Red Ochre Falls

by Kristen Gibson

  Chloe had a map of oil pipelines in Michigan. Looked innocuous at the time, but then I remembered a terminal for Brampton Oil a short distance from the planned casino site. He didn’t want the casino built; he was trying to stop it.

  Along with the map, Chloe made notes about complaints of groundwater contamination. Apparently, there was an aging pipeline and the locals were convinced it had started to leak. A “guaranteed environmental catastrophe” she wrote. I assumed she was working on another case, but the cases were connected.

  “You keep quiet much longer and I’m gonna get mad. You don’t want to see me mad.”

  He was right. Tab had told Chloe stories about how mean his dad could get. She had seen enough of Tab to know the truth. It was one of the reasons she was so forgiving of his abuse. She would argue anger begets anger, and plead for us to show him sympathy, but it didn’t matter when we saw her bruised and bleeding.

  “You know you’re not going to win the governorship when they find out you killed people.”

  “Killed people? I have plenty of people willing to do that for me.” He shifted the gun to one arm and held up his hand. “I don’t see any blood.”

  “I know you’re guilty. There’s dirty oil on your hands.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. Tab thought she spilled her guts to you.”

  He meant Chloe and he was wrong. She hadn’t told me a thing, but she wanted to before she died. Even after, she had me following the clues. It was taking time to put the pieces together—maybe something to do with all the bad guys chasing me lately.

  Thibodeaux didn’t look very patient, so I winged it.

  “Sure. I know you’re a shareholder in Brampton, and Brampton is big oil. Big enough they have a terminal station a stone’s throw from the site of a new tribal casino. Problem is, the pipeline is old. If you don’t get a new one in soon, you’ll have an environmental disaster to clean up, which would be a political mess for you even as far away as Louisiana. You’d be the face of another catastrophe, people would be reminded of the gulf oil spill, and a bunch of angry voters would elect someone other than you.”

  Things started clicking. The land grab was as much about oil as it was about gambling. The maps in Chloe’s files told me as much, seeing Thibodeaux cleared up why.

  “If the build went forward, your new pipelines couldn’t go in, and you’d be back at square one looking to patch old lines until you could find more land, make a new plan, and work through the bureaucratic red tape all over again.”

  “Chloe was right. You are smart.”

  How did he know anything about her other than what Tab made up? He must have read the questions on my face.

  “How’d I know?” He smiled, just like Tab when he’d cornered his prey. “Since I can’t let you walk out of here, I may as well confess,” he leaned in and whispered, “I lied. There is blood on my hands. It was almost too easy.”

  By now he was grinning, so happy with himself. Happy over the death of my friend—a friend I should have been there to save.

  “All I had to do was tell her how worried we were.” Thibodeaux faked a sad expression. I wished I could knock the smugness right out of him.

  “I told Chloe that Tab might hurt himself if he didn’t get help. What really got her attention was when I said the family couldn’t do it without her help. She agreed to meet with Tab’s doctor and me. She was shocked when Dr. Avanti pulled out his needle.” He got comfortable telling his story as though he’d staged the perfect murder. Thibodeaux disgusted and scared me. While he focused on his tale, I searched for a weapon and a way out.

  “That man didn’t come cheap, but he was happy to take my money. He needed it since he owed Ruggiano close to six-figures, which also made him the perfect mark. Doc wasn’t smart enough to realize I paid him to kill those people, and had a trusted antique dealer ship him the artifacts found near the bodies, so I could implicate Ruggiano, but pin the murders on doc if things went sideways. See, I’m always thinking ahead.” He tapped at his temple, like there was something up there besides a whole lot of crazy.

  It was a double cross? How did he even know about the deal?

  “I see the wheels are turning up there. There are people in my company that get paid to monitor my oil reserves. If something’s gonna impact my business or my career, they let me know. It would have been nice if Ruggiano had done his homework ahead of time. Instead, he jumped in head first.”

  “So, use your influence and block the deal. Why make such a mess of killing people to frame him?”

  “I made a better deal.”

