Bad Country: A Novel

by CB McKenzie

  Rodeo shook his head. He waited a moment then asked more questions.

  So Alonzo and his wife have moved away from here?

  Elizabet the wife left first with someone. A tribal policeman, I think came for her and she did not return. And then Alonzo he left after that, but he comes back sometimes for a night or two.

  Do you remember when Elizabet left?

  Right after the little one, Farrah’s funeral. Alonzo he comes and goes since Samuel died.

  They left permanente this time, you think?

  The woman shrugged. Quien sabe? Sometimes people leave and then come back and sometimes they don’t. I haven’t seen Alonzo all this week.

  There’s a dog in their house, Rodeo said.

  The dog didn’t leave, I guess, the woman said.

  Rodeo shook his head. How long has that dog been locked up in that house?

  It’s not my house, señor, the woman said. How would I know how long? Perdoneme. I have to cook now. She turned back to the interior gloom of her house.

  Rodeo knocked on four more doors. No one else knew when or where the Rochas had gone. No one knew anything about the dog in the house.

  On his way back to the truck Rodeo casually pulled the Rocha’s mail out of the box and took it to his truck. The bulk of the USPS mail was third class junk, so the only envelope that interested the private investigator was from Tucson Power and Electric, which indicated that service was now terminated at this address.

  Rodeo called Animal Control and anonymously reported a dog locked in a vacant house. He gave the address.

  It’s a very large pit bull with a very bad attitude, he said. Probably half starved, so come armed and be prepared.

  * * *

  On his way back to the Kettle, Rodeo stopped again at the Circle K near Katherine Rocha’s house because he saw a Reservation Police cruiser parked in the shade beside the convenience store. A cop was sitting in the car, so Rodeo parked beside it cowboy conference style, turned off his truck’s engine, leaned out his window and lifted a hand in greeting. For a long moment the cop inside the vehicle ignored Rodeo but then the window went slowly down.

  Rodeo did not recognize the policeman.

  What can I do for you, guy? The Reservation cop sounded bored but wary.

  My name is Rodeo Grace Garnet and I am a private investigator looking into the death of Samuel Rocha, the local kid who fell off the Starr Pass Road bridge near the end of July.

  The policeman’s broad face was blank.

  And I was just wondering if you knew anything about it? Rodeo asked.

  Knew what about it?

  Just knew about it in a general way, said Rodeo. Who did the kid hang out with? Who killed him?

  The officer seemed to consider the question seriously.

  Who did you say you were?

  Garnet. Rodeo Garnet. Clint Overman, Lead Detective with the City Police knows me. And I talked to Officer Monjano before about this, so he knows me too.

  I’m sure a lot of people know you, guy, but I’m not one of them.

  The cop rolled up his window and pulled away from the store without looking at Rodeo again. Rodeo used the public telephone bracketed to the wall of the building to call the nearest police station.

  Tohono O’odham Police Department, a dispatcher answered.

  May I speak with Officer Monjano? Carlos Monjano?

  Who’s calling please?

  Mr. Bill Early, said Rodeo. I might have some information for Officer Monjano on a case he’s working.

  Hold please.

  Rodeo waited for almost half a minute.

  Mr. Early, the dispatcher said. Officer Monjano is not available currently. I will connect you with another officer. Hold please.

  Rodeo hung up, went back to his truck and sat for a long moment just thinking. He glanced in his rearview. Across the street another Res cruiser was parked on the shoulder of Starr Pass Road, the cop inside talking into his cell phone. After a minute the cop pulled his cruiser off slowly. Rodeo went inside the store and poured and drank a cup of Latin Flavors coffee and tossed the Styrofoam cup in the garbage, then squirted an extra-large Icee and paid for that, returned to his truck and headed west on Starr Pass Road toward the Casino.

  After he had gone only a quarter of a mile he checked his rearview mirror and saw a police cruiser behind him. He sped up and turned his truck into the big parking lot of the Casino. He braked behind a tour bus and glanced around but the cop car did not seem to be following him.

