Bill Crider - Dan Rhodes 08 - Winning Can Be Murder by Bill Crider Read Free Book Online Page A

“Goober” Vance was the sports reporter for the Clearview Herald .  Because the Herald could afford only one reporter, he was also the society writer, the feature writer, and the front-page columnist (“Around the Town with Goob”).  But his heart was with the Catamounts.  Rhodes figured that if anyone knew about Brady Meredith, it was Vance, so when he left Nancy Meredith, he went to the newspaper office.
    Rhodes could remember a time when the newspaper office had a smell as distinctive as the gym, a smell made up of printer’s ink and hot machinery and paper.  And the sound of the press was a constant hum.
    It wasn’t like that now.  The newspaper office could have belonged to an insurance agent or a real estate salesman.  There were four desks, each one with a computer terminal sitting on it.  There was a big stack of back issues on one desk, along with some forms for classified ads.  The other desks were covered with note pads and papers.
    The only person in the office was Goober Vance.  He was sitting at his desk, typing on a computer keyboard.  Or maybe he wasn’t typing, since he wasn’t using a typewriter.  Rhodes wasn’t sure what the right word was.
    “Just a second, Sheriff,” Vance said.  A toothpick waggled at the corner of his mouth.  He had quit smoking a year or so ago and had since contributed mightily to deforestation.  “Have a seat.  Be with you soon’s I finish this paragraph.”
    Rhodes sat at one of the vacant desks.  Vance stared at the words appearing on his computer monitor, typed a period with a flourish, and looked over at the sheriff.
    “Now, then, what can I do for you?” he asked.
    “Tell me a little about Brady Meredith,” Rhodes said.
    “Funny you should want to know about him,” Vance said.  He was a small man with wavy brown hair and small brown eyes that were a little too close together.  “I was just writing an article about his death.”
    “What were you saying?”
    “I was saying that it was a shame that a young and successful coach had to die in such a bizarre way.  You want to fill me in on that?”
    Rhodes wasn’t surprised that Vance already knew about Meredith’s murder.  It was almost impossible to keep a secret in a small town like Clearview.
    “You probably already know as much as I do.  What I want to find out is what’s not going into the article.”
    Vance removed the gnawed toothpick from his mouth and looked at it for a moment before tossing it into a green metal trash can beside his desk.  He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a plastic box, removed a toothpick, and stuck it between his teeth.
    “You mean about his private life?” he asked after working the toothpick from the right side of his mouth to the left.
    “I mean about his drinking and anything else that might give me some idea about how he wound up dead.”
    “He drank a little, but not enough to make a difference to anybody.  Everybody needs a beer now and then, Sheriff, just to relax.  He was discreet about it.”
    That was all that mattered.  The Clearview school board didn’t care how teachers conducted their personal lives as long as their personal lives didn’t affect their performance in the classroom.
    “ Where he drank, now, that’s something else,” Vance said.
    “Where did he drink?” Rhodes asked.
    “He had to get out of town, so not too many people would see him.  He went out to The County Line.  I wouldn’t go there, myself.”
    Rhodes resisted asking Vance where he would go.  He said, “That’s a pretty rough place.  We’ve had a few calls about it.”
    “I know.  I write the “Law and Order” column.”  He was referring to a weekly column that gave readers a condensed version of the various crimes and arrests throughout the county.  “You ever read that?”
    “I don’t need to,” Rhodes pointed out.
    “Right.  Well, from what I hear, most of the stuff that happens out there at The County Line never gets