a start.”
It was more than enough. Vance was a veritable Geraldo when it came to dishing the dirt. Rhodes had plenty to think about: The County Line, Hayes Ford, Bob Deedham’s wife (not to mention Deedham himself), and steroids.
“You know that this is the kind of stuff that’ll never get in the paper, don’t you?” Goober asked.
Rhodes knew it. The Clearview newspaper’s editorial policy was one that advocated praising local politicians whenever possible, boosting the local economy by running free “shop at home in Clearview” ads when space permitted, letting everyone know whose aunt from Dallas was in town for a visit, giving generous space to all weddings and funerals, supporting the football team, and ignoring anything at all that might make Clearview look anything less than the most idyllic place to live in the state of Texas.
“But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to know the outcome of all this,” Goober said. “I may not be able to write it, but I like to know what’s going on around town anyway.”
“If there’s anything I think you should know, you’ll hear from me,” Rhodes said, not so sure that he wanted to give Vance anything more to gossip about. He thanked the reporter for his time and stood up. “And if you hear of anything else that might help me, let me know.”
“You can count on me, Sheriff,” Vance said. “Always glad to cooperate with the Law.”
He was already turning back to the monitor before Rhodes was out the door.
H ack and Lawton were deep in conversation when Rhodes walked in the jail. They looked up expectantly but didn’t say anything, which was a bad sign. Rhodes thought it might be easier just to ignore them. He put the cigarette butt in the evidence locker, which was really just an old black safe, then sat at his desk, put on his reading glasses, and started doing the paperwork on the Meredith death.
“He ain’t gonna talk to us,” Hack said behind his back. “Too busy, I guess.”
“Sure,” Lawton said. “I save his life at the game last night and then he slights me. That’s the thanks I get.”
Rhodes swiveled around and looked at them. “I appreciate it that you saved my life,” he told Lawton. “And I’m not too busy to talk if there’s anything to talk about. Is there?”
“We thought you might want to tell us if it was Brady Meredith in that car or not,” Hack said. “And then you might ask if there’s anything else goin’ on around here that you oughta know about.”
Rhodes sighed and took his glasses off. “It was Meredith, all right. Somebody shot him. I don’t know who it was yet.”
“You oughta talk to that Goober Vance down at the paper,” Lawton said. “He knows ever’thing that goes on with that football team.”
“I talked to him. He had a lot of hints, but no real facts. I’ll have to find those out myself.”
“That figgers,” Hack said. “I expect you’ll be gettin’ a lot of hints, considerin’ how interested everybody is in gettin’ this murder solved and out of the way so the really important stuff can go on as usual.”
“What important stuff?” Rhodes asked.
“Football,” Lawton said. “That’s what all the calls have been about.”
“Calls? Nobody mentioned any calls.”
“That’s ’cause you were so busy when you came in,” Hack said. “You didn’t ask about any calls, so I didn’t mention ’em. Didn’t want to bother you, seein’ as how you were so busy.”
“Tell me about the calls,” Rhodes said.
“There was a lot of ’em,” Hack said. “Seems like ever’body in town already knows for sure that Brady’s dead. Except me and Lawton, of course. Nobody told us. Not until we asked, anyway.”
“But I told you then,” Rhodes said, wanting to get on with it. “What about the calls?”
“Like Hack told you,” Lawton said. “There was a lot of ’em. Phone like to rung off the
It was more than enough. Vance was a veritable Geraldo when it came to dishing the dirt. Rhodes had plenty to think about: The County Line, Hayes Ford, Bob Deedham’s wife (not to mention Deedham himself), and steroids.
“You know that this is the kind of stuff that’ll never get in the paper, don’t you?” Goober asked.
Rhodes knew it. The Clearview newspaper’s editorial policy was one that advocated praising local politicians whenever possible, boosting the local economy by running free “shop at home in Clearview” ads when space permitted, letting everyone know whose aunt from Dallas was in town for a visit, giving generous space to all weddings and funerals, supporting the football team, and ignoring anything at all that might make Clearview look anything less than the most idyllic place to live in the state of Texas.
“But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to know the outcome of all this,” Goober said. “I may not be able to write it, but I like to know what’s going on around town anyway.”
“If there’s anything I think you should know, you’ll hear from me,” Rhodes said, not so sure that he wanted to give Vance anything more to gossip about. He thanked the reporter for his time and stood up. “And if you hear of anything else that might help me, let me know.”
“You can count on me, Sheriff,” Vance said. “Always glad to cooperate with the Law.”
He was already turning back to the monitor before Rhodes was out the door.
H ack and Lawton were deep in conversation when Rhodes walked in the jail. They looked up expectantly but didn’t say anything, which was a bad sign. Rhodes thought it might be easier just to ignore them. He put the cigarette butt in the evidence locker, which was really just an old black safe, then sat at his desk, put on his reading glasses, and started doing the paperwork on the Meredith death.
“He ain’t gonna talk to us,” Hack said behind his back. “Too busy, I guess.”
“Sure,” Lawton said. “I save his life at the game last night and then he slights me. That’s the thanks I get.”
Rhodes swiveled around and looked at them. “I appreciate it that you saved my life,” he told Lawton. “And I’m not too busy to talk if there’s anything to talk about. Is there?”
“We thought you might want to tell us if it was Brady Meredith in that car or not,” Hack said. “And then you might ask if there’s anything else goin’ on around here that you oughta know about.”
Rhodes sighed and took his glasses off. “It was Meredith, all right. Somebody shot him. I don’t know who it was yet.”
“You oughta talk to that Goober Vance down at the paper,” Lawton said. “He knows ever’thing that goes on with that football team.”
“I talked to him. He had a lot of hints, but no real facts. I’ll have to find those out myself.”
“That figgers,” Hack said. “I expect you’ll be gettin’ a lot of hints, considerin’ how interested everybody is in gettin’ this murder solved and out of the way so the really important stuff can go on as usual.”
“What important stuff?” Rhodes asked.
“Football,” Lawton said. “That’s what all the calls have been about.”
“Calls? Nobody mentioned any calls.”
“That’s ’cause you were so busy when you came in,” Hack said. “You didn’t ask about any calls, so I didn’t mention ’em. Didn’t want to bother you, seein’ as how you were so busy.”
“Tell me about the calls,” Rhodes said.
“There was a lot of ’em,” Hack said. “Seems like ever’body in town already knows for sure that Brady’s dead. Except me and Lawton, of course. Nobody told us. Not until we asked, anyway.”
“But I told you then,” Rhodes said, wanting to get on with it. “What about the calls?”
“Like Hack told you,” Lawton said. “There was a lot of ’em. Phone like to rung off the
Similar Books
