Death Along the Spirit Road (32 page)

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Authors: C. M. Wendelboe

BOOK: Death Along the Spirit Road
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“I don’t know. You being a juvenile and all …”
“I’ll be charged as an adult, right? You’ll have to keep me locked up. Right?”
Manny nodded. “I’m sure with your record—and you being so close to eighteen—you could be tried in adult court.”
Lenny nodded. “What do you want to know?”
“Let me get this straight. You’ll tell me what I want to know—knowing full well that I’ll charge you for the assault?”
“It beats the alternative of you guys finding me some morning lying in a ditch with a knife stuck in me.”
Manny smiled and winked at Willie, then scooted a chair close to the bed. He rested his briefcase back on his knees and took out his mini-recorder. After noting the time, date, place, and waiver of rights, he began his interview.
 
Two hours later, Manny put his recorder and notes in his briefcase and stood, the interview concluded. He started to say something, then doubled over as the pain in his ribs throbbed with the exertion. Willie started for him, but Manny shook his head.
“I’ll wait for you in the lobby,” he said, and left the hospital room. He knew only minutes remained on Willie’s scheduled four-hour guard watch, and he started for the coffeepot. It was the same coffee as before. Something akin to river sludge floated on the surface—or had someone soaked his feet in it? He passed on the coffee as Willie headed toward him.
“I got my relief. Need a lift?”
“That was the idea.” He followed Willie to the cruiser. Manny’s muscles ached and he strained against the fresh pain in his head since the lidocaine had worn off, causing him to feel older than he should have as he fought to keep up with Willie. When they had started out of the parking lot, Willie turned to him.
“You really wouldn’t have charged him?”
“Of course I would have.” He found himself putting on his seat belt, something he seldom did, but he had been violently educated on the merits of buckling up since arriving on Pine Ridge. “Someone who tried as hard as Lenny did to kill me shouldn’t be running around free. And even pled down, with federal sentencing guidelines, that kid won’t be out of the slammer before he’s joined AARP.”
On the way home, they talked about the reasons Lenny attacked Manny. Lenny knew Manny was on Pine Ridge investigating the Red Cloud murder and he feared, as did many of the Heritage Kids, that he would figure out that Reuben killed Jason.
“Because Reuben didn’t like Jason,” Lenny had confessed. “Reuben said Jason was an AIM turncoat, that Jason should have stayed in the movement rather than sell out for the family dollar. Reuben must have found him parked at Wounded Knee that night. He must have killed Jason. I know I would have.”
Manny believed Lenny would have killed Jason had he been the one to find him that night. The Heritage Kids were a tight group, with their hero worship of Reuben, and Lenny Little Boy would have done whatever it took to protect Reuben, even murder. Manny had pressed Lenny for other reasons he thought Reuben had killed Jason. He finally blurted out that the morning following the Red Cloud murder, Reuben showed up at the jobsite looking like hell, said he hadn’t slept all night. When Lenny heard of the murder, he knew it had been Reuben.
When Lenny told his big brother about his suspicions of Reuben, he and Jack concocted the ambush. They’d wait for Manny to return from Rapid City. Lenny would drive while Jack did the shooting.
“All they had for proof that Reuben killed Jason was that he looked like he hadn’t slept,” Willie said. “That’s a pretty flimsy reason to try to kill you.”
“Unless Lenny or Jack is Jason’s killer.”
“And they think we’re close to finding out.” Willie swerved to avoid a cat in the road. “What better reason to want you dead. They had access to that stolen truck, and both matched the description of your jogger that night.”
“It’s too pat.” Manny adjusted the bandages on his hand. Now they itched in time with the stitches in his scalp. “I think Lenny actually believes Reuben killed Jason.”
“Then why would he talk to us?”
“Honor.”
“Of course.
Wayuonihan.
Lenny grew up in a traditional home, traditional values. Even though he’s always been in trouble, in his mind it’s dishonorable to snitch on your friends. Or your mentor. He’ll slit your throat in good conscience, but not talk with the law. Unless he saw a chance to cut his losses, like maybe you’ll go out of your way to plead with the judge for leniency.”
“I’ll talk to whatever judge is assigned,” Manny said. “Like I promised. Tell him that Lenny spilled his guts.” He massaged his hand. “Any luck on finding Jack?”
“None. We got the K9 out along 18. The dog alerted on Jack’s bloody T-shirt in the ditch. That’s the closest we came to finding him tonight.”
They pulled into the housing area, and Willie stopped outside Manny’s apartment. “Looks worse for your brother all the time.”
“That it does.” Manny’s cheek itched fiercely from the glass cuts under the bandages and he resisted the urge to scratch. “But I know my brother well enough that if he thought I had him nailed for the Red Cloud murder, he’d kill me himself. Or maybe he put them up to it.”
Willie faced Manny. “Reuben’s a
wicasa wakan
now. That changes a man. Sacred men might feel they have to kill, but they wouldn’t go around putting others up to doing the killing for them.”
“Then you figure that Lenny told the truth about Reuben knowing nothing of this ambush tonight?”
Willie nodded. “I figure Lenny and Jack pulled this stunt all by their lonesome.”
“And his denials about attacking me a couple nights ago outside my apartment? And the truck incident?”
“All true,” Willie said. “At least with as little experience as I got, I figure Lenny and Jack did this without Reuben’s knowledge, but I wouldn’t rule out Jack on the others attacks. Either way, there’s at least one other person roaming around the rez that wants you dead.”
“Oh, thanks for that piece of good news.” Manny opened the door and eased out.
“One other thing,” Willie said. “Why do you think Jack loaded that six-gun with just five rounds?”
Manny bent down and peered into the car. “He’s seen too many Westerns. Folks think Rugers are like the old Colts, that it’s unsafe to load them with six, so they load five shells with the hammer on an empty chamber.” Five, an odd number.
Five.
The same number of rounds found inside Billy Two Moons nearly thirty years ago. But the murder weapon was never found after Reuben tossed it. So how could Reuben have missed Two Moons with that sixth round within touching distance? Just one more question to ask his brother next time.
“Where do we go from here?” Willie asked before Manny shut the door.
“You might go to the post office tomorrow and check on Clifford Coyote. No one knows him, but he gets his mail there at least once a month. As for me, all I want to do is hit the rack and sleep for a long time. Even for us adventurous G-men”—he smiled—“it’s not every day we’re shot at.”
“Well, you watch your backside. Jack’s still out there and he’ll be madder’n hell now that his brother’s locked up.”
Willie drove away, and Manny’s arm felt for the Glock that wasn’t there since Lumpy seized it. He’d gotten used to its bulk since at least one other person hereabouts wanted him dead. He checked the dark apartment before he entered, and hoped that whoever was after him would allow him one decent night’s sleep.
Manny peeked around the corner of the building. Desirée’s apartment was dark, and it was late enough that he could tiptoe into his apartment without alerting her he was there.
He slipped the key in the lock. The door stuck and he nudged it with his shoulder, then stepped inside and eased it shut before he turned on the light. “That you darlin’?”
Desirée lay on the couch. A blanket over her that had fallen away revealed a bare waist. She stood and the blanket dropped to the floor, revealing all of Desirée in a lace camisole.
“What’re you doing in here? How’d you get in?”
“Leon let me in. He said you might need someone to watch over you tonight to make sure your injuries didn’t get any worse.”
“You got to leave.”
“It’ll be like old times. We got a lot of catching up to do. And I’m not spoken for at the moment.”
Manny backed out of the apartment and shut the door. The cool air hit him and he realized this nightmare was in real time, and he called Willie before he got too far away. “Got a spare couch in your apartment?”
“Desirée?”
“In the flesh.”
“I’ll be right there and get you. The last thing you need right now is to work out with her and get a heart attack.”
CHAPTER 18
 