  Another deal to get Ruggiano out of the picture? Who better to double cross Ruggiano than, “Sultan?”

  Thibodeaux let out a short laugh. “It’s mutually beneficial. Sultan wanted him gone, and I got to take out some mob guys and make money in the process. My new pipeline moves forward and Sultan’s hands stay clean. No one would suspect me or my people, we live too far away to care, and the pipeline problems have been kept quiet. Sultan and I planned it so Ruggiano would take the fall.”

  If he was the one doing Sultan’s dirty work then he must be here for more than just me. “You were the one dispatched to take care of Sigo?”

  He searched my incredulous expression and responded. “It’s gonna be the final nail in Ruggiano’s coffin. It wasn’t a secret he wanted to get rid of Sigo. When they find the family, there isn’t a person on earth that won’t think Ruggiano deserves the chair.”

  He told me his gruesome plans. And he sounded as though he’d enjoy it. After he finished with the Sigo family, he planned to end Sultan’s reign.

  “What about the list? You were going to double cross both of them?” I was in disbelief. Sultan gave up Thibodeaux, and Thibodeaux planned to take down Sultan. I guess ‘No honor among thieves’ also applied to psychopaths.

  When he shifted his gun, I glanced at the ground and hoped I could reach the stick before he got a shot off.

  Noticing my distraction, he shoved the gun barrel into my side hard enough I fell to the ground—right where I wanted to be.

  “Get up klutz. Time for you to die.”

  I stared him down while my hands fumbled past dirt and leaves.

  “Wait!” I needed time to find the branch. “What about the powder? Don’t you want my theory on it?”

  “Why don’t you enlighten me?” He settled his gun across his arms again.

  “You didn’t just want to take down Ruggiano. You wanted to hurt him for messing with your original plans.” Apple didn’t fall far from that tree—guess Tab inherited his desire to inflict pain from his dad. My hand searched while my eyes stayed on Thibodeaux. “You wanted to hurt him by hurting people he loved.” The photo made sense. The reason it stuck out, the reason she hesitated when I asked her about Ruggiano was because they were protecting each other, hiding some sort of relationship.

  The smug look on Thibodeaux faded.

  “You knew he was watching out for Mrs. Jacobson. That’s why he was at the fundraiser, and why she didn’t admit knowing him. It would be dangerous if anyone found out. But you did, somehow, and saw her as an easy target. If Mrs. Jacobson had been accused of being involved in the murders, he’d have gone ape. You have no sense of decency at all. Do you?”

  His shadowy glare terrified me. “All I had to do was get Tab to catch her no-good-wheelchair-pushing-cousin buying some weed. After that, the little scum brought me her special red ochre powder, no questions asked.”

  “No one would believe she could commit murder, she can barely walk.” I secretly thought she could with an accomplice, but I was suspicious of everyone these days.

  “I didn’t need them to believe it. The evidence would force the police to bring her in for questioning where my people could do what was necessary to scare her into implicating Ruggiano. Dumb bastard thinks he’s the next Capone. He’s nothing.”

  Thibodeaux looked hungry for death. “Nothing. Just like you’re about to be.” He raised the gun barre
l.

  I rolled, grabbed the branch I needed, and jammed it into his crotch. He dropped the gun, shouted a few expletives, and grabbed himself. I quickly stood and swung the stick. He was bent over, but caught it with one hand and tried to pull me off balance. It brought me close enough he grabbed a handful of my hair. I swatted at him, and he started choking me.

  I resisted, slapping at him as long as I could. My arms weakened and dropped. He dug in harder.

  I watched evil spill into Thibodeaux’s eyes as he squeezed the life out of me. I was fading. The thought of this no-good, greedy jerk getting away with murder pissed me off. His was not going to be the last face I ever saw.

  My fighter awoke. I shoved my arms up, brought them back down over his arms, and broke his hold. Then I shoved the heel of my hand up into his face and broke his nose. He made a strange noise and grabbed for his nose.

  Choking, I ran, got the stick, and hit him over the head as hard as I could. Then hit him again until he fell flat.

