Death Where the Bad Rocks Live (32 page)

“Now what the hell you want? To rub it in that one of your officers found the judge when the FBI couldn’t?”

Lumpy eased himself into his chair. “Sit for a moment. Please.”

Manny couldn’t recall the last time Lumpy had said
please
to him, and he sat out of curiosity.

Lumpy made a tiny tent with his stubby fingers, started to speak, then stopped.

I guess he stopped to think and forgot to start again.
“Spit it out and get it over with.”

“I’m concerned about Willie,” he said at last. “There’s something going on that I can’t fix.”

“How the hell do you think he feels? How would you feel if the rookie you’re training is slated to replace you at the first excuse?”

“He needs to push his envelope, which he didn’t do on that last homicide case.”

“Why, just because we didn’t solve it? It’s not like Willie didn’t put his heart into the case. And it’s not like I didn’t try to bring him along.”

“For once get off your high horse and come down here were we mortals live. It’s not because he—and you, Hotshot—couldn’t find Jason Red Cloud’s murderer. Some crimes are unsolvable, even for the legendary Manny Tanno.”

“Then why are you on his ass? Why did you oppose his promotion to criminal investigator?”

“He’s too green.”

“We were all too green once. We all had to learn on the job. But Janet is even greener than he is, and you want to replace him with her.”

“Because she has the requisite degree.”

“That’s bull, Lumpy, and you know it.”

Lumpy’s face reddened and he leaned across the table. “I wanted to put pressure on Willie to perform. Wanted him to use his intellect. And all I get from him is coming in late, if he comes in at all. And when he does, he looks like he’s been on a weeklong bender down in White Clay.”

“Willie doesn’t drink.”

“He does now. He needs to get his head out of his ass.”

“I bet you told him that.”

Lumpy nodded. “Yesterday.”

“Well, why don’t you be a little more direct? Tell Willie he’s shit for an officer. I’m sure that will improve his performance.”

“I think someone else could use more direct criticism.”

“Meaning?”

“One Hotshot Agent Man needs to be told maybe he’s not the star attraction in the investigative world anymore. Maybe he was exiled here to the Rapid City Field Office because he’s lost his edge. Lost his ability to put things together.”

“And that’s bull, too.”

“Is it? The one case you failed to solve—perhaps your biggest one—and suddenly you’re a common man.” Lumpy laughed, but it was a forced laugh and he settled back in his chair. “Just accept that happens to everyone. Even the Manny Tannos of the world.”

“All right, we’ve analyzed my deep emotional problems with the Red Cloud case, now let’s get down to what you brought me in here for.”

Lumpy frowned. “Willie needs help, and I’m fishing for advice. What would the FBI do if an agent exhibited the problems Willie has?”

Manny stood and reached for the coffeepot, pouring each one a cup before sitting. The coffee was stale and bitter, but not as stale and bitter as this conversation with Manny’s childhood nemesis had grown. “EAP.”

Lumpy chuckled. “Employee Assistance Program? What do you think we have here, bottomless coffers? We don’t have the funds the federal government has.”

“Find the funds. Somewhere. Because if you don’t, you’ll lose a good officer to depression.”

Lumpy took a sip of his coffee, wrinkled his nose, and
tossed the rest into the wastebasket beside the table. “Think that’s what it is?”

Manny nodded. “Oh, he’s depressed all right. How would you feel if the woman who raised you goes to bed every night wondering if some other loony’s going to slit her throat. And you may be right—he may have gone to the bottle to forget.”

Lumpy dropped his eyes. “Understood. Go on.”

“Elizabeth was his family, and now that family resides in Ordway section in Yankton with other members of the criminally insane of this state. And he’s not handling it well.”

“Tell me about it. Janet says even his girlfriend makes life miserable for him.”

“Could be it’s because your niece is pushing
her
envelope? Purposely getting between Willie and Doreen Big Eagle.”

Lumpy’s fists clenched, then he relaxed. “I’ll talk to Janet about that.”

“And talk to your finance officer. The tribe has to find the money to help one of their officers soon, or he won’t be an officer. He’ll just be another drunk staggering on the road to White Clay every morning to drink his breakfast.”

Ham dropped the legs of his chair onto the porch and set his book on the pine log table in front of him just as Sonja Myers emerged from Sophie’s house with a glass of tea. “Would you like a glass?” She rimmed the glass with her tongue and smiled demurely at Manny. He was transported back two months ago to a Rapid City bistro. He had sat close to Sonja, taking in her beauty, enjoying her womanly smells. He had disregarded the conniving reporter scamming for a feature piece in the front page of the
Journal
while telling himself she was attracted to him. His trust in her had accounted for another chunk of his ass being ripped away by his supervisor, Ben Niles, and had contributed to his transfer from the FBI Academy in Quantico to Rapid City.

“Tea does such wonders for the complexion.” She held up a pitcher.

“Just had coffee. Thanks.” Manny wanted to tell her his sore ribs prevented him from drinking anything right now, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He turned to Ham. “I would have called, but your mother doesn’t have a phone.”

Ham smiled and sipped. “Sometimes not having a phone is an advantage. Like now, when friends just drop in.”

Phony bastard’s rehearsing for the confirmation hearings.
“I understand you’ve been here since yesterday.”

“I have.”

“Anyone vouch for that?”

“Do I need vouching?”

“Micah Crowder was found murdered in the Badlands yesterday.”

