Wynona said nothing for a few seconds, staring out window, irrigation sprinklers watering the grounds, her mind processing what Billie had said. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “It’s beginning to make more sense to me. Maybe that’s why your niece, Kimi, is so upset. Her father, Charlie, has been keeping some unsavory company of late.”
“What do you mean?” O’Brien asked.
“Charlie Tiger’s a new member of the tribal council. He’s basically a politician. He’s been spotted meeting with men who look as if they could take a baseball bat to your head and then go to a barbecue. Maybe I’ve dealt with too many sociopaths in this line of work. But you tend to spot them. It’s in the walk, the talk of course, but more than anything … it’s in the eyes. The dismissive, soulless eyes.”
O’Brien leaned against one of the leather chairs. “Has your department been staking out Charlie Tiger?”
“Not officially. But the department is investigating the disappearance of Frank Sparrow. Does that lead back to Charlie? I don’t know. I do know that Charlie’s daughter, Kimi, has issues.”
Billie looked at her. “What have you found?”
“Joe, officers had been called out to your sister, Nita’s house. Nita and Kimi have been arguing a lot. Nita said Kimi’s been hanging out with a rough crowd. I spoke with Kimi after school a few days ago. I could tell she’d been cutting herself. Old scars and some new ones. I tried talking with her but she was distant. I think she may be experimenting with drugs and alcohol. When’s the last time you spoke with her, your sister, or your brother-in-law Charlie?”
“I’ve talked with Kimi in the last couple of weeks.”
“Kimi has always been a good kid, a young person who was constantly insightful and passionate about everything she did. Whether it’s singing and acting in school to working part-time at the museum, she did it with enthusiasm. Not anymore. Why do you think she went from a straight-A student to a very troubled young woman?”
Billie inhaled deeply. “There’s some family issues she’s trying to work through. I planned to go by my sister’s house before I leave.”
“Good. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do. I like to offer solutions and options before the problems get dangerous.”
Billie smiled. “That’s why you are good at what you do.”
“I just want to help Kimi. I remember her in diapers. There’s a history.”
O’Brien said, “And there’s a history between Joe, the victim we mentioned, and the fact that the original incident happened here on the rez. What could be big enough that someone wants to get Joe out of the way, to cast suspicion on him … or to make him an example?”
“The whole tribe has gone through quite a transformation since casino gambling altered our world. For the most part, it’s been good. It’s a great economic boom that’s lifted a lot of members of the tribe from near poverty to prosperity. Our chairman is a visionary. Maybe Joe doesn’t share his vision because Joe is one of the few that shuns the monthly gambling subsidies offered to tribal members.” She looked at Billie and smiled. “But he’s always been very independent. The flip side of vast resources is always managing growth, handling expectations, and keeping the outsiders at bay.”
O’Brien looked at her. “I assume you’re talking about the sort of people visiting Charlie Tiger.”
“Exactly. Successful casinos have always attracted people willing to do most anything to find a way to get a piece of the action. The tribe has been diligent in keeping away organized crime interests. But when you deal in billions of dollars, you will always attract the flies wanting a taste of money, honey.”
“Could there be a connection between massive casino profits and the murder near the burial mound in Citrus County?”
She glanced over to Billie. “You simply asked for my perspective. You’ll have to ask Joe if he believes there’s some kind of link. But I will say this, there’s no one I know that is beyond reproach as much as Joe. I can’t say that for Joe’s brother-in-law.”
Billie said nothing.
Detective Osceola used both hands to grip the top of a leather chair. O’Brien could see her knuckles turn cotton white. She said, “Joe, in the last few months Charlie’s changed. One of our uniforms pulled him over for speeding and had to call backup because of Charlie’s threats. It was all captured on dash-cam. Charlie went ballistic, shouting stuff about his position on the tribal council, didn’t the officer know who he was, on and on. Trying to shove his political weight around. Sometimes he looks agitated, like he’s definitely using or abusing.”
O’Brien watched her grip soften on the chair. He asked, “What’s this guy’s position on the council, and how is he connected to the casino gambling?”