  I moved away from Thibodeaux and fell to my knees. Hunched over and crying, I tried to force air into my lungs to stay conscious. It didn’t work. Instead, I hyperventilated and got light-headed.

  Just when I thought I’d pass out, a bronze-skinned guy dressed in a Grateful Dead t-shirt, jeans, and scuffed combat boots came out of nowhere. He laid a hand on my back for just a moment and my breathing calmed. The young man checked my assailant for a pulse.

  The stranger reached out his hand to help me up. “Don’t worry, he’ll be out for a while.”

  I questioningly looked from my rescuer to Thibodeaux, then back.

  “Seriously, nice shot. Name’s Walt. I’m here to help. Now, let’s get you up.”

  I knew Walt could have pretended not to notice the bludgeoned men, or left me stranded, but he didn’t. I’d have kicked Thibodeaux while he was down, but it seemed a little over the top, so I reached my hand out for Walt and stood up.

  A couple younger guys came from the trees and looked at Walt. He pointed toward Thibodeaux. “There are two. Get them out of here and clean up.”

  Walt helped me walk toward Garrett. I wobbled like a baby fawn, but I did it (mostly) on my own. “I came to warn your family. Instead, you came to my rescue.”

  “Lady, from what I saw, you saved yourself.”

  Something like appreciation or pride made me stand a little taller.

  Walt helped Garrett come to with smelling salts. Except for some cuts and blood, Garrett looked pretty good for being kidnapped, poisoned, and beat. I was exhausted and looked like a drowned rat covered in dirt and leaves. Cold winds whipped over my skin like splintered glass. I suddenly wished for home, hot cocoa, and a warm blankie.

  We walked further along to the place Cal had been shot. An old man with long grey hair braided halfway down his back was hunched over Cal. A small leather satchel hung at his side. The man pulled some root out of the bag and crushed it over Cal’s gunshot wound. Cal winced. I let out a sigh. Cal was alive. He’d been propped against a tree and was breathing.

  The old man had skin closer to coffee-with-cream. He said something in a language accented by clicking sounds and continued to patch Cal’s shoulder. From the looks of it, he’d doctored more than a few wounds.

  The old man stood to wipe his hands. When he turned, I let out a gasp. The tobacco skin, long gray hair, deep wrinkles around the eyes—it was the face from my dreams. Who was he? How could he be here?

  Images flashed. There were dead bodies covered in reddish powder, the embankment, jackpot slots, and a bright light that blazed until I regained focus.

  As if he knew what was going on inside my head, knew my questions, the old man walked over and spoke.

  “You took long enough, bright eyes. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “For me?”

  The old man eyed me for a moment. “So we can get this man to a hospital.” Then he winked as if there was some sort of secret we shared.

  “I came to tell you Sultan’s men were coming to hurt you and your family.”

  “Thank you for what you did to stop them.”

  It was good to know he’d be safe at least until the next group of assassins came.

  On the walk back to the helicopter Walter Sigo and his grandson Walt told us about their land, the case, and Chloe’s involvement.

  “Some people don’t care about the off-tribe casinos. We understand it can help make money for the tribe. But in our case, we know there are plenty operating, but there are dangers. We need to diversify operations, and must keep our council in check. Too many politicians and bad people are lining the pockets of our council. They’re turning us against ourselves.” Sigo looked irked, but he shook it off.

  “When Chloe came to interview me. I told her the same thing. She was the only one who’d help us. The other lawyers got paid to leave us alone. I told her there were a few of our tribe who still opposed the deal. When I told her about the oil company that came sniffing around to buy up land right after the casino investors, she told me to keep these until I saw you.”

  The old man opened my hand with calloused fingers that had probably worked more than most people would in their entire lives. He placed a paper and a necklace in my hand. “Chloe gave specific instructions to give them only to you. She was afraid someone might kill her, but never stopped helping us. Make sure her killers are punished.”

  I squeezed my fist and looked him in the eye. “You have my word.”

  Pleased with my response, a smile crossed his crinkly face. Cal looked tired. It was time to leave.

