Survivors Will Be Shot Again Page 5

  “Gus-Gus! Jackie! You get back here right now!”

  Gus-Gus and Jackie didn’t pay her any mind. They kept jumping against the side of the Tahoe and biting at the window.

  “Did you two hear me?” Joyce yelled. “Get away from that car and come back here right this minute!”

  The two dogs dropped to the ground, and Rhodes leaned over to look out the window. They were still right beside the Tahoe, but they were looking back toward the house.

  “I mean it,” Joyce said. “Get up here right now.”

  The dogs hesitated for another couple of seconds, then trotted toward the house. When they got to the porch, Joyce bent over and patted them. Rhodes thought she was probably telling them what good dogs they were. She straightened up and called out to Rhodes. “You can get out now. They won’t bother you.”

  Rhodes hoped he could believe her. He considered taking the shotgun, but that would be cowardly. He opened the door. Gus-Gus and Jackie turned to look at him at the sound. Their looks weren’t friendly in the least, but Rhodes got out of the Tahoe. The dogs growled low in their throats.

  “You can come on up, Sheriff,” Joyce said. “You don’t have to worry about the boys. I won’t let them hurt you.”

  Rhodes thought that was neighborly of her. She might have changed her mind if she knew what he was there for.

  “You boys go lie down,” Joyce told the dogs.

  The dogs paid her no attention. They kept their eyes on Rhodes and continued to make low growling noises.

  “Just go on into the house,” Joyce said when Rhodes got almost to the porch. “I’ll stay out here with the boys until you get in and close the door. They’ll be fine.”

  Rhodes wasn’t worried about the condition of the dogs. He was more worried about his own. He stepped up on the porch, staying as far from the dogs as he could, which wasn’t far, considering how small the porch was. The dogs stayed still, but they both stared balefully at him as he went by them and into the house, pulling the screen door shut behind him. It was a flimsy door and wouldn’t last long if the dogs threw themselves against it, but they didn’t bother. As soon as he was inside, they jumped off the porch and disappeared as if they’d forgotten all about him.

  Rhodes looked around the room he found himself in and saw a sagging sofa, a battered coffee table, a cane-bottomed rocking chair, and a couple of end tables with lamps whose shades had accumulated a good bit of dust. The flat-screen TV facing the sofa was on but muted. Rhodes saw Alex Trebek mouthing a question that some gray-haired professorial type wearing a bow tie appeared to answer.

  The screen door opened, and Joyce Hunt came inside.

  “The boys aren’t as mean as they sound,” she said. “They don’t like strangers, though, so they’re good watchdogs.”

  Rhodes nodded. “I’m sure they are.”

  “I guess this isn’t a social call,” Joyce said.

  “No,” Rhodes said. “It’s not.”

  “I’m going to sit down,” Joyce said. “You have a seat, too.”

  She sat in the rocking chair, leaving the sofa to Rhodes. He sat on it, and the cushions sagged down even more.

  “Is it about Melvin?” Joyce asked. She pushed her hair back. Her face was browned and wrinkled. “I haven’t see him since yesterday.”

  “Yes, it’s about Melvin,” Rhodes said. He’d never found a good way to tell someone about the death of a family member or a loved one, so he just did it the best way he knew how, which was straight out. “I hate to have to give you this news. Melvin’s dead.”

  Rhodes never knew what to expect when he said those words. Sometimes people started to cry. Sometimes they said nothing. Sometimes they tried to hit him. And sometimes they denied it. That’s what Joyce did.

  “That can’t be,” she said. “He was just fine yesterday. Healthy as a horse. He’s not dead. Not Melvin. You must be wrong about that.”

  “I wish I was,” Rhodes said, “but I’m not. Melvin’s dead. Somebody shot him.”

  “Melvin? Shot?” Joyce started to rock back and forth, slowly, her hands gripping the low arms of the chair. “Who’d shoot Melvin, Sheriff?”

  “I don’t know who shot him. He was in Billy Bacon’s barn. Do you know what he was doing there?”

  “He doesn’t always tell me where he’s going. Sometimes he’s gone a day or two, but he always comes back.” Joyce’s hands tightened on the arms of the chair, and her knuckles whitened. She started to rock faster. “He’ll be back tonight or tomorrow. He always comes back.”

