“I see,” Sam said. “You planted the phony letter in my desk for Beckstrom to find and encouraged his doubts about me to fuel the flames of your revenge. I’m sure you’ve manufactured additional evidence proving my guilt. What’s next? You plan to arrest me?”
“Your detective skills are fucking amazing.”
“There is one minor matter we need to clear up first.”
“What’s that?”
“According to Danny Longstreet, you were Stan Feldman’s contact man at the dam, not me. When I found out that Feldman had paid Danny’s bail, I had the Bureau run a background check on him. Turns out they confirmed that he is a Communist. I realize now that you already knew it and purposely withheld the information from me. You exploited Feldman’s Communist ties to frame me for the sabotage. Longstreet and Feldman will confirm everything I’ve said.”
“You think anyone is going to take a lying redskin’s word against mine? Or the word of a treasonous, card-carrying Communist like Feldman?” He paused a moment to let the truth of his words sink in. A malicious grin spread across his disfigured face. “You’re all going to prison for a long, long time.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
There was a lot of confusion at the burial site but it wasn’t until the protestors showed up that things got truly chaotic. Some of the government men tried to restrain the protestors but they hadn’t been able to keep them from parading in front of the bleachers. The Indians who’d formed the welcoming line for their ancestors had closed ranks to give the intruders a far different welcome. Most of the tourists and other non-Indians in attendance fled the scene when it looked like violence could erupt at any moment. Dessa watched as her neighbors, too, scrambled out of the bleachers and ran to the safety of their car. In their haste to escape they’d forgotten all about her, which suited Dessa just fine.
No one in charge seemed to know what to do. Would the ceremony be cancelled? The dead still needed to be buried with or without the planned fanfare. To add to the confusion, the intermittent drizzle had become a steady downpour. The few tourists who’d stuck around put their cameras away and took out umbrellas, apparently more curious than fearful of what might happen next.
Dessa expected Danny to join his brethren as they faced off with the protestors but his attention was focused elsewhere. A heated argument had arisen between Mr. Matthews and another man which seemed to bother Danny greatly. “Stay with Reba,” he told Ellie. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Where’re you going?” she asked.
He gestured towards her father. “I think I know what’s going on over there and it doesn’t look good—for him or any of us.”
As he left, Dessa said, “I don’t know about you but I’m not staying here. I have to find out what’s happening.”
“Me too,” Ellie said.
They caught up with Danny just as a scar-faced man told Mr. Matthews something about no one believing his word against “a lying redskin and a card-carrying Communist.” His rant didn’t make sense to Dessa but Danny was all over it. “Maybe they won’t believe us,” he told him. “But pictures don’t lie.”
The man he’d confronted started to object but Mr. Matthews intervened. “No, Harmon, we’re on Indian land. Let him speak.”
“As the saying goes,” Danny continued, “a picture is worth a thousand words.” He pulled a stack of photographs from his pocket. “The guys all thought I was paranoid when I decided to record our meetings.” He handed the photos to Mr. Matthews. “As you know, we’ve been burned by the white man’s promises before. I wanted more than a questionable letter to cover our butts.” Danny addressed scar-face. “These photos prove that it was you, not Sam Matthews, who used us to do your dirty work.”
Mr. Matthews shielded the photos from the rain as he shuffled through the stack. Dessa sidled closer to him so that she could see also. Two photos were of special interest to Mr. Matthews. He waved them in front of the man. “Danny’s right. Pictures don’t lie. He caught you in the act, Jess.” The first photo showed him handing one of Danny’s friends a key to a government pickup. “And here you are with Henry and Walter as they loaded the same vehicle with several boxes of dynamite.” Mr. Matthews grinned. “Incriminating, as we say at the Bureau.”
Harmon shook his head. “Those photos don’t prove a damn thing. I can think of several reasons to explain what—”
“NO-O-O-O-O!!” Ellie’s loud cry pierced through the pelting rain with a startling intensity. Her ashen face was streaked with a mixture of tears and rain as she pointed a trembling finger at a couple near the bleachers.
It was clear that the couple was the source of her anguish but Dessa didn’t understand her emotional reaction. “Oh, that’s just Tony Rossi,” she said dismissively. “The woman is his secretary, Mildred.” She wasn’t slutty enough in her frumpy, old lady dress and shoes for anyone to mistake her for a new girlfriend. Dessa scooped up the photos that Mr. Matthews had dropped when Ellie screamed. “Here,” she said, holding them in her outstretched hand. “They’re a little wet but I don’t think they’re too damaged.”
Mr. Matthews never registered Dessa. He was too focused on comforting his daughter who’d begun to whimper like a wounded pup. At first, Danny looked shaken by Ellie’s distress but his concern for her quickly turned to rage. “I’m going to kill him this time!” he shouted over his shoulder as he took off running.
Mr. Matthews wasn’t the cussing type but he muttered a few choice expletives, including the F-word when Danny bolted. “Stay right here, girls,” he ordered before he, too, made a hasty exit.
