The Collector

by R. Allen Chappell

  Charlie couldn’t help grinning. “He let Harley get out before he pulled in. They’ve done it before …anything to yank Dudd’s chain.”

  The two miscreants, Harley and Thomas, were hoping Dudd would come out first and go into his usual tirade. The two were counting on Charlie and Billy to intervene. It was a spur of the moment plan and might have ended badly, had their friends not got there first.

  “What do you two think you’re doing?” Charlie tried to wipe the grin from his face but there was enough left to encourage the pair further. Harley, jumping down off the flatbed, gave a double lift of his eyebrows, it had become his signature greeting, and no one could figure out where it came from—he smirked and gave the Investigator a thumbs up.

  Billy used his official voice, “Better get that truck out of there, boys. I don’t think I can even get my car out until you move yours.” It wouldn’t look good for Fred Smith to come out and see an argument with the sheriff going on right here in the parking lot.

  Charlie was staring at a door ding in Dudd’s car and hoped it wasn’t Thomas’s doing. He sighed knowing he couldn’t rule it out. His friend had a long history with Dudd Schott.

  Thomas lifted his lanky frame off the tailgate. “Anything you officers say. We don’t want any trouble here.” He sucked in his belly and wedged his way up the narrow passage; as he opened the door Charlie saw the edge fit perfectly with the long ding in the sheriff’s car.

  Frowning, the Investigator pointed out the damage to Billy Red Clay. “You going to give your uncle a ticket for that?”

  Billy shook his head and grinned. “You know I don’t have the authority to cite him off the reservation…but I’m sure he’s hoping someone’s going to try giving him a ticket.”

  Harley came up and stood beside the two lawmen as they watched Thomas ease the vehicle out, nearly hooking the sheriff’s bumper in the process.

  “I told him this was a bad idea.” This is what Harley usually said when one of their plans didn’t work out. Charlie sniffed, and didn’t bother looking his way. He’d heard it all before.

  Dudd Schott came down the steps to stand, hands on hips. He didn’t speak, nor did anyone else. The Sheriff glared suspiciously around the group for a moment, then throwing up his hands went directly to the driver’s side of the cruiser without noticing the door ding. The grim set of his jaw changed to surprise as the engine backfired in an explosive report.

  The Navajo lawmen remained impassive but were thinking the same thing; Thomas stuffed a potato in Dudd’s exhaust pipe!

  The Sheriff sat quite still for a moment, then with a death grip on the steering wheel glared back at Thomas in the rear-view mirror before restarting the car and driving off as though nothing had happened.

  Charlie watched as Thomas hung his head out the window, laughing. He turned to the man’s nephew. “He’s going to wind up paying for this eventually, you know.”

  Unable to keep from laughing, Billy went around to check his own exhaust before getting behind the wheel. Looking through his open window he said, “I know…sometimes, he just seems to get in these moods and then doesn’t know when to quit.”

  “He’s actually gotten better than he used to be,” Charlie admitted. “Hard as that may be to believe right now.”

  Back at Legal Services the men gathered in Charlie’s office and the conversation quickly turned back to the meeting. Thomas wanted to know what went on and if anything new had come up. He said Lucy was at wit’s end when told of the disappearance of her old business associate’s wife. “This coming on top of Cliff Johnson’s murder has really affected her and you know she’s not one to be easily upset.”

  Harley, quiet until now, blinked and turned to the two Navajo lawmen with a questioning look. “I hope you two aren’t going ta tell us it’s all privileged information? I’m getting tired of hearing that same old excuse every time someone around here asks a simple question.” He put on a frown and directed it toward Tribal Policeman Billy Red Clay who he thought would be more likely to let them in on some little something.

  Billy sighed and studied the little man for a moment. “Harley, in this particular case I can truthfully say we don’t know a damn bit more than we did before the meeting. Isn’t that right, Charlie?”

  The Investigator didn’t even have to stop and think about it before nodding his head. Then Charlie caught them all off guard by saying, “Fred Smith may be holding out on us…he’s keeping something back, that’s for sure.” When the Tribal Police Officer didn’t agree, he insisted, “Why do you think that would be, Billy? You’re the Liaison Officer?”

