Grave Consequences (24 page)

“Clearly, our pistol slugs didn't cause either explosion,” Charlie said. “Tribal authorities have called in federal explosives experts to check out the wreckage.”

“Any idea about the shooters?”

“Last I heard they were still looking for enough remains to ID. No luck yet. You mentioned casino cameras?” Charlie asked.

“Next video. They have better cameras, but the distance and lighting are problematic. Take a look.”

This video presented the entire incident from a distance of several hundred yards, and all they could really see were the involved vehicles from the opposite direction.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, then Gordon asked, “You think the wounded bodyguard—Nakai, will be able to ID Sheila Ben as the woman in the pickup?”

“When I brought it up, he didn't think so. Did you get any word on the plates from the two vehicles? I noticed the angle and lighting were good enough in the second camera video for them to show up.”

“Al mentioned in his cover letter that the plates were stolen, so, no, it doesn't help much.”

The bell in the front of the store rang, and both of them glanced over as a young man in a denim jacket came into the shop. “I'll handle that,” Charlie said. “Time to get back into the groove.”

*   *   *

Another customer came in a few minutes later, so Gordon joined him out front. Before long, there were several people in the shop, three waiting around with stuff in boxes. They kept an eye on these people at first, despite the fact that two were women in their late fifties and the third a man who looked like he hadn't gotten off the sofa in the past thirty years except to grab another beer. If they were working with the Night Crew, Sheila and her son had gotten to the brine at the bottom of the barrel.

About the time the last of that bunch cleared the shop, Jake and Ruth returned, coming in the front, laughing and clearly having a good time. Charlie was pleased—they'd been pretty grim when he'd left for the Rez the other day. Hopefully, the business wasn't going to be involved in what was still to come for him, Gordon, and probably Al.

Neither one of them had had lunch, so Charlie and Gordon left their two employees and walked down to Frank and Linda's. The grocery-deli combo was a long, narrow room, with shelves stacked high in two narrow rows on either side of a wider central aisle. From where they sat at a small bistro table, munching burritos and Cokes, they could see the length of the store, right out the front door onto the sidewalk.

Halfway through his second burrito, Charlie saw a familiar face. It was Detective DuPree, who spotted him at about the same time. Charlie waved him down the aisle.

Gordon looked over and saw who it was. “Hey, DuPree, join us for lunch while we catch up on current events.”

DuPree strode to their table with a puzzled expression on his ruddy face, then looked over at the deli counter. “Why not? I'm going to be here for a while.” He located the chubby Italian owner, who was wearing a long white apron and cap. “What's good today, Frank?” he asked.

Charlie looked over at Gordon, who shrugged. They listened to the two men talk, quickly learning that DuPree's father, a longtime law enforcement officer, had known Frank and Linda for years when the deputy had patrolled this part of the county.

A few minutes later, DuPree, armed with a bowl of Frito pie, joined them at the small table. “It's time to share information, boys. You first, Henry.”

“Basically, I believe that Sheila Ben is behind the death of Cordell Buck, that she arranged for the attempt on Lola Tso and the shooting of Nolan Bitsillie last night, and then proceeded to blow her hired gunmen to pieces to make sure they couldn't identify their employer. This is based upon all we've learned so far, culminating in last night's events.”

DuPree nodded. “That's one of the theories sent my way via the tribal police chief and the investigating officers, including your brother. I understand Sheila wanting to retrieve the squash blossom necklace—which probably tied her to Buck's death—but why did she kill the silversmith in the first place? And why Bitsillie? Was it because the man got her job at the casino?”

“More like how he got the job. She was fired a couple of years ago for doing the nasty on her casino office desk with Cordell Buck,” Charlie explained. “Actually, she was bought off with a handsome severance check.”

“Unusual. Who ratted her out?” DuPree asked.

“It was filmed on a concealed camera—probably planted there by Cordell Buck's cousin—Nolan Bitsillie. The video was sent to the tribal president anonymously, and he handed it over to the tribal board who oversees casino operations, wanting them to make it all go away. None of this was ever made public, though. Sheila was just paid off and quietly removed.”

