Death Etched in Stone

by C. M. Wendelboe

  “A holy man?” Reuben feigned hurt. “But I’ll stay close, in case he goes off on you.”

  They drove through Pine Ridge traffic and pulled into Big Bat’s. People crowded the convenience store this morning, yet they stepped aside to allow Manny to go to the checkout first. Or maybe it was Reuben they were stepping aside for. “Grab a booth. Be back in a minute,” Reuben said.

  Manny slid into a booth, and unwrapped his breakfast sandwich. He took the lid off his coffee just as Reuben returned. “Just like I was afraid of,” Reuben said, “Kyle Wells told a friend he intended to hitchhike to his uncle’s place outside Fort Thompson, up north of Chamberlain there on the Missouri River.”

  “I didn’t know he had relatives on Crow Creek Reservation,” Manny said between bites.

  “He does. And I called Homer One Feather,” Reuben said. “He thinks Joey hopped a bus to see his aunt in Arizona. Guess Homer’s sister lives in Tuba City.” He bit off half his sandwich. “They skipped the country. Just like I was afraid of.”

  “So there’s not much chance of Lumpy making an assault case against Bobo?”

  Reuben wiped cheese off his stubble. “Not with the witnesses hiding out in Crow Creek and all the way down in Navajo country. Good luck bringing them back to testify.”

  Manny nibbled at the corner of his sandwich, aware that school kids on mid-morning break had gathered to stare at Reuben. Manny lowered his voice: “Why would Bobo risk going back to prison just for his piece of shit car?”

  “I’ve been in prison. I sure wouldn’t want to go back over something like that. But I’ll find out.” Reuben finished his sandwich and crumpled the wrapper. “In fact, while we’re at the D&D, maybe I can interrogate Bobo my own self.”

  “I knew that’s why you wanted to come along.”

  Reuben shrugged. “So, I hate some wasicu coming on my rez and beating our young guys.”

  “Just don’t do anything while we’re inside the bar.” Manny stood to leave. “I don’t want to have to testify against you.”

  “Relax,” Reuben said. “It’s not like Bobo can deny what he already said, that Nate and Shawna were there the night his car was stolen.”

  *****

  Manny sat across from Reuben as he polished off his second Big Mac and third order of fries. Manny hoped to see White Hair and Red Keds spending Manny’s ten bucks, but the two drunks were not in the restaurant. “I just don’t see how you could eat again. We just finished breakfast on Pine Ridge.”

  Reuben patted his belly. “Anytime I can get the FBI to foot the bill for a meal, I’m going to take advantage of it.”

  “Even if it makes you sick?”

  “Do I look sick?” Reuben asked.

  “No. You still look hungry.”

  Manny stood and looked out the window, but the two scruffy men he saw walking by weren’t the homeless guys he’d met living in back of Neville Charging Bear’s law office. “Chief Horn rode with me to Sadie Moon’s yesterday.”

  Reuben dipped fries in a ketchup cup and waited for Manny to continue.

  “His dog died.”

  “And?”

  Manny turned from the window and sat down. “He said he doesn’t have time for another one.”

  “And?”

  Manny picked at his salad. “He’s always had a dog. I’m worried about him. Do you think that old mongrel meant that much to him that he doesn’t want another dog?”

  “Like no other dog could take the place of Mable?” Reuben dabbed daintily at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “I can understand if that was the case. Like me and Lizzy: There will never be another woman for me. I don’t want to even look.”

  Manny nodded. Ever since Reuben’s ex-wife had tried killing Manny a few years ago and admitted to killing the tribal finance officer, Reuben hadn’t been the same. Every time he went to the state hospital to visit her, he returned home sadder.

  Reuben set his fork aside. “I don’t think Chief Horn’s losing his old dog is the reason.”

  Manny leaned across the table. “What you mean by that?”

  “Chief Horn has told you why he doesn’t have time for a dog. Don’t they teach agents to listen when people tell them things?”

  “You’re not making any more sense than Chief Horn.”

  “Think about it, Misun.” Reuben finished his burger and eyed Manny’s plate. “You done with your salad?”

