“You took Dr. Rawlings’s money,” Rhodes said. “You’ve got to bury them.”
“I can send the money back,” Ballinger said. “I’ve talked to my lawyer, and he says burying them would be a mistake. What if someone decided to sue?”
Rhodes sighed. It was the modern way. Everybody was suing everybody else. He supposed that even a mortician could be sued. “No one’s going to sue,” he said.
“How do you know?” Ballinger asked. He didn’t ask in a smart way. He really wanted to know.
“Because all those limbs are from people who believe that they’ve already been disposed of.” Rhodes didn’t know if he was telling the truth, but it sounded plausible. “They’re from amputees who paid someone to remove them. They were supposed to be burned. No one will ever know that you buried them.”
“You’re sure?”
“Rawlings hauled them off up here and dumped them in a pasture. You think a doctor would take a chance like that if there was even a remote possibility he could be sued?”
“You’ve got a point there,” Ballinger said. “That lawyer of mine probably isn’t as smart as he thinks. I’ll do it.”
“I hope so,” Rhodes said. “I’m getting tired of thinking about those boxes. So give me an exact time. I want to be there.”
Ballinger thought for a second. “Tomorrow evening, seven o’clock. The north end of the cemetery. No use calling any more attention to this than we have to.” The north end of the cemetery was well back from the road and overlooked miles of open pasture.
“I’ll be there,” Rhodes said.
They left Ballinger and went back to the car, where the dog was waiting quietly. Ruth and Ivy were talking about the books.
“Can you believe there’s really a book called Guerrilla Girls?” Ivy asked.
“How about Backwoods Hussy?” Ruth said.
“Don’t laugh,” Rhodes told them. “Some of those old books are pretty good.”
Both women looked at him, but neither said a word. Rhodes sat in the back seat and rubbed the dog’s head.
After he had bathed and eaten a sandwich, Rhodes felt better. Several ideas about what was going on were beginning to form, and while he didn’t think he had all the answers, he did think he was getting a handle on things.
He went outside and looked at the dog, which seemed content to lie by the back steps. Of course, he’d eaten practically a whole package of Rhodes’s bologna, so he certainly should have been content, at least for the time being. Rhodes knew he’d have to buy some real dog food pretty soon.
He had owned only one dog before, when Kathy was small. The dog’s name was Speedo, for no good reason that Rhodes could remember. Like most dogs, Speedo had soon become like another member of the family and had lived with them happily for nearly ten years. Then one day he had run into the street, something he never did, and been hit by a passing car. Claire and Kathy had cried and cried-Kathy continued to sniffle for days-and Rhodes had taken Speedo into the back yard and buried him. Rhodes had cried a little, too. The rock that marked Speedo’s grave still got in the way on those rare occasions when he mowed the back yard, but he’d never even given a thought to moving it. They had never gotten another dog.
“What the heck,” Rhodes said to the dog. “You don’t look Italian. I think I’ll just call you Speedo. Nobody but you and I will know that your real name is Mr. Earl.”
The dog, his tongue still hanging out slightly, looked at Rhodes. His tail thumped twice.
“That’s settled, then,” Rhodes said. He went back inside, ate another sandwich, using the last piece of his bologna, and went down to the jail.
“Hey, Sheriff,” Hack said when Rhodes walked in. “What you drivin’?”
Rhodes didn’t really want to think about the shot-up car he’d left at Buster Cullens’s house. “I’m in my pickup,” he said.
“Hear you got yourself a dog,” Lawton said, “one with an Eye-talian name.”
“His name’s Speedo,” Rhodes said. “I changed it.”
“Oh,” Lawton said. Whatever joke he’d planned about the dog’s name was ruined.
Hack took up the slack. “Guess you heard about the demonstration.”
Rhodes hadn’t heard, of course.
“Big demonstration down by the phone company,” Lawton said, wanting to get in on things. Hack looked at him and Lawton shut up.
“Lady called,” Hack said. “She thought it might be commonists, wantin’ to blow up the phone company.”
“I didn’t know there were enough Communists in Blacklin County to hold a demonstration,” Rhodes said.
“You may be right,” Hack said, “but I figured you’d want me to send somebody out to investigate.”
“Absolutely right,” Rhodes said. “We wouldn’t want a Communist takeover right here in the middle of Texas.”
“That’s exactly what I thought,” Hack said. “So I sent Buddy.”
“That reminds me,” Rhodes said. “What about that doll?”
“The evidence is safe,” Lawton said. “Flatter than a flitter.”
“About this here demonstration,” Hack said.
“What about it?”
“You know where the Presbyterian church is?” Hack asked.
“That’s the one where the Reverend Funk preaches,” Lawton put in. Hack glared at him.
“Sure I know,” Rhodes said. “What’s that got to do-Wait a minute. There wouldn’t have been a wedding there today, would there?”
Hack was a little disappointed that Rhodes had caught on. “Yeah, there was,” he said. “Right catty-corner from the phone company. Looks like I sent Buddy down there to bust up a weddin’ reception. They was all out on the walk, wavin’ little bags of rice around and laughin’ and goin’ on. It prob’ly looked like a demonstration to somebody.”
“I can see that,” Rhodes said, not really sure that he could. “Did the caller give a name?”
“Nope. One o’ those ‘nonymous calls. Good thing, too. Whoever it was’ll feel bad enough when she finds out, anyway.”
“I doubt it,” Rhodes said. “Whoever it was will just think it was a bunch of demonstrators disguised as a wedding party.”
“You may be right, at that,” Hack said.
“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” Rhodes said. “As long as it’s taken care of. Now, have you sent a wrecker out for the county car?”
“Sure have. Commissioners are gonna love that. First the air conditioner, and then the car. Bet our insurance goes up.”
Rhodes changed the subject. “I’m going out to Gottschalk’s place. You ever call him?”
“Yep. That Nellie is his nephew, all right. Hasn’t seen him in years, though. Remembers him as a pretty good kid when he was little.”
“Well, he’s not little anymore,” Rhodes said.
“What you goin’ out there for?” Lawton asked. “They surely won’t be stayin’ around after what happened this mornin’.”
“I know that,” Rhodes said. “They might have left something behind, though.” He was pretty sure they hadn’t. Rapper may have been psychotic, but he was smart. There wasn’t anything else he could do today, however. He knew that the doctors at the hospital wouldn’t let him do any serious questioning of Jayse and the other man until the next morning, after all the tests had been run and the injuries determined.
“Better take you some backup, just in case,” Hack said.
“No need for that,” Rhodes said. “They’ll be long gone from there by now. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were halfway to El Paso.”
“All the same,” Hack said.
“Don’t worry,” Rhodes told him. “There won’t be any problem.” He hoped he was right.
He was wrong, but he didn’t know it at first. The sun was setting when he arrived at Gottschalk’s and drove over the cattle guard, but there was still enough daylight left for Rhodes to see that the tent was gone, and that no motorcycles were parked anywhere around. He drove his pickup down to where the tent had been and parked it.