Half in Love with Artful Death (16 page)

BOOK: Half in Love with Artful Death
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“He's a cousin,” the woman said when he asked about Neil. “I'm not related.”

“Congratulations,” Rhodes said. “Now about your … condition.”

“I'd rather not talk about it.”

“I don't blame you, but I think you'd better.”

It took a few minutes, and there were several stops and starts in the story, but Rhodes finally got it all. Or most of it. Vicki lived in Railville, where Foshee was a mechanic in a little auto repair shop. She'd known him for a while. He'd been an acquaintance of her ex-husband, who'd seemed like a really nice person but who'd turned out to be a no-good who couldn't hold a job and who liked to run around with other women.

Some months after the divorce, Foshee had called Vicki and asked her out. She'd gone to a nightclub with him, and they'd gotten along all right, though she thought he drank too much. He told her he didn't use drugs (not counting alcohol, Rhodes figured), and he was a good dancer. What he didn't tell her was that while he didn't use drugs, a claim Vicki no longer believed, he occasionally sold them.

“He said that he didn't make much money fixing cars,” Vicki explained, “so he needed a little extra. He said he just dealt now and then, and he promised me he wouldn't get me mixed up in anything.”

Promises, promises,
Rhodes thought.

“But he did,” Vicki said. “Get me mixed up in something, I mean.”

The way it happened was simple enough. Foshee came by her house and asked if she'd like to go for a ride in his convertible. It was a nice day, and Vicki thought it would be fun. It was, too, until Foshee told her what the real purpose of the ride was.

“Drug run,” Rhodes said.

“Yeah,” Vicki said. “Ice.” Then she added, “Crystal meth.”

Rhodes nodded. He knew all too well what ice was, and he even knew about the Foshee connection, or the rumors of it. The country around the old Milsby community had plenty of room in it for houses back in the woods, well off even the sandiest and most overgrown county roads, houses where nobody had lived for a generation or two but that could be put back into good enough shape to sleep in and to cook meth in. It didn't take much of a place to cook meth, but the Foshees were supposed to have quality goods. Rhodes hadn't been able to catch them with anything, however. Maybe that was about to change.

“He sells it at the clubs,” Vicki said. “He was even selling it when I went dancing with him. I didn't know it, or I'd never have dated him. He gets it from his cousins here and sells it around Railville.”

Rhodes wondered if the sheriff of the neighboring county knew about Foshee. Probably not. There were a dozen people like him in every little town in East Texas.

“I told him I wasn't going to have anything to do with drugs,” Vicki continued. “We had a big fight about it, and he stopped here and told me to get out of the car. I didn't want to get out. I don't know anybody around here, and I didn't have any way to get home. I told him if he put me out, I'd call the cops.” She looked at Rhodes. “I mean the police.”

“It's okay to say cops,” Rhodes told her.

“I thought it wasn't polite,” Vicki said. “Anyway, he stopped here and made me get out of the car. He wouldn't let me take my purse. My cell phone's in it, so I couldn't call anybody.”

“What about your clothes?” Rhodes asked.

“Oh, he made me take them off. He said any man who stopped wouldn't listen to anything I had to say, not if I was naked. He said they'd all be afraid of being accused of rape. He said maybe somebody
would
rape me and it would serve me right.” She tried to smile but didn't quite succeed. “I sure can pick 'em.”

“You'll do better next time,” Rhodes said, though he had his doubts. “At least he let you keep your shoes.”

“I think he just forgot and drove away before I could take them off.”

That was probably it. Judging by what he'd heard so far, Rhodes didn't think Neil was the thoughtful type.

“Come on with me,” Rhodes said. “I'll get you fixed up with some clothes and a ride back to Railville.”

Rhodes stood up, and after a couple of seconds so did Vicki.

“One other thing,” Rhodes said. “Do you know where Neil was going? I don't mean just to see the Foshees. I mean specifically.”

“Kind of,” Vicki said. “He was trying to find it on his GPS, but he said the road he was looking for wasn't even on there. It's more of a lane than a road.”