  Manny nodded.

  Reuben grabbed Manny’s salad, and squeezed the rest of the Italian dressing on the greens. “Diabetes is hell, huh?”

  “Especially when I have to eat with you, who eats whatever he wants.”

  Reuben shrugged. “Like I’ve always said, it’s my clean living.”

  “Well, Mister Clean Living, the D&D should be open by now. Whenever you’re done grazing.”

  “Only if you leave that pink scarf in your briefcase.”

  Manny left the car at McDonald’s, and they walked the two blocks to the D&D. The afternoon’s festivities were just getting underway, and Manny paused just inside the door to allow his eyes to adjust to the dark interior of the strip club.

  “I’ll be hanging out down at the end of the bar talking with that fine lady,” Reuben nodded to Monica Groves putting out baskets of popcorn on the bar.

  “Careful with that one,” Manny said. “That’s Bobo’s woman. I don’t know if I’d want to tangle with him.”

  “Like I said, me and Bobo were introduced to one another that night of the Toughman Contest. But I’ll remember your advice.”

  Reuben drifted to the end of the bar with the dancer just sliding down a dull brass pole in the middle of the stage. Manny sat on a stool between a slack-jawed man, surely his first time witnessing such a show, and another man who nudged Manny. “You come all the way from the rez to take in the show, Kola?” He said, playing with braids that fell onto his chest.

  Manny spotted Bobo just coming out of the back room and leaned into the man beside him. “I don’t do strip shows. Kola. What I do, though, is talk to people about crimes.” Manny showed his ID. “Are you a regular?”

  The man stumbled from the stool, grabbing the edge of the bar for balance. Manny’s head was shoulder-high to the man, who pulled his cap down over his eyes. “I come here now and again. Why?”

  “Were you here the other night when Bobo’s car was stolen?”

  The man finished his beer, and pocketed his change left on the bar. “Not me. I only come here occasionally. And like tonight, I stay just long enough for one beer and leave.”

  He stepped around two other men entering the bar, and Manny turned back around. He caught Bobo’s attention and waved him over. “We need to talk.”

  Bobo jerked his thumb at the stage. “You’re timing’s bad. Can’t you see the show’s just starting?”

  Manny glanced around the near-empty bar. “A little early for you to worry about rowdies. Besides, if you had told me the truth yesterday when I talked with you, I wouldn’t need to be here tonight.”

  Bobo’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw muscles tightened. He nodded to a corner booth. Manny followed him and slid in the booth across from Bobo.

  “Now what’s this bullshit about—”

  Manny held up his hand and Bobo’s stopped talking. “A kid from Rosebud probably stole your car that night. He and his girlfriend. At least they were inside it.”

  “Don’t mean I lied.”

  “Sure it does. The girl was the one in the security video, the one with the hair bleached down the middle.”

  Bobo shrugged. “So. Don’t make it a crime. Women come in here.”

  “She stripped. So you said.”

  “It was amateur night.”

  “She’s only fifteen.”

  Bobo slumped in the booth and rubbed his bald head, searching for an excuse, but Manny gave h
im no time to gather his lies. “What’s the chance of your keeping your license if the Rapid City PD finds out you let a juvenile in here—and let her strip.”

  “That’s bullshit, man. I got no time to check every woman’s ID that comes in looking to earn a few bucks.” Bobo stood and knocked over a chair beside the booth. He leaned over, inches from Manny’s face, his stale beer breath revolting. Manny caught movement in his periphery. Reuben had come over noiselessly and stood behind Bobo.

  “What the hell—”

  “Hi, Bobo.” Reuben clamped his hand on Bobo’s shoulder. “It’s been a while. Like last summer. Sit back down and talk with Agent Manny.”

  Bobo’s eyes darted to Manny, then to Reuben, then back to Manny. “What’s this, the FBI is hiring thugs now?”

  Manny smiled. “I’d sit down if I were you.”

  Bobo sat, and Reuben drifted back to the bar where he resumed talking with Monica as he kept an eye on the booth.

