as pink as if he'd just shaved, which might have been the case. Rhodes smelled Aqua Velva.
“You sure?” Rhodes said.
“Sure I'm sure.” The man pointed. “I live in that trailer right over there.”
Rhodes wasn't sure what that was supposed to tell him.
“Next door to Thorpe,” the man said. “Name's Sherman, Gid Sherman.”
He offered his hand. Rhodes shook it, thinking that the man's voice sounded familiar. He might well be the anonymous caller who had turned Thorpe in for gambling.
While Rhodes was thinking this over, someone yelled, “Here they come!”
A man ran from the cover of the trees. He was old, but he was moving along at a pretty good clip. Rhodes didn't blame him, since Thorpe was right behind with the chain saw, which was getting louder now that it was closer.
“Shoot him, Sheriff!” someone called out. “He's gaining!”
Ruth turned to Rhodes. “Want me to shoot him?”
“I don't think he's gaining, but keep your gun handy,” Rhodes said. “Isn't that Alton Brant he's chasing?”
It was, and the Korean War vet was high-stepping it when he passed the little crowd. He was flat of stomach and clear of eye, and he didn't even seem to be breathing hard.
Thorpe wasn't much younger than Brant. He wore cutoff jeans and a Harley-Davidson T-shirt. Rhodes didn't think Thorpe owned a motorcycle, but it was the thought that counted. Thorpe was still muscular enough to fill out the shirt in the right way, with a flat stomach and wide chest. The T-shirt was soaked with sweat from Thorpe's exertions, and his face was red, but he was a handsome man, not movie-star handsome, but rugged. Iron-gray hair showed on the sides of his head not covered by the Houston Astros cap he wore.
When Brant went past, Rhodes moved out from the crowd and
stood in Thorpe's path. Thorpe saw him and came to a shambling stop. His mouth was open, and he took deep, gasping breaths.
stood in Thorpe's path. Thorpe saw him and came to a shambling stop. His mouth was open, and he took deep, gasping breaths.
“What's the trouble?” Rhodes had to raise his voice to be heard over the roar of the saw.
It took Thorpe a few seconds to catch his breath. When he did, he said, “Get out of my way, Sheriff.”
Rhodes didn't move. Thorpe revved the chain saw and made a feint at him. Rhodes smelled gas and hot oil.
“Assault with a deadly weapon,” Rhodes said. “You don't need that on your record.”
“You can't fool me, Sheriff.” Thorpe revved the saw again. “It's too late to keep that off my record.”
Rhodes wondered if he should tell Ruth to shoot him, but the crowd was milling around, and some of them were already behind Thorpe. No good would come from firing a pistol in a situation like that.
Thorpe jumped forward, thrusting the saw at Rhodes. Rhodes jumped backward, watching the spinning chain and remembering for some reason a cartoon he'd once seen where a character was sliced in half.
The crowd moved back, too, sucking in a collective breath. Rhodes figured they were having a great day. Nothing like a good chain-saw fight to break the monotony.
He thought of the cartoon again. He had a feeling he wouldn't be nearly as bloodless as the cartoon character had been if he was split in half, and he wouldn't go back together quite so easily, either.
Thorpe raised the saw into the air, and Rhodes thought maybe he was going to give up. Thorpe fooled him, however. He rushed forward.
Rhodes made a clumsy move backward and turned his ankle. He fell to the ground and looked up to see the saw swinging down at him. He rolled away, but the saw took a little of his shirt and scraped some skin off his back before hitting the ground and throwing chunks of dirt into the air all around.
Thorpe lost his balance and almost lost his grip on the saw, but he managed to keep his feet as Rhodes rolled over again and grabbed the bumper of Ruth's county car to pull himself up.
He heard Ruth yell for Thorpe to freeze, but he held up his hand. He didn't want anybody to get killed, not even Thorpe, not if it could be prevented.
The crowd had moved a good distance away now. Rhodes didn't blame them. When there's a man with a chain saw and a deputy with a pistol, the sensible thing to do is get away.
“Listen, Thorpe,” Rhodes said. “You're already in enough trouble as it is. Put down the saw and don't make things any worse.”
“I've assaulted an officer,” Thorpe said. “How could it get any worse?”
“You could kill me.”
“I might have to do that unless you'll let me leave.”
“Leave?”
“Let me go after Brant. He's the one I want. After I take care of him, I'll let you arrest me. I'm not gonna hurt anybody else.”
“You're not going to hurt him, either.”
“I am, by God. I'll take care of him one piece at a time. You can't stop me.”
Ruth had assumed the shooting stance, feet spread slightly, both hands gripping her pistol. If Rhodes nodded, she'd shoot.
Most likely she'd wound Thorpe, but there was always the chance that she might kill him, and then they'd have a dead body on their hands. Or she might miss and hit one of the bystanders. That would lead to no end of report writing. Thorpe wasn't worth it, although for the moment, Rhodes didn't see any other way to handle him.