  “Not this time. Do you have another vehicle besides the one parked outside?”

  “No. That’s the only one. What difference does that make?”

  “Melvin had to get to the barn somehow or the other. Did he walk?”

  “He never tells me where he’s going or how he’s going to get there. Sometimes somebody picks him up and they go drinking. Sometimes they pick him up here and sometimes they don’t. He might walk to Walter Barnes’s house. Maybe he’s with Walter right now.”

  “He’s not with Walter. Do you have somebody you can stay with tonight?”

  “My sister. She lives in Clearview. Ellen Smalls. Why?”

  Rhodes knew the Smalls family. Will and Ellen lived not too far from the Dairy Queen.

  “You get some things together, and I’ll take you to your sister’s,” he said. “You should pack a bag. You might want to stay a couple of days.”

  “Melvin might come back and wonder where I am.”

  “Melvin won’t be back. You get out a suit for him, or whatever you’d like to have him dressed in. You can see him tomorrow.”

  Joyce stood up. So did Rhodes. She looked a little shaky, so he took her elbow to steady her.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just that Melvin … he’s always come back before.”

  “Where does he go?” Rhodes asked, dropping his hand.

  “I told you. Off with friends. He doesn’t tell me much. I need to get his suit. He hasn’t worn it in years. I don’t know if it’ll fit.”

  “I’m sure it will fit,” Rhodes said, not adding that if it didn’t, it could be adjusted so it would look as if it did.

  “I’ll be right back,” Joyce said.

  She went out of the room, and Rhodes sat back down. A couple of magazines lay on the coffee table, but they were as dusty as the lampshades. The TV remote was beside them, and it wasn’t dusty. Rhodes left it where it was and watched Jeopardy! in silence. The professorial type in the bow tie won the final round just as Joyce came back into the room. She had a man’s black suit draped over her left arm and an old-fashioned hard-bodied suitcase in her right hand.

  Rhodes stood and took the suitcase. Joyce picked up the remote and turned off the TV set. Setting the remote back on the coffee table, she said, “I called my sister. I can stay with her, but I’m worried about the boys. I can shut them up in the barn for a day or so, I guess, but they need to be let out every day.”

  “I’ll check on them for you,” Rhodes said. “I can give them some food and water if it’s safe.”

  Joyce laid the coat across the back of the couch. “That would be kind of you. The boys won’t bother you. Come on outside and I’ll introduce you.”

  Rhodes wasn’t so sure that was a good idea, but he knew he had to pay another visit to the house. He set the suitcase down and followed Joyce outside. The dogs came out from under the porch in a hurry, but Joyce calmed them.

  “You boys sit where you are and behave yourselves. This is the sheriff, and he’s going to look after you for me.”

  The dogs stood in front of the porch giving Rhodes the stink eye. They didn’t appear ready to be friends, but at least they weren’t growling. Rhodes figured it was up to him to give them a chance to get to know him. He squatted down on the porch, not facing the dogs and not looking at them. Joyce stepped off the porch and patted the dogs on the head.

  “Which one is which?” Rhodes asked, still not looking at the dogs.

>   “Gus-Gus has the big black spot on his head,” Joyce said. “Jackie’s a little bigger, and there’s no spot there. They’re good boys, aren’t you good boys, yes, you are.”

  When she’d patted the dogs and rubbed their sides, one of them moved over to the porch for a better look at Rhodes. The other followed. They moved around a little, looking at him from different angles. Gus-Gus approached him and sniffed at his leg. Jackie followed and sniffed as well. Rhodes thought they might have caught the scent of his own dogs, Speedo and Yancey. He’d played with them that morning, and their scents would linger, at least for dogs. Dogs could smell things no human could detect.

  After the dogs had sniffed for a few seconds, they seemed satisfied that Rhodes wasn’t an enemy. He risked extending his hand, palm down, and Gus-Gus licked it. Rhodes gave him a light pat. Gus-Gus didn’t mind, and then Jackie moved him out of the way so he could get a pat, too. Before long, Rhodes was sitting on the porch, and the two dogs were treating him as an old friend.