“And Bitsillie got the job. Nice setup. But if this is such a secret, how did you find out, Charlie?” DuPree asked.

“My father, a former judge, is on that same tribal board. He saw the video and was sworn to secrecy. But once Al and I became targets, he decided we needed to know the details. He helped me put it all together.”

“We're talking revenge here, payback major league,” DuPree replied, nodding. “Seems like a little overkill, though. Robbing Cordell Buck, I get that, but killing him, then robbing his grave? Is Sheila nuts?”

Charlie thought about it for a moment. He was no shrink, but he'd been around people that could be sent over the edge with just one tiny push. “Maybe there's something we don't know about yet that triggered the killing itself. And why wait over two years before gunning him down?”

“Blackmail?” Gordon suggested. “How about if Buck had approached Sheila recently, trying to squeeze some money out of her? He obviously plays the tribal casinos. Maybe he's been on a losing streak.”

“Okay, he could have been threatening to make her humiliation from the casino incident public unless she paid him to keep quiet,” DuPree concluded. “But wouldn't that revelation also put Buck in the spotlight?”

“So? He'd probably get more high-fives than criticism from men,” Charlie suggested. “Besides, Buck was a silversmith, while Sheila owns a family restaurant. It could really hurt her image—him probably not at all. Or maybe Buck had found out about the Night Crew and he threatened to expose Clarence.”

“Okay, motive notwithstanding, if Sheila really did off the men who set her up, how do we catch her?” Gordon asked. “Are we getting any actual evidence from all of this?”

“What about the old pickup, the dead shooters, Sheila's whereabouts, the explosives, stuff like that?” Charlie asked DuPree.

“The lab boys are all over it, including the FBI crime lab. Several agencies are working on the evidence, including a detailed analysis of the surveillance tapes. The best witness concerning the woman in the pickup—Nakai—is under guard at the Shiprock Medical Center. He's set to be interviewed by the feds either this morning or afternoon,” DuPree explained.

“Sheila went too far this time,” Charlie said. “The woman is a piece of work—good-looking, but cold as hell. She came up to me earlier in the evening…”

“What? You holding out on me, Charlie?” DuPree asked, leaning forward. “I want details.”

Charlie explained how the not-so-subtle threats against his family came out when the subject of Clarence's safety came up.

“Her son is her weak spot,” Gordon suggested.

“Yeah, but you two better stay away from her and Clarence. Word's come down just this morning that the feds have been working the auto theft ring from the Mexican end of the pipeline, looking for an informant. Unfortunately, we still don't have enough to arrest all the players. Until we do, we don't want anyone else hurt, like your family, Charlie,” DuPree said, this time softening his tone.

“Agreed. But we can keep looking for the other women involved, right?” Charlie asked.

Gordon looked at Charlie curiously for a second. “You still have no idea where Lola is?” he added, switching to DuPree.

The detective shook his head. “Not at this time. There are photos and BOLOs all over the Southwest, and we now have a description of the vehicle she fled in. She's got to turn up somewhere. That shot-up bar owner, Schultz, still insists he has no idea where she was headed.”

“So you have no problem with us going in a different direction,” Charlie concluded.

DuPree looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Why do I think you're up to something, Henry?”

“Me?” Charlie asked.

“Him?” Gordon echoed.

“Never mind. Just stay away from Clarence and Sheila, okay?” DuPree stood. “And let me know what, if anything, you learn that'll help the case.”

“If you'll do the same,” Charlie responded, holding out his hand.

DuPree took it reluctantly, then shook. “Okay. Deal.” He turned to Frank, who was working behind the counter. “Good to see you again, pal. Say hello to your father for me?”

“Will do, and to your pop as well,” the proprietor replied.

DuPree was barely out the door when Gordon looked over. “This detail slipped by DuPree, but I picked up on it. On the way back to the shop, you gonna tell me what other woman we're going to be looking for?”

Charlie stood. “Do you happen to remember a red Mustang?”

