Bill Crider - Dan Rhodes 20 - Compound Murder (9 page)

Rhodes went through the small living area and into the kitchen with the cat right behind him. The cat’s food bowl was empty, but it had plenty of water. The kitchen door opened onto a little balcony. Rhodes stepped out on the balcony and took a look. A hibachi sat against the wall. That was all. There wasn’t even a chair. Rhodes closed the door. The cat sat a few feet away watching him.

“No clues out there,” Rhodes said.

“Meow,” the cat said.

Rhodes sneezed.

Rhodes and the cat went back to the living area. It held an old couch, a scarred coffee table, and a chair that must have come from a thrift store. A makeshift bookcase of concrete blocks and unvarnished pine boards held a lot of books in the Sage Barton vein, along with several by someone called Joe Lansdale. Rhodes wondered if he was any relation to the professor with whom Benton claimed to have studied martial arts. Not that it mattered. At any rate, Wellington’s reading tastes weren’t exactly highbrow, as far as Rhodes could tell. He must have needed a break from the writers in the books Rhodes had seen on the shelves in his office at the college, as Benton had suggested.

A small flat-screen TV and DVD player sat on a table near the bookshelf. A few DVD cases lay beside it. Special-effects-heavy thrillers. Nothing that would have interested Rhodes, whose tastes ran more to old and bizarre movies like
The Alligator People
or
I Married a Monster from Outer Space.

Rhodes went into the bedroom with the cat right at his heels. The cat’s litter box was in the bathroom just off the bedroom. There was barely enough room for it. Rhodes checked out the medicine cabinet. Aspirin, mouthwash, toothpaste, razor and blades, shaving cream. A tube of antiseptic cream. Aftershave.

“No help here,” Rhodes said.

“Meow,” the cat said.

The bedroom was no help, either. No gun under the pillow or mattress, no drugs hidden in the sock drawer. The only thing that might be helpful was the laptop computer on the bedside stand. Rhodes bagged it. He’d take it with him and have Ruth look at it. Or Benton, as a last resort.

He took the computer to the county car and came back for one last check. The cat sat and watched him.

“I’ll have Buddy come and take a look,” Rhodes told the cat. “He can question the other people living here. They might be able to tell us something useful.”

“Meow,” the cat said.

Rhodes almost sneezed, but he managed not to. Maybe he was getting used to the cat.

“I’ve already told you I can’t take you,” he said. “Maybe Buddy needs a feline companion.”

He’d managed to palm off a dog on Seepy Benton. If it had worked once, it might work again. Seepy, however, was single, and Buddy wasn’t. That might make a difference.

“Meow,” the cat said.

“I told you the reasons I couldn’t take you,” Rhodes told it. “Those dogs at my house are savage beasts. They’d tear you limb from limb.”

The cat looked skeptical. Rhodes didn’t blame it. The thought of Yancey confronting it made Rhodes smile. The only thing Yancey could tear limb from limb was a rag doll. The cat would terrorize him.

“You’re right,” Rhodes said. “You’d scare the dogs.”

The cat moved its head. Maybe it was a nod. Rhodes wasn’t sure. He wasn’t fluent in cat sign language.

“My wife would kill me if I brought in another cat,” Rhodes said.

It wasn’t really his fault that he’d taken in two dogs and a cat already. They hadn’t had anywhere else to go. Or so he’d told himself. He wasn’t going to take them to the animal shelter, so he hadn’t had much choice.

“I have to go to the college and look at a car,” Rhodes said. “You can’t go with me. You’d have to ride in the county car. You probably don’t like to ride in cars.”

“Meow,” the cat said, looking up at him.

“Okay, maybe you do. We’ll see.”

Rhodes reached for the cat. He told himself that if it shied away from him, he’d leave it in the apartment and send Alton Boyd for it later that day.

The cat stood up. Rhodes slipped his hand under its stomach and picked it up. The cat began to purr.

“Maybe the dogs will be okay with you around,” Rhodes said, “but Sam won’t. He’s a territorial animal. You won’t even be able to get close to him.”

The cat purred.

Rhodes took it out to the county car and set it inside. It pawed the seat a time or two, then curled up on it and lay down, as comfortable as if it had been living in the car for years.

“I’ll be right back,” Rhodes said.

