A Mammoth Murder Read Free

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    â€œI don’t think I’d eat one, either,” Hack said. “How about you, Lawton?”
    â€œI’d just as soon eat a possum.”
    â€œPossum’s not so bad,” Hack said.
    Lawton made a face. “Man that would eat a possum would eat a raccoon.”

    â€œRaccoon’s not so bad,” Hack said. “Not as good as possum, though.”
    â€œWhat about armadillo?” Lawton said. “Would you eat an armadillo?”
    â€œIf it was cooked in chili, I would. Armadillo chili’s pretty good.”
    Rhodes didn’t want to get into the culinary discussion, so he just listened while Hack defended several unlikely delicacies and Lawton made occasional gagging noises.
    When he’d aggravated Lawton about as much as he could, Hack turned his chair so that he could see Rhodes and said, “So we got wild hogs and Bigfoot, not to mention Bud Squirrelly and Larry Colley. What next?”
    Rhodes said that he didn’t know but there was always something.
    â€œWho was it used to say that?” Lawton asked.
    â€œRoseanne Roseannadanna,” Hack said.
    â€œWell,” Lawton said, “she had a point.”
    Lawton was right, but the rest of the day, while busy, was mostly routine.
    A man called up to say that he was on probation but had been out sinning and wanted to be jailed while he repented. Rhodes was glad to accommodate him, as he was wanted for questioning in a daylight burglary that had occurred a couple of days earlier.
    An auto repair shop—a legitimate one, not the one run by Colley and Turley—reported that a stack of inspection stickers had been stolen.
    A cow had escaped from a pasture and was wandering down a county road.

    A tractor had disappeared from a barn on a farm near Thurston, and the owner wanted immediate action.
    Someone called to say that there was a dead animal in the middle of the road near the town of Obert.
    Then they got the call about the Bigfoot sighting.

3
    â€œYOU WANT TO LET RUTH GRADY TAKE IT?” HACK ASKED Rhodes.
    â€œWhat’s the location?”
    â€œLouetta Kennedy’s store.”
    â€œThere was a Bigfoot in the store?”
    â€œNo,” Hack said. “That’s just where the call came from. It’s some fella named Johnson. He was plumb out of breath and mighty excited. Must’ve been runnin’ for a mile or so before he got to the phone.”
    Rhodes was surprised. He didn’t think there was anyone left without a cell phone in all of Blacklin County. Except for himself, of course.
    â€œI’ll drive down there and have a talk with him,” Rhodes said.
    â€œRuth’s not all that far away. She could handle it.”
    â€œI’d rather do it myself. Maybe there’s a connection with that tooth we have in the other room.”

    â€œAll right, then, but somebody’s gonna have to get that dead animal out of the road.”
    â€œHave Buddy take care of it.”
    Buddy was another of the deputies. Rhodes knew he was on patrol in that part of the county.
    â€œBuddy’s not fond of dead animals.”
    â€œNeither am I,” Rhodes said. “What this county needs is an animal control officer.”
    â€œIf we had one, would he be in charge of the Bigfoot cases?”
    â€œNo,” Rhodes said. “I get to handle all of those.”
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    When he drove through Thurston, Rhodes passed by Hod Barrett’s grocery store. At one time Thurston had been a thriving town, with doctors, drugstores, variety stores, even a movie theater. That had been long ago, when cotton was still being grown on the farms that had surrounded the town. The cotton gin was gone now, and so were all the stores. Only a few buildings were still standing, and one of them was Barrett’s.
    Barrett was standing out in front, and he waved when Rhodes went by, but Rhodes thought that Barrett probably hadn’t recognized him. He’d never been