Obsidian

by Thomas King

  Leon nodded. “This for the baby boy your friend at the Mustang had?”

  “Nope.” Al pointed her lips at Thumps. “His girlfriend is planning on adopting a little girl.”

  “Tonto and a baby?” said Leon. “Now there’s something I’d pay to see.”

  “Cute bugger,” said Al. “If you like babies.”

  “Maybe you should buy her a cellphone,” said Leon. “Get her started early.”

  “A cellphone?”

  Al strode back to the grill. “Only thing a baby needs is a cardboard box and someone to love her.”

  THUMPS DIDN’T ASK any more questions about babies, and he didn’t mention George Gorka. Al brought the food, and Thumps and Leon ate it.

  “So you’re going out to see your girlfriend?”

  Thumps tried to find a different word. “She’s not exactly my girlfriend.”

  “So the two of you aren’t adopting a baby?”

  Thumps wasn’t sure what they were doing. “She’s thinking of adopting a baby.”

  “Okay,” said Leon.

  Thumps pushed the potatoes into the salsa. “How’s your breakfast?”

  “You trying to change the subject?”

  “Al cooks her eggs in butter with a little olive oil.”

  “Okay, so don’t tell me,” said Leon. “None of my business anyway.”

  Thumps let his breath out and tried to relax his shoulders. “What are your plans for the day?”

  Leon picked up his coffee cup. “Thought I’d go back to the RV and review the files. Keep thinking there’s something we’re missing. How long you going to be gone?”

  “The weekend,” said Thumps. “I told Claire I’d stay the weekend.”

  “The weekend.” Leon made a low whistling sound. “That’s serious time.”

  “Two nights.”

  “You ever stay two nights at her place before?”

  Now that he thought about it, Thumps realized that he had never spent two consecutive nights at Claire’s place. And she had never spent two nights at his.

  “You got a number where I can reach you?” said Leon. “In case I find something.”

  “Sure.”

  “I might wake the baby.”

  “If it’s important,” said Thumps, “call.”

  Leon finished his eggs and wiped the plate with a piece of toast. “You got any idea which end is up?”

  “Nope.”

  Leon pushed off the stool. “I’m thinking we better find what we’re missing soon.”

  “Always a good plan.”

  “’Cause I don’t think our boy is done yet.”

  Thumps brushed the toast crumbs off his pants. “Neither are we.”

  Thirty-Nine

  Thumps had read somewhere that the farther away you got from your problems, the more anxiety levels went down. The idea was that physical distance tended to encourage a feeling of calm and well-being. So, if you had an argument with a friend or a sibling or a spouse, and instead of staying, which tended to cause more stress, you simply walked away or drove away and got as far from the conflict as you could, you would feel better.

  At the time, it had sounded like pop psychology, but now, as he drove out of Chinook toward the reservation and Claire’s house, he could feel his body relax and his mind soften. The music helped. The Cowboy Junkies were on the radio singing about one last chance to make it real.

  Thumps leaned back and started singing along with the song. Maybe that’s what he had. One last chance to make it real. Claire. Claire and a baby. Put the past in the past and live in the present. All good sentiments. All healthy alternatives.

  The sun was out. It lit up the dashboard, and Thumps kept the beat of the song on the steering wheel until he could see Claire’s place on the river. By then, his hand hurt and his voice was hoarse.

  Claire was home, but she was not alone. Her truck was parked by the Russian olive. A new Subaru was parked in the shade of the barn. He waited in his car to see if Claire would come out. When she didn’t, he went onto the porch and knocked on the door. Nothing. He knocked again, harder this time, in case she was in the kitchen with the water running.

  Nothing.

  Okay, the barn. Except she wasn’t there either. But, as he headed back to the house, he saw a figure standing on the low ridge overlooking the river, waving. As well as the outline of two other people. He began walking toward the group and was halfway there before he was able to see who they were.

  Claire holding a baby. Lorraine holding a baby. Big Fish Patek holding a beer.

