I nodded toward the poster. “Where was that taken?”
He smiled as he took a cigar from his shirt pocket along with the clipper and lighter. “At the Oita International Wheelchair Marathon in Japan.” He turned to look at us. “Lolo knows, but he lost his legs in a car crash; he was drinking. We’ve got a problem in the family. You really think somebody killed Audrey?”
Lolo answered. “Can you think of anybody?”
He shook his head and then clipped the end of his cigar, gesturing toward us. “Would either of you care for one? It’s the only vice I allow myself anymore.”
We looked at each other and then back to him. “No, thanks.”
He leaned forward and lit the cigar with the cut-down Zippo I’d noticed yesterday, then switched on a fan mounted in the wall above his head. “No windows, but I’ve got my own exhaust fan, so nobody complains.” He studied me. “You were in Nam?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
He turned to Lolo. “Hey, Chief, how many Vietnam vets does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”
She stared at him. “I don’t know.”
He pointed his cigar at her in an agitated fashion. “That’s right, because you weren’t there, man!”
We shared a smile as he slumped back in his chair and tossed the lighter onto the desk toward me. “Got that from a friend who was in Saigon in ’67.”
I picked up the tarnished, encrusted lighter. Across the front was SAIGON, 67–68, 101ST AIRBORNE, and on the back, WHEN THE POWER OF LOVE OVERCOMES THE LOVE OF POWER,THE WORLD SHALL KNOW PEACE
I handed it back to him. “Thoreau?”
“Hendrix, Jimi.” He sat there for a minute, puffing on his cigar. “We get the usual malcontents in here; people that are angry just because-and don’t get me wrong, they’ve got a right to be angry. We only get so much support money and we go through a lot of it at the beginning of the month. People have problems, I mean real problems, and we’re the ones with the money so they come here.” He paused to take another puff, and you could see him going through a mental list of everybody who might’ve ever threatened the young woman. “I’m not sure I want to implicate anybody on just hearsay.”
Long cleared her throat. “You’d rather whoever did this got away?”
He darted his eyes between us. “No.”
“Then why don’t you give us a few names to go on; just anybody that might come to mind.”
Even though the door was closed, he lowered his voice. “Have you spoken with Clarence?”
Long started to speak, but I cut her off. “Why would we want to do that?”
He looked around as if his office might be bugged. “She would come in with marks on her arms and face sometimes, nothing big, just bruises. I tried to get her to talk about it, and she said that he hurt her, sometimes. I mean, I assume it was Clarence.”
In my peripheral vision, I could see Lolo’s jaw muscles tighten. “How often?”
He thought about it. “Once a month, I guess.”
“Once a month?”
“Yes.”
She spit out the next words. “Why didn’t anybody report it?”
Herbert His Good Horse leaned across his desk and spoke in a slightly more aggressive tone, dashing some ashes off his cigar into the ceramic ashtray on his desk. “You know how hard it is to get these things investigated or to press charges when the victim refuses.” He looked at me, imploring. “She didn’t even want to talk to me about it.”
I glanced at the chief. “We understand.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I’m not accusing anybody, but…”
“Right.” I waited a moment. “Is there anybody else you can think of?”
He gestured helplessly.
“Anybody who might have seemed particularly angry with Audrey-any kind of odd behavior on her part when somebody might’ve come in?” He didn’t say anything, but I could tell my soundings had touched something. “Anybody?”
He sighed. “There were a few, now that I think about it-I mean, I don’t know if this means anything…”
Long produced a small notepad and pen. “Please.”
Herbert stared at the journal and then slowly spoke. “There’s an individual from the eastern part of the Rez, a man by the name of Small Song.”
For the second time today, I completed the man’s name. “ Artie Small Song?”
“I hate to bring it up because his nephew, Nate, works with me up at KRZZ, but yes, that’s him.” The social worker nodded. “Artie was in here last week about his mother’s Elder support checks-we would give them to him to give to her. She’s a medicine woman out that way-big medicine. We were worried that she wasn’t really getting her checks and discovered she hasn’t for the last three months-so, this time we refused to give him her check. He was very angry.”
Chief Long was attempting to catch my eye, but I ignored her. “I bet he was.”
“I just remember him because Audrey read him the riot act and told him that he should be ashamed of himself.” His eyes went to Lolo. “Your brother had to throw him out. I thought he was going to kill Barrett.”
Chief Long started to close her notepad and stand. “Thank you, Herb.”
I placed a hand on her arm and reseated her. “Are there any others you can think of?”
His eyes, once again, went back and forth between us. “There are a few others.”
“Who?”
“Kelly Joe Burns down in Birney.”
I assumed it was Red Birney, which was not too far from the incident.
“Birney Day.” He quickly added.
Evidently political correctness was making headway on the Rez.
“Is that that white asshole meth-head Houdini who can run a hundred miles an hour I’ve been chasing for a month now?”
Herbert nodded his head. “There was also Louise Griffin, who got in a shouting match with her a couple of weeks back.” He thought. “You know? No, none of these people would ever…”
“Not even Artie Small Song?” He glanced up at me but didn’t say anything. “It’s not your responsibility to make those choices, Herb; we’re just relying on you to provide us with some names. It’s up to us to move forward with the investigation.”
He didn’t seem completely comfortable with my assurances. “You’re not going to mention my name; I mean, I have a small and deeply disturbed following on the radio.”
“Not to worry.” I glanced at the door. “Is there anybody here in the building, people she might’ve worked with?” I paused. “I noticed Loraine Two Two out there.”
“Well, considering what happened, they weren’t the best of friends.” He laughed. “No, God no. Audrey was a saint around here; everyone loved her. Everyone. She came in on her day off to do extra work, baked cookies on Fridays-that’s what makes this so hard to believe.” He glanced up at the poster behind him. “She ran and worked out with Karl, getting him ready for his races.” His words caught in his throat, and he placed a hand over his face. “Excuse me for just a moment.”
Lolo tapped my arm. “I think we’ve taken up enough of your time here, Herb.”
We stood, and I nodded to him in appreciation of his help. “Thank you.”
His eyes shone like puddles in his face. “Hey, there was this Indian woman hitchhiking back to the Rez in the middle of the night and this white woman picks her up. The Indian woman says, ‘Hey, thanks for picking me up. What are you doing out on the road this late?’ The white woman points to a bottle in a brown paper bag sitting on the seat between them and says, ‘I got this bottle of wine for my husband.’ The Indian woman nodded, ‘Good trade.’”
Lolo Long smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder as we turned and left.
In the hallway, Barrett and Karl were chatting up who I assumed was one of the girls from accounting, who beat a hasty retreat when she saw Lolo coming. “You had a wrestling match with Artie Small Song last week?”