Women seemed to find him attractive, or maybe it was his money they liked. At any rate, he’d been married three times to progressively younger brides. The current one was about twenty-three. Billy Don was close to fifty himself.
No one in Clearview had ever seen Billy Don Painter without a jacket and tie. He didn’t buy the suits locally, either. They were expensive and conservative. His ties always matched. He was tall and trim and looked good in his clothes. He’d always reminded Rhodes of a tall James Mason, with a Texas drawl.
“Mornin’, Sheriff,” he said as he strolled into the jail. He always entered a room as if he owned it and anyone else there was merely visiting. “How you all doin’ this fine day?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Painter,” Rhodes said. “What can we do for you?”
“Not me, Sheriff, not me. You can do nothin’ for me. It’s my client, Mr. Terry Wayne, for whom you can do something.”
Rhodes had known it was coming as soon as Painter had stepped in the door. Painter hadn’t had a hot case in nearly a year now, and a good police brutality contest would get him back in the public eye, where he loved to be.
“And what is it I can do for poor Mr. Wayne?” Rhodes asked.
“Why, you can give him justice. Fire that brutal deputy of yours and see to it that the county recompenses Mr. Wayne for the terrible physical suffering that he has undergone.”
“He looked pretty healthy to me the other night,” Rhodes said.
“That was before I had him examined by a doctor,” Painter said. “He has suffered serious internal injury to his vitals, and this county is responsible.”
“Well, I guess that could be a matter of opinion,” Rhodes said. “I guess the county could hire a doctor, too.
“You had better do so, then,” Painter told him. “I am on my way at this moment to the office of the district attorney to file charges against you, your deputy, and the commissioners of this county. Unless we can come to some settlement, of course.”
“Of course,” Rhodes said. “Naturally you’ve consulted with the commissioners about this.”
“Naturally,” Painter said.
Fine, Rhodes thought. That’s just fine. He wondered why the telephone wasn’t ringing at that very moment. He didn’t say anything, however.
Painter stood and looked at Rhodes for a second or two. Then he turned to go. “See you in court, Sheriff,” he said.
Not if I see you first, Rhodes thought, then chided himself for acting like an adolescent. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to respond.
After the lawyer had left, Hack broke the silence. “Never a dull moment,” he said. “Hard to remember what I did for fun before I took up this here law enforcement career.”
“I’m glad the county could help you out,” Rhodes said.
It was funny how big things could drive little things out of your mind. Rhodes hadn’t even thought about the robbery of Hod Barrett’s store until he drove up to the door. It would make a good excuse to begin his talk with Hod.
Barrett was inside, counting out change for a customer. “. . And twenty-five makes a dollar,” he said, putting a quarter into the hand of a woman in a cotton print dress. “You come again, now, Miz Barney.”
“I will, Mr. Barrett,” the woman responded, picking up the small brown sack that held her purchases. She stepped by Rhodes without noticing him.
It was quiet in the store, especially for a Saturday morning. There was no one on the loafer’s bench, and no one else in the store. “Where is everybody?” Rhodes asked.
“That damn Safeway in Clearview is havin’ a big sale,” Barrett said. “Won’t be anybody in here today unless they run out of bread and milk. I might just as well close up.”
“Can’t be that bad,” Rhodes said.
“Bad enough,” Barrett said. “At least I ain’t been robbed in a day or two, though.”
Given his opening, Rhodes asked, “Tell me a little bit more about that robbery, Hod. What with Jeanne getting killed and all, I really didn’t get to ask you everything I needed to know.
“What else could I tell you?” Hod asked. “You saw the break-in. I told you what was taken.”
“You didn’t tell me exactly what was taken,” Rhodes said. “You just said ‘smokes and beers,’ as I remember.”
Barrett came out from behind the counter and led Rhodes to the back of the store. In front of the stacks of Northern tissue was an opened case of Merit Menthol 100s. “Got about six cartons out of here,” Barrett said. “They got a few six packs of Lone Star, too. As far as I can tell, that’s all they got. Like I said, probably just some kids out to get somethin’ for free.”
“Probably,” Rhodes said. “By the way, Hod, where were you yesterday morning? I came in here to use your telephone, and Larry Bell was minding the store.”
“He does that for me every now and then,” Hod said, “I had to go to the house for a minute, and I was deliverin’ an order or two. I’m not like a Safeway. If my customers can’t come to me, I’ll go to them. Not that that keeps them from going to Clearview when they have the time.”
It sounded likely, and it might even be true, Rhodes thought. “Have you talked to your wife about your going over to the Clintons’ house?” he asked.
Hod brought up his hands, then jammed them in his pockets. “I don’t want to talk to you about that no more, Sheriff. I said more than I ever wanted to say already. You got to believe that has nothing to do with me or my wife now. Jeanne’s dead, and I’m sorry. Real sorry. But now I got to go on and maybe find somebody else to talk to. But that somebody won’t be my wife.”
“I may need to talk to her again,” Rhodes said.
“You just go right ahead, Sheriff. I expect you’ve done all the damage you can do me in that way,” Barrett told him.
“Before I do,” Rhodes said, “there’s one more thing I’d like to ask you. Think about it before you say anything, because it won’t be obvious. If it was, you’d already have told me. But did you ever see anyone else at Jeanne’s when you went there? Or maybe somebody just hanging around there at night?”
Barrett shook his head. “Never.” ‘
“Are you sure? There were others there from time to time, whether you knew it or not. Bill Tomkins certainly knew.”
Barrett jerked his hands from his pockets. “That damn silly Tomkins didn’t have no more sense than a possum eatin’ persimmons. He told all kinds of tales here in the store about one thing or another, but nobody ever paid him no mind.”
“I believe he was telling the truth about this,” Rhodes said. “One man he saw has already admitted it. . besides you, I mean. He was telling the truth about you, too. Come to think of it, your wife may have heard about you from Tomkins.”
“That’s enough of that, Sheriff,” Barrett said. “Plumb enough. I got a store to run here, and you ain’t helpin’. I never saw anybody around Jeanne’s, and that’s that. Bill Tomkins was a gossip and a fool, and anybody else in town would tell you the same.” He stepped around Rhodes and went back to the front of the store.
Rhodes watched him go. The screen doors opened, and someone came in, handing Barrett an order list which he started to fill by going around to the shelves on the left wall. Rhodes went on out the back door.
The cooler was still on the ground where it had fallen. Hod probably hadn’t had time to get his wife to build a new stand for it. Rhodes looked at the opening thoughtfully. Someone had nailed boards to the window facing from the inside. Maybe Barrett had done that himself.
Rhodes wondered about who had broken in. Kids, young kids, would have taken more candy than anything, and teenagers would have taken a lot more beer. Hungry people would have taken food.
Rhodes began to feel that he was looking at a jigsaw puzzle, with the pieces scattered all over a table. If he could just push the pieces around until they began to look like something, he might be able to assemble them. In fact, his mind was pushing them around right now, and he wasn’t too pleased with the picture that he thought might result when the assembly was done. He kicked at the wooden frame. It was time for him to go see James Allen.