  The policeman flashed him a surprised glance, which quickly turned sour. “I don’t know why you would ask me Charlie. I’m generally the last one to know what goes on over there.” Billy was proud of his recent advancement but had, of late, felt the Senior FBI Agent wasn’t all that concerned what he thought. “I guess Fred’s under a lot of pressure from the top on this one, and just doesn’t want it screwed up by the locals—maybe that includes us. It’s not every day two white people come to such an end here on the reservation.” He then said exactly what was on his mind, “…and on Fred’s watch, too, not that there was much he could have done about it…still, it has to chafe him a bit.” Billy looked down at his boots stretched out in front of him and frowned. There is just no way to keep boots polished in this country. “Maybe he was just so focused on Cliff’s murder that the wife’s disappearance threw him for a loop. He’s as upset about this as anyone—I can tell you that right now.”

  Charlie felt the Tribal cop might be right, but also knew that didn’t make it any easier for him to swallow. He remembered what he’d been meaning to ask the policeman earlier. “Did you see Carla Meyor at the meeting? I didn’t notice her in there—I know there was a crowd, but Carla’s hard to miss. She’s FBI and on the case, I would have thought she would be there.”

  Billy thought about it then shook his head. “I don’t recall seeing her either…could have overlooked her I guess…”

  Charlie looked around the group. “Just between you and me, I still don’t remember ever meeting the woman—back at the university, I mean. Every time I think about it, it seems like there might have been someone or other like her all right but somehow, Carla Meyor, just doesn’t fit the picture.”

  Thomas and Harley gave one another a sidelong glance. It wasn’t like Charlie Yazzie to be uncertain about anything.

  The receptionist brought in a tray of fresh cinnamon rolls, saying, “My mom sent these over a little while ago from the school cafeteria. She thought you gentlemen might like one.”

  Thomas jumped right up and took the tray, carefully setting it on the edge of Charlie’s desk closest to him. Harley, instantly at his side, nodded thoughtfully at the rolls. “That’s my great-aunt that sent that over,” he informed everyone, thinking it might give him some prior claim on the goods. “She does the baking over at the school lunch place now. Her husband died a few months ago over at Leupp, and she had to move back over here where she has people.”

  Billy Red Clay gazed admiringly at the rolls. “What made her think of us?”

  “Well,” the receptionist said, turning color, “…in all honesty, she got a ticket this morning from Officer Hastiin Sosie. She hoped maybe one of you boys could help her with it.”

  “What was the citation for?” Charlie asked.

  The woman reached in her sweater pocket and pulled out a folded summons. “It’s for parking in front of that fireplug across from the Co-op.”

  Billy Red Clay moved to take the ticket with a skeptical look in his eyes. “She didn’t know about parking in front of fire hydrants?”

  “Oh, she knew…she just didn’t think there’d be a fire in the five minutes she meant to be in the store…and she was right, too. But Hastiin Sosie didn’t see it that way. He read her the riot act and then got around to asking her what clan she was. He’s single you know. She told him she was of the Autumn Clan, and he said he didn’
t know there was one.” The receptionist held up her hands and looked surprised. “My mom only moved back over here from Luepp about a month ago to take this job; she’d have never got a ticket over there. She said they’re not so particular where people park over there. That’s what she told Hastiin, too. She told him she couldn’t afford no ticket.”

  Charlie grinned over at Billy Red Clay. “Why don’t you see what you can do about it, Billy?”

  The young policeman glanced at the ticket, looked over at the rolls, and then the receptionist. “I’ll talk to Hastiin. Maybe he won’t be able to make the court appearance. You can tell your mom she’ll hear from me in a day or two—just tell her not to send any money until I say.”

  Only then did Thomas reach for a roll and sat back down with it. It wouldn’t be right to eat a person’s gift rolls if nothing could be done for her. “Well, God love her,” he said, munching away. “It looks like her heart’s in the right place anyhow.”

