by Vella Day
“Derek, what brings you here?”
Worry laced the planes on his dad’s face. His color was lighter than usual, but Derek decided he’d wait before he’d address his father’s health.
“Is that Uncle Derek?” Billy said in an angry tone from the sofa, not bothering to look up from the TV. Billy had his feet propped up on the coffee table and a remote in his hand. Kids.
Derek moved into the living room and looked around. “Something’s different,” he said.
His father glanced at Billy. “I hired a maid. Figured with Billy here, us two bachelors needed someone to cook and clean for us. Right, Billy?”
“Right.”
His cheap dad never spent money frivolously. “What’s going on? Did you find someone from the reservation to help?”
Someone around his dad’s age? Maybe he was finally coming out of his shell. After all, it had been twelve years since Mom died and eighteen since they’d divorced.
Billy put down the TV remote. “It’s Mrs. Lupold. She was our maid before mom...” He looked away for a moment and cleared his throat. “Grandpa said he needed help and I thought of her. She’s real neat.”
The name Lupold rang a bell, but he couldn’t place it. “Well, I have to say, the place looks better. How’s her cooking?”
“Fine,” they both said in unison. The expression on their faces so similar, a feeling of comfort grabbed him.
Derek sat down and motioned for his father to return to his seat. The TV blared and Derek shot Billy a glance. He lowered the volume a bit.
“I have some disturbing news. Rayne’s neighbor spotted Justin lurking around the house.”
Billy sat up and muted the TV. “That creep? Why was he allowed near our place?”
Derek forced his tone to come off as unbiased. “He still has a key. I’ll ask him for it as soon as I find him. I checked inside but nothing seemed disturbed.”
His dad took a puff on his pipe. “You still think he killed Rayne?”
His dad’s eyes widened right before a coughing fit overtook him. Derek started to rise, to see if he could help, but his father waved him down before dabbing a handkerchief to his mouth.
“You okay?” Derek asked.
“It’s the stress, I think. I haven’t been feeling my old self. I’ll be okay though. Now tell me about your theories.”
“Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“Yes.”
“Rayne’s neighbor, the one who reported seeing Justin, was murdered today. She was strangled.”
“Mrs. Anton?” Billy’s face contained a mixture of curiosity and fear. Poor kid. He’d been through so much.
“I’m afraid so.”
Derek expected him to add a comment, but he didn’t. “Kelly Rutland received a call from Justin about an hour ago, claiming his mom was the one who killed Rayne and Kelly’s sister, Stefanie.”
“Who’s Kelly?” Billy asked, his mouth in a frown.
Derek didn’t want to get into their complicated relationship. “Her sister was Stefanie Gentry. She was a friend of Rayne’s. I don’t know if you ever met her.”
“Stefanie? A couple of times, I think.”
“Well, she died the same night as your mom, and we believe the two deaths are related.”
“Oh.”
Derek turned back toward his dad, checking to see if his breathing had improved. It hadn’t. “Justin told Kelly his mom was on the warpath, and that she was next on her list of victims. If what he says is true, I think his mom might target you two.”
“She doesn’t know us,” Billy piped up.
Derek didn’t want to discuss the hate group issue with Billy. It was hard enough for Derek to deal with. “I know, but if she killed Rayne because of who she was, this insane woman might want to wipe out the whole family—including me.” Anger rushed up his gut.
His father sat still, looking off in the distance.
A moment later his dad spoke up. “I’ll keep my gun handy.” He stood up. “I have something for you.”
The tension seeped out of Derek’s pores, because he’d expected an argument.
“Who’s Justin’s mom?” Billy piped up.
“Her name is Lilly Bladen. She used to live in Utah. Other than that, I don’t know much about her.”
“She old?” Billy asked.
“I’m guessing in her sixties.”
His dad returned carrying a parcel wrapped in a worn cotton cloth. He stepped over to Derek and slowly unfolded the material. Billy shot up from the sofa, apparently interested in the item.
