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Authors: Bill Crider

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Police Procedural

The Wild Hog Murders (17 page)

BOOK: The Wild Hog Murders
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“Nope. What happened to him?”

“The hog chased him.”

Winston started to laugh, then stopped and put his hand to his head. “He might still be running, then.”

“He might be,” Rhodes said. “Unless somebody caught him.”

Chapter 16

Nobody had caught Fowler, and he came back before the EMTs arrived. By that time Garver was sitting up and talking. He seemed fine, except for the big knot on the back of his head, but Rhodes insisted that he and Winston sit where they were until they got some medical attention. Fowler went off to see if he could bring back the dogs.

The EMTs came, and they ragged on Rhodes a while for having called them out three nights in a row.

“We’re gonna charge extra for going into the woods from now on,” one of them said. His name was Charlie, and he’d been on all three calls.

“The county would be glad to pay it,” Rhodes told him, and Charlie laughed at the ridiculousness of that idea.

After Winston and Garver were taken away to be checked at the hospital, Fowler came back with the dogs. They’d lost the hog or gotten tired of chasing him. Rhodes didn’t know which and didn’t care. He and Fowler took them to Fowler’s pickup and transferred the carriers to it.

“I’ll take ’em home, but what about Winston and Garver’s vehicles?” Fowler asked.

“I can call the wrecker,” Rhodes said, “or Winston and Garver can pick them up tomorrow.”

“You think they’ll be all right out here tonight?”

“I can’t vouch for that,” Rhodes said.

“I guess we’ll just have to take the chance. These dogs are all I can handle.” Fowler looked at Rhodes. “I think I’ve about had my fill of hog hunting for a while.”

“I expect Garver and Winston feel the same way.”

“Probably do. I’m sorry I messed up tonight. I was scared. You’re not gonna arrest me, are you?”

“I thought about it. You might have killed somebody. Didn’t you even think about that?”

“I wasn’t shooting to hit ’em,” Fowler said. “Just to scare ’em.”

That would make as good a defense as any if Rhodes pressed charges. He wouldn’t waste his time doing that, though. It would probably all come to nothing in the end. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to let Fowler worry about it for a little while longer.

“I’ll think it over,” Rhodes said. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow if I decide to do anything.”

“Yeah,” Fowler said. “All right. I wasn’t trying to shoot anybody, though. Just put a scare in ’em.”

“I hear you,” Rhodes said.

That didn’t mean he believed it, though.

*   *   *

Rhodes stayed around for a few minutes after Fowler left, just in case Rapper and Nellie decided to come back.

They had to have been the two men on the motorcycles. It could have been someone else, sure, but what were the odds? Rhodes didn’t think coincidence could extend that far, and he didn’t know of any other motorcycles connected with the murders.

The question now was whether Rapper figured he’d had his revenge or if something more was to come. Knowing Rapper as he did, Rhodes would have bet on the something more.

Rhodes thought of another question, too. Had Garver and Winston been singled out? After those two were down, Rapper and Nellie had scooted without even trying to find Fowler and Rhodes.

It was possible that they figured they’d pushed their luck far enough already, but it was also possible that they’d taken care of the ones they’d come after. Rhodes needed to find out what Ruth Grady had learned about Garver when she checked his background.

What he needed more than that, however, was something to tie the two killings together. Even more importantly, he needed to find out what had happened on the night Baty was killed. It wouldn’t hurt to find a motive for Baty’s killing. That might be the clue Rhodes was looking for, the thread that would stitch everything together.

Rhodes was sure that sooner or later he’d catch hold of the thread. He just hoped it was sooner.

The night was cool and quiet. The big harvest moon was high in the sky, and the thin clouds threw dark shadows on the silvery ground. Rhodes heard nothing that sounded like motorcycles, so he got in the county car and headed for home.

He hadn’t gone more than a quarter of a mile down the county road when he
did
hear something that sounded like motorcycles. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw two headlights. They were coming up on him fast.

