Killing Raven (A Wind River Reservation Myste)

by Margaret Coel

  “Do you want to go home?”

  “You said you got a guest house.” She was wringing her hands, then combing her fingers through her hair. Wringing. Combing.

  They were heading east on Seventeen-Mile Road now. The sign for St. Francis Mission loomed ahead.

  Dear Lord, he’d told Tommy about the guest house. He was going to have to keep a close watch on the girl.

  20

  VICKY SPOTTED THE commission chairman the instant she turned into the gravel parking lot that wrapped around the tribal office building. Matt Kingdom, dressed in blue jeans and a short-sleeved white shirt, was leaning against the redbrick façade, one boot crossed over the other. The rim of his black cowboy hat threw a half-moon shadow over his face. He took another draw from the cigarette cupped in his hand.

  Vicky parked at the cement curb that marked off the lot from the sidewalk in front of the building. She could feel the man’s gaze on her, like a light beam flashed in her direction. A gust of hot air slapped at her skirt as she got out of the Cherokee.

  “Hey, Vicky, how ya doing?” Kingdom blew the cigarette smoke out of the side of his mouth. Gray smoke curled up over the rim of his hat.

  “Can I see you for a minute, Matt?”

  “You’re seein’ me.” The man laughed at his own joke. “You mean in the office?” A mock look of comprehension clouded his dark eyes. “I guess I can work that out.” He uncrossed his boots, pushed away from the brick wall, and tossed the cigarette onto the gravel where it blinked for a moment like a firefly.

  Kingdom led the way inside the building and across the tiled entry. “Hold my calls,” he called to the dark-haired woman in front of a computer monitor. They kept walking. Down the corridor. Past the doors with wood plaques and black letters identifying the offices of various tribal officials. He stopped at a door on the left and pushed it open.

  Vicky stepped into the office behind him, the way it had always been, she was thinking. Arapaho men always went ahead of women to make certain there was no danger, that the path was clear so the women would be safe.

  “Make yourself comfortable.” Kingdom nodded toward a side chair, then tossed his hat onto the coat tree and walked around the oak desk that sprawled into the middle of the room.

  “Gotta tell you, Vicky”—he dropped into the swivel chair—“hearing you started work at the casino sure brought back memories.”

  Vicky took the chair he’d indicated. The polite preliminaries would last a minute or two.

  “Got me thinking about Ben,” the man went on.

  “Ben!” Vicky heard the note of surprise in her voice. Ben had been dead more than three months. Why was she still surprised by the fact?

  “Ben and me were buddies, you know.” A blank look had come into Kingdom’s eyes, as if he were watching a scene taking place far away from the cramped, stuffy office. “Got me through school, Ben did. Used to do my English homework and pass me the answers in the tests.” He lifted his head and laughed. “Went rodeoing together, Ben and me, soon’s we got outta high school. Colorado, Texas, Arizona, Nevada. We was in Utah one day, and Ben says, ‘Let’s you and me join up.’ ‘Join up? What’re you talking about?’ I said. ‘We already joined up with the rodeo.’ ‘Army,’ Ben says. ‘Join up and see the world.’ ”

  Kingdom grinned and shook his head. “So we drove his old truck back to Lander and enlisted. That sonabitch Ben gets himself sent to Germany, and you know where they sent me? Right back to Utah! Except I wasn’t rodeoing anymore. I was in the fucking—excuse me, Vicky—army.”

  “Listen, Matt.” Vicky could feel the impatience rising like gorge in her throat. She wasn’t here to reminisce about Ben Holden.

  “Soon’s Ben and me got discharged,” Matt went on, as if she hadn’t spoken, “we went right back to rodeoing. Then he met you and, man, it was like a bronc threw that cowboy on his head. He wasn’t never the same. Settled down, started ranching, got himself a couple kids off you, and become a good family man.”

