way?” Rhodes asked.
“Hand it here,” Hack said, and Rhodes gave it to him.
Hack looked at the gaff, then handed it to Lawton. “I see it. How ’bout you?”
Lawton examined the piece of steel, then ran his finger along it. “Sure. Somebody’s filed an edge on the bottom. Usually a gaff is just round, like a needle, but this one’s more like a sword.”
He handed the gaff back to Rhodes, who took it and ran his thumb along the sharpened edge. It was not quite as keen as a razor blade, but it would do.
“Yeah, it’s like a sword,” Hack said. “See, a round one, which is the way they usually are, will generally just slide off if it hits a bone. But one with an edge on it like that, it’s likely to penetrate. Maybe break the bone.”
“That’s not fair, is it?” Mrs. McGee said.
“Who cares?” Hack said. “Cockfightin’s illegal anyway, so what’s one more crooked trick? What’re you gonna do if you catch somebody at it? Go to the Sheriff?” He looked at Rhodes. “Where’d you get that thing, anyhow?”
“Lige had it,” Rhodes said. “It was in his pocket.”
“Not the kinda thing a fella’d usually be carryin’ around,” Lawton said. “Unless he had somethin’ to do with cockfightin’.”
“Did he?” Rhodes asked. “You said you’d heard something. And you and Hack seem to know an awful lot about cockfighting.”
“I heard somethin’, all right,” Lawton admitted. “But you know how that is. You can’t put any faith in what you hear.”
“Tell me anyway,” Rhodes said.
“Well,” Lawton began, “this was before your time, I guess, but Lige Ward’s daddy —”
“What does Lige’s daddy have to do with this?” Rhodes asked, trying to keep Lawton on the subject. If he let the jailer get started down a sidetrack, they might never get to the subject. Hack and Lawton were worse than Ballinger when it came to meandering all over the place.
“I was tryin’ to tell you what he has to do with it,” Lawton said. “If you’ll just let me get to it.”
Rhodes walked over and sat down at his desk. He might as well make himself comfortable.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. You go on ahead.”
“You do that a lot lately,” Hack said. “Interrupt, I mean.”
Rhodes took a deep breath. “I said I was sorry. Go on, Lawton. What about Lige’s father?”
“His name was Smokey,” Lawton said. “‘Course that wasn’t his real name. People just called him that.”
A strong feeling of deja vu came over Rhodes, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew it wouldn’t do any good to ask what Ward’s real name had been. He just hoped it didn’t turn out to be Ed McBain.
It didn’t.
“His real name was Elton,” Lawton said. “I don’t know why they called him Smokey. But anyway, back in the Thirties, Smokey raised fightin’ roosters out there on that place of his close to Obert.”
That was news to Rhodes, but as Lawton had said, it was before Rhodes’ time.
“Had him some pretty good birds,” Hack said. “Fought ’em, too.” He glanced at Mrs. McGee, who was looking at him with disapproval. “Not that I ever went to any of the fights myself, mind you. I just heard about ’em.”
“Yeah,” Lawton said. “Me too. Anyway, he quit durin’ the war. I don’t know why. Maybe there was too many men off fightin’ in the war for there to be any crowds for a cockfight. But I guess Lige must’ve known about those roosters. Maybe he even remembered ’em.”
Rhodes thought they were getting somewhere now. “Did he ever raise them himself?”
Lawton shook his head. “Not that I ever heard of.”
“Then what was the connection between Lige and cockfighting?”
Lawton gave Rhodes a hurt look. “I was gettin’ to that part.”
Rhodes forced himself to relax. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to rush you.”
“You been doin’ a lot of that lately, too,” Hack said. “Rushin’ people. I’m beginnin’ to wonder if gettin’ married was good
“Hand it here,” Hack said, and Rhodes gave it to him.
Hack looked at the gaff, then handed it to Lawton. “I see it. How ’bout you?”
Lawton examined the piece of steel, then ran his finger along it. “Sure. Somebody’s filed an edge on the bottom. Usually a gaff is just round, like a needle, but this one’s more like a sword.”
He handed the gaff back to Rhodes, who took it and ran his thumb along the sharpened edge. It was not quite as keen as a razor blade, but it would do.
“Yeah, it’s like a sword,” Hack said. “See, a round one, which is the way they usually are, will generally just slide off if it hits a bone. But one with an edge on it like that, it’s likely to penetrate. Maybe break the bone.”
“That’s not fair, is it?” Mrs. McGee said.
“Who cares?” Hack said. “Cockfightin’s illegal anyway, so what’s one more crooked trick? What’re you gonna do if you catch somebody at it? Go to the Sheriff?” He looked at Rhodes. “Where’d you get that thing, anyhow?”
“Lige had it,” Rhodes said. “It was in his pocket.”
“Not the kinda thing a fella’d usually be carryin’ around,” Lawton said. “Unless he had somethin’ to do with cockfightin’.”
“Did he?” Rhodes asked. “You said you’d heard something. And you and Hack seem to know an awful lot about cockfighting.”
“I heard somethin’, all right,” Lawton admitted. “But you know how that is. You can’t put any faith in what you hear.”
“Tell me anyway,” Rhodes said.
“Well,” Lawton began, “this was before your time, I guess, but Lige Ward’s daddy —”
“What does Lige’s daddy have to do with this?” Rhodes asked, trying to keep Lawton on the subject. If he let the jailer get started down a sidetrack, they might never get to the subject. Hack and Lawton were worse than Ballinger when it came to meandering all over the place.
“I was tryin’ to tell you what he has to do with it,” Lawton said. “If you’ll just let me get to it.”
Rhodes walked over and sat down at his desk. He might as well make himself comfortable.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. You go on ahead.”
“You do that a lot lately,” Hack said. “Interrupt, I mean.”
Rhodes took a deep breath. “I said I was sorry. Go on, Lawton. What about Lige’s father?”
“His name was Smokey,” Lawton said. “‘Course that wasn’t his real name. People just called him that.”
A strong feeling of deja vu came over Rhodes, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew it wouldn’t do any good to ask what Ward’s real name had been. He just hoped it didn’t turn out to be Ed McBain.
It didn’t.
“His real name was Elton,” Lawton said. “I don’t know why they called him Smokey. But anyway, back in the Thirties, Smokey raised fightin’ roosters out there on that place of his close to Obert.”
That was news to Rhodes, but as Lawton had said, it was before Rhodes’ time.
“Had him some pretty good birds,” Hack said. “Fought ’em, too.” He glanced at Mrs. McGee, who was looking at him with disapproval. “Not that I ever went to any of the fights myself, mind you. I just heard about ’em.”
“Yeah,” Lawton said. “Me too. Anyway, he quit durin’ the war. I don’t know why. Maybe there was too many men off fightin’ in the war for there to be any crowds for a cockfight. But I guess Lige must’ve known about those roosters. Maybe he even remembered ’em.”
Rhodes thought they were getting somewhere now. “Did he ever raise them himself?”
Lawton shook his head. “Not that I ever heard of.”
“Then what was the connection between Lige and cockfighting?”
Lawton gave Rhodes a hurt look. “I was gettin’ to that part.”
Rhodes forced himself to relax. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to rush you.”
“You been doin’ a lot of that lately, too,” Hack said. “Rushin’ people. I’m beginnin’ to wonder if gettin’ married was good
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