Free Between the Living and the Dead by Bill Crider Page A

running had been in a deserted house in that area.
    â€œTell him to call for backup if he locates them,” Rhodes said.
    â€œHe’s not gonna try to arrest ’em,” Hack said. “Just bring ’em in for questioning.”
    â€œEarl and Louie don’t take kindly to being asked to come in for questioning.”
    â€œSince they’re out on bond,” Hack said, “they wouldn’t want to mess up and get thrown back in the pokey.”
    â€œYou’re giving them credit for more of a thought process than they’re likely to go through.”
    â€œYeah, I guess so. They’re both about two tacos short of a number four dinner at the Jolly Tamale. I’ll let Buddy know. You gonna be his backup if he needs it?”
    â€œGive me a call,” Rhodes said. “I’ll be at Ace’s Auto Parts.”
    â€œYou got car trouble?”
    â€œI have to question a suspect,” Rhodes said. He signed off and racked the mic before Hack could ask him anything else.
    *   *   *
    Although Vicki Patton lived in Railville, she’d found a job in Clearview after getting to know Ivy. She knew a little about cars, and while Ace Gable had been hesitant about hiring someone from out of town, she’d proved to be an asset to his store, which was located in a little strip center just up the highway from Walmart.
    Ace’s was the biggest store in the center. The sign out front just said ACE’S . It had once said ACE’S AUTO PARTS , but there had been too much trouble with people painting out part of the P in the sign. Because whoever had been altering the sign had never been caught, Ace had a slight grudge against Rhodes for a while. He’d pretty much gotten over it since Vicki, who had used Rhodes as a reference, had turned out to be such a good employee.
    Rhodes parked outside the store. An old gray Pontiac Bonneville with the hood up was parked in the space next to him. Now that Pontiacs weren’t being made any longer, the Bonneville might become a collector’s item. Ace was helping a man remove the car’s battery. The man was Bob Strother, who had retired from his job with the gas company back when there had been a gas company in Clearview.
    â€œWe’ll just take ’er in and put her on the tester,” Ace said, taking the battery by the handle provided by the manufacturer. “If she’s a bad ’un, we can fix you up. If she just needs charging, it won’t cost you a thing.”
    Ace was a big man, taller than Rhodes, and had arms muscled like a weight lifter’s. His short-sleeved black polo shirt with ACE’S stenciled in red over his heart showed off his biceps. On his right biceps he had a tattoo of an ace of spades with a flash of lightning running diagonally across it. On his left was a Big Daddy Roth Rat Fink tattoo. Both biceps bulged as Ace lifted the battery out of the car as if it didn’t weigh any more than a small box of corn flakes. He also wore a black baseball cap with ACE’S AUTO PARTS in red across the front. He’d moved to Clearview about five years previously to open his parts store, and it had been a success from the beginning.
    â€œI bet it’s bad,” Strother said. “If I hadn’t got a jump start from my neighbor this morning, I’d still be stuck at home.”
    Rhodes got out of the county car, and Ace said, “Hey, Sheriff. What brings you back out this way? We don’t have any bulls for you to wrangle.”
    â€œYou see the video?” Rhodes asked.
    â€œNope, heard it from a customer who said he was there when it happened.”
    Strother laughed. “You been riding bulls, Sheriff? Maybe you oughta enter the rodeo this summer.”
    â€œNo, thanks,” Rhodes said. “I’ve had enough of bulls to last me a while.”
    Ace didn’t seem to notice he had a car battery dangling from his hand. “If it’s not about