A brisk wind had come up, whipping freezing rain about them from all directions. It ran down their face and into their eyes, drenched their hair and soaked their skin but the effect was strangely refreshing. It was if the storm had washed away the agitated state that had stricken Ellie earlier. She had the appearance now of someone who’d made a tough decision and was fiercely resolved to carry it out. Without a word to Dessa, she began running after her father and Danny.
Was it something I said? wondered Dessa as she, too, joined in the pursuit of Tony Rossi.
Mr. Matthews waved his badge in the air, yelling, “Stop! FBI. Both of you, stop! Stop where you are!”
Mildred put on the brakes as ordered but Tony never altered his course. “Tony, come back,” Mildred called. He ignored her and picked up his pace but his get-away attempt was short-lived. Danny easily caught up with Tony and tackled him to the ground. He pummeled him unmercifully with doubled-up fists that drew blood. Mr. Matthews struggled to pull Danny off for several moments until he finally succeeded. “That’s enough, Danny!”
Dessa and Ellie arrived just as Mr. Matthews unholstered his gun and aimed it at Tony. “You’re under arrest, Rossi. Get your hands up where I can see them.”
Tony’s secretary—wet hair plastered to her face, soaked dress clinging to her misshapen body—appeared on the scene, gasping for breath. “Do as he says, Tony. We can straighten all this out in no time.”
Tony raised his hands in the air. “What’s your problem, Matthews? I’ve done nothing wrong!”
The wind and torrential downpour howled so loudly that it required a determined effort to be heard above nature’s fury. And only if shouting and yelling were employed. “Rape and murder are about as wrong as it gets,” Mr. Matthews countered.
Mildred’s frizzy eyebrows almost jumped off her forehead but Tony seemed to take the accusation in stride. “Don’t look at me,” he said, dipping a shoulder at Danny. “There’s your rapist.”
If looks could kill, Tony was already a dead man. There was no doubt Danny would’ve leapt over Mr. Matthews and anyone else to get at Tony if it weren’t for Ellie. She had attached herself to Danny’s arm lik
e her life depended on it.
“Save your lies for the courtroom,” Mr. Matthews said. “I’m arresting you for the rape of my daughter and suspicion of murder in the death of Nick Rossi.”
Dessa was as shocked by the news as Tony’s secretary seemed to be. Rape? Nick’s murder? No wonder Ellie got so upset at the sight of him. No wonder Danny wanted to kill the man.
“Wait,” Mildred pleaded. “Tony’s not a rapist. And he didn’t kill Nick, either. Clarice Nestor did.”
“We’ll let a court of law decide that,” Matthews said, pulling a set of handcuffs from his back pocket.
“Don’t need no court of law,” Tony said. “I didn’t kill anyone. And I didn’t rape your precious little daughter, either. She asked for it, man. The slut was always after me when you weren’t around. I just did what any man would do; I gave her what she begged me for. Best pussy I ever had, too.”
That did it for Danny. He shook loose of Ellie’s tight grip and lunged at Tony. Mr. Matthews still had his gun pointed at Tony when Danny charged and blocked his aim. It didn’t matter. A sudden, forceful, ear-splitting blast came out of nowhere and slammed them all to the ground.
Aside from a little dizziness and smoke in her eyes and lungs, Dessa wasn’t hurt. As she lay on the ground, coughing and spitting to clear her throat, she tried to figure out what had just happened. The entire area, including the ceremony site and bleachers, was engulfed in smoke and falling debris. People screamed and wailed. Many laid where they’d fallen and others who were still on their feet ran in all directions, dazed or unable to process where to go or what to do. The roar of thunder punctuated the already cacophonous melee, followed by lightning that pierced the dark sky like a macabre exclamation point.
Ignoring the hard rain pelting her like rocks, Dessa stood up and took a moment to steady herself. She could hear crying nearby and, as the smoke began to clear, she saw Ellie kneeling beside her father. His gun was in her hand. Nearby, Tony lay sprawled on the ground. Dessa looked for Mildred but didn’t see her. Judging by the blood pooled on the ground, the secretary’s boss and Ellie’s father were both dead.
“All my fault,” Ellie wailed. “All my fault.”
Danny limped to her side and pried the gun from her hand. “No,” he told her. “It was Henry. Not you. He blew up Sam’s truck.”
“But I killed him,” she said.
“It’s going to be all right,” Danny said. He put an arm around her shoulder as Reba arrived carrying her medical bag. She’d somehow found them in all the confusion. “Reba is here now,” he said. “She’ll take care of Sam.”
Reba knelt alongside Ellie and opened her medical bag. As she checked on Sam Matthews, Ellie asked, “Is he dead?”
“No,” Reba said. “He’s breathing on his own, but he’s lost a lot of blood. It looks like he got hit by some of the debris.” After stopping the blood flow and applying bandages, she asked Danny, “Were you in on this debacle?”
He nodded. “Sort of. Henry had planned to blow up the chopper. When it lifted off, I thought we’d avoided disaster. I should have known he wouldn’t give up so easily. Henry must have figured Sam’s truck was just as good a target.” He shook his head. “He’s as mixed up as Walter was.”
“It could’ve been worse,” Reba said. “If you and Sam hadn’t arrived when you did and cleared the area, we’d have had a lot more injuries.”
