Bill Crider - Dan Rhodes 07 - Murder Most Fowl Read Online Free PDF

she waited for him to say something.
    “You look fine to me,” he said.
    “I meant my clothes. Am I dressed all right?  It’s Sunday, after all.”
    “I don’t think it matters,” Rhodes said. “Not for what we’re going to do.”
    They were heading out the door when the telephone rang. Rhodes answered it.
    It was Hack. “Just got a call from Press Yardley,” he said. “You’d better stop there after you talk to Miz Ward.”
    “What’s the problem?” Rhodes asked.
    “Somebody’s stole a couple of his emus. He’s mighty unhappy about it.”
    “I’ll bet he is,” Rhodes said. “All right. I’ll stop by. Anything else?”
    “Nope. Things’re pretty quiet.”
    “Good. I’ll come by the jail later. Did Lawton ever think of what he’d heard about Lige?”
    “Not yet. But he still thinks it has somethin’ to do with chickens.”
    “Not emus?”
    “You want me to ask him?”
    “Never mind,” Rhodes said, and hung up the phone.
     
    L ige Ward had lived on what had been his father’s farm. He had never done any farming, however. Hardly anyone in Blacklin County farmed anymore. That was another way that things had changed. Now people were raising emus instead of cotton.
    The Wards’ house was located near the small town of Obert, a place where Rhodes had been spending a good bit of time lately. For a town with a population of less than two hundred, it was becoming something of the crime capital of Blacklin County.
    What there was of the town sat on top of the highest hill in that part of the state. Beginning at the bottom of the hill, there was a wide curve in the road, but there was a gravel road that went straight, by-passing the curve. Lige’s house was about a quarter of a mile down the gravel road, a couple of hundred yards past Press Yardley’s emu farm.
    “I never thought I’d see the day when Blacklin County would be overrun by emus,” Ivy said, looking out the car window as they drove by Yardley’s place.
    In back of the house there were pens surrounded by high wire fences where several of the big, ungainly birds were shifting around. One of them was drinking from a white plastic bucket that sat on the ground near the fence.
    “How many people would you say have emus around here?” Ivy asked.
    “Too many,” Rhodes said. He wasn’t fond of emus.
    It actually wasn’t the birds themselves that he disliked. What he didn’t like was the trouble they caused. They were very expensive, with a breeding pair going for somewhere in the neighborhood of $25,000, which meant that within the last year or so emu rustling had become the fastest-growing crime in Texas, not just in Blacklin County.
    And emu rustling wasn’t like cattle rustling. It was easy. You didn’t need a goose-neck trailer and a pickup truck to pull it. You could cram a couple of emus in the back seat of a mid-sized car, drive away with them, and sell them to anyone eager to get in on the newest craze, which seemed like just about everyone that had a little land and could afford to build some pens.
    Emus weren’t as easy to identify as cattle, either. They weren’t branded, and they all looked pretty much alike.
    “What good are emus, anyway?” Ivy wanted to know.
    “I don’t have any idea,” Rhodes said. “You can ask Press Yardley when we stop by there.”
    “All right,” Ivy said. “I think I will.”
     
    R hodes drove into the Wards’ yard, scattering a flock of guinea fowl. The birds were a little like smooth-feathered gray footballs with legs, bald heads, and red wattles. They raised quite a racket as they scurried out of Rhodes’ way.
    “ Pot -track!  Pot -track!  Pot -track!” they squalled.
    “Good watch-birds,” Ivy said. “You think we ought to get a few?”
    “No thanks,” Rhodes said. “But you’re right. They are good watch-birds. As good as geese, but not as violent.”
    He stopped the car and they got out. The guineas ran behind the house, still pot-tracking. Rhodes and Ivy went to