The Widow's Revenge (20 page)

Sarah appeared at Daisy’s side to provide a helping hand.

With the aid of her walking stick and the girl’s support, the old reprobate made it across the stream (which was knee-deep at the center) and cursed her way up the opposite bank.

They pressed on to the far side of the willows and found themselves in a large field with a huge cottonwood at its center. The rest of the more or less open space was dotted with piñon, juniper, and land-mined with vicious clusters of prickly-pear cactus. At the edge of this open space, and standing so directly in front of them that it appeared to have been placed on those coordinates for the express purpose of excluding a cranky old Ute
woman, a skinny Ute-Papago orphan, a spotted cat, and a long-nosed hound—was a neatly lettered sign.

Property Line
Blue Diamond Natural Gas Company
NO TRESPASSING

Grateful for this unambiguous instruction, Sarah picked up her tomcat and hugged him to her chest. “We’d better go back to the pickup.”

Daisy Perika snorted, mumbled a vile curse in the Ute tongue, spat on the sign, and—as an example to the timid girl—walked past it.

Sarah stayed put.

Which was okay with Daisy. But the intrepid hiker was displeased when she realized that she was entirely alone. She turned to shout at the dog, “What’re you waiting for, a yellow taxicab?”

It may be that Sidewinder simply had no burning interest in further exploration, and it is even possible that the noble creature had scruples about infringing upon the gas company’s private property—but given their remote location, it seems improbable that he was waiting for some form of motorized transport. Whatever his reasons, the dog had reverted to form: he would not budge.

Further angry shouts, energetic walking-stick shaking, even dire threats involving disembowelment—none of this altered the animal’s view. Her quiver almost empty, Daisy was at a loss about which poison arrow to fire next, when, as it sometimes does, something unexpected occurred.

The stubborn hound, who had been inspecting a line of black ants marching across the sandy soil, suddenly jerked his neck and focused his brown eyes on something above the earth.

Expecting to see something of interest, such as a low-flying raven or red-tailed hawk, Daisy looked up.

As did Sarah

And the cat.

But search the sky as they might, there was nothing unusual to be seen.

Never mind. The dog’s interest was riveted by this unseen nothing.

And the old shaman had a pretty good notion of what the animal was looking at.

As if tugged by an invisible leash, Sidewinder was pulled forward, his gaze ever upward. The lanky, four-legged creature passed Daisy, who followed him for about fifty yards—until the dog stopped beneath the towering cottonwood. Looking down, the hound whined, hesitated . . . reached out with his left front paw and began to scratch at the earth.

Immobile as the trunk of the old tree, Daisy held her breath.

SARAH FRANK HAD NOT ADVANCED FROM HER POSITION BEHIND THE
gas company’s Do Not Trespass sign.

But even from a distance, she was keeping a close eye on Daisy Perika. Sarah had seen the mischievous old woman in action on several previous occasions, and she did not like the looks of things.
Daisy’s up to something and she’ll get all of us into trouble.
(“Us” included her cat and Charlie Moon’s dog.)
But what can I do?

Call the Man, that’s what.

The girl put Mr. Zig-Zag down and dialed a number on her cell phone. After seven rings, Charlie Moon’s recorded voice spoke into her ear: “This is the Columbine Ranch. You can leave a message after the tone.” After the machine provided the aforesaid tone, which was more like a chirrupy
beep
, Sarah spoke softly, so Daisy would not hear. (The sound of a human voice carries a long way in places remote from the incessant drone and hum of our mechanized civilization.) “Charlie, this is Sarah. Me and Daisy are at the place where that old Apache woman was killed. Well, not actually in her house, or even on her property. We waded a little stream and now we’re on some land that belongs to a gas company and they have a No Trespassing sign and Daisy and Sidewinder are way out in a big field and Sidewinder’s digging a hole in the dirt and I thought you ought to know and—”

“I know all about it.”

Charlie’s voice is so loud and clear.
“You sound like you’re right here.”
Like you could reach out and touch me.
Thrilled at the thought of his touch, Sarah felt a big hand on her shoulder, shrieked a terrified “eeeeeek!” flung the cell phone into the air, and turned to see Charlie Moon’s laughing
face. After a stunned moment of gaping at the solid-looking apparition, she stamped the ground. “You
scared
me!”

Picking up her cell phone, he laughed louder.

Sarah tried ever so hard to frown, but the effort made her face ache. Charlie’s sudden appearance bordered on the magical. “How did you get here?” She stared at his dusty-dry cowboy boots. “Did you cross the creek?”

“Sure.” Moon managed to swallow the grin as he put the cell phone into her hand. “These new high-tech boots are coated with Teflon—they shed water like freshly oiled goose feathers.” He had walked on a fallen log across the stream.

This lighthearted exchange was interrupted by Daisy’s yell: “Charlie Moon, get yourself over here and have a look at what me’n this hound have found.” She raised her stick in a gesture to bar the girl’s path. “Sarah, you stay right where you are.”

Having had quite enough of being ordered around for one day, Sarah pointedly ignored the old woman’s command, and though she had to make two strides to Moon’s one, she stayed beside
her man.
This turned out to be a mistake. Big one. What the Ute-Papago girl saw when she got to the spot would haunt her dreams until the day she died.

Ignoring the imprudent girl and pretending not to mind that her sneaky nephew had followed them all the way from the Columbine, Daisy pointed her walking stick at Sidewinder’s shallow excavation.

Protruding absurdly from the soil were the soles of pair of bare feet. Blackened, stinking bare feet with the toes all curled underneath. Like (Sarah thought)
when you have cramps in the middle of the night.