The cat closed its eyes. Could it already be asleep? Rhodes didn’t know. He went to Sewell’s apartment and knocked on the door.

“Find anything?” Sewell asked when he opened the door.

“Nothing much. I’ll have to keep the key for a while.”

“I need to get the place cleaned out. Get it rented. Can’t have it vacant.”

“You’ll survive. We’ll finish with it as soon as we can. Right now I need to ask you some questions.”

Sewell looked doubtful. “You wanna come in?”

Rhodes got a whiff of the sour smell. “I’m fine right here. What kind of visitors did Wellington have?”

“You think I keep a watch on visitors?”

“We’ve been through this a time or two,” Rhodes said. “I know you do.”

“Only when they make noise. I don’t stand at the window and peep out.”

Rhodes knew that was true, but he also knew that Sewell kept up with the comings and goings better than he was admitting.

“You’re not in any trouble,” Rhodes said. “Yet. Now tell me about Wellington’s visitors.”

Sewell shrugged. He patted his thinning hair. He rubbed his earlobe.

“Well?” Rhodes said.

“All I can remember is that he had a woman up there a week or so ago. I don’t know who she was. Wasn’t any of my business.”

“What did she look like?”

“Do I look to you like the kinda guy who’s an expert on women? She was a woman. That’s all I know. It was a weekend, and they were quiet. The neighbors didn’t complain. As long as the neighbors don’t complain, I don’t nose into things.”

“Right,” Rhodes said. There was no reason a man couldn’t have company in his own apartment. “What kind of car did she drive?”

“What makes you think—”

Rhodes cut him off. “I just do. Now tell me.”

“Looked like a Chevy to me. Wasn’t a car, though. Was a pickup. Black Silverado.”

That was no help. The county was full of black Silverados.

“Anybody else?” Rhodes asked.

“I don’t remember anybody. Like I said, I don’t keep a watch.”

“Maybe you should,” Rhodes said.

*   *   *

Riding in the car didn’t bother the cat at all. It didn’t even wake up when Rhodes started driving. The only thing to do, Rhodes thought between sneezes, was to drop off the cat at his house. Maybe it would run away. If it didn’t, maybe Ivy, Yancey, and Sam wouldn’t even notice it.

Maybe Rhodes would win eight million dollars in the Texas Lottery.

He parked in his driveway and slid a hand under the cat, which woke up and said, “Meow.”

Rhodes picked the cat up and carried it into the backyard. Speedo gave them a suspicious glance but otherwise ignored them. Rhodes went on into the kitchen, where Sam was asleep in his usual spot by the refrigerator. At the sight of Sam, the cat started to squirm in Rhodes’s hand, so he set it on the floor.

Rhodes heard Yancey’s toenails clicking on the floor, and the cat turned toward the door into the kitchen. Yancey bounded through it and stopped short, skidding again as he had that morning. He looked a bit like a character in an old Warner Bros. cartoon. As soon as he was able to stop the skid, he turned and ran from the room.

“He’s not your biggest fan,” Rhodes told the cat.

The cat didn’t seem to care. It walked over to Sam’s food bowl and started to eat. Sam opened an eye to have a look, then closed it. The cat finished eating and drank some water. After it had finished, it sat down and groomed itself for a while, keeping an eye on Sam, who didn’t budge.

Grooming complete, the cat walked over to Sam and curled up against his back. Sam opened his eyes, thought things over, and went back to sleep. Rhodes couldn’t believe it. Weren’t cats supposed to be intensely territorial? Weren’t they supposed to resent any intruders into their space? What was going on here? It was as if these two had been litter mates, but the possibility of that was so small that it couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. Rhodes decided that they were acting contrary to their nature just to spite him. On the other hand, maybe they were just weird, like every other cat in the world.

“This arrangement might work out after all,” Rhodes said. “What do you think?”

Neither cat bothered to answer him.

Chapter 8

On his way back to the college campus, Rhodes realized that he’d missed lunch. It happened all the time, and he couldn’t understand why he never seemed to lose any weight. Not that he needed to lose weight. He still weighed the same as he had for the last fifteen years or so. However, he was losing the battle with gravity, and he couldn’t see his belt buckle.

