Between the Living and the Dead (16 page)

Rhodes shook hands and said, “What Tahoes?”

“Nobody's told you?” Roger said.

“Nobody ever tells me anything,” Rhodes said, knowing he sounded like Hack and not liking it.

“I know the feeling,” Roger said. “Come on in. We need to talk.”

That was something Rhodes could agree with, so he went inside with Roger. The air-conditioning was turned down to Arctic, but it felt good after the heat of late afternoon. Roger led Rhodes to one of the little desks scattered around the showroom, and they sat down.

By that time Rhodes had figured out what was going on. A few months previously he'd mentioned to Mikey Burns that the county's patrol cars were becoming something of a problem. Because of the ways sedans had changed over the years, there wasn't as much space at the back doors as there once had been, and there wasn't a lot of room in the backseats, either.

If this had been a problem only for the people who were arrested and put into the cars, that would be one thing, and it could've been overlooked. However, it was also a problem for the officers if a prisoner didn't want to get into the car and decided to put up a fight or if someone was impaired by drugs or alcohol and wasn't cooperating. Something like a Tahoe would be a much better option in those circumstances, besides being more suited for the kind of country the officers had to travel in Blacklin County. A Tahoe would've come in handy, for example, if Rhodes had wanted to chase the Foshees across the pasture in a vehicle that morning.

Rhodes had explained all this to Burns, but Burns hadn't seemed particularly enthusiastic, certainly not as enthusiastic as he was about drones and tactical vehicles. He must've paid attention, though, and actually looked into it.

Roger laid out some brochures on the desk. “This is what I'm thinking of for you. All black or all white, take your pick, and with the county decal on the side in gold it'll look really sharp. Or we could go with those new stealth markings. Man, you can hardly see those things at all, but they're there. You look like an unmarked car but you really aren't.”

“Did Mikey Burns talk to you about this?” Rhodes asked without looking at the brochures.

“Yeah. He didn't say it was a done deal or anything, but I'm glad you came by. I told him we could make the county a good deal. You wouldn't have to buy a whole fleet all at one time. You could just transition from the sedans to the Tahoes when one of the sedans was taken out of service. Mikey mentioned that you were kind of hard on sedans.”

Rhodes didn't think the damages to his county car were entirely his fault. The county cars were often involved in accidents, and even though he sometimes happened to be driving them when the accidents happened, they were never his fault. Well, not always.

“I hope we can do some business with you,” Rhodes said, “but that's not why I'm here.”

“It's not?”

“Nope. I came about something else. We need to talk in private.”

The showroom was deserted except for a couple of salesmen who were a good distance away, the clerk who took payments for repair work, and two men and a woman in the service department, also a good distance away in the opposite direction.

“We can talk here,” Roger said. “Nobody's going to hear us. What's the problem?”

“Neil Foshee,” Rhodes said.

Roger got a guarded look. “What about him?”

“Somebody killed him.”

“Who did it?”

“I don't know,” Rhodes said. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

 

Chapter 13

“That dang Mikey Burns never could keep his mouth shut,” Roger said. “Maybe we'd better not talk here after all. Let's go to the break room.”

He got up and started off without waiting for Rhodes. Rhodes trailed along behind him. They went across the showroom and past the pay station, turned left, and went down a hall. At the end of the hall on the left was the break room. No one was inside, and when Rhodes followed him in, Roger shut the door and turned the lock.

Rhodes looked around the room and saw two bridge tables, eight folding chairs, an old couch, a counter with cabinets, and a coffeemaker sitting on the stained countertop. The flashy look of the showroom didn't extend to this part of the building.

Roger pulled out a chair and sat at one of the bridge tables, so Rhodes joined him.

“I should've asked if you want some coffee,” Roger said.

“No, thanks,” Rhodes said. He didn't like coffee.

“Smart move. The coffee here's terrible. I don't drink it myself. Just as soon drink muddy water.” He leaned forward, putting his arms on the table and clasping his hands. “Look, I think you have the wrong idea about me. I went off half-cocked the other day and said a few things to Mikey Burns that I shouldn't have said. He tell you about my cousin?”