  “Like I said, you feds hiring killers now?”

  “You ought to feel right at home.” Manny fished his prop notebook from his bag and flipped pages. “First, I got other things to worry about than you letting an underage girl in here.” But the Rapid City PD will jump on it once I put in a call to a certain police lieutenant this afternoon. “I got more important things—”

  “Like telling me who those two were who stole my car. You have to tell me that. Or I get Neville Charging Bear to petition a court order.”

  Manny flipped pages. “Is Neville your attorney?”

  Bobo nodded. “And a damned good one.”

  Manny smiled. “Now I see why his office is in that dump.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing.” Manny’s smile faded and he leaned over the table. “Nate Yellow Bull was in your car, so he either stole it or got a ride. I’m guessing he stole it, and he and his girlfriend left for the rez.”

  “Who’s the girl?”

  “She’s a juvie. Remember? I’m not going to tell you her name.”

  “Then tell me where this Yellow Bull is now?”

  “I wouldn’t tell you if I knew. I’m afraid he’d end up like Kyle Wells and Joey One Feather, all beat to hell. You remember them?”

  “Never heard the names.”

  “So you claim,” Manny said, scribbling on his notebook.

  “What you writing in that thing?”

  “Just notes to the U. S. Attorney when I talk with him about the assaults,” Manny said.

  “You do what you gotta do, but I’m the victim here,” Bobo yelled. He stood abruptly when Reuben came off the bar towards them.

  Manny waved Reuben away, and he sat back down on the bar stool.

  “You are obligated to tell me where this Yellow Bull asshole is.”

  “I don’t have to tell you squat,” Manny said. “And I’m also guessing Nate Yellow Bull gave another of your patrons a ride to Pine Ridge. A patron who lives a mile from Oglala Lake.”

  Bobo looked warily at Manny. “Not that Tony Charging Bear theory of yours again?”

  “Tony doesn’t drive,” Manny began. “And he would have needed a ride home. Maybe from someone who just happened to be going his way, like Nate and his girlfriend. Now where’s Tony?”

  “He ain’t here.”

  “But he crashes here now and again.”

  Bobo nodded. “Why didn’t you ask him yourself when you had a chance.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Tony,” Bobo grinned. “You sat beside him at the bar when you first came in tonight.”

  “That was Tony Charging Bear? Why didn’t you tell me—”

  “I’m not required to tell you squat, either. All’s I know is he didn’t tell me anything about catching a ride home. He left that night and never came back until today. And I told you, he can use my car any time he wants.”

  “All the more reason for me to have a talk with him.”

  Manny scooted out of the booth and grabbed a business card from his pocket. “In case you lost my number. You call soon, and I’ll forget about the little juvie stripping on amateur night.”

  Bobo picked up the card and glared at Reuben coming off the bar to meet Manny. Reuben stopped at the booth. Bobo stood, nearly as tall as Reuben.

  “You tuned up some Lakota boys—”

  “Like I told your brother, I don’t know anything about that.”

  “Then I’d hate to come back and kick the shit out of you for nothing.”

  Bobo bladed his stance, and one fist clenched tightly, one hand inching toward his back pocket and his tire billy.

  Reuben smiled, and took his ball cap off.

  Manny stepped between them. Like a fool.

  He nodded to a bleach blonde stripper squatting in front of drooling patrons, cranker written all over her twenty-going-on-fifty face, arm sores only partially hidden by elbow-length gloves. “And I don’t want to hear that the card found its way into some dancer’s G-string,” he told Bobo as he left the bar.

  Chapter 20

  “Bobo was lying.”

  “How do you know?” Manny asked.

  “He’s a career criminal. Of course, he’s lying to the law.”

  “I knew that,” Manny said as they crossed the street. “Just wanted to get a second opinion.”

  “And my other opinion is that it’s a good thing you didn’t tell him any more than you did about Nate and Shawna. If he came onto the rez once to get information, he’ll come again.”

  “That’s still the thing that’s bugging me,” Manny said. “I know cons don’t act rationally but Bobo’s not stupid. Why go to all that trouble of coming on the rez to find out who stole his car?”

