by Paul Moomaw
“When they got to the bank, the boy climbed out, with Raven still on top of his head, and sat down on a flat rock; and then Raven jumped off and flew around in a circle three times around the boy’s head, and then landed in front of him and did a little dance. And the boy said, ‘Your wing wasn’t broken. You fooled me.’
“And Raven croaked and said, ‘My wing was broken, because your spirit was broken, until you looked inside yourself and found the strength to jump into that river and swim.’ And Raven preened and strutted, and cocked his head from one side to the other, and then jumped back up on that boy’s knee and looked him real close in the eye, and said, ‘I told you I could teach you to swim.’
“And that boy had to admit Raven had told the truth, and it felt so good to know he could swim now that he wasn’t angry any more. ‘Now I can swim across the river, and you can lead me to that mountain with all the sapphires,’ the boy said. And Raven said, ‘Because I can see what is going to be, I knew you were going to jump in the river to save me, and so I already brought you a reward.’ And Raven opened his beak, and four beautiful sapphires fell out onto the ground, as blue as the sky in springtime, and then he stepped back and said, ‘Be sure you bring plenty of fry bread tomorrow. I sure like that fry bread,’ and flew away.”
Arceneaux fell silent, and he and Josh sat together, watching the river flow past.
“That was a good story,” Josh said, finally. “Did my granddad get that one from the elders?”
Arceneaux smiled. “Tell the truth, I think he just made it up on the spot, to try to help me understand some things. He was good at that. Making stories.”
“Are there really sapphires like that?” Josh asked.
“You bet, Arceneaux said. He waved toward the low range of mountains that formed the east side of the valley. “Why do you think they call those the Sapphire Mountains?” He stood up. “It really is time to go now,” he said, and held out his hand. Josh took it, and let Arceneaux haul him up, and they walked back to the car holding hands.
Driving back toward, Arceneaux was silent and distracted. Part of him wanted to attend to the son at his side, but a lot of the rest was preoccupied with death—Samantha Marks’ and Laura Hooter’s. He did not realize he was scowling until Josh said, “Are you mad because I caught a fish and you didn’t, Daddy?”
Arceneaux laughed. “No way. Sometimes you catch a fish, and sometimes you get skunked. Today I got skunked.” He reached across and squeezed Josh on the knee. “I’m proud you caught that fish,” he said. Josh did not reply, but he looked straight ahead with a pleased smile on his face.
As they were passing through Hamilton a patrol car suddenly swung in behind them and started flashing its red, white and blue lights. Arceneaux glanced at his speedometer. A nickel over the limit, he thought, but that shouldn’t be a problem. He pulled over and parked on the shoulder, and the patrol car pulled up to the Subaru’s rear bumper and stopped. Tyler Rentz got out, sauntered up to the Subaru and leaned over the window. “Sorry to stop you this way, Sam, but I saw you going past, and I thought you’d like to know the latest news about that fire.” He smiled broadly. “We may have Crisp after all. Forensics found a print. It was just a partial, but we ran it against the prints we have on file for Crisp from that old misdemeanor assault charge. It isn’t enough to arrest him on, but it gives us an excuse to bring him in for questioning. We’re not going to just yet, though. Ignorance is bliss, right? And we want Crisp to be blissfully ignorant for a while, so the next time he goes to that cabin we can be there with a welcoming committee.”
“I’d die to be there for that one,” Arceneaux said. “But I’ll settle for your having lunch with me after you bust him, so you can give me the gory details. I buy, and you provide the entertainment. Deal?”
“Deal,” Renz said. “Another thing. They got busy getting prints off that knife you brought in. Sheriff Butcher told me they found four sets. One was yours, of course. And Matt Hagan left some. And that housekeeper had hers all over it. But no match for the fourth set.”
“Not Arden Marks?”
Rentz shook his head. “Not Marks. Not Crisp. And not Samantha or Wallace, either.”
“Mystery man.” Arceneaux paused, remembering something he had read in the report from the crime scene investigation. “They found unidentified prints in the cabin at the Double Pine, didn’t they.”
Rentz scratched his head. “I think you’re right. We’ll check that out.” He lowered his head toward the window and nodded at Josh. “This your son? How you doing, Bud?” he said.
