Another Man's Moccasins

“Then you better contact someone and have that information faxed to us, and then I want the originals overnighted, now.” I pulled the small 9 mm from the back pocket of my jeans. “And you better have a license for this.”

Saizarbitoria followed me to the old Suburban parked next to my truck. I figured I’d take it and give him the Bullet. He deserved a few perks if I was going to make him work Powder Junction—that, and I wasn’t sure if the aged vehicle would make it back and forth too many more times. According to how the election turned out this fall, somebody was going to have to requisition the county for a new or relatively new vehicle for the Powder Junction substation.

When I looked up, Santiago stood there by my open window. “Why did you bring the laptop to the hospital?”

I noted the 173,472 miles on the odometer and knew just how it felt. “I thought he might want to know it was being attended to.” He kept watching me, the dark of his eyes deepening. “What, Sancho? ”

“You mentioned that case a couple of times. Are you sure you didn’t just want to see his reaction?”

I shook my head. “You have a sordid and suspicious mind.” I sat there continuing to stare at the odometer and wondered what the mileage really might be, since it hadn’t worked in years. “We couldn’t get past the security software, so I figured I’d just hang on to the case for safekeeping.”

“How about not telling him that Maynard was dead?”

I put on the loose seat belt and ground the starter. “He has his little secrets, and I have mine.”

His turn to nod. “You really want me to stick around and keep an eye on him? ”

The Suburban finally caught and roared. “Yep. Call up Frymire or Double Tough over at the jail and get a replacement for midnight.”

He looked at the sun, which was attempting to escape over the Bighorn Mountains, and I didn’t blame it or him for wanting to put a little distance between them and what appeared to be going on. “What’re you going to do?”

“I’m going to go have dinner with my daughter, her new boyfriend and his sister, and Henry, and then I’m going to sleep at the jail.”

His arms rested on the sill of the Suburban. “You really think Tuyen’s liable to do something?”

I mused for a moment on how quickly the Basquo was developing and how long he was likely to be satisfied with the job of deputy. “I don’t know, but according to you, somebody tried to kill him and you never can tell if they might come back and try to finish the job.”

“So you don’t think Maynard hit him or murdered the girl? ”

I slipped the truck into reverse and waited a full five seconds for it to engage. “At this point in the investigation, I’m not ruling out anyone.”

15

“Daddy.”

It was possible that Tuyen had been attacked, but had he been hit twice or was it a setup?

“Daddy? ”

I had pushed him, but had I pushed him enough? Was I pushing the wrong guy?

“Daddy! ”

I focused on my daughter, who was giving me hard looks as Henry chuckled and the collective Morettis smiled and continued eating the hors d’oeuvres. “Sorry.”

I picked up a stuffed mushroom from the appetizer tray and glanced at Michael for a little backup as he helped himself to another Rocky Mountain oyster. The Philadelphia beat cop came in like a champ with a little mind reading. “So you don’ think this Tuyen is on the level? ”

I chewed the mushroom, not tasting much of anything, and looked around at the interior of the Winchester Restaurant and the replica antique firearms over the fireplace. “I’m not sure how, or how deep he’s involved, but something just doesn’t ring true with the guy.” I looked at Henry, who I’m sure was reading my mind; for him it had been a lifetime avocation. “What do you think? ”

The Cheyenne Nation sighed. “He is spooky; once a spook, always a spook.”

I thought about the old term for spies, nodded, and looked at Vic; I was still trying to get used to her in a white, ribbed tank top and a tight, short skirt. “What do you think? ” She munched on a fried cheese stick and extended a hand, holding the palm down flat, shaking the turquoise bracelets at her wrist as her manicured hand wavered. Then I watched as she took another breaded steer testicle from the center platter and placed it onto Michael’s plate.

I still wasn’t sure if he knew what he was eating.

“One of the things that keeps snagging me is the preciseness of the hanging.” I caught the eye of an elderly woman at the next table, and Cady glared at me, causing me to lower my voice and lean in. “The hanging was textbook—the drop according to height and weight, and there’s only a limited number of people in the common populace who would know how to pull something like that off.”

Vic played with the silver dancestick earrings I had gotten her up on the Crow reservation for her birthday. “Would Tuyen? ”

“It’s possible. Some of the organizations he was cozy with were known to perform these types of executions.”

“Who else would know? ”