*   *   *

During the short walk back to FOB Pawn, Charlie got Nancy on the phone. “Nancy, remember Melinda Foy, the woman who regularly pays Clarence Fasthorse a visit? We never really checked her out because I figured she was incidental to the investigation.”

“The sometimes hooker and catering server? Maybe she's just an off-the-books housekeeper now keeping a regular work schedule,” Nancy suggested.

“Not based upon the way she dresses while on the job. I'm guessing she's having an affair with him, or maybe even selling herself again. Whenever she shows up Clarence has already turned on the romantic music.”

“And you hear this music all the way from the street? Or are you into window peeping now?” Nancy asked. “Never mind, do I really want to know?”

“Not really. Anyway, can you get us a name and address? We'd like to speak with her about Fasthorse and his mother. We've been warned off Clarence and Sheila.”

“Yeah, DuPree told me how the feds are working the car theft angle into Mexico. Nice for them to finally tell the local cops. Also, I heard about last night. Glad you and Al dodged the bullet again. Well, bullets and bombs.”

“Thanks. When I catch up to you again I'd like to discuss Sheila Ben and her possible motivation for all this. DuPree knows about that now, we just spoke with him, but I'd like a woman's viewpoint and theories.”

“Of course. I'm not on duty at the moment, but give me the Mustang's plate number again and I'll get back to you in a few minutes. Talk to you later.”

They were in the shop office when Nancy returned the call. “Putting you on speaker,” Charlie declared, getting Gordon's attention.

“Melinda Beth Foy is divorced and her two prostitution busts followed that breakup. There's nothing new in the three years since, though, so she's either being very careful, or gave up hooking. As for her most recent gigs, she's listed as an exotic dancer.”

“Stripper,” Gordon said.

“You ever hear of her from your time in vice, Nancy?”

“No, I'd already been transferred to traffic by then. If you talk to her, what's your angle, anyway? You think she's ever seen you in connection with Fasthorse or his mother?”

“Unless she's been shown my photo, no. If she'd been in the restaurant the one time we went inside, I would have noticed her,” Charlie said.

“I saw her photo. She's attractive,” Nancy replied.

“True enough. We were just hoping to learn something more about Clarence and his family that she may have picked up during their … pillow talk, if that's what you call it,” Charlie said.

“Sounds iffy. What you really want to do is piss off Clarence again, right?” Nancy replied. “Mess with his private life?”

“That would be a side benefit, I suppose. But no, from our admittedly limited monitoring of their relationship, I'm thinking Melinda depends on Clarence for some of her income. If we offered to trade some information she might be able to provide in exchange for our silence in her relationship with Clarence…”

“Blackmail, you mean,” Nancy interrupted.

“Naw, we wouldn't really give her up. But that might motivate Melinda into providing us with some insight on Clarence and what he's thinking right now. She might even be able to provide details that could confirm once and for all if it was Sheila, not Clarence, who murdered Cordell Buck and Nolan Bitsillie. We're still not clear on who exactly shot the silversmith, though we think we know what motivated the hits.”

“With all that's been going on the past few days, what if Melinda isn't hooking up with Clarence anymore?” Nancy countered. “When was the last time you saw them together?”

“Been awhile. But we need to do something. It's annoying having the answers, or thinking you have the answers, and not being able to follow through.”

“Now you know what it feels like to be a cop,” Nancy replied.

Charlie looked over at Gordon, who shrugged. “She's right.”

“Damn right I'm right. Just make sure you two don't get shot by an angry boyfriend, Clarence or otherwise. All of the locals are on stand-down with the Night Crew investigation now that the feds have taken over.”

“I thought the murder of Cordell Buck was still part of this,” Charlie responded. “The main focus, actually.”

“Those in charge, I suppose, believe they need to make a move on the carjacking and theft ring while there's still someone left to arrest. You two have whittled the procurement side of their illegal operation down a bit,” Nancy reminded. “There's a good chance the feds can make a case with Clarence. His mom, I'm not so sure. I get the feeling she's never been on the scene at any of the Night Crew carjackings.”