The Wild Hog Murders
be the highest compliment a funeral director could receive. “That’s him, all right. Gary Baty.”
    “He shouldn’t have jumped bail,” Rhodes said. “It didn’t pay off.”
    “Not for me, either,” Rapinski said, “but at least he’s off the streets. What happened to him?”
    Rhodes gave him the short version.
    “Know who did him in?” Rapinski asked.
    “No,” Rhodes told him, “but I’ll find out.”
    “You sound like you believe that.”
    “The Mounties don’t have anything on our sheriff,” Ballinger said. “He always gets his man.”
    “So do I,” Rapinski said, “and now I got this one. Might not get paid for him, but it’s worth a try. He figured to come to a bad end.”
    “Because he robbed a bank?” Rhodes asked.
    “ A bank? That was just the one he got caught for. The story is that he was behind more than just the one robbery. Not that he was actually in on them but that he planned them. He was a heck of a planner. The jobs he did, he wasn’t armed. The others involved guns. Nobody but Gary knows the whole story, though. Knew the whole story since Gary’s dead now.”
    “Somebody knew,” Rhodes said.
    Rapinski nodded. “Sure. The guy who carried out the plans. You think he’s the one that killed Gary?”
    “I wouldn’t know about that,” Rhodes said, but he thought about the missing billfold and cell phone, assuming that either one had existed. Maybe Baty’s body hadn’t been robbed. The killer could have taken the billfold because he thought it might have something in it that would have told who Baty was. He couldn’t have known that Rapinski would show up and identify the body the very next day. He’d taken the cell phone, if there was one, because Baty had called him on it. Speculation, sure, but it made sense.
    “I know what you’re thinking, Sheriff,” Rapinski said. “You’re thinking there might be a bank robber on the loose in your town and you can cash in if you catch him.”
    Rhodes hadn’t been thinking that at all, but he played along.
    “Cash in? How?”
    “Publicity. Local TV news, maybe wire service stories. Now, if it was me that caught him, it’d go network, no question.”
    “Maybe so, but you’re a bounty hunter.”
    Rapinski shook his head. “Fugitive recovery agent.”
    “Whatever. Anyway, you said it yourself back at the jail. You’re not a peace officer. You can’t arrest anybody.”
    “A citizen can make an arrest if he runs into a wanted criminal.”
    “Not a good idea,” Ballinger said. “I saw something about that on The Andy Griffith Show .”
    Rapinski looked at him. Ballinger grinned. Rapinski turned back to Rhodes.
    “I won’t get in your way, Sheriff, but I might stick around a while.”
    Rhodes didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it, short of telling Rapinski that the town wasn’t big enough for the both of them or that he’d better take the next stage, or Hummer, out of town.
    “If whoever killed Baty was the other robber, he doesn’t want anybody to know he’s here. If he hears you’re looking for him, he might kill you, too.”
    Rapinski laughed. It was a good laugh, big and booming, and entirely out of place in a funeral home. Ballinger gave him a scornful look.
    “Sorry about that,” Rapinski said to Ballinger. “Couldn’t help myself. Your sheriff’s a real comedian.”
    “A regular Larry the Cable Guy,” Ballinger said.
    “Right,” Rhodes said, though he thought of himself more in the smooth Bill Cosby mold.
    “Here’s something you better think about, Sheriff,” Rapinski told him. “If the guy wants to kill whoever’s after him, he’d probably think you were more dangerous than I am. You being the kind who always gets his man and all.” Rapinski put on his hat and settled it on his head just so. “I’ll be seeing you around.”
    He turned to leave, but his exit was spoiled somewhat because he had to take the hat off again to get through the door.
    “Nice fella,”

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