Murder of a Beauty Shop Queen (26 page)

Rhodes shook his head. He'd never even heard of the show.

“Jeff liked Dean Martin better than Frank Sinatra. He liked Westerns, and he didn't like musicals.” Lonnie looked at Rhodes. “Who's going to remember those things besides me?”

“You'll do,” Rhodes said. “One person who remembers is more than some people have. What about Lynn? Who's going to remember her?”

“I will,” Lonnie said. “I'll remember both of them.” He gave Rhodes a weak smile. “She didn't like Dino or Sinatra, either one. She liked Madonna and Blondie. She liked quiz shows on TV.
Jeopardy!
was her favorite.”

“Did she and Jeff get along?”

“They didn't really know each other. She cut his hair, and they talked then, but that was all. She knew about me and Jeff, and she didn't care, any more than I cared about what she did in her personal life.”

Now the conversation was getting around to what Rhodes was interested in. It was time to find out what Lonnie had been keeping from him if he could.

“You never did tell me if Lynn had someone special. She must have mentioned that to you.”

Lonnie had denied earlier that Lynn had said anything about her romances, but Rhodes thought something was missing from the denial.

“I didn't tell you because she didn't tell me,” Lonnie said.

“I've talked to three or four men who said she broke up with them because she had someone special.”

“Then I don't know who it could've been.” Lonnie picked up his lemonade glass and took a sip. “Maybe they were mistaken. Maybe they were lying to you.”

“Either one is possible,” Rhodes said. “They were all getting uncomfortable in their relationships with her because she'd asked them for money.”

“She asked them for money?”

“That's what they told me. She threatened to tell their wives they were dating her. It didn't work. Or so they told me.”

“It's not like her,” Lonnie said. “She never asked me for money. If she wanted to blackmail somebody, I'd have been a good candidate.”

“She must have needed the money for something.”

“The little red car, maybe,” Lonnie said after a slight hesitation. “That's another thing she loved. She liked to drive it with the top down, even when it was too cold or too hot to do that.”

“Didn't she make enough money to buy the car without help?”

“I think so, but none of us made that much. People don't get their hair done as often as they should when money's tight like it is now, and Sandra always got her share. She made more than any of us.”

“She owns the shop,” Rhodes pointed out.

“Sure. It's only fair that she make more than the rest of us. I'm doing okay, and Abby has a husband with a job, so they're all right.”

“Lynn, though,” Rhodes said. “Lynn needed money.”

Lonnie looked away. “She liked nice things.”

Rhodes tried to think of nice things in Lynn's house. There weren't many. She had a flat-screen TV, and the furniture was okay, but there was nothing fancy anywhere. Her clothes and shoes came from shops in nearby cities and not from Walmart, but they weren't from Neiman Marcus.

“Did Jeff need money?” Rhodes asked.

“What? Why would you say that?”

“I was just wondering. You said you talked to him the day Lynn was killed. You were the one who told him about it.”

Lonnie looked as if he were trying to recall what he'd said and not succeeding. “I did?”

“That's right. I've been wondering about that.”

“If I said I called him, I guess I did.”

He wouldn't say any more, so Rhodes said, “Back to the money question.”

Lonnie shuddered as if a chill had hit him. “Jeff? He didn't need money. That's another thing about him nobody knew. He had money. Not a lot, but enough to live on. He just did the antiques thing for the fun of it. He liked old stuff that most people would consider junk. He liked being around it, so that's why he had the store, not because he needed the money.”

Rhodes hadn't known about the money, though he'd have found out eventually. At any rate, it didn't seem likely now that Tyler would've been engaging in any form of blackmail. Rhodes brought up Lynn again, but Lonnie was stubborn. He continued to insist that he didn't know why Lynn might have asked anyone for money.

Rhodes continued not to believe him, but that was all right. As soon as he got everything worked out to his satisfaction, Rhodes would come back and talk to Lonnie again. He thought Lonnie would be ready to talk by then.

“I still think those men living across the street killed her,” Lonnie said when Rhodes stood up to go.