  He drank his Icee and waited five minutes then dumped the Icee cup on the parking lot and drove back onto Starr Pass Road to the Kettle where he once again drove the truck through the restaurant parking lot slowly. He spotted the pink hairdo still working inside the restaurant, so he circled around the La Quinta and parked in the shade of a palm tree near the motel’s swimming pool in view of the main entrance of the restaurant. He pulled out his cell phone and punched 2ARRWS.

  What’s up, brother?

  I think I found a sniper’s nest, said Rodeo. On A-Mountain.

  Luis said nothing for a moment.

  Who’s he shooting at from Sentinel Peak? Luis asked this as if Luis knew who “he” was.

  Maybe the potential Congressman Randy Miller I heard from a drunk at The Buffet, Rodeo said. And I found some evidence that would indicate Samuel was in the tow of Ronald.

  So?

  So maybe Samuel found out about Ronald’s plan and was going to snitch on his “uncle” and Ronald popped the kid while he was walking across the Starr Pass Road bridge.

  Luis was silent for a long moment. You got the evidence?

  I got some snapshots of the nest, but I never called it in and by the time I got back the place was clean, real clean.

  If you can’t prove it to Police, then don’t say it out loud to anybody else, brother. Not about Ronald Rocha.

  I don’t even know if Ronald Rocha knows I’m looking for him.

  If you know about Ronald it’s a good bet he knows about you, brother. Ronald he has contacts all over your town and into the desert where you live. Including well-placed types like Randy Miller.

  What do I do, Luis? You got me into this boondoggle.

  Just get out of your deal in Tuxson and be finished with this, Rodeo. I think you’re in over your head now.

  You know how I am, Luis.

  I know how you are, said Luis. You got a job to do and all that bullshit. But this is fast getting to be a Bad Job. So just give the old lady back her quarters and I’ll cover you on that deal and forgive your day’s pay in back money you owe me, so you won’t be at no loss whatsoever by just coming back home to The Hole. I made a mistake setting you up with this job.

  I’m trying to figure out why you did, Luis.

  Luis said nothing but stayed on the line.

  Because you thought Ronald Rocha might have killed Samuel Rocha. You thought that all along, Rodeo said. You heard about the kid being dead. And since Sam was shot off a bridge and since you knew the kid was connected up with Ronald Rocha, your sharpshooting, elk-hunting buddy who likes to kill things long distance, you figured it was Ronald that hit him.

  I think Ronald he likes to kill things all ways, said Luis.

  So you thought maybe this fella Ronald maybe might have killed the kid, so you wanted me to dig around and find out if your powwow compadre was murdering people who knew about what he was planning, people like Samuel. So you set me up to work for Mrs. Rocha. That’s why the old woman is not even interested in this investigation, because you’re the one that’s interested in pursuing it. How about that scenario, Luis?

  The way you put it it’s hard to figure out how much of that scenario is right, Luis said.

  I don’t need an exact percentage Luis. Just give me a guesstimate, said Rodeo.

  Only a little bit right, Luis said. The old Rocha woman and her clans are some distant way related to Silk and one of her thousand clans and I seen this dead kid … Luis paused. I just saw Sam aroun
d some so yeah, I wondered. But the old woman she called out here about you, Rodeo, Luis said. Second Wife she got the feeling talking to the old woman that the old woman she just wanted to get you in her hire for some reason but I don’t know the reason.

  Luis paused. Rodeo said nothing.

  I didn’t see the real harm, brother. I just thought working for the old Rocha woman might work out as a day or two wage for you and get me a little of the money you owe me back in the till. Things are tight at The Store just like they are everywhere else, you know. I carry your credit every month and it doesn’t add up for me lately.

  You didn’t think I would find anything, said Rodeo. You thought I would just make a few calls, collect my day’s rate and that would be that. That’s what you thought.

  I didn’t think you would find something new since the TPD didn’t find nothing, said Luis. I should have known better knowing you. But now that you’re getting closer to Ronald I’m not sure about this whole deal.

  What’s the old woman’s motivation in this, Luis?