  While they got acquainted, Joyce went back inside the house. In a minute or so, Rhodes heard the back door slam, and Joyce walked across the backyard to the barn. She was carrying a sack of Old Roy dog food, and Gus-Gus and Jackie deserted Rhodes to follow her. They went off at a run and beat her to the barn. Rhodes went along after them, passing a well on the way. A frame over the well held a rope and pulley for drawing water, but there was also a pump. Rhodes figured the pump carried water to the house. The well reminded Rhodes of the one at Billy Bacon’s place, the one that had been kicked almost to pieces. Someone didn’t like Bacon, all right.

  The big barn door was closed, but there was a regular-sized door next to it. That one was open, and Joyce went through it, the dogs at her heels. Rhodes was only a short way behind them. The inside of the barn wasn’t entirely dark, thanks to a few holes in the roof. It was much bigger and airier than Billy’s older one. The dogs would be comfortable enough there for a day or so. Joyce poured some dog food into a big pan that sat near another empty pan and a galvanized bucket. Rhodes picked up the bucket and said he’d get the water.

  It had been a long time since Rhodes had drawn water from a well. He pitched the bucket into the well and the rope followed it down. When he heard a splash, Rhodes waited a while for the bucket to fill, then hauled it back up, the pulley squeaking a little. It could’ve used some oil. The bucket reached the top, and Rhodes swung it over the side of the well so he could pour the water into the bucket he’d brought from the barn.

  Off to the left the roof of a storm cellar stood about a foot off the ground. Not many people in the county had a storm cellar, but Rhodes knew of four or five others. A tornado had passed through a corner of the county about thirty years ago, and the cellars had all been dug about that time.

  Gus-Gus and Jackie were still waiting when he returned to the barn. He poured the water from the bucket into the pan, and both dogs turned to drink.

  “Was Melvin afraid of storms?” Rhodes asked Joyce.

  “No, he wasn’t afraid of much of anything. The cellar was here when we moved in. I’ve never even been down in it. It has water in the bottom, Melvin says, about six inches, and there are spiders down there. I don’t like spiders. Melvin says you never know if a snake might be down there, too. I’d rather face a tornado than a snake.”

  Rhodes hoped he’d never have to make that choice, but he was pretty sure he’d pick the snake.

  “Will the dogs mind being shut in the barn?” he asked, setting the bucket down.

  “We put them in here all the time,” Joyce said. “They sleep on those raggedy old blankets over there. They don’t mind it as long as they get outside once or twice a day.”

  “Is this where Melvin kept his welding rig?”

  “Yes, but it got stolen. We should’ve gotten a lock for the doors, but we thought people were honest.”

  Rhodes wasn’t sure anybody really thought that anymore.

  “We have locks now,” Joyce said. “Melvin said we had to get them.”

  “A good idea,” Rhodes said.

  “I’ll take the food to the house,” Joyce said. “I’ll put it inside the back door. I’ll have to give you a key if you come back to feed the boys. I can come back myself if it’s too much trouble for you.”

  “I don’t mind doing it,” Rhodes said. “I’d like your permission to look through the house, too. Maybe it would help in the investigation.”

  “All right, if it will help. I still can’t believe Melvin’s … dead.”

  “It takes some getting used to.”

  “I’m not going to get used to it. You’ll find out who did it, won’t you?”

  “I’ll do my best,” Rhodes said.

  Chapter 6

  On their ride to town, Rhodes asked Joyce a few questions about Melvin, hoping to get some useful information. He didn’t get much, but he did find out that Melvin’s best friend was Riley Farmer and that when Melvin went off on a binge, it was Riley he usually went with. Joyce insisted that Melvin hadn’t been on a bender in a long time.

  “He’s been feeling better about things,” she said. “Even when the welding rig was stolen, he didn’t go off and get drunk.”

  She didn’t have any explanation for why Melvin’s bad habit had improved, but she was happy that it had. Rhodes also learned that Melvin had no enemies, at least as far as Joyce knew. No surprise there. Murder victims were always beloved by everyone, to hear their family and friends tell it.

  “No enemies at all?” Rhodes said.