“I’m good,” Josh said. “I’m going to get braces.”
“Good,” Rentz said. “You can’t be part of the in crowd these days without braces.” He stepped away from the Subaru. “See you,” he said. He started to walk toward his patrol car, then turned back. “One more thing. I almost forgot about it,” he said. “We checked on that cabin full of dope. It’s Forest Service property, one of the places they lease. Guess whose name was on the lease.”
“David Crisp, right?”
Rentz shook his head and grinned. “Good old Corey Wallace. What do you want to bet that he and Crisp were doing a little business together?” He waved and turned back to his car.
As they drove off, Josh turned back to watch Renz get back into his patrol car. “He’s nice,” he said.
“Most cops are,” Arceneaux said. “How come you never told me you’re getting braces?”
“I thought Mom would tell you.”
“She probably will.”
“Uncle Jasper says if we’re going to do a sweat, it has to be before I get braces.”
“Uncle Jasper says?” Arceneaux tried to ignore a pinprick of irritation.
“He says you can’t have anything artificial. He won’t be able to wear his glasses, even.”
Arceneaux waved his left arm. “Then I guess it will have to wait until I get this cast off,” he said.
Josh hopped slightly in his seat. “Does that mean we can do it?”
“Guess so.”
“Sweet!”
Arceneaux glanced across at Josh, who was staring straight ahead and grinning from ear to ear. “I can’t see where you need braces, though,” he said.
They were topping the ridge north of Lolo and heading into the outskirts of Missoula when Josh said, “I wish I could have known my grandfather.”
“So do I,” Arceneaux said. “He would have liked you a lot. You look like him, you know?”
“Do I really?” Josh said. He sounded pleased.
“Sure do.” Arceneaux was quiet for a moment. “He was a good man,” he said. “He was a good dad.”
Josh glanced over at Arceneaux. “You’re a good dad, too.”
Arceneaux felt a surge of warmth ripple through his chest. “I think that’s about the nicest thing anybody ever said to me,” he said.
Josh wriggled in his seat and did not say anything. He finally spoke again as they were turning off Orange Street onto North Third and headed toward Arceneaux’s house. “Are you really proud I caught that big trout, Dad?” he asked.
“You bet,” Arceneaux said. “And I bet you’ll catch him again next year.”
Josh smiled happily. “I bet Mom will be proud, too,” he said. He fell silent for a moment, then said, “I won’t tell her you got skunked.”
Later, it occurred to Arceneaux that the entire day had passed without any mention of Anne. He had not, in fact, even thought of her. He thought he should feel guilty about that, but the only feeling that emerged was a tiny tingle of relief.
Chapter 34
Tyler Rentz was a sucker for Mexican food, and the Sundance Cafe had the best hot stuff in town. He and Arceneaux sat at a table next to the big front window, going over the menu. Rentz had called Arceneaux the evening before to alert him that Crisp had been spotted heading for Piquette Creek Road, and the trap was about to be sprung. Arceneaux ordered enchiladas with picadillo, and waited for Rentz to decide on a dish.
&
nbsp; “Soft chicken tacos,” Rentz said finally to the waitress. “And lay on the hot sauce.” He handed her the menu and sat back in his chair, looking preoccupied and distracted.
“You don’t look happy,” Arceneaux said.
“I’m pissed off, is what.”
“Tell me about it.”
Rentz shook his head and made a face. “We had everything set yesterday; and it got blown.”
“Crisp didn’t show?”
“He showed. The tail saw him head out, and the team was ready. They had six guys camping up there for a couple of days, waiting to go. Crisp drove right up to the cabin and got out of his truck, and the guys moved in. They stopped on the edge of the clearing, because they wanted to let him go into the cabin and lay hands on some contraband, then bust him when he was on his way out the door with it.” Rentz shook his head in disgust. The waitress arrived with coffee, corn chips and salsa, and Rentz waited until she had left again.
“I guess Crisp is no fool,” he said. “I don’t know exactly what we did, but he must have spotted something that didn’t look right. He walked up to the door of the cabin, then backed off and walked around to the rear, where the trees are close. Next thing we know, he’s busting into the woods and out of sight.”
