Read Online Murder Among the OWLS by Bill Crider - Free Book Online Page B

Rhodes said, wondering how long it had been since he’d heard the word hoosegow .
    Thorpe opened his mouth to say something further, but he didn’t get a word out before Brant slammed the metal scoop of the shovel into the back of his head. The shovel landed with a satisfactory clang, and Thorpe pitched forward.
    As he did, the chain saw flew from his limp fingers, straight at Rhodes.
    The saw stopped operating as soon as Thorpe released the trigger, which made it less dangerous but still capable of causing serious damage.
    Rhodes dodged aside, and the saw hit the hood of the county car, sliding up to the windshield, removing the white paint and leaving a long, jagged metallic scar.
    The scar bothered Rhodes almost as much as Thorpe’s lying facedown about four feet away from him. He’d have to explain the scar to the county commissioners, who wouldn’t be happy about having to pay for it.
    Thorpe moaned, and Rhodes turned to look at him. He twitched a little, moaned again, and lay still.
    â€œI hope I didn’t hit him too hard,” Alton Brant said.
    â€œDid you dent the shovel?” Rhodes said.
    Brant turned the shovel in his hands and looked at the bottom of the scoop. “Nope. Not in the least.”
    â€œWe’d better call the ambulance, anyway,” Ruth Grady said, walking over to stand beside Rhodes. “We don’t want to take any chances with him and get sued.”

    â€œIf anybody gets sued, it’ll be me,” Brant said. “I’m the one who hit him.”
    â€œHe’s the kind who’ll sue anybody that’s handy,” Rhodes said. “Especially the county.”
    The commissioners wouldn’t like that, either, Rhodes thought, so it was best not to let it happen. He told Ruth to call for the ambulance.
    â€œWant me to get the first-aid kit for your back?”
    Rhodes told her that his back would be okay. “Just a scratch.” Then he looked around and saw that most of the crowd had left, either to avoid being sued or because all the fun was over. Even the two dogs were gone.
    One of the few people still hanging around was the man who’d spoken to Rhodes earlier. He looked at Rhodes but didn’t speak. He turned and walked away.
    Rhodes didn’t have time for him at the moment. He knelt down and checked to make sure that Thorpe was breathing and that he had a pulse. Satisfied that Thorpe was doing all right, Rhodes stood up to talk to Brant.
    â€œWhat was that all about?” He motioned to the chain saw with his thumb. The saw still lay on the hood of the county car, right next to the windshield at the end of the ugly scratch.
    â€œIt was my fault,” Brant said, and Rhodes knew he wasn’t talking about the scratch.
    Brant’s gray hair was cut so close to the top of his head that only a bit of stubble showed. He appeared to be almost bald, but Rhodes could see that he actually had a lot of hair, or would if he’d let it grow. His voice had an edge of command that might long ago have ordered soldiers into battle. Or maybe not. Rhodes didn’t remember if Brant had been an officer during the war.

    â€œThorpe was the one with the chain saw,” Rhodes pointed out. “That wasn’t your fault.”
    â€œNo, but I’m the one who started it all.” Brant’s face became mournful. “I came out here and accused him of killing Helen.”
    â€œNow why would you do a thing like that?”
    â€œI don’t know. It was a stupid stunt. I should have known he wouldn’t take it well.”
    â€œYou probably didn’t figure on the chain saw, though.”
    Brant tried to grin, but it didn’t quite work. “No, I didn’t figure on that. I’m just glad he didn’t have a gun.”
    â€œHe probably has one somewhere or other in his trailer.”
    â€œIf he does, I was lucky we were outside when I accused him and it wasn’t handy.”
    â€œAnd