He stepped outside and looked in the flat, black mailbox, remembering that he hadn’t checked the day before.
There was a circular advertising a sale at Wal-Mart, and another circular offering him siding for his house ABSOLUTELY FREE!!!!! if he would consent to being a “Showcase Home.” He decided to decline. There was also an envelope with a cartoon drawing of Ed McMahon on the outside, promising to Mr. Dan Rhodes that he had (if he was lucky) a prize of TEN MILLION DOLLARS!!!!! awaiting him. Rhodes put that envelope carefully aside. He always responded to sweepstakes letters, even though he never bought any of the products and figured that his chances of winning were nil. He also figured that the twenty-two cents he spent on the stamp was a small price to pay for the ten or fifteen minutes of pleasure he got from thinking about what he would do with TEN MILLION DOLLARS!!!!!
The last item was a letter from Kathy, written on some kind of card that folded into its own envelope and sealed with a gold foil circle. He peeled off the circle and read the neatly penned letter.
Kathy had settled in to her new apartment, and while she hadn’t really met anyone yet, she was sure she was going to like it. She missed her father, of course, and she hoped that he was eating something besides bologna sandwiches for lunch. Rhodes laughed. So far he hadn’t eaten anything.
Kathy went on to say that she hoped Ivy was doing well, and she wondered if he had any news for her about himself and Ivy. Rhodes knew that she strongly approved of the idea of his getting married again, and he knew that he should write her and let her know of the recent developments. He wasn’t much on writing. Maybe he could call.
Then he thought about the “recent developments,” something he hadn’t really allowed himself to do. He still wasn’t able to devote his full attention to the matter, but he decided to think about it anyway.
Except that he still didn’t know what to think.
On the one hand, there was obviously strong feelings between himself and Ivy Daniel. He liked to be with her, and he could tell that she enjoyed herself in his company. And, of course, there was something more than that, as he’d discovered a couple of nights ago. Not that things had gotten out of hand. Far from it. But still, they had kissed, and there was certainly an electricity in it that he’d been pretty sure that he’d never feel again. He was too old for that sort of thing. But there it was. To tell the truth, it scared him a little.
On the other hand, there was his job, which Ivy had at least once expressed a concern about. It could certainly be dangerous, though it usually wasn’t. It usually wasn’t even as physically taxing as it had been for the last few days. It did demand that he be on call twenty-four hours a day, just like a doctor. If something came up that required the presence of the chief law officer of the county, he had to appear, no matter if it was three o’clock in the morning or the middle of Sunday afternoon.
And on the other hand-if I had another hand, Rhodes thought-there was Ivy herself. She had run for justice of the peace once and might want to again. But if she married Rhodes, that would be impossible. Definite conflict of interest, there.
Of course, Rhodes thought, he had more or less proposed to Ivy, and she had more or less accepted. He wished he could remember the exact words, but he couldn’t. Not that he was trying to weasel out of it. In fact, sitting there in the empty house, nobody there but him and the dog, the idea of Ivy being around pleased him quite a bit. She wouldn’t be there during the day, naturally, since she would want to keep her job, but just the thought of her presence would cheer him up.
He wondered if Bert Ramsey had felt that way about Wyneva Greer, or if Buster Cullens had. The more he thought about Buster Cullens, the more he wondered about Wyneva Greer. There really wasn’t much doubt in his mind that Wyneva had been the third person in the woods at Rapper’s tent, though he hadn’t mentioned that to Malvin and Cox. Could it be that they knew something that they hadn’t mentioned to him?
Maybe he was getting cynical. Surely two federal agents, who had decided to be so frank with him about how they hadn’t quite trusted him, were going to level now, weren’t they? Probably not.
They had said that they wanted to know why Wyneva was with Buster, but maybe they knew. Maybe they just didn’t want Rhodes to know that they knew. Maybe they didn’t want Rhodes to know.
When you looked at it, Rhodes thought, it was really pretty obvious. Buster Cullens knew about Bert Ramsey. He didn’t know everything, though. He didn’t know where the dope was going after it was harvested. So he stole Ramsey’s girl and found out from her. Or he tried to find out.
Maybe he made a mistake, slipped up, was too obvious, and Wyneva had caught on. And instead of reporting to Ramsey-after all, she’d left him already-she’d reported to Rapper. Rapper had done the rest, after first trying to find out how much Cullens knew, and after killing Bert Ramsey to shut his mouth permanently. Now there was no one left to tie Rapper and Los Muertos into the dope. It was just there in Ramsey’s backyard, so to speak, with no one to blame except a dead man. And if the federal boys hadn’t come by, Rapper could have harvested it with no one the wiser.
All in all, Rhodes thought, it wasn’t a bad theory. There were a few holes in it, though. For one thing, it seemed to Rhodes that Rapper, though obviously a lunatic, was fairly clever. He would certainly realize that it was much better to be brought in on a dope rap than on a double homicide.
But connecting Rapper to Ramsey’s death would not be easy, and it was only an accident that Rhodes had walked in on Rapper at Cullens’s house. It wasn’t Rapper’s fault that Rhodes had been able to walk out of the latter situation. So maybe it was the way Rhodes had it figured. He thought he would play it that way and see what happened, anyway.
He walked over to the phone and called the Trail’s End motel. “Hey, Gerald,” he said when the desk clerk answered. “You got two guys named Cox and Malvin registered?”
“Sure do, Sheriff,” Gerald answered.
Rhodes was a little surprised that they’d used their real names, but since Cullens was dead and probably exposed anyway, he guessed it didn’t really matter. Besides, he didn’t know how the federal boys preferred to operate, anyway. “Connect me with their room, will you?” he asked.
“Sure thing, Sheriff.” Rhodes heard clicking sounds and then the ringing of the telephone.
Cox answered. “Hello?”
“It’s Dan Rhodes. I’ve got one little question for you.”
“Shoot,” Cox said. “Figuratively speaking, of course.”
“It’s about Wyneva Greer.”
“What about her?” Cox said. No hesitation. No wariness.
“I just have this feeling you know more than you’re telling,” Rhodes said.
The line hummed for a second or two while Cox said nothing. Then there was a sigh. “What makes you think that?”
“It’s just a feeling I have,” Rhodes said. “Plus the fact that I just don’t really believe that an agent of yours could live with someone for months without you knowing quite a bit about what was going on.”
“Is this telephone secure?”
Rhodes laughed. Cox had asked in all seriousness, but Rhodes found it hard to take the question in the spirit in which it had been intended. The idea of a bugged telephone in Blacklin County was almost ridiculous. “It’s secure,” he said.
“I guess it may seem pretty funny that I’d even ask,” Cox said. “Just a habit. Anyway, you’re right. Another little habit we have is holding back a little something. No reflection on you.”
“Of course not,” Rhodes said, not believing a word of it.
“We did have a little information on the Greer woman,” Cox said. “Cullens had evidently met her at some kind of nightclub while she was with Ramsey. So he decided to get to know her a little better, hoping for some inside information. He got to know her a little better than he intended.” There was a note of disapproval in the voice now. “Cullens had been in a little trouble for things like that in the past.”