Billy Joe looked vaguely troubled, and Rhodes wondered just how much of what he’d said had been understood. Billy Joe might not be the most intelligent man in Clearview, but he wasn’t an idiot. He must have had some idea of the trouble he was in, and Rhodes was convinced that he could tell a lot about Jeanne’s murder if he would just open up. But Rhodes was running out of time. People in Clearview were generally a tolerant lot, but the killing of Bill Tomkins was going to get the whole county in an uproar, and Rhodes was going to be pressed to come up with some answers. Billy Joe was going to have to talk, or else Rhodes was going to have to find the answers elsewhere.
Rhodes didn’t want to pressure Billy Joe. There was a delicate balance in Billy Joe’s head that he didn’t want to disturb because he still believed Billy Joe to be incapable of murder. He decided to give it one more try, but a quiet one.
“I think you know I’ve always treated you right, Billy Joe. No one here’s ever hurt you, and we won’t hurt you this time. Just let me know if you want to talk. I’ll listen, and we can get this mess all straightened out.”
Billy Joe looked thoughtful. Finally, he spoke. “Smokes?” he asked. He pulled out a battered package of Merits from somewhere inside his shirt.
“I’m surprised you have any of those left,” Rhodes said. “I’ll send Hack up with a light in a minute. Anything else you want to talk about?”
Billy Joe shook his head.
“All right,” Rhodes said. “But pretty soon we’ve got to get this discussed.” He left the block and went back down to talk to Hack Jensen.
“Billy Joe wants a light. Has he been smoking much?”
“All the damn time,” Hack said. “He must have cigarettes stashed all in those clothes of his.”
“Well, go up in a minute and give him a light. Anything else to report for today, or has it been a quiet Friday for a change?”
“Now you know better than that, Sheriff,” Hack said, “but nothing of a major nature. I guess the biggest thing’s some fella named Adkins who wants to report his car stolen.”
“‘Wants to’? Why can’t he just report it?” Rhodes asked, suspecting that he was setting himself up again.
“Can’t exactly call it stolen, I guess,” Hack said. “He knows where it is, and all.”
It was too late for Rhodes to back out now, so he went on. “If he knows where it is, why doesn’t he just get it?”
“Can’t get it. He can see it, but he can’t exactly get it. I mean, he could get it, but then he might be doing something illegal himself. I need you to interpret the law on this one for me.”
Rhodes managed to resist the impulse to ask Hack to get to the point, but it wasn’t easy. “If you’ll explain it, I’ll be glad to interpret for you.” he said.
“You remember that drunk we had two weeks back, drove his car into old man Carlen’s field off one of the county roads?” Hack asked.
“Well, that drunk was Adkins,” Hack said. “Took him about two days in the block to sleep it off, as I recall it.’’
“I’m sure that’s right,” Rhodes said. Hack usually kept up with the prisoners with great accuracy. He could go back in his memory a year or more without error.
“Well, by the time he got on his feet and out of jail, he didn’t have enough money to get that car towed in. It’d been raining about then, and that car was stuck pretty good. That ground out there’s black and sticky as it can be. No way he could just drive it out.”
“But he’s got the money now?” Rhodes asked.
“Yeah, he’s got it now.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Rhodes was near exasperation.
“Problem is, now old man Carlen’s gone and repaired the fence where Adkins smashed through it. Brand-new bob wire fence, stretched tight as a young gal’s pants. Get that car out, you’re going to have to cut that fence. And old man Carlen wouldn’t take very well to somebody cutting his brand-new fence.”
Rhodes knew Carlen, and he knew the old man had a salty temper. “I expect Mr. Carlen built that fence out of spite,” he told Hack.
“I expect you’re right about that,” Hack said. “But a fence is a fence, any way you look at it.”
“I’m going to lose a vote any way I go about this one,” Rhodes said.
Hack looked at him disdainfully. “You oughtn’t joke about a thing like that, Sheriff,” he said. “You know a vote don’t mean a thing to you where it’s a question of right or wrong.”
“Thanks, Hack. I wish everyone in the county thought that way. But you’re right. Something’s got to be done, and no matter what Mr. Carlen thinks, Adkins has a right to his car.”
“I’ll call him myself,” Hack said.
“All right, but use my name if you have to. Tell him I’ll bring my own wire cutters out there if he wants to make it official.”
“I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that,” Hack said. “I think he just wanted to make a stir, and now that he’s done it he’ll probably calm down.”
“It’s getting a little late in the day,” Rhodes said. “Save it till tomorrow, why don’t you. It’ll make a good way to start the day.”
“Yeah, if something else don’t happen by then,” Hack said.
“Don’t try to cheer me up,” Rhodes told him. “I’m going home for supper. Then tonight I’ll be going back to Thurston for a little talk with Elmer Clinton. Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency.”
Hack looked hurt. “‘Have I ever called you when it wasn’t?”
“Guess not,” Rhodes said as he went out the door.
Rhodes was eating a bologna sandwich when Kathy came into the kitchen and joined him. “I wish you’d let me fix you a decent meal,” she said.
Rhodes looked ruefully at the limp sandwich. “Someday I will,” he said. “I’m on the jump now, what with that latest killing.”
“I heard about it on the news,”‘ Kathy said. Clearview, though small, had both an AM and an FM radio station. The FM station, trying to cut into the listenership of the older, more established AM one, did a lot of local news-talk shows.
“Any commentary?” Rhodes asked.
“Just a straight report. Not even any mention of a crime wave right here in Blacklin County,” Kathy said.
“Not exactly a crime wave,” Rhodes said. “But I guess for a town of Thurston’s size it looks like one.” He paused. “Speaking of Thurston, how’s Johnny?”‘
Kathy looked down at the top of the round oak table. “Fine, I guess.”
“You guess? What’s the matter? Trouble between you two?”
“Not trouble, exactly. It. . well, it’s hard to explain.”
Rhodes laid his sandwich, or what was left of it, down on his napkin. He never bothered with a plate when he ate alone. “Want to try? Explaining, I mean. “
“I don’t know,” Kathy said. “He’s been. . different the last few days. Maybe that business about the lawsuit has bothered him. I don’t know. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He just gets upset if I mention it.”
“He get that way often?” Rhodes picked up his sandwich. After what Buddy had told him, he didn’t like the way this was sounding.
“Not often. He’s moody, though, and sometimes a little pushy. As I said, it’s hard to explain.”
Rhodes stuffed the last of the sandwich in his mouth. “You still going to be seeing him?”
“Oh, I suppose so. He’ll get over it, whatever it is.”
“Do you ever think maybe it’s time for you to get out of Clearview, maybe get a teaching job somewhere that has more to offer a young woman like you?” Rhodes smiled. “Not that I haven’t liked your being here, but I can take care of myself now.”
Kathy looked up at him and grinned. “Or maybe you’ve found someone else who can take care of you now,” she said.
Rhodes was surprised to find himself nearly blushing, not so much because he was embarrassed as that his daughter could read him so well. “You mean Ivy Daniels, I guess,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, “and I think it’s just fine.”
“We’ve just been out the one time, and that was business,” Rhodes said, aware that he was being a bit deceitful.