“No,” Rhodes said, “they didn't.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“Are they still there? In the hotel, I mean?”

“I haven't checked today, but I figure they're long gone from Blacklin County.”

“Bail jumpers?”

“Somehow I don't think the people who put up the money for them are going to care,” Rhodes said, “and the bondsman will be taken care of. Everyone will be glad to have them gone.”

“I hope you're right and they're really gone,” Lonnie said. “I didn't feel safe with them around.”

“They wouldn't hurt you,” Rhodes said. “They might steal your car battery or cut the catalytic converter off your car, but they wouldn't hurt you.”

“I don't believe that.”

“Lonnie,” Rhodes said, “remember what you've said about how people wouldn't like you if they knew you were gay?”

“Well,” Lonnie said, “it's true.”

“No, it's not. Everybody knows already, and everybody likes you. You're just another guy who lives in Clearview to them, and they'd be your friends if you'd let them.”

Lonnie didn't appear to be persuaded. “What does this have to do with those men living in the old hotel?”

“Think about it. You're acting the same way about them that you claim everybody's acting about you. You don't know them or anything about them, but you're willing to believe they're murderers.”

“Well, they…” Lonnie stopped. He looked down at the concrete patio. “You're right. I shouldn't judge people I've never even met. Maybe I'd like them if I knew them.”

“I wouldn't go that far,” Rhodes said, rubbing the place on his head where the bucket had hit him.

Chapter 26

After leaving Lonnie's, Rhodes drove to the reclamation center. He wanted to see if it was open, and if it was, he wanted to see who was in charge. He thought Nolan might have sent Mike and Al away.

The gate was open, so Rhodes drove inside and parked in front of the office building. He got out of his car and looked around the piles of metal. The sun glinted off an old car bumper, and Rhodes could almost feel the heat coming off the twisted chrome and steel. He remembered what the place had been like when he was a boy. There had been no stacks of salvage. The now vanished cotton gin had been in full operation, and the place hummed with activity.

Rhodes had occasionally walked there on a slow Saturday morning to watch the farmers bring the cotton wagons in. The wagons would be positioned under a big tube that hung down from the gin, and the cotton would be sucked out of the wagon and up into the tube. After the cotton was in the gin, the cotton would be separated from the seeds before it was pressed into the heavy bales that had been stored in the warehouse that still stood across the street.

The cleaned seeds were sent to the seed mill, which was also on the property, and turned into cottonseed oil. Rhodes imagined that he could still smell it, though now there wasn't a trace of it left.

He got out of his car and went into the office. Mike and Al were both there. Neither was pleased to see him.

“You again,” Mike said when Rhodes walked in.

“Yeah,” Al said.

“What d'you want?” Mike asked. “Me and Al don't want any more trouble. You already like to got us fired. Ain't that enough for you?”

“I don't think I'm the one at fault here,” Rhodes said. “I'm not the one who's been stealing car batteries, copper wire, and catalytic converters.”

“Hey, we never stole anything,” Mike said.

“Yeah,” Al said.

“You're right,” Rhodes said. “I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. You never stole a thing. You had somebody else do that for you.”

“I don't like you much, Sheriff,” Mike said.

“Yeah,” Al said.

Rhodes was starting to admire Al's use of the language. He might not have a big vocabulary, but he had a good control of his tone of voice. He got a lot of meaning into the one word he seemed to prefer over any other.

“I like you fellas a lot,” Rhodes said. “I like your friends, too. You know. Guillermo, Jorge, and Frankie. They been by here today?”

Mike and Al looked at each other. Then they looked back at Rhodes, crossed their arms over their chests, and said nothing at all.

Rhodes thought they'd probably win a staring contest if he got into one with them, so he said, “If you see them, tell them I'm still looking for them. If you see Nolan, tell him I said hey.”

Mike and Al looked at each other again. They didn't ask who Nolan was, and they didn't look happy that Rhodes had mentioned the name.

“It's been nice talking to you,” Rhodes said. “I hope I don't have to put you in jail again.”