Thinking about food made Rhodes hungry, so he stopped by the Dairy Queen and went to the drive-through window. Ivy tried to keep him on a diet of healthy foods. He remembered the meatless meat loaf without affection, and he told himself she’d never know if he had a cheeseburger now and then. And some french fries. Maybe a Blizzard with Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

After he had his order, Rhodes sat in the parking lot and ate his meal while he thought about the day so far. An apparent murder, a wild hog that wasn’t, and a cat adoption, and the day wasn’t over yet.

He hadn’t really learned much about Wellington, and he was suspicious of some of the things he’d heard. Some of what he’d been told didn’t seem quite right, but if he listened long enough to enough people, he’d eventually get to the truth, or that was the way it usually worked. He hoped it would work again.

It didn’t take long for him to finish his meal, and he felt much better afterward, considerably better than he had after the meatless meat loaf, which lacked the proper amount of fat and calories to sustain a man of action. He drove to the college and spotted Wellington’s red Ford Focus immediately. It was one of the few cars left in the parking lot, and it was the only Focus there.

Rhodes didn’t think it would be a good idea to search it on the lot. He got Hack on the radio and asked him to call for the wrecker to pick it up and to have Ruth look it over in the impound lot.

“You’re sure spendin’ the county’s money freely,” Hack said. “How am I ever gonna get a raise?”

“You worry too much about money,” Rhodes said. “Think of all the fringe benefits you have.”

“Ha,” Hack said.

“Get Buddy to go out to the Forest Apartments on Pine and question the residents about Wellington if he’s done with that fender bender.”

“He’s been finished with that for a while. Moved on to a suspicious man out near Obert.”

Rhodes knew better than to ask about the suspicious man. If he did, he’d never get off the radio. He told Hack he’d come to the jail as soon as he could and signed off.

Cal Autry showed up about ten minutes later, and Rhodes told him to take the car to the impound lot.

“Place is getting crowded,” Autry said.

“Let’s hope we don’t have any more customers for you for a while,” Rhodes said.

“You need to do something about that windshield on your own car.”

“You got that right,” Rhodes said.

He thought about what he needed to do next. So many things came to mind that he was almost overwhelmed, but he thought he’d start by having a talk with Ike Terrell. After he did something about the windshield.

“When you drop that car off,” Rhodes said to Autry, “come by the jail and pick this one up.”

“Another customer already,” Autry said. “Business is sure good.”

“Take it to the Burgess Body Shop. They’ll know what to do.”

“Be pretty hard not to,” Autry said.

*   *   *

Rhodes drove to the jail and parked out front. He’d use the spare cruiser for a day or so while the windshield was being replaced. He didn’t think he’d even mention the windshield to Hack. No use to give him an opening for criticism.

When Rhodes opened the door and entered the jail, he saw Hack at his desk. Lawton, the jailer, stood outside the door to the cellblock. As soon as they saw Rhodes, both men started to whistle the same tune. It was familiar, but Rhodes didn’t quite recognize it. He stood and listened for a few seconds, and then it came to him. It was
“El Degüello,”
which Rhodes had heard many times while watching a movie called
Rio Bravo.

He walked to his desk, put Wellington’s laptop on it, and sat down.

The whistling continued.

He started working on the form to log the laptop into evidence.

The whistling continued.

Rhodes knew that if he gave in to Hack and Lawton, it would be a while before he found out the reason for the whistling. Was it worth the aggravation? He decided that it was either give in and be aggravated or continue to listen and be even more aggravated, so he turned in his chair.

“All right,” he said, “what’s up with ‘
El Degüello’
?”

The whistling stopped.

“You ever see
Rio Bravo
?” Hack asked.

“Not more than a dozen times.”

“Then you oughta know,” Lawton said. “It means—”

Hack glared him into a quick silence. Hack was always the leader in these things, and he didn’t like for Lawton to give the game away so soon.

“I know what it means,” Rhodes said. “No quarter.”

“Yeah, that’s it, all right. In the movie. But do you know what it means to us?”

“Who’s us?”

“Us right here in this jailhouse.”

Rhodes thought it over. He said, “It means that I’m John Wayne, Lawton’s Dean Martin, and you’re Walter Brennan.”

Lawton started to laugh, looked at Hack’s red face, and nearly choked trying to stifle his laughter.

“The question is,” Rhodes said, ignoring both of them, “who’s Ricky Nelson and who’s Angie Dickinson?”