“Damn shame,” Arceneaux said.
“It gets worse,” Rentz said. “We still should have had him, even if he didn’t have the stuff in hand. We had the road blocked with a patrol car, about half way between the cabin and the highway. That was our big mistake.” He paused and smiled ruefully. “Sheriff Butcher’s mistake, I guess. He’s the one that made the assignments. He put a raw, new kid, name of Terry Lewis, there, right in the middle of the road, car, shotgun and all, to make sure Crisp would be blocked if he ran.”
“I’ve met Deputy Lewis,” Arceneaux said. “He wrote me up for running a red light.”
“Wish he had stayed on traffic detail,” Rentz said. He shook his head. “The team searched all through the woods, and didn’t find Crisp. Then everybody headed back down the road to see if Lewis had managed to spot him. What we found was Lewis, standing in the middle of the road all by himself. No shotgun. No car.”
“No car?”
“Turns out Lewis had a call of nature. He had to take a dump. Can you believe? So he marches into the woods, and leaves the patrol car’s engine running, and while he’s squatting behind a bush with his trousers around his ankles, Crisp shows up and steals the car.” Rentz made a disgusted, hissing sound. “We found the car in the middle of the night, but no Crisp. We hit his house and searched it, but he wasn’t there, and his wife and kid said they had no idea where he was.”
The meal arrived and both men started eating. “It’s enough to ruin a guy’s appetite,” Rentz said, and immediately made a liar of himself as he shoveled the food in. “I feel bad for Lewis,” he said between bites. “He’s as green as grass, fresh out of the academy, still a probationer. Sheriff Butcher is a good-hearted guy, but this may stop the kid’s career before it starts. Anyway, we’ve got a man on Crisp’s house, just in case he shows up there, and an APB out. We’ll get him sooner or later, but, Jesus . . .” he trailed off and concentrated on his meal. They had finished the food and made it as far as a second cup of coffee when the pager on Rentz’ belt went off.
“Go on,” Arceneaux said. “I’ll grab the check.”
Rentz got to his feet and walked quickly to the cafe’s front door. Arceneaux pulled out a twenty and waved it at the waitress, then tucked it under his coffee mug and followed Rentz outside. He could hear the voice of the dispatcher crackling over the radio as he approached the patrol car.
“Unit Three, we have a domestic disturbance at 1217 Darwin. Can you cover?”
“This is Unit Three,” Rentz said. “I’m rolling now.”
Arceneaux stuck his head through the window. “That’s the Crisp house,” he said.
“You’re right,” Rentz replied. “You want to come with?”
Arceneaux pulled the passenger door open and slid into the patrol car. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he said.
Rentz turned on the emergency lights, pulled out onto the highway and did a wheel-squealing U-turn.
“I’m impressed,” Arceneaux said. “You’re as good as a TV cop.”
“Tell them that when they cut my next pay check,” Rentz said. He drove fast, but carefully, not using his siren, slowing down slightly at each intersection to watch for cross traffic. When they reached Darwin, he turned left and slowed down again. The Crisp house was in the second block. As the patrol car approached, Arceneaux saw Anna Mae Preston in her wheel chair, planted in the middle of her driveway. Rentz pulled up in front of her house and got out of the car, Arceneaux following.
“It’s that David Crisp,” Anna Mae said. “You better hurry. I could hear Elizabeth screaming, but now I don’t hear anything at all. And Bryce is in there, too.”
As she spoke, the front door of the Crisp house flew open and Bryce came running out. He sprinted off the porch, saw Anna Mae Preston, and ran toward her. Rentz intercepted him and knelt down, holding the boy by the shoulder.
“What’s going on, Bryce?” he said.
“It’s my dad,” the boy said. He was shaking, and it was clear that he had been crying. “He said he’s going to kill people and he has a gun.”
“How long has he been home?” Rentz said.
Bryce shook his head. “I don’t know. He came up from the basement just now.” He fell silent and looked wide-eyed at Rentz and Arceneaux. “It’s a big gun,” he said. “Bigger than yours.”