  You know what they say about motivations, brother. You can’t never tell about them sometimes. Pigs and dogs behave for food but horses and humans have minds of their own.

  But Katherine Rocha called about me specific?

  The old woman she called around looking for you specific.

  Why me?

  I guess she knew about you from when you were a kid or something, said Luis. I don’t know. She knows your people anyway and she finds Silk. Then when Second Wife she talks to me about it I realize like I said that I know this Rocha kid a little too from the hunt that time in the Whites, said Luis. And more lately from Black Mountain.

  Samuel was at sweat lodge? asked Rodeo.

  Yeah, he was coming to sweat for a little while. I remember because this kid he blacked out one night after only three stones or so and we had to pass him around the circle hand to hand to get him out the right way and Ronald followed the kid out of the lodge even though Ronald he could take twenty stones and not break a sweat. And that’s the last time I saw either Ronald or the kid.

  When was this? asked Rodeo.

  Back in the late spring or early summer.

  Rodeo considered the information. Before or after Cinco de Mayo time?

  After probably, said Luis. Why?

  Samuel’s little sister, Farrah, was killed on May third.

  Pues?

  So this little girl gets killed in a hit-and-run and then the little girl’s brother starts going to sweat lodge to clean up his spirit, so maybe the kid ran over his own sister, Rodeo said.

  Luis said nothing.

  What’s the logical problem with this scenario, Luis?

  The problem with this problem is not the logic of it, brother, said Luis. It’s that people ain’t logical. And this problem it’s not your problem. And Ronald Rocha might be involved with it.

  So?

  So it’s some types of people you don’t want to have problems with or even have problems around and Ronald is one of those types, said Luis.

  What’s his reputation? asked Rodeo.

  He was some sort of sniper who also did interrogations in the Gulf War maybe, said Luis. Totally dedicated. A hard guy with skills. Randy Miller was his CO and Randy Miller is a hard guy too, I heard. And they are both “special.”

  How are they special?

  Butt buddies special.

  Randy Miller is married, said Rodeo. He was a County Judge and a State Senator. He’s running for Congress from Seventh District. He’s got kids, I heard.

  Lots of special guys are married with kids, brother. Especially when they are political. Where you been all your life?

  Rodeo digested this new information.

  I know you won’t come home just on my say-so, brother, said Luis. And I know you don’t want to quit on a thing until it’s done to your own satisfaction. But I also know you will quit on something when the logic goes bad against you.

  I try to be wise about such, Luis.

  Then be wise in this situation, little brother. Be very wise on this one.

  I’m well armed and alert at all times, Luis, said Rodeo.

  Rodeo hung up without saying good-bye as the young waitress Rodeo was waiting for walked out the front door of the Kettle like her crazy hair was on fire.

  * * *

  Rodeo held out a hand a few feet in front of the waitress to slow her down.

  Rose?

  The young woman stopped suddenly on the sidewalk outside the restaurant and looked down at the name tag on her polyester outfit which read EVELYN and then looked Rodeo over from head to foot and shook her head aggressively. Rodeo lowered his arm.

  Rose’s not my real name, the young woman said. The jewelry in her ear and her nose twinkled in the harsh glare of the sun. Sweat watered the rose tattoos on her forearms and wrists. And I don’t do that kind of work anymore.

  What kind of work is that? Rodeo asked.

  The young woman ignored the question.

  I just quit this fucking place too, the young woman said. She threw a bad finger over a shoulder at the Kettle though no one seemed to be paying any attention to her from inside the restaurant.

  Waiting tables is a bitch, Rodeo said.

  The waitress shrugged at him.

  What’s your other work? Rodeo asked.

  She ignored this question again and asked one of her own. How did you find me?

  Internet.

  I can’t get that fucking “RoseRite” site off the Web, she said. A guy made it for me and now it seems like I’m stuck with it for the rest of my life.

  Did Samuel Rocha make it for you? asked Rodeo.

  Rose squinted her eyes which were pretty but unnaturally bright blue as manmade jewels.

  That kid wasn’t smart enough to do something like that, she said. He didn’t even have a computer or a smart phone, can you believe that? She smiled very slightly and looked up at her interrogator. How do … did you know Sam? she asked.