Rhodes was disappointed. That wasn't much help, and it wasn't even kind of specific. There were probably quite a few old dirt roads that weren't on anyone's GPS device.

“He said he'd have to go by an old school,” Vicki said, “and then past what used to be a store. Is that any help?”

“As a matter of fact,” Rhodes said, “it is. What kind of car is he driving?”

“It's a Chrysler 300. It's black. Are you going after him?”

“Sure I am,” Rhodes said. “I'm the sheriff.”

 

Chapter 14

Rhodes had never taken a naked woman to his house before. He wondered how Ivy would react.

Not that Vicki was really naked. She had on a raincoat, after all, and was modestly covered. A damsel in distress, you might say. Surely Ivy couldn't complain about it.

Rhodes parked the county car in the driveway and told Vicki to wait. He'd explained things to her on the drive to the house, and now he was going to have to explain to Ivy, who he hoped would be at home. Maybe she would, since the insurance office where she worked was closed on the weekends.

“Are you sure this will be okay?” Vicki asked.

“I'm sure,” Rhodes said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “You'll like Ivy. She'll get you fixed up.”

Rhodes went to the front door so as not to arouse Speedo, who would want attention that Rhodes didn't have time to give him. As soon as Rhodes opened the front door, Yancey came charging up, his toenails clicking on the hardwood floor, his yips bouncing off the walls. Ivy would know that Rhodes was home or that an intruder had come in through the unlocked door. Yancey would have greeted either one the same way.

Rhodes glanced into the den, where Ivy sat in a chair, reading a book.

“You're home early,” she said, closing the book. “Let me guess. You aren't going to be here long.”

“Right the first time,” Rhodes said. “You're good.”

“Just experienced.” Ivy stood up, walked over, and kissed him on the cheek. Yancey danced around their feet, as excited as a lottery winner. “You must have a good reason to be here, though. Tell me.”

“I have a naked woman in the car,” Rhodes said.

“I really should start locking that front door,” Ivy said.

“I could have gone around to the back.”

“I've always enjoyed your sense of humor,” Ivy said.

“It's not exactly a joke, but I'll admit that she's not really naked.”

“I didn't think she was.”

“She's wearing a raincoat.”

“A raincoat.”

“Right.”

“That's all?”

“Right.”

“You're not joking?”

“No. Maybe I'd better tell you the whole thing.”

“Yes,” Ivy said. “That might be a good idea.”

Rhodes did his best. Yancey got bored with the story and left the room. He might go to the kitchen and look at the cats, but looking was all he'd do. He wouldn't dare bother them. More likely he'd get into his doggie bed in the bedroom and take a nap.

When Rhodes had finished telling Ivy Vicki's story, he said, “I thought she could stay here, and you could go out and buy her some clothes. She says she'll pay us back, but she doesn't have her purse.”

“Or anything else,” Ivy said.

“True. We should help her. When you get the clothes and get her dressed, call Hack and have him send Ruth to take her back to Railville.”

“Just leave her here in the house and go looking for clothes?”

Rhodes had to admit that it might not be a good idea to do that. He thought Vicki had been telling him the truth, mostly, but leaving her in the house could be a mistake.

“Take her with you, but leave her in the car. Nobody will notice anything.”

Ivy gave in, but Rhodes could tell she wasn't happy about it.

“What could possibly go wrong?” he asked.

Ivy laughed. “More than you could imagine, but maybe it will work out. Bring in your friend and we'll see.”

“Friend” wasn't the right word, but Rhodes wasn't going to argue. He went to the car to get Vicki, who was sitting right where he'd left her. He hadn't been a hundred percent sure that she would be.

“Is it okay?” Vicki asked.

“It's fine. She'll get you some clothes and a ride home. Come on. I'll introduce you.”

Yancey was back, bouncing and yipping as soon as Rhodes opened the front door again.

“What a darling little dog,” Vicki said, crouching down to pet him.

Yancey stopped his bouncing and stood still. He loved attention, and it didn't matter to him where it came from. He never met a stranger.

Ivy came in from the den, looked at Rhodes, and nodded. Anybody who liked Yancey was all right.