Rentz stood up and strode to the patrol car. He reached in and unhooked the radio mike. “This is Unit Three,” he said. “Unit Three to Dispatch.”
“I read you, Unit Three.”
“I’m at the site. We have Crisp here, armed and dangerous. We need everybody. You better get Sheriff Butcher in on this one, too.”
“I read that,” the dispatcher said. “He’s standing right here. Correct that. He’s already out the door.”
Rentz tossed the microphone onto the driver’s seat. Another neighbor, a grandmotherly woman who lived across the street, was holding Bryce, trying to comfort him. Rentz walked over to the boy and squatted in front of him.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.
“I just know he was gone, and I was worried that he didn’t come home for supper last night,” Bryce said. “He always tucks me in at night and reads a story, and he didn’t do that either. We’re reading Charlotte’s Web. It’s really good.” For a moment the boy seemed to almost calm again, and then the door to the house flew open again and Elizabeth Crisp stumbled out onto the porch and down the stairs. She started to run across the lawn, tripped and fell, then huddled into a ball as David Crisp came out of the house. He did have a gun, a big one. From where Arceneaux stood, it appeared to be a single action Ruger .45 Colt revolver. Arceneaux had one like it. He tried to imagine what it must be like to be a woman, and have a jealous, abusive husband pointing that weapon at you, the muzzle looking as big as the moon, and telling you he was going to kill you.
Crisp rushed to his wife’s huddled form and stood over her, holding the gun at his side. He looked across and saw the patrol car, then focused his gaze on Arceneaux. He raised the gun to waist level and pointed at Arceneaux.
“You did this,” he said. He raised the revolver higher and thrust it toward Arceneaux. At the edge of his awareness, Arceneaux noticed that another patrol car had pulled up, but most of his attention was on the gun.
“Tyler, those cylinders are empty,” he said. He took a step toward Crisp.
“Back off,” Rentz hissed. “Don’t interfere.”
“The gun is empty,” Arceneaux repeated.
“So is your fucking head,” Rentz said. He straightened up and unholstered his own weapon. “Please put the gun down, Sir,” he said. “We don’t want anybody to get hurt.”
“Hey, it’s a free country,” Arceneaux said. He took another step
toward Crisp. “What you going to do with that thing?” he yelled. “Beat me to death? That didn’t work the first time. Won’t work this time either. My skull’s too thick.”
Suddenly, Bryce shot past him and threw himself at his father’s legs. “Don’t hurt Mommy!” he cried. “Please, Daddy.”
“Put the gun down, Mister Crisp,” Rentz called out. “And you get the hell out of my line of fire in case he doesn’t,” he added to Arceneaux.
“Come on, Crisp,” Arceneaux called out. “We both know that gun’s empty. All you’re going to do is get yourself shot.”
Crisp lowered the gun slightly, enough that it was pointing toward the lawn. He looked down at his son, who still clung to his legs, and then back at Arceneaux.
“I’ll kill you with my bare hands,” he said.
“Deal,” Arceneaux said. “Drop the gun and come get me.”
“Please Daddy,” Bryce cried. “Don’t die! Don’t die!” He wrapped his arms even more tightly around Crisp’s legs and sobbed.
Crisp lowered the gun another few inches. He stared at Arceneaux again, then down at his son. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut his eyes and let the weapon fall to the grass. Butcher brushed past Arceneaux and picked up the revolver as Rentz holstered his own weapon, then stepped behind Crisp and cuffed him. Butcher knelt down and tried to stroke Bryce’s shoulder, but the boy flinched away and clung more tightly to his father. Then Elizabeth Crisp approached. She bent down and pulled Bryce away.
“Go ahead and cry, Baby,” she said, and held him against her. “Go ahead and cry.”
Chapter 35
Arceneaux was useless the rest of the day. An ambulance had come for Elizabeth Crisp, and the EMT in charge had assured everyone that it was only as a precaution, that that she did not appear to be seriously injured. Bryce had settled down and was at Anna Mae Preston’s. Everything was all right. But Arceneaux kept seeing Bryce clinging to his father and begging him not to die. When Teresa brought Josh down for the weekend, she took one look at her ex, and said, “You sure you want him tonight?