“It’s the Chanupa pipe,” his father announced with pride, as he unwrapped it.
It couldn’t be. This was the sacred pipe. The chimney part, or receiver, was made out of ornately carved wood and was covered in green stones and multi colored crystals. The stem was less decorated but hollowed out to hold tobacco.
Derek’s hands stilled. He knew the legend. The pipe was passed down from one generation to the next and represented the highest honor a man could receive. He’d seen his father use the pipe many times but had never even held it.
“I’m sure you realize,” his dad continued, “that this pipe is the most sacred tool used by our people. Do you remember the ceremony when I received this?”
How could he forget? “Of course, but you’re a shaman. I’m not.” His voice came out breathless.
“You are deserving.”
Did his father really believe that? Derek didn’t dare let his hopes lift that he’d been forgiven for leaving the tribe. “I can’t accept this gift. What about the ceremony where we pass the pipe around in a circle?”
His father shrugged, and then handed the sacred object to him. “Time is of the essence. There is a black cloud over us all.”
That was an understatement. “I don’t deserve this.” He looked deeply into her father’s eyes. “You said so yourself.” Nonetheless, Derek examined the peace pipe, his heart pounding in his chest at the gift. Heat seemed to emanate from the cloth.
“I was wrong,” his dad announced with more vigor than he’d shown since Derek’s arrival. “Rayne was a grown woman. She made her own choices. I know I’ve pushed you hard to stay with the tribe, to help them instead of being true to what your mother taught you, but I’m proud of your achievements.”
His dad’s words meant the world to him and sounded a lot like his dream. “Thank you, but I still don’t see why you’re giving this to me.”
He’d done little to be considered a part of the Seminole Tribe. He’d shunned them his whole life, but deep inside, he knew his soul belonged to his spirit guides.
“Evil spirits hover above us, and I am too weak now to pray as I should. When time permits, we will have the circle and drum ceremony. Your people will welcome you with open arms, but with this gift comes responsibility.”
Derek knew he’d have to pray when others needed hope in their life. Could he be receptive? He didn’t know. “I understand.”
“If you smoke the pipe, remember what you wish for will come true.”
Derek said nothing, not certain if he believed in its great power like his father did.
His dad cleared his throat. “It’s getting late, and I’m tired. Goodnight.”
With that, his dad shuffled back toward his bedroom. Derek could tell Billy wanted to inspect the pipe, perhaps even give it a try, but his time had not come. With care, Derek rewrapped the sacred item, his hands shaking from awe.
The honor bestowed on him by his father had yet to sink in. His whole life he’d learned of the mysterious pipe, learned of its powers, and learned how it could help a person find his way.
Now was not the time to tell Billy about the momentous event. Derek wanted to savor the moment.
Alone.
“We have a lot to discuss,” Derek said to his nephew.
Billy eagerly leaned forward. “Like what you can do with the pipe?”
“No. Like packing up and selling your mom’s house.”
A flash of disappo
intment crossed his face. “Oh.”
Now came the hard question. “Have you given any thought where you’d like to live when you’re not at school?”
Billy trudged back to the sofa and collapsed down onto the seat. For a second, Derek thought he wouldn’t answer.
“With Grandpa. He’s cool. Besides, he said I could go to the reservation school. I want to learn about my heritage.” Billy didn’t look at Derek.
Derek bit back his retort that the reservation school system might not be as strong academically as what he’d get at the Academy. “I think you should know you might meet some resistance from the other kids.” Derek certainly had when he had spent time with Dad one year.
“I’ve warned him,” his father said, suddenly appearing from the bedroom door.
“I’m a Seminole,” Billy said with the look of a fierce warrior. “Why would the kids not accept me?”
The air left Derek’s lungs. “You’re only one-fourth Seminole. That’s a far cry from being full-blooded.”
There were a hundred reasons why Billy shouldn’t stay here. Derek wanted the best for his nephew, and he wanted to respect the wishes of his sister who never wanted her son to stay on the reservation.