Rhodes couldn’t outrun them because the motorcycles were a lot more maneuverable on the curving road. He wondered what Rapper and Nellie had in mind.

He found out all too soon. Both bikes roared up beside him, one behind the other, and started edging him toward the ditch on his left.

The riders wore helmets with the visors pulled down, but there was no doubt that Nellie and Rapper were under the helmets. Their builds were the giveaway: Rapper short and potbellied, Nellie thinner and taller.

Rhodes had two choices. He could try nudging them back, or he could go into the ditch.

If he nudged them back, he might cause them to flip over.

If he went into the ditch, he was the one likely to flip over.

He had air bags and a seat belt. Nellie and Rapper weren’t protected, but they were the ones who’d picked the fight. He was an officer of the law, and they weren’t. It was a tough choice. He’d have to think about it.

They pulled closer to the car, and both men kicked out with their booted right feet and struck the side of the car. Rhodes eased over a little bit more to the left.

He slowed down. So did the riders. He wondered what they’d do if he stopped. What
could
they do? Run? Stand and fight him?

He decided he’d find out. He put his foot on the brake, and the car slowed.

Rapper and Nellie slowed, too. They kicked the car even harder, and Rhodes knew they were denting it. What with the dent the hog had made in it and the missing windshield wiper blade, he was running up quite a repair bill for the county. Mikey Burns would feel like it was coming out of his own pocket, too, but Rhodes wasn’t worried about him at the moment.

Rhodes had come almost to a stop. The kicking was continuous and so hard it was shaking the car. Stopping wasn’t such a great idea, but something else occurred to Rhodes. He was going slow enough for it to work if he was careful.

He pushed the accelerator to the floor. The car’s tires spun on the dirt. Then they caught, and the car jumped forward. Nellie and Rapper kept pace, but Rhodes fooled them. He didn’t stick to the road. Instead, he turned into the ditch.

He bumped along for a short distance with two tires in the ditch and two on the road. Then when he thought the time was right, he moved all the way down into the ditch. The car slashed through weeds that were as high as the hood. They slapped the car and stained the paint as Rhodes mowed them down.

Rapper followed Rhodes into the ditch. Nellie was right behind him. That was a mistake, as Rapper discovered when Rhodes slammed on the brakes.

The county car slid along on the weeds for a few feet after Rhodes applied the brakes, but Rapper slid faster, and his bike struck the car’s rear bumper. The bike went over on its side, with Rapper under it.

Nellie had been going more slowly and was able to come to a stop. Rhodes jumped out of the car while Rapper was crawling out from under his bike. He didn’t try to right it. He yowled with what must have been pain and hobbled over to Nellie. Nellie dragged him onto the back of his bike and took off.

Rhodes stood and watched them go. He could add himself to the number of people Rapper blamed for his brother’s death, though Rhodes had been pretty sure already that he was on the list.

He left the bike where it was and went back to the jail.

*   *   *

“Did you see the six o’clock news?” Hack asked when Rhodes walked in.

“Shoot, I missed it,” Rhodes said.

“How about the ten o’clock?”

Rhodes had lost track of time. He looked at the big round clock on the wall. It was nearly eleven.

“Missed that, too,” he said. “I’ve been busy. How are the Eccleses?”

“Fine as frog hair,” Hack said. “I sure wish you could’ve seen the news, though. Lawton and I looked pretty good for a couple of old men. Ain’t that right, Lawton?”

“Sure is,” Lawton said. “You had Ivy record the news, I guess.”

“I forgot to tell her,” Rhodes said.

Hack and Lawton both looked disappointed.

“What you been up to that’s so important you missed the news?” Hack asked.

Rhodes felt guilty, so he didn’t make them badger him for the report. He told it straight.

“You think Rapper’s hurt bad?” Hack asked when Rhodes was finished.