Most likely she'd wound Thorpe, but there was always the chance that she might kill him, and then they'd have a dead body on their hands. Or she might miss and hit one of the bystanders. That would lead to no end of report writing. Thorpe wasn't worth it, although for the moment, Rhodes didn't see any other way to handle him.
“Everybody leave,” Rhodes said. “Right now. Get back in your homes and stay there until this is over.”
He heard a lot of grumbling, but people began to move away, except for one man. Alton Brant was back, walking calmly through the crowd with a long-handled shovel. Rhodes thought he knew what Brant had in mind, and he decided not to discourage him.
“What's all this about, anyway, Mr. Thorpe?” Rhodes said. “Why are you after Brant?”
“I like that
mister
. Nice and polite. But it doesn't change the fact that what this is about is my business. Now you and your deputy just back off, and we'll call it quits.”
mister
. Nice and polite. But it doesn't change the fact that what this is about is my business. Now you and your deputy just back off, and we'll call it quits.”
Rhodes's skin was stinging a little where the saw had scraped him. He wondered if Thorpe really believed he'd back off.
“You know I can't do that. I have to enforce the laws, and you've broken about ten of them.”
“I'm gonna break me a few more before I'm done here.”
By that time Brant was directly behind Thorpe and not more than ten feet away. The noise of the saw was more than loud enough to cover his approach as long as Thorpe was concentrating on Rhodes.
“You can't just cut somebody into pieces and then walk away,” Rhodes said.
Thorpe grinned. “I don't give a damn what happens after I cut him up. You can lock me in your hoosegow and throw away the key for all I care.”
“You wouldn't like it there,” Rhodes said, wondering how long it had been since he'd heard the word
hoosegow
.
hoosegow
.
Thorpe opened his mouth to say something further, but he didn't get a word out before Brant slammed the metal scoop of the shovel into the back of his head. The shovel landed with a satisfactory clang, and Thorpe pitched forward.
As he did, the chain saw flew from his limp fingers, straight at Rhodes.
The saw stopped operating as soon as Thorpe released the trigger, which made it less dangerous but still capable of causing serious damage.
Rhodes dodged aside, and the saw hit the hood of the county car, sliding up to the windshield, removing the white paint and leaving a long, jagged metallic scar.
The scar bothered Rhodes almost as much as Thorpe's lying facedown about four feet away from him. He'd have to explain the scar to the county commissioners, who wouldn't be happy about having to pay for it.
Thorpe moaned, and Rhodes turned to look at him. He twitched a little, moaned again, and lay still.
“I hope I didn't hit him too hard,” Alton Brant said.
“Did you dent the shovel?” Rhodes said.
Brant turned the shovel in his hands and looked at the bottom of the scoop. “Nope. Not in the least.”
“We'd better call the ambulance, anyway,” Ruth Grady said, walking over to stand beside Rhodes. “We don't want to take any chances with him and get sued.”
“If anybody gets sued, it'll be me,” Brant said. “I'm the one who hit him.”
“He's the kind who'll sue anybody that's handy,” Rhodes said. “Especially the county.”
The commissioners wouldn't like that, either, Rhodes thought, so it was best not to let it happen. He told Ruth to call for the ambulance.
“Want me to get the first-aid kit for your back?”
Rhodes told her that his back would be okay. “Just a scratch.” Then he looked around and saw that most of the crowd had left, either to avoid being sued or because all the fun was over. Even the two dogs were gone.
One of the few people still hanging around was the man who'd spoken to Rhodes earlier. He looked at Rhodes but didn't speak. He turned and walked away.
Rhodes didn't have time for him at the moment. He knelt down and checked to make sure that Thorpe was breathing and that he had a pulse. Satisfied that Thorpe was doing all right, Rhodes stood up to talk to Brant.
“What was that all about?” He motioned to the chain saw with his thumb. The saw still lay on the hood of the county car, right next to the windshield at the end of the ugly scratch.
“It was my fault,” Brant said, and Rhodes knew he wasn't talking about the scratch.
Brant's gray hair was cut so close to the top of his head that only a bit of stubble showed. He appeared to be almost bald, but Rhodes could see that he actually had a lot of hair, or would if he'd let it grow. His voice had an edge of command that might long ago have ordered soldiers into battle. Or maybe not. Rhodes didn't remember if Brant had been an officer during the war.
“Thorpe was the one with the chain saw,” Rhodes pointed out. “That wasn't your fault.”
“No, but I'm the one who started it all.” Brant's face became mournful. “I came out here and accused him of killing Helen.”
“Now why would you do a thing like that?”
“I don't know. It was a stupid stunt. I should have known he wouldn't take it well.”
“You probably didn't figure on the chain saw, though.”
Brant tried to grin, but it didn't quite work. “No, I didn't figure on that. I'm just glad he didn't have a gun.”
“He probably has one somewhere or other in his trailer.”
“If he does, I was lucky we were outside when I accused him and it wasn't handy.”
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