Billy turned back to the TV apparently not willing to discuss the situation. “Whatever.”
Derek stood. “We’ll discuss this later.”
Billy jerked back toward Derek. “How come I always have to do everything your way?” His anger was palpable.
Derek glanced up at his father who shrugged as if to say he wanted nothing to do with the argument.
What had his spiritual guides told him? Be tolerant. Embrace your heritage. Maybe they were right. If Billy wanted to make his own choice about how he wanted to live, perhaps Derek should give Billy the same opportunity.
“Be careful what you wish for,” he said over the blare of MTV.
Working on Saturday was not Derek’s usual MO, but his obsession with the jumper case prevented him from staying home. He pushed aside the stack of folders and began to fill out the paperwork. Keeping his mind on the task remained difficult as his thoughts drifted to the other two cases.
When he’d awoken at four in the morning, he’d tried reading and even worked out, but the image of Kelly being threatened by Justin’s phone call remained in his head. He’d called to see if she was okay, but apparently he’d woken her. She sounded a bit unhappy with his over protectiveness. Tough.
In all good conscience, he couldn’t sit home and do nothing. He needed to be at work, needed to be involved, and needed to stay focused.
“Benally,” one of the young officers said. “You have a visitor.”
Derek looked up. A woman in her late twenties with pierced eyebrows and three, count ‘em, three nose rings, dressed in too tight jeans, approached.
She held out her hand. “I’m Carl Vanderwall’s sister.”
Derek held in his surprise. No relative had shown up on the search. “Have a seat, Miss...”
“Lemón. Shirley Lemón.” She stressed the second syllable.
“How can I help?”
Her features hardened, as if she didn’t want to share information. “Every October I visit Carl on his birthday. Only this time when I arrived, the doorman told me he was dead.” No emotion passed over her face. “I convinced him to let me in since I had no where else to stay. I hope that was okay since it was a crime scene and all.”
Hard woman. “Yes. Thank you for being considerate.” She didn’t even blink. “I’m sorry for your loss. If I’d been able to find you, I would have called.”
Now her eyes shimmered with a hint of a tear. “That’s okay. Carl was my stepbrother. Anyway, I was looking through his things and found this envelope. I think you should read it.” She handed him a number ten envelope. “It says a guy by the name of Justin Bladen probably killed him.”
Derek’s heart nearly stopped. He dragged on a pair of latex gloves and lifted the flap on the envelope. He doubted there’d be viable latent prints, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
He read the contents. Twice. “Your brother claims to have proof that Justin cheated the Seminoles with their financial holdings. Did you find the evidence?” The ramification of the act lodged a rock in his throat.
Shirley pulled a large, brown envelope out from an equally large, red sequined bag. “Here. I looked at the stuff, but I don’t understand any of it. Stock and bonds are foreign to me.”
Derek scanned the material, understanding enough to see Justin had been cheating his father’s people—or rather his people—and he swallowed hard. “May I keep this for evidence?”
“Sure.” She slouched back in her seat. “Do you think this guy really killed my brother?”
“It’s possible. I’m going to have to send the crime lab over to his place again.” With the new evidence, he would insist on a more thorough approach.
She shrugged. “Okay.”
Derek waved the file. “I appreciate this. I know you probably want to start packing his things, but could you wait until my men are done?”
“Sure.”
Once Miss Lemón left, Derek assembled a CSU team to go over the condo with a fine-toothed comb. Even if they found Justin’s prints at the place, it wouldn’t prove he’d killed Carl. Coupled with the photo of Justin standing in front of the Waters Edge with the victim, however, he might have enough to hold him.
If they ever found the elusive SOB.
Kelly said Justin had claimed his mom left a note on his dining room table, which meant his surveillance team should have spotted her going into his place. So why hadn’t they?
Derek’s team finished dusting every surface in Carl Vanderwall’s place and came up with one palm print on the sliding glass door. Now all they needed was Justin to see if it matched.