She smiled. “With the exception of Joe, we’re all, in one way or the other, connected to gambling. It helped build this modern facility. Brought much better medical care, housing and education onto the reservations—and off, for those who choose to live off the six reservations. Charlie Tiger is in his first term as the rep from the Big Cypress rez on the council. He’s not directly employed by any of the casinos.”
“Where can we find him?”
Billie glanced at O’Brien. Wynona eyed Billie, waiting for him to speak. He was silent. She looked at her watch. “You’ll most likely find him at his house or the Gator Cafe.”
TWENTY-SIX
O’Brien followed Joe Billie’s directions driving through the reservation. O’Brien said, “I can’t help but notice an interesting contrast in all of these neighborhoods.”
Billie smiled. “You think?”
“Lot’s of modest brick homes. I see a thatched chickee in most of the backyards and late model, very expensive cars and trucks in all of the driveways. Jags, Mercedes, Audis … quite a taste for the imports.”
“People spend their gambling allowances on whatever they want. I prefer my old truck.”
“Why haven’t you accepted any of the money?”
“I believe in earning it. There are plenty of members within the tribe who argue that they’re receiving the benefits, long overdue benefits, of the Seminole enterprises. Yet many of them do nothing in return for the money. There’s no incentive to get off the couch.”
“Sometimes easy money can create complacency and all of the problems that go along with too much free time on your hands.”
“Wynona Osceola told me that alcohol and drugs continue to be a problem. The tribe set up a psychological counseling service.”
O’Brien said nothing for a few seconds. “Can I ask if that’s the issue with your niece?”
“Part of it.” He pointed toward a house. “That’s her home, the ranch style at the end of the road. Kimi lives there with my sister and her husband. They have a son who’s away at college. He’s studying marine biology.”
O’Brien pulled in the concrete driveway, adjacent to a black Mercedes S-Class sedan. He recognized the car. He thought it was the same one he’d seen drive by the police station. Billie sat straighter. O’Brien could sense the apprehension in him. He asked, “Is that your sister’s car?”
“No. She drives a Cadillac. Charlie, her husband, drives that BMW SUV parked under the shade of the trees.”
They got out of the Jeep, O’Brien memorizing the Dade County license tag on the Benz as they walked up to the front door, a bright red cardinal splashing in an ornate birdbath near the home. The afternoon was hot, the St. Augustine grass under their shoes dry, crunchy, some brown patches in the yard. Billie knocked and waited.
O’Brien could hear movement in the house. The door opened and a petite teenage girl smiled. “Uncle Joe! Mom, Uncle Joe’s here!” She stepped out, giving Billie a tight hug. He kissed her on the top of her head.
“Kimi, I want you to meet my friend, Sean O’Brien. Sean, this is my favorite niece, Kimi.”
She smiled. “Is that because I’m your only niece?”
“That has nothing to do with it.”
She extended her h
and. “Nice to meet you.”
O’Brien shook her small hand and could feel the moisture in her palm. He looked at the pupils in her dark eyes, the red patch blooming on her chest just below her neck. She turned to her uncle. “Mom’s in the kitchen.” Her eyes shifted to the black sedan in the drive. “Dad’s out back with some guys.”
She chatted with Billie, making small talk about their family. She wore jeans and a long sleeve shirt. She had dark brown hair parted in the center, full lips, thick eyebrows and a slender nose. “Did Mom know you were coming, or is this a surprise visit?”
“Sort of an unexpected stop. Sean and I are on the rez for business, but I believe in mixing business with pleasure.”
She half smiled, her lips dry. “Come in.” She stepped back in the house, Billie and O’Brien following. The living room was clean, dark leather couch, two recliners, framed pictures of family and members of the Seminole Tribe on the wall, leafy green ferns in ceramic pots near the front window, the warm smell of fry-bread was in the house.