Vicki stood up, and Rhodes introduced her. “I'll have to leave now. I need to see what I can do about Neil Foshee.”

“I thought you were working on Burt Collins's death,” Ivy said.

“I am, but this has just come up, and it's urgent.”

“It's always something,” Ivy said.

“You got that right,” Rhodes said.

*   *   *

As soon as he was back in the county car, Rhodes got Hack on the radio and asked if Andy had settled the domestic dispute.

“Wouldn't say he settled it,” Hack said. “Got 'em calmed down, though. He's on his way back to town now.”

“Tell him to turn around and meet me at the old school building there in Milsby,” Rhodes said.

“What's going on?”

“I'll tell you later,” Rhodes said, happy to keep Hack in the dark.

“What about that naked woman?”

“You can ask Ivy about that,” Rhodes said, grinning as he broke the connection.

*   *   *

The school building was made of red brick, and it had been deserted for years. Rhodes thought it should have been torn down years ago, but no one would claim it, much less take responsibility for it. In a few more years it was going to fall into ruin on its own. The windows were gone already, and someone had even taken the doors. The weather would do the rest.

Andy's county car was parked in the shade on the east side of the building. Rhodes parked beside him and put down the window so they could talk.

“What's happening, Sheriff?” Andy asked.

“I hear there's some kind of drug transaction going on out here. I thought we ought to look into it.”

“All right! A little action!”

“We need to be careful. You know about the Foshees?”

“I've heard about them. Sort of outlaws. Live in the country, poach deer, fish in people's stock tanks, make a little meth.”

“All true, or supposed to be,” Rhodes said. “We'll need to be careful.”

“They'll be armed,” Andy said.

“And dangerous,” Rhodes said. He was a little worried about Andy's excitable nature. “We don't want to start anything we can't finish.”

“Right. Shotguns?”

“Good idea,” Rhodes said.

They both got out of their cars and got their shotguns and extra shells from the trunks.

“How many of them are there?” Andy asked, thumbing shells into his shotgun.

“No idea,” Rhodes said. “I know of one, a cousin of theirs named Neil. He's from Railville, and he's supposed to have come to buy some meth. I figure at least four or five of his cousins will be at the meth house.”

“Where's the house?”

“You can follow me,” Rhodes said. “We'll go in slow. No sirens. We want to sneak up on them.”

“Got it,” Andy said.

“And no shooting until I say so. Or until somebody starts shooting at us.”

“Got it.”

“Good. Let's go.”

They got in their cars, and Rhodes led the way, driving past the school and down the dusty country road until he came to what had once been Barton's Grocery. Once it had done a fairly good business with the people who lived in the area nearby. Now no one lived nearby and it was nothing but a collection of planks fallen together and mostly covered by trees and vines that had grown up around and over it. The roof of the porch had fallen down over the front of the remains of the building, and the flooring of the porch had disappeared. Nothing was left but the concrete blocks that had supported it.

Rhodes had been driving slowly, but now he went even slower as he looked at both sides of the road for any signs of a lane that might lead off to an old house. Off to the right about half a chimney stuck up among the mesquite trees that had taken most of a field. The chimney was all that remained of a farmhouse that had once been there. Rhodes wondered if the former residents had bought their groceries at Barton's store.

About a quarter of a mile past the chimney, Rhodes spotted what he'd been looking for, a narrow lane, nothing more than a couple of ruts with weeds and grass growing between them. Rhodes saw tire tracks in the lane, so he knew it had been used recently. The lane was lined with trees that grew close to the ruts.

Rhodes pulled into the lane and drove about twenty yards, with tree branches skreeking on the side of the car all the way. He stopped and got out of the car to wait until Andy pulled in behind him and parked.

“We're going to walk from here,” Rhodes said when Andy rolled down his window.

“How far is it?” Andy asked.

“I don't have any idea,” Rhodes told him. “They might hear us coming if we take the cars, and we want to surprise them. We'll leave the cars here to block the lane. They won't be able to get out unless they're on foot.”

BOOK: Half in Love with Artful Death
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