“He told me,” Rhodes said. “I'm sorry for your loss.”

“He was a good friend when we were kids. I haven't seen him much since then, but he didn't deserve to get killed like that. The meth made him crazy.”

Rhodes didn't ask how or why the cousin had gotten started on drugs. The stories were always different, but all too often they had the same ending.

“You ought to think about gangs,” Roger said. “The Mexican gangs are bringing more and more meth into Texas. That's what the sheriff told me when my cousin was killed. They had enough trouble there with the local meth cookers, but the gangs are bringing it in and pushing out the locals. Some of them have wound up dead. It could be the same with Foshee.”

“We don't have that problem here,” Rhodes said. “Not yet.”

“I met this college boy the other day,” Roger said. “He was in Max Schwartz's barbecue place with his uncle having lunch. His uncle's the mayor, and I've been trying to tell him that a Chevy's as good as that Lexus of his any day, so I sat down with them. Kid's name is Wade, and he tells me he's writing a paper on the drug problem. Got me all ticked off, and when I talked to Mikey, I was still feeling it. I shouldn't ever have said anything. I didn't mean anything by it, and I've calmed down now. Been calm ever since I blew off steam with Mikey, in fact. I just wanted to talk to him about the Tahoes, and I don't think we ever even got around to it. You don't think I killed Neil, do you?”

What Rhodes knew was that Roger had talked a lot and talked fast, the way a salesman would trying to close the deal. That didn't mean he was telling the truth.

“I haven't formed an opinion yet,” Rhodes said. “Where were you last night around midnight?”

“I get it,” Roger said. Little beads of sweat had formed on his bald head. “I know how it is. I can see you have to check up on everything. I watch this TV show,
Dateline,
so I know how it works. You have to rule everybody out, so you want to know if I have an alibi. On
Dateline
it's just about always the husband who did it. You ever watch that show?”

“Life would be easier if all the murders were committed by husbands,” Rhodes said. “Foshee wasn't married, though.”

He'd had a girlfriend, however, and Rhodes wondered about Vicki. He'd let her off the hook too easily, maybe because she and Ivy had become friends. He'd have to talk to her again.

“I'm married,” Roger said. “You know that. Evelyn and I've been married for twenty years. You can ask her about last night. We were at home, watching TV until ten thirty, and then we went to bed. Just like always. You can ask her. She'll tell you.”

Husbands didn't just commit all the murders on
Dateline.
If their wives were alive, they always dragged them out for alibis. If Ace Gable had been married, he'd have done the same. What they didn't know was that Rhodes didn't necessarily believe wives when they vouched for their husbands. Sometimes they were telling the truth, sometimes they were doing what they thought was their duty, and sometimes they were planning to use the alibi as blackmail later on. Rhodes didn't know which one of those it would be in the case of Roger's wife, but he'd find out.

“You go talk to Evelyn,” Roger said. “She'll tell you.”

“I'll do that,” Rhodes said.

*   *   *

Rhodes didn't spend much time with Evelyn Allen. As expected, she vouched for Roger's whereabouts and swore up and down that he wouldn't kill a fly, much less a human being, even if the human being was a scum of the earth like Neil Foshee, who probably deserved what he got, even if she shouldn't say so.

Like her husband and the mayor, Evelyn wondered why Rhodes was even wasting his time investigating the death of someone like that when he could've been tracking down copper thieves or identity thieves or perfectly healthy people who parked in handicapped spaces.

Rhodes went on home after talking to her. He didn't put much stock in her backing up Roger's story. Roger might have called her as soon as Rhodes left the Chevy dealership. Probably had, in fact. Roger wasn't going to get off the hook that easily.

“You're home early,” Ivy said when Rhodes came in. “I can't remember the last time you got home early.”

Rhodes couldn't remember, either. Even Yancey was surprised, and for a couple of seconds he forgot to show how happy he was. He recovered, though, and began to yip happily. The cats, of course, couldn't have cared less whether Rhodes ever showed up again or not, as long as they got fed.