  “Hey,” Big Fish shouted. “You’re just in time.”

  “Didn’t expect you until later,” said Claire. “You want to hold her?”

  “Sure.”

  “She’s a little cranky,” said Claire, “’cause she’s tired.”

  “The babies like each other,” said Big Fish, tipping the beer bottle at Thumps. “Wouldn’t it be something if they grew up and got married?”

  “We heard about the two people at the fairgrounds,” said Claire. “Do you know who did it?”

  “Sheriff’s working on it.”

  “I thought you might call to tell me you couldn’t make it,” said Claire. “That you had to help Duke with the investigation.”

  “Nope,” said Thumps. “The weekend is yours.”

  “I was thinking that it was ours,” said Claire.

  “Then let the picnic begin,” said Big Fish.

  “Big Fish has never been on a picnic,” said Lorraine.

  “It’s true,” said Big Fish. “But it’s a great invention. Out in nature. Sandwiches. A cooler full of beer. What’s not to like?”

  “Not much,” said Thumps.

  “You can see all the way to the mountains.” Big Fish shook his head. “And you can see the Slump. You around when that happened?”

  “At university,” said Claire. “My dad was here. Said it was pretty dramatic.”

  “My father and a bunch of his friends came out on their dirt bikes,” said Lorraine. “Couple of them thought about riding across the face of the slide.”

  “They try it?”

  “No,” said Lorraine. “Not even my dad was that stupid.”

  Big Fish held up a beer. “We got devilled-egg sandwiches, and we got ham and cheese.”

  “The killings,” said Claire, “are they related to the Obsidian Murders?”

  Holding the baby was like trying to hold heavy water. Every time she squirmed, Thumps felt as though she were going to pour through his arms.

  “No shop talk,” said Lorraine. “Today is all about babies.”

  “Did you guys decide on a name yet?”

  “You want to tell him,” said Lorraine, “or should I?”

  “Hack,” said Big Fish. “After his grandfather.”

  “And since he’s got my father’s name,” said Lorraine, “I said it was okay if he had Big Fish’s last name.”

  “Hack Carpenaux,” said Big Fish. “Hell of a name.”

  Claire held Ivory up and sniffed at her bottom. It was not a gesture that was particularly endearing, and Thumps wondered if this was something that mothers did.

  “You ever change a baby?” asked Claire.

  “Sure.”

  “Well, then,” said Claire, “here’s your chance to do it again.”

  IT WAS NOT a pretty sight. Thumps breathed through his mouth and tried to work quickly.

  “Wipe her front to back,” said Claire. “And make sure you get all the poop out of her vulva.”

  “He’s going to take some training,” said Lorraine. “Big Fish isn’t much better.”

  “Not fair,” said Big Fish. “Men aren’t used to those kinds of smells.”

  Lorraine lowered her eyes to razor blades. “Sour breast milk? Yeast infections? Periods?”

  “Yeah,” said Big Fish. “Like that.”

  Lorraine looked at Claire. “You know, they say that baby boys who are raised by their mothers turn out to be better men.”
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  Thumps held Ivory up. It hadn’t been all that hard to change a diaper. Just messy. He supposed the smell was something that you did get used to. And you didn’t have to change diapers for the rest of the child’s life. As he remembered, most kids were toilet trained by age two.

  Claire leaned in to look at his handiwork. “You put the diaper on backwards.”

  AROUND TWO O’CLOCK, Hack began crying, whereupon Ivory joined in. First Claire and Lorraine walked the babies, singing to them, bouncing them in their arms, and then Big Fish and Thumps took a turn.

  “We should probably get back,” said Lorraine, over the screaming. “Don’t think Hack’s going to sleep out here in the sun.”

  “They’re just tired,” said Claire. “Stanley was like that. If he got overtired, he would just scream and scream until he passed out.”

  “But we should do this again,” said Lorraine.

  Thumps and Big Fish walked the blankets and the cooler back to the house.

  “You want some of the extra beer?” said Big Fish. “Got plenty back at the bar.”