“Hey Detective,” one of the crime lab men said. “Look at this.”
Derek stepped out onto the six by ten patio. Sun blasted him in the face, but the view commanded his attention for a brief moment. Nestled between hotels and high-rises, Tampa Bay’s inlets were flanked by palm trees and dotted with boats. It was pretty as a picture. Too bad he couldn’t enjoy the view right now.
He turned back to the tech. “What did you find?”
“Someone moved this plant, and I’d wondered why. I moved it and found a bloodstain. I’ll test it back at the lab, but I’m guessing it belongs to either Mr. Vanderwall or the killer.”
Derek stepped closer and did a quick scan of the area. “You find any evidence of a struggle?”
“Yeah. See here?” The tech pointed to the cement railing. “A small chunk of cement is missing. The whiteness of the cement implies the area hasn’t been exposed to air for long. I’ll ask Luis to check the back of the deceased’s shoes to see if his heel smashed into it before he went over.”
“Good work. Let me know what you find out.”
About time the bitch went out for a run. It was too hot to be hiding behind a tree in the back yard in this damned humidity. Oh, how she missed Utah.
Once Kelly turned onto the access road, Lilly Bladen strutted to the front door and squatted in front of the clay flowerpot. She tipped up the edge and grabbed the key she’d seen Kelly stash there.
The surveillance camera she’d paid a hefty price for better be good, or someone wouldn’t be breathing for long. Toting a large shoulder bag, Lilly ducked inside the cool house and looked around.
Eclectic at best. But clean. Good. She didn’t have time to dust and vacuum.
Kelly usually ran for thirty minutes, which was enough time to hide a small camera in the bedroom and living room. Lilly wanted to keep track of the snoopy woman.
The girl had brought this on herself. If she hadn’t slept with the filthy Indian detective, Lilly might have spared her. Bitches like her always squawked sooner or later. Might as well do her in now.
Lily sighed. Killing brought such a sense of satisfaction.
She shook her head at how today’s you
th didn’t appreciate the art of ridding the country of unclean souls. First Kelly would have to die, and then Derek—in that order. She wanted the filthy half-breed to suffer when she snuffed out his little girlfriend. Lilly lived to see him in pain, the same kind of pain she’d been in when her dear husband had taken his life—all because an Indian received the promotion her husband deserved. Of course, if her husband hadn’t gambled their money away, she wouldn’t have had to spend her life being a stinking maid. She hated rich people and everything they stood for.
Before she put Derek out of his misery, the big chief and the grandson would need to die too. It was best to erase the whole gene pool. Lilly had already begun the old man’s procedure. She’d crushed lily of the valley petals and made him tea. The guy didn’t taste a thing.
She laughed at the wonderful irony. A lily by Lilly.
Tee hee. He’d die a slow and painful death, and Derek couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Enough reminiscing. Time for work. Lilly had spent time enough with Carlos to know how and where to plant the cameras. Even though he claimed they were like-minded, he didn’t cut her any slack on the price of the surveillance equipment. Carlos was another link that might have to be severed. Stupid immigrant.
Fifteen minutes later, she’d finished installing the devices. Now Lilly would know when Kelly was home and what she was doing with Benally. Between the camera and the homing device in Kelly’s purse, the girl wouldn’t escape Lilly’s ever-watchful eye.
She still couldn’t believe her luck when Kelly had left her purse at home one day and Lilly had been able to drop in the tracing device. Dumb bitch never caught on. Kelly never figured out how she was located so quickly in Silverton either. Another reason to rid the world of her kind.
Time to go. Kelly’s death would have to wait a little longer. Some psychological torture for the doctor would put the girl in a better and more receptive mood to meet her end.
Gathering her bag and all the hardware, Lilly ducked out the back door and slipped off her hair net and gloves. The sense of accomplishment put a kick in her step.
27
As Derek headed back to the station, he punched in Seinkievitz’s cell phone number.