A woman came from another room, smiling and making a direct path to Billie. O’Brien could see the resemblance. She had some of Joe’s facial structure, the cheekbones, the eyes, even the walk—almost floating across the room. Her dark hair was pinned up, no makeup on a pretty face, gold hoop earrings in her ears. She hugged him “What a nice surprise. Can you stay for dinner?”
“We can’t stay that long. Nita, this is my friend, Sean O’Brien. Sean, meet my baby sister, Nita.”
She reached for his hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“You too. I can definitely see the good genes—the strong family resemblance.” O’Brien glanced at Kimi, including her in his compliment. She looked away.
Nita said, “Come into the kitchen. I’ll make coffee or tea.”
She led them from the living room into a modern kitchen, skylights over a center cooking island, sub-zero refrigerator and freezer. Billie took a seat on one of the barstools next to the island in the center of the kitchen. O’Brien sat to his left, Kimi to Billie’s right.
Nita opened a large tin can filled with tea bags. “I know you’re a tea drinker, Joe. How about you, Mr. O’Brien, coffee of tea?”
“Please, call me Sean. Coffee would be great. Black.”
She smiled and began brewing coffee.
Billie turned to Kimi. “How’s school, Princess?”
“It’s okay. I have seven months ‘til I graduate. I can’t wait to get out of there.”
O’Brien asked, “Do you plan to go to college?”
“It’s like I want to go, I’m just not sure what I want to do. I’m so different from my brother. He knew he wanted to be a marine biologist since he first got an aquarium when he was in like the third grade. I want to go anywhere to get off the rez.”
Her mother shot her a stern look. “This is your home, Kimi. It will always be your home.”
“Uncle Joe left when he was a teenager.”
Billie looked at her. “Your Uncle Joe—me, was recruited by Uncle Sam. I spent a couple of years in the Army.”
She smiled. “Maybe I’ll do the same. That way I can see the world.”
Nita sliced fry-bread and served it with the coffee and tea. O’Brien said, “I should wash my hands. Where’s the closest bathroom?”
Nita said, “Go down that hall, it’s the first door on the right.”
“Thanks.” He rose from his stool and walked down the hall, entering the bathroom. O’Brien could tell it overlooked the backyard. He stood at the window and slowly lifted one slant in the blinds. Three men sat in the shade under the chickee. One wore a wide-brim leather hat, multicolored Seminole shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. The other two wore dark sports coats, open dress shirts and designer jeans. It wasn’t difficult to identify Charlie Tiger. And it wasn’t hard to see a threat.
One of the men opened his jacket, revealing a pistol in a leather holster. O’Brien looked closer. He recognized the man’s face. More than that, he knew the man’s reputation.
TWENTY-SEVEN
O’Brien returned to the kitchen, steam rising from a cup of black coffee sitting next to a plate with a slice of fry-bread. He took a bite, sipped the coffee and said, “This is excellent.”
Nita smiled. “I’m glad you like it. I enjoy cooking, especially baking”
O’Brien said, “That car in your drive, the Mercedes. Whose is it?”
“I don’t know. Different men at different times. Sometimes days. Sometimes nights. Charlie just calls them business associates. This is the third time they’ve come to our home. I insist that Charlie meet with them in the backyard.”
Billie sipped his tea. He looked at his sister. “Did Charlie tell you I spoke with him?”
“No. What did you say?” She set her cup down.
“I told him that I’d talked with you and that you were frightened. Based on what I have observed, you have every right to be. I asked him about his business partners and what was he doing with them. He told me I had no right to question him about anything. I asked him about the disappearance of Frank Sparrow.”
O’Brien glanced over at Kimi as she touched her throat, her pupils growing smaller in her eyes, her nostrils flaring. She inhaled deeply. Kimi’s phone played a short burst of music, Dream On, by Aerosmith. She answered the phone. “Hey … gimme a sec to get to my room.” She stood, unsmiling, walking down the hall.
Nita said, “That phone might as well be a part of her body. I took it away from her for three days for sneaking out of the house. You’d have thought I took away her driver’s license.”
Billie sipped his tea and then asked, “How are things here?”