  “Not a one,” Joyce said. “Unless you count Billy Bacon. He wasn’t an enemy or anything like that, but those two just didn’t get along.”

  Billy hadn’t mentioned that little tidbit.

  “What was their trouble?” Rhodes asked.

  “Melvin got turned down for a loan. He really needed the money at the time. We were gonna fix up the house, get the place looking better. Billy said no, said that Melvin didn’t have any collateral. Or a job except what he could get fixing things up or welding a little now and then.”

  Rhodes could see how Billy would think that way. As a loan officer, he had to be sure about the risk he was taking.

  “Did Melvin ever try to get back at Billy?” Rhodes asked.

  “If you’re thinking that Melvin would steal, you’d be wrong. Melvin was as honest as the day is long.”

  “I’m sure he was,” Rhodes said, though he didn’t necessarily believe it. Whoever had kicked down the well at Billy’s place could have done it because of a grudge rather than from just pure meanness.

  “Anyway,” Joyce said with a catch in her voice, “things were getting a little better. We got the insurance from the welding rig, and that helped some. Money wasn’t so tight. Maybe that’s why Melvin wasn’t drinking.”

  The fact that their finances had improved wouldn’t matter if Melvin was the type to hold a grudge. “And Billy was the only one he had a problem with?”

  “Well, there’s Gene Gunnison.”

  Gunnison lived just off another of the county roads not far away. Rhodes knew of him but had never met him. His house was back in the woods, and he was considered by some to be a kind of outlaw who hunted and fished on the property of others without bothering to ask permission. There had been a few calls to the department about him, and Rhodes had sent a deputy to check things out each time, but no solid evidence of his trespassing had ever turned up. Supposedly his grandfather had been a bootlegger who’d sold illegal whiskey and avoided capture for years before winding up in prison.

  “What was Melvin’s problem with Gunnison?” Rhodes asked.

  “Melvin thought Gene was sneaking around the property. He thought he might’ve been the one that stole the welding rig.”

  Rhodes had been wondering about that theft. Something wasn’t right about it.

  “How could anybody get by the dogs?” he asked.

  “The boys knew Gene. He used to visit now and then, back when we first got them. He’d bring treats
for them. Melvin says he was probably just getting friendly with them instead of us, just waiting for his chance to steal something.”

  “Do you think he stole the rig?”

  “I don’t know. Anyway, he and Melvin patched it up, I guess. They get along all right now. I hear it’s the Terrells that are stealing things. That’s what Melvin told me.”

  “Everybody’s heard that,” Rhodes said. “That doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  “It doesn’t mean it’s not true, either.”

  Rhodes had to give her that point. “So Melvin had a problem with Able Terrell, too.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a problem. He just didn’t hardly ever see him. Nobody does ’less he wants ’em to, and he doesn’t want ’em to. He knew Able before he moved into that compound of his. Didn’t like him much then, and never changed his mind.”

  It was true that nobody ever saw Able Terrell unless he wanted them to, which would make it hard for Rhodes to talk to him. It had to be done, though. Later.

  “What about a gun?” Rhodes asked. “Did Melvin have one?”

  “He had a deer rifle and a shotgun,” Joyce said. “They’re in a rifle cabinet in our bedroom. I saw them when I was packing.”

  “What about a pistol?”

  “He had one. It’s in the bottom of the rifle cabinet.”

  “Did you see it when you were in the bedroom?”

  “No. It’s in the bottom. There are doors on that part.”

  Rhodes wondered if Melvin had left it there or if he’d had it with him. He’d check when he went back to the house. For now, that was all the questions he had.

  * * *

  Rhodes dropped Joyce off at her sister’s house. By that time the fact of Melvin’s death had begun to sink in, and she was sobbing quietly. Rhodes told the Smallses a little about the situation and left them to give Joyce what comfort they could. It wouldn’t be much, not in her position.

  Rhodes drove to the jail. It was late afternoon, and his day off hadn’t gone at all the way he’d planned. Instead of relaxing, he’d averted a robbery and started a murder investigation. Now he just wanted to write up his report and get something to eat. It wasn’t going to be that easy, however. As he walked in the door, Hack started in on him.