“The old people are the ones at home in the afternoons, so they play the classics; drumming and traditional in the mornings with a little rock thrown in, Cheyenne language programs around noon, then old cowboy and big band music for the shut-ins.”
He waited a while before he spoke again, lazily drifting the big, square bird down BIA 4. “You do not think Clarence did it?”
“Well, evidently he hired Artie.”
The Cheyenne Nation made a face.
“What?”
He considered his words and pushed his sunglasses up on his nose. “It takes a special kind of person to do this type of thing-to take money to kill a woman and child.”
“You don’t think Artie’s capable?”
He adjusted the sun visor. “Capable, yes-willing, no.”
“Have you ever met him?”
“I have.” He settled in his seat. He smiled, and I figured I was going to get the story. “I met him when I was fifteen. It was during Crow Fair, and I was doing a little teenage teepee creeping. There was a girl I was infatuated with and she had some brothers. We stayed out a little late and when we got back the brothers were waiting for us; I fought all three, one at a time-Crow tradition. The Crow are good that way-the Lakota would wait with a half-dozen guys and they would all jump on you.”
“What happened?”
He shrugged. “They went and got a friend, and it was Artie. I was pretty beat up, and I remember when I saw him that I thought this was probably going to be a good fight.” He stretched his jaw muscles at the thought of it. “You remember when we used to play ball?”
We seemed to have changed conversations, but I answered. “Yep.”
“You were a lineman so you know better than me, but do you remember lining up across from those guys who didn’t have any imagination, nothing to distract them from the job at hand?”
I laughed and thought about Lolo Long’s prejudice against imagination. “My father used to call it constructive stupidity; I got accused of it a lot in my teenage years.”
He nodded. “Artie was like that, no imagination, utterly focused. I think he might never have outgrown that behavior.”
“Who won?”
His face hardened as he thought. “It was kind of a draw.”
We drove past the dirt road cutoff and the rumpled hills leading to the Painted Warrior’s multicolored face, and my mind began playing the scenarios over in my head. If Clarence had been there, why did he hire Artie to do the deed? Why wouldn’t he have been as far away from the actual killing as possible? Maybe they were both there-Clarence to get them to the cliff and Artie to push them over.
“So, you don’t think either one of them did it?”
He smiled. “No, I do not think Artie did, and you do not think Clarence did.”
“So, who did?”
“Someone who is highly motivated.” He shifted in the seat and looked at me. “For the sake of your familial life, I am advising you to drop this.”
We drove on, but my mind raced ahead. “We saw her die.”
“Yes.”
I nodded my head and turned my face back to the window. “It’s not my case.”
“No.”
“We’ve got a wedding to help organize.”
“Yes.”
I turned the radio back up, and we drove in silence, until the words tumbled from my mouth. “But I’d like to hear those tapes. Would you like to hear those tapes?”
“Yes.”
“I think we can arrange that, don’t you?” I nodded my head some more. “I mean, it can’t hurt to just listen to them. Right?”
“Yes.”
I paused and then glanced at him. “Yes it can’t hurt, or yes it can?”
He seemed to be considering the possibilities for a long time, and it was only when I was ready to ask again that he turned to look at me. “Yes.”
I refused to drive Rezdawg but was happy enough to mosey along behind the patched-together vehicle in Lola. We parked in the lot at Health Services, and I noticed Henry nudged the three-quarter-ton’s tire against one of the concrete curbs so that we wouldn’t have a repeat demolition derby.
When we got inside, Hazel Long was once again at her station. The chief was nowhere to be seen, but her younger brother, Barrett, was, and considering how much his sister did not like the Cheyenne Nation, I was surprised by the smile with which he greeted Henry. “The Bear!”
His mother shushed him, but he stepped up to Henry and pumped his arm like a derrick. “My man.” He smiled at me. “This your cowboy sidekick?”
I took off my sunglasses, seeing no reason to stay incognito. “That’s me.”
He placed a hand on the Cheyenne Nation’s shoulder. “You ever hear about the U.S. Army Recruitment Expeditionary Basketball Tournament in Billings? It was a three-man and we were a man short, so the Bear here steps up in street shoes and scores nine three-pointers to win the tourney.” He shook his right hand as if it were on fire. “Buuuuurn.”
“Is your sister around?”
“Nope, she’s out shakin’ the bushes for Artie Small Song.” He glanced back to Henry. “Hey, did you really punch a truck driver?”
I noticed the Bear had left his Wayfarers on-obviously he was still attempting anonymity.
I leaned against the counter. “Mrs. Long.”
“Hazel.”
I nodded. “About the list of drugs from the bracelet?”
“That’s going to take a while; that patient file would be in the physical archives, and I haven’t had a chance to get down there.”
“Well, when you come up with that information you can give it to your daughter.” I leaned in closer. “Hazel, did you by any chance save that list I had you copy down concerning my daughter’s wedding?”
She looked surprised. “I gave it to her.”
“Cady was already here?”
“They’re still here. She said she wanted to see your dog, and I let them into Adrian’s room.”
I glanced at Henry. “I’ll be right back.”
I gently pushed open the door and could see Lena Moretti standing on one side of the crib and my daughter sitting in a chair with Dog’s head in her lap, the baby clutching her forefinger as he slept.
Once again, she had tears in her eyes, and I watched as the trunk of her body shuddered with her breath. She looked up at me. “He’s so small.”
I joined them at the foot of the crib. “They start out that way.”
Her eyes were drawn back to the sleeping child. “He’s all right?”
“That’s what the doctors say. A few bumps and scrapes, but evidently she was able to protect him from the bulk of the impact.” I leaned over and looked down at the lone survivor.
“She died.”
“Yep.”
“But there’s a father?”
“Yes, but he’s been implicated. The FBI says they have tapes of him negotiating with another man about killing both mother and child.”
Lena Moretti’s voice sighed from the other side of the crib. “My God.”
“It’s all pretty sordid.” I dropped my voice when I saw Adrian roll his head to one side. “We should probably get out of here.”
Cady stood and then whispered. “What about Dog?”
“He doesn’t really want to leave; he’s the one that found him.” The two women joined me at the foot of the crib. “We saw them fall and got to the woman, Audrey, as quickly as we could, but Adrian here had rolled down the hill bundled up in a blanket and Dog found him.”
I moved them toward the door, but Cady balked. “Wait a minute, did you say you saw them fall? You mean you were actually there?”
I cracked open the door, but she still didn’t move. “We were researching another area for the wedding and happened to be below when they fell. I even had Henry’s camera, which reminds me…”
Lena looked up. “What?”
“Nothing.” I scooted the two of them out. “How did the meeting with Arbutis Little Bird go?”
“Umm,” Cady answered, preoccupied. “She’ll be there tomorrow morning, and we’ll meet with her then.”