  That wasn’t the way it was, Vicky wanted to say. It only looked that way to the outside world where no one saw the drinking and the beatings. And when she’d tried to tell people, even her own family, no one had believed her. Ben Holden? How could it be? That was when she first realized she was alone. She raised the palm of her hand, fingers outstretched, in the traditional sign of peace. She understood. Matt Kingdom had brought up her former husband to set the ground rules for their meeting: He and Ben had been buddies; he was Ben’s friend. He was not her friend.

  “We have to talk about the casino,” she said.

  “I been expecting you to come around.” His eyes had become as hard as obsidian. “Hell, I was outside waiting for you this morning. Smoked a goddamn pack of cigarettes. What took you so long?” He gave a mirthless laugh.

  Vicky studied the man on the other side of the desk. Obviously Stan Lexson had called the chairman and told him she’d tried to see the personnel records yesterday. A wave of futility passed over her. She’d hoped to catch Kingdom off guard. Off guard he might let something spill out.

  She said, “Jack Monroe says you have a lock on the best jobs at the casino.”

  “Captain Jack Monroe!” He blew out a long breath, as if he were exhaling cigarette smoke. “Still fighting his own goddamn war. All dressed up in an army suit like those Japanese soldiers that came stumbling out of the jungle forty years after World War II was over. Goes around the country trying to stop Indian gaming. Says it’s another way for white people to rip off Indians. What a load of shit! We been making bets since before white people heard about this land. You gonna believe what Monroe says?” He threw up both hands.

  “I’ve checked on some employees,” Vicky said. “At least two of your relatives have very good jobs.”

  “So what? They got the jobs ’cause they’re qualified.”

  “What qualified your sister to be the director of human resources?”

  The man chewed on his lower lip a moment. “The Lexson Company has a real good training program. They’re walking Annette through the steps. Besides”—he hunched over the desk and lifted his eyes in supplication—“she needs that job. She’s been outta work three years now.”

  “That’s the point, Matt. A lot of people have been out of work, and some might be more qualified. But your sister got the job.”

  “You’re looking to cause trouble.” His voice was tight with anger.

  “I’m trying to avoid trouble,” Vicky said. “If there’s any evidence that you’ve misused your position, Lodestar Enterprises could face a class action lawsuit from people better qualified for jobs that went to your relatives. The tribe could also be sued.”

  Matt Kingdom tucked his chin into his throat and let out a guffaw that sounded like a groan. “You got it all wrong, Vicky. Nobody’s gonna be suing anybody. The casino’s a cash cow around here. People are working and making money. Maybe some folks didn’t get a job right off the bat, that don’t mean they won’t get a job tomorrow, and that keeps ’em going. In the meantime, a lot of ’em are winning at the tables. So everybody’s happy, except you. Just like Ben used to say, no matter what he did, the man couldn’t make you happy. He give you the world, but you was always looking for something else.”

  Vicky felt the heat spreading in her face. “Is it true, Matt,” she struggled to keep her voice steady, “that people looking for a job have to see you? That would be a major conflict of interest.”

  The man didn’t say anything for a long moment. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his thick throat; a blue vein pulsed in the center of his forehead. When he spoke, it was in a monotone. His eyes were almost closed. “Maybe you forgot I’m the chairman. Business Council appointed me to oversee the casino operations for the tribe. So what if people come here first? I’m not about to let some stumbling drunk take on a big job and make a mess of things. We gotta have good, reliable people in important jobs. You know why you got the job in the legal department? ’Cause I told Lexson to hire
you.”

  “You!” Vicky swallowed hard. Not Adam, not Stan Lexson. The man who had wanted to hire her was Matt Kingdom.

  “So don’t tell me about conflicts of interest and all that legal crap. If you didn’t have a connection to me through Ben, you wouldn’t be sitting here looking holier than thou.”

  Kingdom pushed himself to his feet, a signal that the meeting was over. “I sure hope I didn’t make a mistake.”

  Vicky stood up, her eyes locked on his. “How many people came here looking for a job, Matt? How many were hired?” She drew in a long breath. “How much did they pay you?”

  “Go back to your contracts.” He hissed the words. “You can’t prove anything.”