  I didn’t know him, Rodeo said. Not while he was alive anyway. Maybe I’m getting to know him now that he’s dead.

  I don’t know what that means, Rose said.

  Rodeo showed his ID and explained his business in broad terms. The young woman examined his credentials and listened intently.

  Can we go someplace, Rodeo Grace Garnet? she asked. It’s roasting out here.

  Back inside the Kettle? Rodeo suggested.

  No. I hate that fucking place and it hates me, the young woman said. She folded her arms across her chest. I didn’t actually quit yet, but I try to quit it every fucking day. She inclined her head toward another restaurant, a Waffle House attached to a Howard Johnson’s across the street. The pair walked in silence across Starr Pass Road and entered the restaurant and took a booth by a window. Rodeo ordered coffee and a slice of pie from a harried waitress who smacked her chewing gum like she was punishing it.

  What kinda pie you want, honey? the waitress asked. She wore no name tag and seemed to be in a big hurry. We got all kinds a pie.

  Anything will do, said Rodeo.

  Anything-will-do means apple, the waitress said. So a coffee and a slice a apple pie for the gentleman. And for the lady? The waitress glared at the girl in her Kettle uniform.

  Just water.

  Right. Just water for the lady. The waitress moved off in a huff.

  I hate this fucking town, Rose said.

  Why do you stay here? asked Rodeo.

  Because of the Gem Show, you know. The young woman held up her tattooed wrist from which dangled an extravagant bracelet. I’m a jeweler, so I stay in Tucson so I can be around my business.

  Rodeo nodded. During the winter the Tucson Gem and Mineral Show attracted tens of thousands of buyers and sellers of precious and semiprecious gemstones and minerals from around the world and a host of jewelry makers, wholesale buyers and retailers and a lot of hustlers as well.

  The jewelry I saw on your Web site looked pretty … Rodeo searched for a wor
d. He chose one he had heard recently. Special.

  Thanks. The woman adjusted the bracelet on her wrist. I do have a special talent, I guess. People tell me I do at least.

  Special talent usually demonstrates itself without much advertisement, Rodeo said.

  The young woman looked again at her own jewelry and then looked out the plate glass window until Rodeo’s coffee and pie arrived but with no water for either patron. The girl pulled a water bottle out of her sling bag, took a long tug.

  Well, what can I tell you, Rodeo Grace Garnet, Private Investigator?

  I guess we could start with your real name. He nodded at her name tag.

  Evelyn, she said. I am Evelyn Dolores Handy. Kind of rolls off the tongue doesn’t it?

  It could in the right circumstances, Rodeo said.

  The young woman stared out the window. Call me Rose, I guess. Everybody does.

  Rodeo waited for a moment until the young woman turned back toward him.

  How’d you find me? she asked. The cops never did.

  Should they have found you, Rose? The cops?

  The young woman shrugged at her interrogator again.

  I was going through Samuel’s paperback book collection, Rodeo said. And the word Rose was in a margin here and there. Your Web site address, RoseRite.com, turned up too.

  Along with some hearts and flowers probably, Rose said. When she turned and squinted at Rodeo her eyes slitted like a snake’s. Little Sam had a total crush on me.

  But a crush not reciprocated? asked Rodeo.

  Not at all reciprocated, said Rose. She turned her head coquettishly. How old do you think I am?

  Twenty-six. Twenty-seven.

  Her face fell. Well, Sam was nineteen, the woman said. He was an okay kid, but no thank you.

  You like older men? asked Rodeo.

  I don’t like men at all, said Rose.

  Rodeo waited for a minute before he spoke again.

  And Samuel? Did he like older men?

  Sam liked whoever paid attention to him I think, Rose said. His parents never did. He did not exist to them. They lived only for that Little Miss Pageant Doll they called a daughter.

  Farrah?

  Yeah, Rose said. Can you believe it? Little Mexican kid called Farrah. The waitress shook her head. They dyed her hair and gave her contacts to make her eyes blue. Five fucking years old.