  “Nope,” said Thumps. “Don’t really drink beer.”

  “Come to think of it,” said Big Fish, “don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink at all. That an Indian thing?”

  “You buy a Subaru?”

  “Lorraine talked to Claire,” said Big Fish. “Car’s supposed to be family-friendly. Me, I really wanted that woodie. The guy was even willing to give me a discount.”

  “Gorka?”

  “Nice guy,” said Big Fish. “Little rough around the edges, but my kind of guy. I tried to convince Lorraine, but she wanted something with all the latest safety features. Because of Hack.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Big Fish loaded the cooler into the back of the Forester. “Yeah,” he said, “it does. You sure you don’t want some of the beer?”

  Thumps had started to turn back to the house, when it hit him. The cellphone the sheriff had given him was in his jacket pocket. Thumps jerked it out and jogged to high ground to see if he could get a good signal. Leon answered on the third ring.

  “I’m all yours,” said Ranger.

  “Do we have the crime scene inventories?”

  “Of course,” said Leon. “We’re cops.”

  Thumps took a deep breath. “Look at the inventory for Anna.”

  “You got something?”

  “The inventory.”

  Thumps could hear paper being moved. He willed himself to breathe in and out as he waited.

  “Okay,” said Leon. “You want the whole thing, or are you looking for something specific?”

  “There was a cooler.”

  “Yes,” said Leon. “One cooler.”

  “What was in it?”

  “Okay. We have some fruit . . . grapes and two bananas. And an apple. Couple of those little boxes of orange juice. Sandwiches. Doesn’t say what kind . . .”

  “That it?”

  “Nope,” said Leon. “We also have two cans of beer. Bud Light, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Two cans of beer?”

  “I mean, if you’re going to drink light beer, at least drink it in bottles.”

  “Meet me at the sheriff’s office. Half an hour.”

  “Thought you were taking the weekend off?”

  “I was,” said Thumps.

  “Shit,” said Leon. “You solved the case.”

  “Sheriff. Half an hour.”

  Claire and Lorraine were taking their time strolling along the ridge above the river. Thumps watched them as they came along, the babies on their hips, the fall sun at their backs.

  Then he made the next call.

  Forty

  Claire had been as understanding as he could have hoped.

  “You weren’t supposed to be here until this evening,” she had said, “so I suppose you wouldn’t be breaking any promise.”

  “I’ll be back.” Thumps rubbed the back of the baby’s head. “You understand what you have to do.”

  Claire had turned Ivory around, so the baby could see him. “She likes you.” Ivory was sound asleep.

  “I can see that,” said Thumps.

  “Be careful.”

  “I have to know you’ll be safe.”

  “Don’t worry about me and Ivory,” said Claire. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Tell me again what you’re going to do.”

  THUMPS DIDN’T BOTHER with the speed limit. He just put his foot to the floor and kept it there. Leon was waiting for him at the sheriff’s office.

  “We’ve been looking,” said Leon. “But I can’t say anything leaps out.”

  “Still,” said Duke, “Leon here tells me that something’s got your tighty-whities in a knot.”

  “Anna’s folder?”

  “Here,” said Leon.

  Duke made a face. “You want to share?”

  “Describe the murder scene.”

  “Okay,” said Leon. “Two bodies. One adult female. One female child. Found in the dunes and the seagrass, about a hundred yards from the high-water mark.”

  “Go on.”

  “Items found at the scene, a large blanket, a cooler with food, a child’s colouring book . . .”

  “You said there was beer in the cooler.”

  “Yeah,” said Leon. “Two cans.”

  “Anna didn’t drink.” Thumps began stalking the room.

  It took Duke a moment to see the incongruity. “And you don’t generally bring beer along on a picnic unless somebody’s going to drink it.”

  “Raymond Oakes.” Leon hit his head with the palm of his hand. “The beer was for Raymond Oakes.”

  Thumps stood up. “You need to call Eureka. Tell them to get out to Clam Beach. Pinpoint the spot where Anna and Callie were found. Tell them to work a one-hundred-yard radius from the crime scene toward the road and the parking lot.”

