Free Blood Money (Joe Dillard Series No. 6) by Scott Pratt

that he’s a county commissioner. That’s about it.”
    “He’s a real peach, that one,” Leon said. “Comes across as a community leader type and an entrepreneur, owns several businesses in the county, convenience stores and a car wash and a couple of used car lots, but that’s mainly how he launders his real source of income, which is cock fighting. Owns a big farm in a remote part of the county, been fighting and breeding roosters there for almost twenty years. Big operation, big money.”
    “Let me guess,” I said. “The reason he’s been able to operate for so long is that the sheriff is in his pocket.”
    “Owns him lock, stock and barrel. Back about ten years ago, a few years before I became sheriff over here, they had a sheriff in Sullivan County named Rufus Seale. Big ol’ beer-bellied, red-headed man who liked to beat on inmates at the jail and always had a half-chewed stogie in his mouth. Got himself elected on an old school law and order platform, but everybody that knows about such things knew that he was taking graft from Howard Raleigh to protect his bird fighting operation. The problem with Rufus was that he got arrogant about it. I’ve heard it told more than once that Rufus started showing up at the cockfights, in uniform, and passing his hat. He’d walk out of there with three, four thousand in cash, which didn’t sit too well with Howard Raleigh since Howard was already paying him a tidy sum of cash every month. About three months after Rufus started showing up and passing his hat, he went deer hunting up in Johnson County and wound up getting shot through the heart. It was eventually ruled a hunting accident.”
    “But you don’t think it was an accident?”
    “Howard Raleigh either shot him or had him shot,” Leon said. “I’d bet my life on it. Enter Raymond Peale, a roofing contractor with no previous law enforcement experience. Howard Raleigh nominates Peale to replace Rufus Seale at the next county commission meeting, and lo and behold, he has the votes to get ‘er done. So Peale becomes Raleigh’s hand-picked sheriff, Raleigh’s son winds up becoming a deputy, and the rooster fighting continues on unmolested by the evil hand of law enforcement.”
    “What about the feds?” I said. “If you know all of this, surely they must know it, too. Why haven’t they gone in and busted it up?”
    “Because they’ve been focused on counter-terrorism for the past ten years. A cockfighting operation in rural Tennessee hasn’t been at the top of their priority list. But just between you and me and that German shepherd, they’re on it now. Peale and one or two of his deputies have taken to selling drugs that they steal from the evidence locker and there’s been some cash from drug busts go missing. There’ll be an arrest or two sometime in the not-too-distant future.”
    “And you know all this how?”
    “Because I’m a friend to all, brother Dillard. I get along with everybody, and it serves me well.”
    “I need someone on the inside at the sheriff’s department over there,” I said. “If this Todd Raleigh that Jordan Scott killed really was a serial rapist, then I’m betting he had some problems at work. A rapist with a badge and a gun can’t be a good combination. My guess is that there have been complaints filed against him for misconduct. I’d love to get my hands on them, because if I can sucker the prosecution into putting on testimony about his character, then I can attack him and flip the focus of the trial from Jordan Scott to Todd Raleigh. Do you think you might be able to help me out with that?”
    Leon reached up and started pulling at his ear lobe with his left hand. With his right, he took another sip from the coffee cup and set the cup back on the table.
    “Let me just stew on this a second,” he said. “What you’re asking me to do is to help you gather information that will eventually lead to the character assassination in a public trail of a fellow