“You won't,” Mike said, uncrossing his arms and dropping his hands to his sides.

“Yeah,” Al said, doing the same.

Rhodes left them there. He wondered how long it would be before they got into trouble again. Two weeks, tops, he figured.

*   *   *

Rhodes went back to the jail. He thought he had things worked out now, but he needed to get Lonnie to talk to make sure he was right. Give him a little more time, and it would come out, or at least Rhodes hoped it would. Rhodes didn't think Lonnie was in any danger, but you never knew about that kind of thing.

Rhodes went in the jail and told Hack to have Buddy drive by Lonnie's house now and then to be sure everything was all right.

“Any reason why things wouldn't be all right?” Hack asked.

“Two people are dead, and he knew both of them,” Rhodes said.

“So you think somebody might kill him just because he knew the other two?”

“Never mind,” Rhodes said. “Just let Buddy know.”

Hack muttered something about being mean, but he made the call. Rhodes sat at his desk and started writing things down, including all his speculations about the sequence of events from Lynn's death up to Tyler's. Everything fit.

Lawton came in just as he was finishing up.

“You ever eat raccoon?” he asked.

“Never did,” Hack said. “I've had 'possum, though.”

Rhodes hadn't heard any culinary discussions between the two of them lately, and he wondered what had brought this one on.

“Reason I ask,” Lawton said, as if Rhodes had spoken aloud, “is I was talkin' to one of the prisoners back there. Ray Slade. Buddy brought him in this mornin'. You know him, Sheriff. He's been here before.”

Rhodes was familiar with Slade, all right. He'd arrested him once himself. Slade had several bad habits, one of which was ignoring stop signs. He claimed he didn't see any use to stop if there was nobody coming. He didn't have much use for speed limits, either. Neither of those things would have been so bad if Slade had a driver's license, but that was something else he didn't believe in. He also didn't believe in liability insurance, which was yet another problem.

“He lives out on the old McCollum place,” Lawton said. “Lots of 'coons in those woods, and he hunts 'em now and then.”

“Wasn't brought in for that, though,” Hack said.

Rhodes didn't bother to ask what Slade's offense was. He could just look it up if he wanted to know, which he didn't.

“He says a 'coon's real good if it's cooked right,” Lawton said. “He says he can make a 'coon pie that'd make you think your mama cooked it. Says you have to be sure you get the meat tender. He soaks it in brine for eight hours or so and that does the trick.”

“Reminds me of Clint Worsham,” Hack said. “You remember him?”

“Sure,” Lawton said. “Lived in the country outside of Obert. I know why you thought of him. He's the one—”

Hack cut him off. “Clint had what he called his annual marsupial supper. Invited nearly ever'body in Obert. I never went myself, but I heard he had 'possum fixed five or six different ways. You ever eat 'possum, Sheriff?”

Rhodes stood up. He didn't think he wanted to hear any more about gourmet cooking.

“I never did,” he said. “Where's Buddy?”

“Prob'ly on patrol. You want me to call him?”

“Might be a good idea,” Rhodes said. “Tell him he can meet me at Lonnie Wallace's house.”

*   *   *

It was a lot quieter in Lonnie's neighborhood than it had been earlier in the day. Nobody was mowing a lawn or blowing the grass off a driveway. Rhodes figured everybody was inside having lunch or off having a burger at the Dairy Queen. He was pretty sure nobody was having raccoon pie or a tasty 'possum dish.

Lonnie came to the door and let Rhodes in.

“I was just about to cook myself a hamburger,” Lonnie said. “You want one? I can throw another patty on the grill.”

“No, thanks,” Rhodes said. “We have some things we need to talk about.”

“I thought we'd gone over everything,” Lonnie said. He looked a bit apprehensive. “I've told you all I know about Jeff and Lynn.”

“Not quite all,” Rhodes said. “There's one other thing.”

“I don't know what it could be,” Lonnie said.

“You can go ahead and grill that burger,” Rhodes said. “I can talk while you do.”