  “I’m betting Bobo had something inside that car that wasn’t there when he got it back.”

  “Like what?”

  “With the contacts he’s gotten over years of doing hard time, it could be anything illegal.”

  “Or the other thing,” Manny said as they stepped up on the sidewalk in front of Neville Charging Bear’s building. “Johnny Apple could have been in the trunk, and Bobo wants to find any witnesses and silence them.”

  “How long you going to be?”

  “Not long,” Manny said and chin-pointed to the barber shop. “Just long enough for you to grab a quick trim while I’m talking with Neville. But run if the old man brings out his magnifying glasses and clippers, or you’ll end up with this,” Manny ran his hand along the back of his hair. “He’s positively dangerous.”

  Manny walked in on Neville hunched over a law book, holding his pen above the paper, hand running through thick black hair stuffed under his John Deere ball cap.

  “You never mentioned Bobo Groves was a client.”

  “I didn’t think it was your business,” Neville said as he closed the book.

  “You’re an attorney to the likes of him?”

  “Even some bottom feeder like Bobo needs representation. I told him not to worry about your conversation—”

  “He called you already?”

  Neville leaned back and propped his boots on the desk. “You think I would be in business if I just took decent, upstanding folks? Bobo’s one of the few paying clients, even though he never pays much.” Neville laughed. “I shudder to think how much he owes me. I think I’m over the top with pro bono cases.” He fingered his beaded watch band. “They don’t pay the lights. But you didn’t come here to discuss my budding law practice.”

  “Why is it that lawyers and doctors always ‘practice’? Do you guys ever get it right? Is there ever a time when you stop practicing and just work?”

  Neville laughed. “I see your point. So what do you need?”

  “Tony,” Manny said. “He left the D&D a few minutes ago. I thought he might have come here.”

 
Neville shook his head. “He stays downstairs sometimes, but I haven’t seen him today. Why?”

  Manny remained quiet. Neville dropped his feet to the floor and leaned across the desk. “If Tony’s in trouble, I need to know. I’ll try to find him and get him to talk with you, but I need to know what he’s done.”

  “I can’t tell you just why I need to talk with him.”

  “As his attorney, I insist you need to call me before you interview him.”

  Manny remained silent.

  “It’s about Uncle Johnny drowning at Oglala Lake, isn’t it?”

  “I’m looking to solve Bobo’s stolen car case,” Manny said.

  “Nonsense.” Neville stood and walked to a small fridge in the corner of the office. He grabbed a bottle of water and uncapped it. He handed another to Manny. “The FBI doesn’t waste manpower worrying about a stolen car. We already had this conversation. No, this is about Uncle Johnny. What did you find out about his death?”

  “Nothing more,” Manny said. “You have my card. When Tony shows, you bring him in to talk.”

  Manny left the building and started for the barber shop when his phone rang. He squatted by the building out of the wind so he could hear Willie better. “I interviewed Pookie Martinez,” Willie said, his voice muffled as if he were hiding the receiver from prying ears. Like Lumpy’s. “Pookie bought some BC Bud from Nate Yellow Bull yesterday.”

  Manny whistled. “That’s got to be pricey. Where did Pookie get that kind of cash?”

  “That’s the goofy part,” Willie answered. “Nate sold her a baggie for the same price she usually paid for the ditch weed she’s been buying. First time she took a toke, she says she fell off the chair.”

  “Why so cheap?”

  “Pookie said Nate told Shawna he wanted them to head out for the West Coast,” Willie answered. “But they needed travelling money ASAP. She said Nate was shaking so bad she thought he’d crap himself. And he wasn’t tweaking, he was just scared. Looking all around when they made their deal.”

  “Where’d Pookie meet Nate to do the buy?” Manny asked.

  “Behind the Pronto Auto Parts. After he made the sale, he told Pookie she’d never see him or Shawna again. And he lit out. Funny thing, though,” Willie paused, and Manny heard footsteps walking past Willie’s phone, “Shawna’s only been a user until now. Rosebud PD said the same thing about Nate.”