She glanced at O’Brien, and then looked at her brother. Billie said, “Sean heard some of what’s going on from Wynona Osceola at the police department. You’re my sister. Sean’s my brother. We can talk freely.”
Nita looked out a window toward the driveway, the black sedan still there. She lowered her voice. “She won’t talk, at least not to me, her mother. There’s something going on at school.”
O’Brien nodded. “Does she have a boyfriend?”
“Not now. She broke if off with a nice boy a few months ago.” Nita sighed. “Some of it might be her own father, or at least the people he’s associating with. They’re trouble. I can feel it. My husband is basically a good man. But he always wants more. Since he won a seat on the council, he’s been gone a lot. He spends time at all the casinos. He’s over at the tribal headquarters in Hollywood, Florida. He’s been part of the push to get the tribe to invest or partner with people to build casinos in places like the Caribbean. He and the chairman really clashed over that.”
O’Brien leaned forward. “Joe, what about Frank Sparrow? Who is he?”
Nita sighed. “I pray that Charlie had nothing to do with that.”
Billie said, “Charlie told me that he knew nothing about Frank.” Billie looked at O’Brien. “Frank Sparrow was a former member of the tribal council. He was very outspoken about the tribe diversifying its brand outside of the gambling arena. He wanted to expand into cattle, citrus and many other areas. And when it came to gambling, he championed the tribe’s move to develop Vegas-style casinos on the reservations. And he was adamant that the tribe would not do any partnerships with the casino owners in Vegas or their affiliates.”
“What happened to him?”
Nita said, “No one seems to know. He told his wife he was going out to pick up some coffee cream. It was a little after dark. He never came home. They found his car at the airport. Police think he may have boarded a plane. But there’s no record of a passenger matching his description, or a ticket purchased in his name.” She picked up a half folded newspaper from a corner of the kitchen. She spread it out on the counter, pointing to a picture of a man on the front page. “That’s Frank.” The news headline above the photo read: Frank Sparrow, member of Tribal Council, missing.
O’Brien studied the picture. The man was in his late fifties, wearing a
colorful Seminole patchwork jacket and blue jeans. He was holding a microphone, speaking to a crowd. O’Brien spotted a college ring on Sparrow’s right hand. He set the newspaper down and glanced up at Billie. “You said there’s no record of a plane ticket bought in his name. You can buy a plane ticket with cash. Fake ID’s are easy to obtain.” O’Brien looked at Nita, leaned back on the stool, and then questioned Billie. “Did your brother-in-law threaten you?”
“He told me I had an overactive imagination. Then he suggested that I mind my own business. I told him that my sister and niece’s welfare was my business. Then I turned and walked away.”
Nita crossed her arms. “When we first married, Charlie used to run a small construction business. It was just him and two other men he’d hire from time to time. The work was hard, but I think he was happier back then. I know I was.”
Billie finished his tea. “As a descendant of those who walked this land for centuries, I always believed that mother earth provided for our needs, but she has nothing to do with a man’s greed. Even the concept of owning and fencing land was not a concept that we embraced. That changed.”
Nita nodded. “That’s for sure.”
O’Brien said, “Nita, I’m going to tell you why I’m here with Joe today. There was a murder in Citrus County, a couple of hundred miles from here. The victim was a man Joe had run across years earlier. The murder happened on a large ranch where Joe cuts palmetto fronds. Police investigators have been questioning Joe, and only so because the ranch owner mentioned that Joe had been harvesting fronds the day police believe the man was killed.”
She held her left hand to her lips. “Oh, God. Who was this man that my brother knew?”
Billie said, “I did not really know him. I did know his name, and that only happened because I discovered him digging in a tribal burial ground on the rez here five years ago. He was arrested and fined.”
“I remember that. Didn’t Jimmy Stillwater arrest him?”
“Yes. The man’s name was Lawrence Barton, and now, years later, his body was found near the great temple mound on Lloyd Hawkins ranch.”
Lowe, Tom - Sean O'Brien 08 Page 11