  It was true. She felt as if he’d lifted his hand and slapped her. She waited a couple of beats before taking her eyes away. Then she let herself out the door and headed down the corridor. In the lobby, she glanced back over her shoulder.

  Matt Kingdom was standing outside his door watching her.

  THE CASINO LOOKED different, Vicky thought as she made her way past the floor to the hotel lobby. Same rows of slots with Indians and tourists slumped on the stools, same kaleidoscope of figures jumping on the screens, same jangle of coins and beehive of voices, and red-neon signs—Raven’s Nest—shining overhead.

  All the same, but different, unreal, like props dragged onto a stage to create an imaginary world.

  She stopped at the elevator, inserted the security card Adam had given her, then rode upward against the smallest pull of gravity. The bronze doors pulled open. Everything seemed different, even the sign on the door that said, “Legal Department.” Nothing at Great Plains Casino, she knew now, was as it appeared.

  Inside, the secretary was flipping through a folder and murmuring into the phone tucked between her chin and shoulder. Through the opened door, she saw Adam at his desk, staring at the computer monitor.

  She shut the door in her office, sank into the chair behind the desk, and turned to the computer. In a couple seconds the contract that she’d been reviewing floated onto the screen. Another routine contract. They would never let her get close to what was really going on. She was going to have to play her own hand very close, be patient, wait for the opportunity . . .

  It would take time. She forced herself to concentrate on the lines of black type scrawling down the screen. Edgeware Equipment. Contract to supply Great Plains Casino with linens, china, stemware, flatware, cooking pans, and utensils.

  She moved to the second page. Nothing unusual. Specifications as to frequency and type of service, quality of merchandise, methods and dates of payment.

  There was a low rap on the door before it swung open. Adam stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly filling out the frame.

  “Hello,” he said. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

  Vicky had to look away. She felt a sense of betrayal as acute and lasting as a puncture from a dull instrument. What if Kingdom had been telling the truth? After all, Lexson had also said that he was the one who had wanted an Arapaho lawyer on board. Yet Adam had insisted that he had suggested her to Lexson. What if they were both wrong, and it was Kingdom who had wanted her here all along? God, what was she thinking? How could she have ever thought there could be anything between her and Adam? A man who would lie to her. A man that women followed with hungry eyes. She could never trust Adam Lone Eagle.

  It was a moment before she could face the man. “I’m fine,” she said, making her voice light, as if they were just a couple of employees passing the time.

  “I was going to ask you to lunch,” Adam went on, “but Stan’s called an emergency meeting of the department heads, so I guess I’ll be having lunch in the executive dining room.”

  “I plan to skip lunch today,” she said because she couldn’t think of anything else except that she wanted him to leave.

  “You free for dinner tonight? New restaurant opened up south of Lander. I hear it’s pretty good.”

  “I don’t think so, Adam.”

  He nodded, almost as if he’d expected the rejection. Then he moved forward and shut the door. “I’m almost sorry I told you the truth about my marriage. Now you don’t think you can trust me. I hope I can convince you that it was a long time ago, and I’m a different man. I’d like to get to know you better, Vicky.” When she didn’t reply, he said, “I’m not giving up. Unless you tell me to go away and leave you alone and that you hate my guts. If you tell me that, I won’t bother you anymore, but, you know what? That isn’t what I see in your eyes.”

  “I really need to get back to this contract, Adam,” Vicky said.

  “Right.” He reached behind for the knob, yanked the door open, and stepped backward into the reception room, not taking his eyes off her. Then he was gone.

  Vicky spent another thirty minutes scrolling through the lines of type, correcting a couple of discrepancies, rewriting several sentences to clarify the meanings. At one point she heard Adam tell the secretary he’d be back in a couple hours. The door to the reception room slammed shut.

  She finished the Edgeware contract and was accessing the next contract when she realized the secretary was in the doorway. “Adam said I should see if you want me to bring you anything to eat,” she said. “Some of the secretaries are going to the restaurant.”