  Thomas had every confidence in his nephew’s ability to help the woman. He knew Billy’s soft spot for poor people and old ladies and such, and felt he would most likely prevail. Thomas had already reached for seconds when Harley, still on his first, frowned at the disappearing pan of rolls and moved them more his way.

  The Price

  The garrote had barely touched Big Ray Danson’s throat when he raised his hands and spread them in an instant declaration of submission. There was no question who his assailant might be and as a professional himself, was quite aware how delicate his situation was. Pinned to the back of his seat with virtually no way to reach this man, Big Ray was essentially defenseless. The ex-cop had been perfectly set up. His only option now was to remain perfectly still and listen. This assassin obviously intended some sort of conversation or he would already be dead—that alone offered a thin ray of hope.

  Archie whispered, “Good morning,” as he rose from the luxurious depths of the Lincoln’s rear carpet. He spoke directly into the big man’s ear as he reached across and took the man’s sidearm. “I’m sorry I missed you inside…but then our sort of business is better conducted in private, wouldn’t you say?”

  The big man showed little fear—there was that to be said of him. But then he knew any show of emotion would be lost on his assailant. He was certain of that. The wire was already on the verge of bringing blood. He didn’t bother berating himself for falling into the situation. His only thought was that he must be getting old; that was about the size of it, he guessed.

  Archie was always amazed how tenuous a thread a man might cling to, even when teetering on the brink of eternity. Always, it seemed, they divined some fragment of hope no matter how desperate the situation. He loosened the wire slightly that the big man might catch his breath and perhaps answer a few questions should he be of a mind.

  Ray Danson, still barely able to breathe, felt a wave of relief even at this small concession. He gasped and blinked and was finally able to regain some small control of his vocal cords. But when he spoke, it was little more than a squeak, “All right then…what do you want?” He seemed surprised he could get the words out at all, the thin wire still hidden in the flesh of his neck—just there, below the lump of his Adam’s apple—all but precluding any sort of normal speech even as close as they were.

  “A little information is all I really want. The right answers might put me in a more charitable mood.” Big Ray knew this was a lie. They were of a kind, the two of them. No, there was probably only one way this could end.

  Archie snugged the noose just a hair for emphasis then quickly eased off, but only slightly. “There then…a little more comfy? Not too tight, I hope? It’s been a while… I don’t ordinarily do this sort of work anymore.”

  The ex-cop heard the smile in Archie’s voice but didn’t mistake it for more than it was…personal satisfaction in a game well played.

  This big ex-cop was not a person to trifle with, and Archie was well aware the slightest mistake on his part could be a game changer. The whole thing might just as easily have gone badly from the start—become more complicated, dangerous certainly, given the sort of man now at his mercy.

  If it hadn’t been for the car seat between them Ray Danson might have considered making a fight of it. As it was, he was trapped and without any reasonable kind of option. The big man remained silent, conserving his breath, clinching his hands…hope already fading. He let his gaze wander up and down the sidewalk. Deserted. Across the long hood of the Lincoln there was something…a flicker of movement, just there…in the upper branches of the hedge. He blinked, and a small yellow bird blinked back, seemingly unafraid. The tiny creature appeared to be singing, though no sound could be heard inside the Lincoln. With the windows rolled up things were wonderfully quiet. Ray doubted he could hear a train go by should there have been one. And certainly no one could hear him call out. The thing now is to prolong this last precious snapshot of life, he decided, and still there was a small voice whispering…there is always a chance…

  Over the years Big Ray had come to realize being a stand-up guy was highly overrated. Even among his own kind it was seldom more than a myth. “Honor among…” People will do what they do when up against it. In the end, it really doesn’t matter. He intended to tell this man whatever he wanted to know and take as long as possible doing it.

  Archie felt the man relax and knew they had come to a mutual understanding. He eased up on the wire another smidge as an incentive.

  “There’s nothing in the brief case…is there?” Archie was fairly certain there wasn’t.

  “No, there’s nothing.”

