Bill Crider: Too Late to Die

Rhodes looked affectionately at his only child. Her dark brown hair was slightly windblown, and she had a smudge on her left cheek where she had wiped her hand after setting down the grocery sacks, but Rhodes thought she was one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. He wasn’t far from wrong. Kathy’s beauty had made her a real item with the young men of the town, and Rhodes wasn’t sure he liked for her to be dating Johnny Sherman. Not that there was anything wrong with Johnny. It was just that Kathy was a wise and sensitive woman, and Johnny tended to think with his emotions. But maybe two like that could make a good match. Rhodes didn’t really feel equipped to give advice on the subject, and he felt a twinge of unease. If only Claire were still alive. .

“What’s the matter, Dad?” Kathy interrupted his thoughts. “Why’re you looking at me with that blank stare?”

Rhodes gave a rueful laugh. “Sorry, honey. Just woolgathering, I guess. Must be getting old.”

Kathy walked to her father’s side and gave him a quick hug. “You know better than that. You’re looking younger every day. Why, not two minutes ago you had a call from that nice Mrs. Wilkie.”

The grin that had formed on Rhodes’s face changed to a frown and he gave a mock groan. “Not again.”

Mrs. Wilkie was a widow of approximately Rhodes’s age, by her own estimation. By Rhodes’s estimation, she was at least ten years older. Not to mention about twenty pounds heavier, with brassy red hair that looked almost orange in the sun, a color that had never, Rhodes was sure, appeared in nature. Mrs. Wilkie was convinced that a year was a decent period of mourning and that the sheriff had already had a year. Now it was time for him to begin looking for a new wife, preferably herself.

“Yes, again,” Kathy told him. “She wanted to remind you that tonight was the big night in Milsby.”

This time Rhodes’s groan was real. Mrs. Wilkie was the one who had asked him to appear tonight, so he had been certain that she would be there. But he’d allowed himself to forget that fact until now.

“I have too much on my mind today to have to face up to that woman,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

“Yes,” Kathy said. “I heard about poor Jeanne Clinton on the noon news. Any leads?”

“Just some suspicious characters. Ralph Claymore is going to chew me up over the whole mess tonight, no doubt about it. Your beau, Johnny Sherman, had the night tour through Thurston and didn’t notice anything wrong in town. Hod Barrett’s store was robbed, too.”

Kathy put the last can of Green Giant corn in the metal cabinet and closed the door. “Well, he really can’t say too much. It only just happened. No one expects you to solve it immediately. Besides, Mrs. Wilkie will be there to protect you.”

“Even Mrs. Wilkie might not be able to help me out of this one,” Rhodes said. “Do you have a date tonight?”

“Yes, Johnny’s coming by and we’re going to the early movie.”

“Then I’ll take a bath now. I don’t want to be in your way when Johnny gets here. Just be sure not to keep him out past time for his shift to start.”

Kathy didn’t deign to answer, and Rhodes went into the bathroom.

As he soaked in the tub of lukewarm water, Rhodes wondered again if Kathy’s staying in Clearview was the right thing. He’d been severely depressed when Claire died, but time had taken care of the worst of the pain. It wasn’t easy getting used to the absence of a face and voice that you’d known intimately for twenty-five years. They’d married just after he’d gotten his associate of arts degree from Kingsley Junior College over in the next county, and she’d stayed with him through his brief stint as an officer on a big-city force, which he’d hated; through his jobs, both of them, as police chief in small towns; and through his tenure as sheriff of Blacklin County after his three years as chief in Clearview.

There were many county sheriffs, and Rhodes knew some of them, who were really politicians-men who liked the title, but not the job; men who turned all the work over to their deputies and spent their time in the drugstores drinking coffee with the rest of the good old boys. Men like Ralph Claymore. Rhodes had never been like that, and he never could be.

That meant that his job brought with it certain pressures, which could be smoothed over by a slick talker and dresser like Claymore but which Rhodes had to deal with through action. Claire had understood this and had understood that Rhodes would never keep regular hours, would always be on the job. There weren’t many women who could have put up with his way of life, which was why so many of the good lawmen he knew were either divorced or separated from their wives.

And Claire had done a fine job with Kathy. If Claire were only here now, Kathy would be in the city in a job worthy of her talent instead of teaching in a small-town school. It was true that there were some fine young men in Clearview, and Johnny Sherman was probably one of them, but Dan had hoped for a better life for his only child.

As the bath began to relax him, Rhodes turned his mind to the problem of Jeanne Clinton. Bill Tomkins had found the body and hadn’t hesitated to imply that Hod Barrett had an interest in the victim and had maybe visited her house after most folks in Thurston were long in bed. Could Tomkins be trying to shift suspicion? And Elmer had insisted almost too strongly that his wife had had no visitors at all. Could it be that Elmer knew that his wife was fooling around and, instead of telling her to stop, had taken more certain measures? Elmer had punched in and out at work, but maybe he hadn’t stayed there all the time. Rhodes thought he’d better check. And then there was Billy Joe Byron, and that bloody shirt. He wished he knew the blood type right now, but he’d bet that it was the same as Jeanne Clinton’s. If it was, things didn’t look so good for Billy Joe. Of course Hod Barrett didn’t look any too clean either. He’d seemed awfully worried that Rhodes might talk to his wife.

Rhodes knew that he had a busy day ahead of him tomorrow, and then there was the forum that night. The forum reminded him of the attentive Mrs. Wilkie. He was going to have to do something about that woman, and do it soon. If it were at all possible she would rumor him into marriage with her. Too bad that Claymore was already married or Rhodes would have tried to switch her affections to his challenger. Claymore might have married her just to get her vote.

He knew that Claymore’s little speech at the forum would be much better than his own. Rhodes rarely was able to express his real feelings about an issue, and the Jeanne Clinton thing would be impossible to comment on. Claymore would no doubt put a lot of emphasis on it. He hated to have to listen. The only good thing he could think of was that there would be lots of other candidates for other offices there, so the speeches would be mercifully short, by necessity. There was some comfort in that.

As his mind began to drift, he heard a car in the driveway. Then there was a knock on the door.

“Bye, Dad.” He heard Kathy’s voice call out. Then the door slammed and he was completely alone with his thoughts.

By then the water was cold, so he pulled the stopper from the drain and stepped out on the mat, drying himself with the big, rough towel.

He thought about shaving, but then he thought again about Mrs. Wilkie and decided against it. No need to tempt fate.

Milsby was no longer really a town. It had been a town once, with stores, a barbershop, a drugstore, a bank, and even a movie theater. Now there was nothing left except a few scattered homes. The buildings that had formerly made up the town had all been demolished and the brick had been sold. The only structure of any size that remained was the schoolhouse, which was no longer really a school.