“Not bad enough. That reminds me. Call Autry’s wrecker service and have him go out there and pick up Rapper’s motorcycle. If Duke’s out on patrol, have him see what he can turn up from his informants about Rapper, and if he doesn’t get anything, put Buddy on it tomorrow.”

Hack picked up the phone to call the wrecker service, and Rhodes sat at his desk to look over the report about Garver that Ruth had left him. It made for interesting reading. Especially as it seemed that Ed Garver had been dead for thirty-five years.

*   *   *

The emergency room at the Clearview hospital wasn’t crowded, but Rhodes didn’t find Garver and Winston there. They’d been treated and released, so Rhodes drove to Garver’s house.

Garver wasn’t home. Rhodes didn’t find that suspicious in itself. He might have gone after his pickup. Winston might have gone after his, too. They’d have gotten Fowler to take them, Rhodes thought, but he didn’t waste any time going by Fowler’s house to check. He drove back to the Carroll place to see if anyone was there.

Cal Autry was loading up Rapper’s motorcycle when Rhodes went past, and Rhodes gave him a beep from the car horn. Autry didn’t acknowledge it. He was busy, so Rhodes didn’t hold it against him.

Rhodes got to the Carroll place. Fowler and the others were there, but they were just about to leave. Rhodes parked the cruiser astraddle the road so they couldn’t get past it and got out.

“What the hell, Sheriff,” Fowler said, getting out of his pickup.

“I need to talk to Garver,” Rhodes told him.

“Well, I’m not him. You want to move so I can get by?”

Garver and Winston got out of their own pickups and stood listening. Rhodes thought it would be just as well for Winston and Fowler to leave. He might find out more from Garver if he talked to him alone.

“You and Winston can go,” Rhodes said. “Garver, you need to stay here.”

He got in the car and pulled it off the narrow road. Fowler and Winston drove by him. Rhodes sat in the car until he saw their taillights on the road back to Clearview. Then he got out and walked over to where Garver waited for him.

“What’s the problem, Sheriff?” the plumber asked.

“I just found out that you’re dead,” Rhodes said. “I’m not used to dealing with zombies.”

Garver didn’t laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not dead. I’m standing right here in front of you.”

The moon gilded Garver’s pickup and threw its shadow on the ground. The air was cooler than it had been, and Rhodes wished he’d brought his jacket.

“You might be here,” Rhodes said, “but Edward Alvin Garver’s not. That Ed Garver’s dead, but that’s who you’re supposed to be. Since you’re not, the question is, who are you?”

Garver, or whoever he was, looked off back down the road to town. He probably wished he was on it.

“I’m Edward Alvin Garver. I have my ID here if you want to see it.”

“I don’t doubt you have some ID,” Rhodes said. “It might even look real. It might even
be
real, but it won’t prove to me that you’re Garver. Now come on and tell me who you are. I’m getting cold standing out here, and I’d be just as happy to question you at the jail. Maybe happier.”

“You can put me in jail if you want to. I’m Ed Garver, and that’s all there is to it.”

Rhodes couldn’t really think of a good reason to put Garver in jail. It was possible he was telling the truth. Maybe Ruth had made some kind of mistake, as unlikely as that seemed to Rhodes. Or there could be two Ed Garvers with the same birth date. That didn’t explain how Ruth had overlooked one of them, and Rhodes didn’t believe she had. Still, his suspicion that the Ed Garver standing in front of him was really someone else, someone who’d stolen the real Garver’s identity, wasn’t enough grounds for an arrest.

“I don’t really have any reason to arrest you yet,” Rhodes said. “Are you sure you want to go to the jail?”

“Maybe not. Let me ask you something. If I’m not under arrest, I don’t have to answer any questions, do I?”

“No. You don’t have to.”

“I don’t have to talk to you if I don’t want to, do I?”

“That’s right,” Rhodes said.

“Well,” Garver said, “I don’t want to. My head hurts, and I’m going home now.”

BOOK: The Wild Hog Murders
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