  “And my operative?”

  “There is no operative.”

  “I see…Raul had you kill him?”

  “No.”

  “Then…what?”

  “I was the operative. There was no one else. Raul couldn’t come up with anyone he trusted.” Big Ray tried craning his neck slightly, thinking to ease the wire further, but only made it worse. “The thing is, I was sent just to reason with Clifford Johnson, offer him money and possibly, in some way or another, bring him to some point of negotiation.”

  “He was not amenable I take it… I’m not surprised.”

  “He was already dead when I got there.” Ray said this matter-of-factly with not so much as blinking.

  Archie, though surprised, was inclined to believe him, and mulled this new information over, turning it this way and that in the light of common sense. After thinking on it there was little doubt the man was speaking the truth. There was no reason to do otherwise at this stage of the game.

  Clouds had rolled in almost as soon as the sun came up, but despite the increasing overcast it was growing warm in the car. Albuquerque is like that in the latter part of autumn. The nights are cool, but things heat up quickly after first light. Sweat beaded Ray’s brow and traced a path into one eye. His natural reflex was to wipe it away but through willpower alone he was able to resist the impulse.

  Archie couldn’t help admiring the man’s fortitude. “So…then, Raul sent you to deal with me?” Archie pretty much knew where this was going now but thought a little conversation might keep the man’s mind right until he heard what he really wanted to know.

  “Yes, Raul felt that would be best…he’s not very good at this part of the business you know. You would think he would be, but he’s not. He assumed you wouldn’t believe him…his story about your contact…I mean.” That’s the second surprising thing about Raul…he’s a poor liar when dealing with anyone of any intelligence and he’s usually smart enough to know it.” Big Ray attempted a chuckle, choked, and coughed a little despite the lessened tension. He thought the wire had already done some damage at this point, not that it really mattered now. Trying to clear his throat succeeded only in a red-tinged spittle appearing at the corner of his mouth. Nonetheless, the very effort of speaking seemed to make the process easier as he went on. “Raul thought I might be able to retrieve the final payment should you have it with you…he said it
was a lot of money.” Ray thought this was something that would interest Archie and perhaps shift a little blame from himself. He was sweating now, as big men often do under duress, his shirt grew dark around the collar and underarms.

  “Ah, well then, Raul must not be as smart as I supposed….”

  “Well, no…Raul really isn’t that smart, but he knows people and has a handle on what most will do in a given situation…he’s very good at that…usually.” This was a lot of words for one with a garrote snugged beneath his Adam’s apple. He took a shallow breath, bringing with it an involuntary strangling sound. He waited, hoping this might cause Archie to ease the wire even further…but no. As he went on Big Ray kept an eye on the rear-view mirror, “You might want to know…Raul has someone else interested in Clifford Johnson’s list. Big-money people from across the pond, they intend to control the better part of the market.” In the mirror, Ray noticed a hint of curiosity at this. He hoped it might buy him a little additional time and was quick to take advantage. “They’re foreign…from somewhere in Europe, according to Raul.” The ex-cop spoke as clearly as possible now and chose his words carefully. “Raul seems to think the best collections in this country are in the hands of only five or six people—unaffiliated collectors, and all of them frequent clients of Clifford Johnson.”

  Ray blinked and seemed to be having trouble seeing. Thinking it due to the increasing cloud cover he tried harder to focus through the heavily tinted windows of the Lincoln. He concentrated on the hedge, and again caught sight of the small yellow bird, a piece of straw in its beak this time. The bird seemed confused, going on instinct maybe; at this juncture it didn’t seem to know exactly what to do with the straw. Ray thought it might be considering building a nest. A second, even smaller bird appeared, this one with a bit of string in its mouth. It had only a small spot of yellow on the breast… Ah, that would be the female Ray thought. He had no real experience with birds but wished now he had taken more of an interest in such things. As he studied the pair of little creatures it occurred to him they might be beginners at this. His own perception of the situation was that this might be a poor place to build a nest. Everything was growing dark; he could hardly follow what was going on with the birds now.