  “We’re looking for a shallow grave,” said Leon. “Aren’t we?”

  Thumps turned to Duke. “You need to call the health spa in Glory. Find out if Anderson Cole is still there.”

  “And if she is?”

  “Tell her to get back to Chinook as fast as she can.”

  IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON by the time Thumps had everything in place.

  “Got hold of Anderson,” said Duke. “She’s on her way.”

  “You know what to do when she gets here,” said Thumps.

  “What about our good buddy Anthony Mercer?” said Leon. “He still in a cell?”

  “Didn’t know what to do with him,” said Duke.

  “Keep him there,” said Thumps. “That way, we know where he is.”

  “You think he’s part of this?”

  “I have to get back to Claire,” said Thumps. “Call me when you know.”

  “Eureka is going to take a couple of days,” said Leon. “Probably a week.”

  Duke poured himself a cup of coffee. “You going to tell us the rest of your plan?”

  “Don’t have a ‘rest of a plan.’”

  “Or is this where you try to shine us on?” said the sheriff.

  “He’s trying to shine us on,” said Leon.

  “You know I could put you in a cell right next to Mr. Mercer,” said Duke. “For your own protection.”

  “Maybe,” said Thumps. “But you’re not going to do that.”

  “You know who the killer is, don’t you?” Leon turned to Hockney. “I think your Indian is being stoic.”

  “Not my Indian.” Duke walked back to his desk. “You got a weapon?”

  “Me?” said Leon.

  “No,” said the sheriff. “The Indian.”

  “The Indian doesn’t need one,” said Thumps.

  “Take it anyway,” said Duke. “Glock twenty-three, .40 calibre, thirteen rounds. Pro Carry clip holster. I keep it around in case I have to thwart a herd of rampaging elephants.”

  “I’m just going back to the reservation,” said Thumps. “Have dinner with Claire, play with the baby, watch some television.”
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  “The all-American family scene,” said Leon.

  “And nothing says ‘all-American,’” said Duke, “more than a well-maintained and loaded firearm.”

  “So, what are we supposed to do?”

  “Get all the ducks lined up.” Thumps clipped the holster onto his belt. “Cole first. Then Eureka. We need to be sure. Already spent enough time chasing ghosts.”

  THUMPS DIDN’T PUSH the speed limit back to the reservation. The sun was above the horizon. There was plenty of time. The hard part would be the waiting. He wasn’t going to like that. Especially if it turned out that he was wrong.

  Being wrong would be embarrassing. No, more than embarrassing. It would mean that he had failed once again, and what he had thought was solid would prove to be smoke. Then again, being right was going to be dangerous.

  Deadly, Thumps corrected himself. Being right would be deadly.

  Forty-One

  As Thumps drove out of town, he told himself that Duke and Leon would figure it out soon enough. Still, he felt bad that he hadn’t shared his suspicions with them. But if he had, they would have tried to talk him out of it, or worse, they would have insisted on helping.

  THE SUN WAS BELOW the horizon when he got to Claire’s house. All the lights were on, and it gave the double-wide modular a warm, homey look. Thumps got out of the car and walked onto the porch, a bouquet in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other, and paused for a moment, as though he were enjoying the evening air. The flowers were a generic bunch he had picked up at the Cash and Carry, and the champagne was really just sparkling wine.

  Not that anyone was going to notice the difference. Thumps didn’t expect that he’d be opening the bottle tonight.

  He stepped inside, went directly to the kitchen, put the flowers in a plastic water jug, and set the bottle on the table. The book he had brought with him was the second in a mystery series that featured a grumpy sheriff, a foul-mouthed deputy, and an Indian who owned a bar. He had enjoyed the first book and hoped that the second one would be even better. He sat down facing the door, checked his watch, and began to read.

  An hour later, he looked up. The light was gone, and the night was black. If there was a moon, it was hiding. The wind was up, and it flowed around the house like a river at high water.