  “No, thanks.” Vicky gave the woman a smile, then went back to the monitor. Edgeware again, but this contract was for paper products. She’d read through the first page when she heard the outer door shut. A stillness dropped over the office.

  Vicky sat back and gazed at the oil painting of the Wind River mountains on the wall, trying to grasp an idea playing like a faint melody in her mind. Stan Lexson had called a meeting of the department heads, which meant that Annette Addley was also in the executive dining room. And it was possible that the human resources secretary had gone to the restaurant. There was a chance the office was unlocked. The floor was secure; no need to lock the offices in midday.

  Vicky got up and went out to the corridor. There was no one around, no ringing phones or clacking computer keys. Nothing but the thick, enveloping silence. She rode the elevator to the third floor and walked down the corridor to the human resources office. The doorknob turned in her hand. There was no one at the desk.

  She slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She had about thirty minutes, she figured.

  21

  THE OFFICE WAS deserted, as if the fire alarm had sounded and everyone had left. Brochures and forms sat in neat stacks at the edge of the secretary’s desk, next to the computer with a picture of the casino blazing on the monitor. Vicky hesitated a moment, her gaze on the computer. She had no idea of the password the secretary might use, but she knew Annette and there was a chance . . .

  She rapped on the door to Annette’s office, waited a half-second, then turned the knob and looked inside. The office was vacant: the square-shaped oak desk with the clear top gleaming under the ceiling light, the leather chair pushed against the side wall, a depression in the cushion, as if someone had just gotten up. The computer stood on the side table that formed an L with the desk. On the screen saver, Appaloosas were running against the blue sky.

  Vicky closed the door, walked over and sat down at the computer. Her heart was thumping as she moved the cursor and clicked. Human Resource Information System came onto the screen. An empty box appeared with the word Password below it. She typed in ho’heisi. “Denied” flashed in the box.

  Vicky flexed her fingers over the keys, then typed in “Madwoman.” A menu came up. She clicked on Employees, then Department Heads. Two columns of black text appeared. On the left, a list of names. On the right, the positions. She scrolled down, glancing through the names. Several Arapahos. She returned to the top and clicked on résumés.

  A new document opened—thirty-two pages of résumés for department heads. She couldn’t read them all—it would take at least an hour.

  She glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes had passed.r />
  She pulled open the desk drawers searching for a diskette, then glanced at the shelves behind the desk. Nothing resembling a diskette box. Turning back to the computer, she tapped the print keys and clicked on “Print all pages.” The printer next to the computer stirred into life, green lights flashing on the front. A sheet of paper flitted into a tray, then another.

  Vicky started lifting off the first sheets as they spit out. She glanced through the names and sorted the résumés of Arapahos on top. A tremor, as slight as a whisper, started through the floor. She sat very still, listening. She could hear the whoosh of the elevator rising through the building.

  She took off more sheets. Twenty-two, so far. Still ten to print. She held her breath, waiting for the clang of the elevator. It didn’t come, which meant the elevator was heading upward into the hotel. The floor was still trembling beneath her feet.

  The printer disgorged another sheet, which Vicky added to the stack in front of her. The building seemed to be coming alive, and she realized the elevator was dropping through the floors. Another sheet floated into the tray, then another. Still five sheets to print.

  Now the elevator was coming back up. She pulled off another sheet. Come on. Come on.

  From the corridor came the muffled clang of the elevator stopping on the third floor. In the quiet that followed, Vicky could imagine the swish of the doors parting, the cushioned sound of footsteps on the carpet. The voices, when they came, were real, crashing around her like drumbeats.

  Vicky exited the program, then leaned over the printer and caught the last page before it dropped into the tray, listening for the sound of the door opening in the outer office. There was a peal of laughter, the secretary’s voice shouting good-bye.

  Gripping the stack of papers, Vicky darted across the office, closed the door, and slid into one of the visitor’s chairs against the wall. She grabbed a magazine from the side table, and stuffed the printed sheets inside, her gaze fixed on the door across from her.