“I'm glad you're here,” Ivy said. “I'm going to fix a special supper for us.”

“Sounds good,” Rhodes said, instead of asking what she was planning. Ivy had been making healthy meals for too long to suit him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

She told him anyway. “Lasagna rolls. How does that sound?”

It sounded great, but Rhodes figured there was a catch. “Healthy ones?”

“Delicious ones. They'll have a lot of good things in them.”

“Such as?”

“Spinach, marinara sauce, cheese, you know?”

“No meat?”

“Well,” Ivy said, “sort of.”

As far as Rhodes was concerned, there was no such thing as “sort of” meat. He asked Ivy what she meant.

“Tofu,” she said. “Lots of protein. Yum.”

“Yum,” Rhodes said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt. He was glad he'd had the burger at the DQ for lunch, but he wasn't going to mention that to Ivy.

“You go on out and visit with Speedo,” Ivy said. “I'll call you when it's ready.”

“All right,” Rhodes said. “Come on, Yancey.”

Rhodes looked around, but he didn't see the little Pomeranian. Then he heard yipping. Yancey was already at the door.

*   *   *

The lasagna rolls weren't bad, Rhodes had to admit. The tofu had been crumbled, so it wasn't as if he had to eat a big bite of it all at once, and the vegetables had been tasty.

While he was helping Ivy clean up the kitchen, Rhodes told her what he'd been doing that day and where he'd gotten on the Foshee murder, which was pretty much nowhere.

“You left out the part about the bull,” Ivy said. “I saw it on the Internet. You could've been a rodeo star if you hadn't gone into law enforcement.”

“You can't believe everything you read on the Internet,” Rhodes told her.

“There was video,” Ivy said, “so I didn't just read it. I saw you in action. I thought it was very touching when the family thanked you. I'm sure everyone in town thinks you're a real hero.”

“I expect everybody knows better,” Rhodes said, putting aluminum foil over the casserole dish that held what was left of the lasagna rolls. “I was just lucky.”

“That wasn't lucky,” Ivy said. “That was skill, or maybe it was ability. Whatever. Lucky is different. Lucky is when you get through the night without a call from Hack. Maybe this will be one of those nights.”

Rhodes put the casserole dish in the refrigerator. Sam, who was sleeping nearby, opened an eye and looked at him, then closed the eye. Jerry, beside Sam, didn't bother to open an eye.

“It would be nice if this was one of those nights when Hack doesn't call,” Rhodes said.

But of course it didn't turn out that way.

*   *   *

The phone rang while Rhodes was brushing his teeth. He'd already had a shower, and he was just about ready for bed, so he had no doubt the call was from Hack with some emergency. He was right.

“Ivy's a good bit nicer than you are,” Hack said after Rhodes rinsed his mouth and took the phone from Ivy. “She didn't get aggravated with me one bit for callin', but I can tell you are.”

“All I've said was ‘hello,'” Rhodes said.

“Yeah, but it was the tone you used. You're aggravated, all right. I can always tell by your tone.”

“I'm not aggravated yet, but I'm going to be if you don't tell me why you called.”

“Well, for one thing the hospital called, and Earl Foshee's doing just fine. You can go in and talk to him tomorrow.”

“Good,” Rhodes said, “but that's not the real reason you called.”

“Nope. The reason's different.”

“Then you'd better tell me what it is.”

“Got a problem at the Moore place.”

“Not more shooting, I hope.”

“No shooting, but there's people parked out in front, walkin' around. Somebody called it in, said they looked suspicious. Might try to break in.”

Breaking in would be easy enough, though Rhodes couldn't think of why anyone would want to do it. “Can't Ruth handle it?”

“She's down in Thurston. Somebody's stole all the copper out of the Babtist church's air conditioner.”

Evelyn Allen would be glad to hear that at least one member of the department was investigating a copper theft, if not to hear about the theft itself.

“You could get Duke,” Rhodes said.