“The storm helped to dampen the blast,” Danny said.
“I killed him,” Ellie said again, struggling to catch her breath.
Reba felt Ellie’s forehead. “I think she’s in shock. Her skin is moist and clammy and it’s not because of the rain.”
“What should we do?”
“Let’s have her lie down,” Reba said. “We need to keep her warm. This rain isn’t helping. I wish we had a blanket.”
“I have one in my truck.” Danny smacked his forehead with an open palm. “Shit, I forgot. Ernie took it back to Celilo.”
“I’m okay,” Ellie said. “It was an accident.”
“We know that,” Danny said. “Sam was hurt in the explosion. You had nothing to do with it.”
She resisted his attempt to help her lie down. “But his gun. I had his gun. And now he’s dead.”
“Your father isn’t dead. He’s badly injured but he will be all right.”
“I think she means Tony Rossi,” Dessa said.
Reba and Danny both looked at Tony. He laid unmoving in a puddle of rain and blood. “I’ll check on him,” Reba said. After a brief examination, she nodded. “Ellie’s right. This man wasn’t killed by debris. He was shot.”
“I told you I did it,” Ellie mumbled through her tears.
Danny looked at the gun he’d taken from her. “I should’ve been the one to kill him, not her.”
“That’s neither here nor there,” Reba said. “We’ve got to protect Ellie now.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Present Day
Interview Room #1 – Odessa Feldman Langston
“And that’s the last time I saw Ellie Matthews,” I said. Leaning back in the metal chair, I rubbed my aching shoulder. Although I hadn’t been aware of it, I must have been holding myself rigid during the entire two-hour interview.
Detective Steve Burroughs turned off the recording devices. “I think we need a break,” he said. Noticing my untouched coffee cup, asked, “How ‘bout a refill?”
“No, thank you, but some ice water would be wonderful.” My throat was parched. “I’m used to writing, not speaking.”
“I’ll have someone bring you a glass of water right away.”
***
Later, after he’d smoked a much-needed cigarette, Detective Burroughs joined Detective Brad Rycoff who stood at the two-way mirror outside of Interview Room #1. “How’s it going?” he asked Burroughs.
“Odessa Langston is a real corker. Fragile but hard as nails at the same time.” He watched her for a moment through the glass. She’d crossed her legs but otherwise hadn’t stirred since he’d left her alone with her memories. “Must have been a hell of a journalist in her day. She has almost perfect recall of events that happened nearly sixty years ago.”
“You think she’s telling the truth?”
“Maybe. I will have to see how she does with some follow-up questions. How about you? How’s your interview with Ellie Matthews going?”
“She’s tired, maybe even a little scared, but determined as hell to get her story out. She’s pushing seventy-five and doesn’t look a day over fifty. Botox and a few tucks here and there have preserved the old gal nicely.”
Burroughs shrugged. “Lots of women go in for that kind of thing nowadays, if they can afford it.” He decided Odessa Langston wasn’t one of them.
“Ellie can afford it—and anything else she wants. The Sears catalog look she has going for her today isn’t her usual style. Google her and you’ll see what I mean.”
“Why don’t you just tell me.”
“The lady is richer than God. She’s been a regular on the social circuit in New York for years. Believe me, she wouldn’t be caught dead in the neighborhoods she frequents wearing the Timex she’s got on her delicate wrist. A Rolex is more in keeping with her lifestyle, but it’s not just that. She’s a class act underneath all that plain Jane, what you see is what you get image she’s working hard to promote.”
“You think she’s hiding something?”
“Count on it.”
“Odessa claims it was Ellie who shot Tony Rossi.”
“Yeah, Ellie has admitted it.”
Burroughs looked at his watch. “What do yo
u suggest we do now?” he asked
“Lean on ‘em both.”
***
Interview Room #1 - Dessa
Detective Burroughs set another glass of water on the table when he returned to the interview room. “Just in case you’re still thirsty,” he said. He took off his jacket and loosened his tie before turning on the recorder and video camera again. “Now, Mrs. Langston, let’s get back to where we left off—the explosion.”
“Please, call me Dessa. Everyone does.”
“Okay, Dessa. You said Ellie killed Tony Rossi with her father’s service weapon?”
I took a sip of water and swallowed. “It was awfully confusing when the blast went off and the storm hit full force at the same time. I really don’t think Ellie meant to kill him. It was just an accident.”
He waited while I took another sip. “Was it just an accident when she killed the woman, too?”
I jerked as if poked in the back. “Woman? What woman?”
“Oh, come off it. You don’t have to protect Ellie any longer. You finally decided to come clean after all these years. Why hold back half the story?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I bristled that he’d even suggest a thing. “I just spent two hours telling you everything I know about what happened that summer.”
“We didn’t release all the information we had when the skeletal remains were first examined,” he said. “The evidence points to two homicide victims—Tony Rossi and an unidentified female. We got lucky and could determine Rossi’s identity from old dental records. His dentist had long since died, but his son took over the practice and believed no records should ever be destroyed. But we have nothing on the woman. So, I’ll repeat the question, who is she?”
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