Moon put his hand on Sarah’s shoulder again. Gently this time.

She looked up at the love of her life.

He gazed down at the winsome seventeen-year-old.

She raised a hand to shade her dark eyes from the midday sun. “You want me to leave.”

The tribal investigator nodded and pointed. “Wait over there where you were—yonder by the stream. And don’t say a word to anyone about what you’ve seen.”

She nodded.

After watching Sarah Frank walk away, Moon squatted and blinked at the blackened feet.

Daisy’s gravelly voice crackled behind him, “That’ll be Loyola’s grandson Wallace.”

He turned his head to frown at his aunt. “You sound pretty sure of that.”

“Sure enough to bet you a twenty-dollar bill.” Daisy vainly attempted to straighten a back that was bent with age. “And you want to know something else?” She interpreted his silence as an affirmative reply. “After them witches strangled Wallace with—”

“Strangled?”

“That’s what I said. And don’t be interrupting me! They did it with a hank of barbed wire. And after they choked the life out of him, they roasted him over an open fire.”

Moon stared at the inscrutable woman.

“Well, don’t just stare at me like I’ve been eating locoweed stew—say something!”

“Okay. Why would they do that?”

“Why would they roast him?”

Moon nodded.

“Well that’s a dumb question—for the same reason they soaked his body in barbecue sauce!”

The tribal investigator frowned. “What in the world makes you think—”

“Because I
smelled
it.” Her beady-eyed stare dared him to argue the point.

Knowing that look too well, Moon shrugged. “Well, if you’re right, your nose is a lot better than mine.”

“Hah!”
If you knew whose nose I smelled that barbecue through, you’d think I was ready for the funny farm.
Daisy shook her walking stick at the annoying nephew. “We’re not dealing with your run-of-the-mill witches, Charlie—this is a bunch of damned cannibals!” Daisy had unwittingly uttered the descriptor that Special Agent McTeague had deliberately omitted during her conversations with Parris and Moon. The FBI’s full designation for the criminal group was—the
Cannibal Family.

“Whatever you say.” The tribal investigator got to his feet and looped his long arm around the eccentric relative. “Now here’s the deal. This situation has got to be reported. But I’d rather you and Sarah weren’t around when the cops show up.”

“And why not?” Daisy banged her walking stick within a half inch of the pointy toe of his boot. “It was me and Sidewinder that found Wallace’s body.”

“That’s the very reason I don’t want you here.”

As her nephew proceeded to explain about the inevitable publicity, Daisy Perika listened with a burning intensity. She didn’t mind talking to newspaper reporters or being interviewed on radio or TV. Not a bit. But when her concerned relative explained that it might be extremely dangerous to become known to the “witches” as an upstanding citizen who had discovered critical evidence that could be used against them in a court of law, the tribal elder began to have second thoughts.
These witches didn’t just kill Loyola and her grandson; they murdered Mrs. Jeppson and all of those nurses and sick people over at the hospital.
And third thoughts.
Doing away with one more old woman wouldn’t be nothing to them—it’d be like stepping on a bug.
“All right, then.” Deep martyr’s sigh. “Have it your way. I’ll go back to the ranch with Sarah and act like I’m just a useless old woman who never does nothing that anybody appreciates.”

Despite the grim situation, Moon managed a wan smile. “I appreciate that. And remind Sarah to keep quiet. I don’t want anyone to know that either of you have even been here.”

“Whatever you say.” Off she went.

After his aunt had departed with the girl and her cat and left nothing behind but a lot of quiet, Charlie Moon began to wish he had somebody to talk to. Being alone except for the corpse (an unseemly partner for conversation) and the Columbine hound (who was regarding Moon with an inquisitive look), the choice was easy. “Well, it’s just you and me now, pardner.” Fixing his gaze on the dead man’s feet, the tribal investigator explained to the dog how important it was that this discovery be kept as quiet as possible. The less this bloody-handed band of murderers knew about what the Law was up to, the better. Which raised the issue of how much Law to summon to the crime scene. The answer was obvious: the
fewer the better. After pondering his options, the lawman knew what he had to do—though it went against the grain.

Charlie Moon dialed the programmed number on his cell phone.

WHEN SHE
saw the caller ID, Special Agent McTeague answered immediately. “What’s up, Charlie?”

“I’d rather not say on an open line.”

“Bad news?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Tell me where and when and what to bring.”

“The widow’s farm. Try to get here before dark. You’ll need a full forensics team. AC generators. Lights. A tent. The works.”

“Got it.”

A HALF
hour before the sun set, the first of two Bureau helicopters settled onto the Blue Diamond Natural Gas Company’s property to deliver Special Agent McTeague. Charlie Moon told his ex-girlfriend everything he knew about Daisy and Sidewinder’s fortuitous discovery of the corpse. Which wasn’t the whole story, of course. Which was just as well.

Grateful for his decision to limit knowledge of this big break in the Cannibal Family case, Lila Mae agreed to treat the connection to Daisy Perika, Sarah Frank, and Charlie Moon as Bureau Confidential. Even as she made this promise, McTeague advised the tribal investigator that the FBI would make the discovery of the corpse public. A news conference would probably be scheduled for tomorrow morning. Moon was about to suggest that the feds might want to consider holding off for at least a few days, but his words were drowned out by the
whump-whump
of Chopper Number Two, which disgorged the regional FBI forensics team. With barely a glance at McTeague and Moon, they set up their equipment and got down to business right on the spot.