 
Manny rolled over on the couch and used his good arm to sit up. His ribs had stiffened sleeping on the hard hide-a-bed, with its metal slat jutting into his side all night. He stood to stretch his legs as he read Willie’s note saying he would be back soon with breakfast burritos and coffee for them. Manny pulled the curtain back and squinted into the sun. A new Hertz rental had been dropped off sometime this morning.
Manny slipped his trousers on and hobbled outside to the car. Something attached to the steering wheel flapped when he opened the car door: a pleading note.
We’re running out of cars!!!!!! Be more careful!!!!!
He crumpled the note and went back inside Willie’s apartment.
He hit the shower and had to put on the same clothes he’d worn last night, praying Desirée would be gone when he went back to his own apartment for fresh clothes. He walked back to the living room just as Willie came in. His jeans were as wrinkled as Chief Horn’s face, and his T-shirt bore some dried food on the front. Willie had bags under his eyes, and he hadn’t shaved today. He tossed the sack from Big Bat’s on the table and dropped into a chair. His head drooped between his knees.
“You all right?”
“I don’t know. I stopped at the post office after I picked up breakfast. I found out who rented that box under Clifford Coyote’s name.” Willie handed Manny a copy of a receipt dated January 2. “Elizabeth Comes Flying pays the box rent every year.” He bent over in the chair and cradled his head in his hands. “She’s been renting the box for Clifford Coyote for the past thirty-one years.”
“Who’s Elizabeth Comes Flying?” Manny sucked in a quick breath when he recognized his sister-in-law’s maiden name. “Maybe she was doing him a favor.”
“You really believe that?”
“I see your point. But who’s Coyote?”
“There is no Clifford Coyote on the tribal books or in our system.”
“Then Coyote’s a bogus name?”
Willie nodded. “Georgette White Bird said Aunt Lizzy pays for the box every January. Aunt Lizzy got Georgette her first job at the post office, and Georgette doesn’t ask any questions. She said Coyote gets one letter a month, and figures he drops by at night ’cause she’s never seen him.”
“Did you talk with Elizabeth about the post office box?”
“No. She left a note saying she and Rachael Thompson went shopping in Rapid again, but I got hold of Rachael, and she hasn’t talked with Aunt Lizzy in a couple days. What do you make of her renting that post office box every month since 1976?”

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