  The old man spoke to Garrett. “Teach her more than waving sticks and groin kicks. While effective, they will only delay death, not prevent it.”

  Garrett nodded a silent agreement. I thought I saw the edges of his mouth start to pull up into a smile.

  “Cal will recover soon. You are welcome to stay and rest, but I can see she’s already gone.” The old man meant me. I didn’t hear what he said next because I was already thinking about what I would tell Chloe’s mom.

  CHAPTER 31

  We got back to the ‘Koala’. A woman dressed like a hiker carrying some serious hardware exchanged words with Cal as Walt and Garrett loaded him, then me, into the chopper. Mr. Thibodeaux was cuffed and Tab had been restrained, but remained passed out on a stretcher. Walt and Garrett loaded the Thibodeaux men and we headed home.

  Garrett took the controls. He was still weak, but in better shape to fly than Cal. I stayed by Cal and made sure he was comfortable and protected. Surprisingly, the guys slept most of the way, and with Garrett busy at the helm, I did my best to calm down as I turned Chloe’s necklace around in my hands.

  It was all too fresh, and I needed space to read the note, mostly because I didn’t know if it would trigger anger or tears. This was not the place for a breakdown.

  No matter, there was plenty of other stuff to figure out. How could I explain to mom what I’d been doing? What was next for Tab and his dad? Would Ruggiano and Sultan come after us? Too many thoughts fought at once. My head throbbed, so I watched out the window for a while.

  When we got to the hospital, one of Cincy’s finest took Tab away, still unconscious. Thibodeaux was met by more cops and his lawyer. A third person, a detective from the CPD, flashed his badge and took over when the deputy had trouble handling the lawyer. They took Thibodeaux downtown along with his posse to answer for his transgressions.

  Chloe’s killers would be brought to justice. I’d see to it personally.

  Cal was admitted for observation. Whatever field surgery Walter Sigo did, was good enough Cal would recover despite the bullet’s close proximity to a major artery.

  Garrett was examined, and after ignoring the doctor’s objections, left. I dropped him off. I would have stayed, but the poison was still a threat to him. I had to meet Millie. He needed sleep more than anything right now, anyway.

  I raced over to Millie’s shop with the seeds and roots I’d harvested.

  “Did ya bri
ng everything? Including the hair?”

  “I did, but he thought it was a little too voo-doo.”

  “It’s part of the spell.”

  “Spell?” Maybe Millie had magical powers.

  “Did ya meet Sigo?”

  “Yes, at the falls.”

  “Good. Ya needed to be there for the meeting to happen.”

  The meeting. Sigo. Then realization. I had the dreams about Sigo after taking Millie’s potions. “But, how did you—”

  “Get inside your head? It’s a story for another day. Let’s begin, we haven’t got much time.”

  I was confused, but trusted her. Garrett trusted her, even if he didn’t believe in magic. Truth be told, magic was something I wanted to believe in, but didn’t know if it was possible.

  “Okay. What can I do?”

  “Ya need to crush these seeds ya brought back from the falls. Then ya need to add a vial full of the red elixir I made earlier and three drops of your blood.”

  “Excuse me. My what?” Garrett was right. She was into black magic, or something. I gave her the ‘are you kidding me’ look. She didn’t blink, just used her fingertip and pretended to cut across her palm diagonally. I heaved a sigh. “Okay, give me something to prick my finger.”

  “Garrett’s said you have a very trusting soul. It’s a rare quality these days, but also a dangerous one.”

  “So, I don’t have to slice my hand or dance over a boiling cauldron to save Garrett?”

  “No, ya don’t. But you will need more protection.” Millie handed me what looked like an ancient pocketknife with ornate carvings on the wooden handle. “Be careful. It’s old, and sharp.”

  When I touched it, the knife felt heavier than it should have. I could swear a surge of electricity shot through me. Things were getting out of control, but Millie hadn’t let us down yet. Suddenly, a shock ran through me and I was back in a dream world. It must have been a hundred years earlier by the way everyone was dressed. Through a gun-smoke haze, I saw people, families, and natives running from something.