“Micah Crowder.” Ham looked at his feet. He slapped his forehead. “Sure, that whacko cop that’s been writing those libelous letters about me.”

Manny nodded and retrieved his notebook from his jacket pocket, watching Ham as he flipped blank pages. “A KILI maintenance man saw your motorcycle chasing—or following—Crowder into the Stronghold yesterday afternoon.”

Ham walked to the edge of the porch. Stalling. “I’ve been here at Mother’s since yesterday morning.”

“All that does is get you closer to the murder scene than if you were in Spearfish.”

Ham turned, his jaw muscles tight. He flexed his hands, the muscles on his forearms dancing under his thin, silk shirt. “That’s not the first time you’ve accused me of murder.” He stepped closer to Manny. “I’m a prolaw guy, but this is getting old.” Even angry, Ham’s ice blue eyes projected warmth. Disarming. For a moment Manny forgot Ham was on his suspect list. And potentially dangerous.

“I can vouch for him.” Sonja moved behind Ham and wrapped her arm around his waist, bending and whispering into his ear. They both laughed and she winked at Manny. “We were both here yesterday. And all night.”

Ham drew Sonja closer and nestled his chin in the crook of her neck. “You don’t approve?”

“I’d think the last thing you’d want now is a rumor of impropriety.”

“How so?”

“She’s a reporter. One that will stop at nothing to get that big story that’ll be her ticket out of Smallville. How would it look if the reporter covering the murders had relations with one of the suspects?”

Ham tilted his back and laughed. Disarming. “And I thought you disapproved because of our age difference. You know a man is only as old as the woman he feels.”

“
That’s
none of my business.”

“Then relax, Agent Tanno. I got no reason to read conflict of interest in Sonja. She knows I won’t give her an exclusive until after the Senate hearings.”

“That’s right.” Sonja held the tea glass sweating moisture against the side of her head. “I got no interest in a story right now. My interest is in Hamilton.”

“And I can vouch they were here all night.” Sophie slammed the screen door. “And noisy.” It bounced against the side of the house and stayed open as if it didn’t want any more abuse. “Hamilton and his lady came here yesterday. He was gone just long enough to be by himself. Praying in the Oonagazhee.”

“Why would you go to the Stronghold?”

“If you’d have stuck around the reservation you’d know the importance,” Sophie said, stepping between Ham and Manny. “Rather than going off to the White man’s city.”

“Mother…”

“It’s the truth. He abandoned his own people to pursue the almighty—”

“Mother!”

Ham took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “It’s all right. Just let Agent Tanno do his job.”

She peeked around Ham and glared at Manny before turning
on her heels and stomping over to her chair. She set the bowl of quills in her lap and began softening them for her hoop project.

Ham turned back to Manny and lowered his voice. “The Old Ones are still set in their ways.”

“So I see.”

“But to answer your question, I went to the Sheltering Place to prepare myself, make myself right with
Wakan Tanka
. I have the hearings in a few days and I’m just a little overwhelmed by the nomination.”

“Did you ride your bike there?”

“He took my car,” Sonja answered, pointing to her silver BMW, shiny and bright and appearing as if it hadn’t stepped a tire into the Badlands. “I picked the judge up at his Spearfish cabin.”

“Out of the goodness of your big heart?”

Sonja scowled. “You know better than that. I wanted to talk with the judge, and he needed a ride here.”

Manny looked over Ham’s shoulder at Sonja. Except for having a recorder handy where she could tape their conversation, she looked the part of a predator reporter salivating to land the next big scoop. Manny motioned Ham off the porch and away from Sonja. “I saw your Suburban got damaged.”

“Joe. Got tuned up in Spearfish again and had a fender bender.”

“Where?”

“Don’t know.”

“Did he report it?”

Ham shrugged. “Doubt it, knowing him.”

“You in the habit of covering for him?”

Ham’s eyebrows came together in a stiff glare that Manny had not seen before. After a moment he relaxed and the smile reappeared. “Look, all I know is Joe was doing a brake job on
my Suburban. When he brought it back, he was a little tipsy and the ’Burb was damaged. Tire shredded where the fender had caved in. He wanted to take my bike so I let him.”

“Even though he was drunk?”

“Joe is a better rider drunk than most people are sober. He needed to tune it up anyway. We planned a run to Devils Tower, swinging by Bear Butte to pray before I went to Washington for the hearings.”

“Where is Joe now?”

Ham shrugged. “Let’s see.” He flipped his cell phone out and pocketed it again. “Damned rez. No service. But he’s probably at his shop. Like I said, he needed to do a tune-up and adjust the valves on the Indian before we took our road trip.”

“And you never saw Micah Crowder in the last couple days?”

Ham’s response was slow, measured, as if he were convincing a jury. “I haven’t set eyes on Micah Crowder since he was a Spearfish cop in my college days. I’ve heard from him—in the form of those cockamamie letters he writes about me—but I haven’t seen him since I graduated college.”

“Why do you think Joe Dozi would be in the Badlands, riding your collector bike on those terrible trails?”

Ham shrugged. “Testing it.”

“Don’t you think he’d test it closer to his shop?”

“How should I know?”

Sophie got up from her chair when Ham raised his voice. He gestured to her that he was all right and she sat back down. Sophie looked after her son, even now that that he was grown, like she’d always done. A traditional Oglala mother.

Ham sipped the rest of his tea and tossed the ice cubes into the dirt in front of the porch. “Joe must have had a reason to take it in the backcountry.”

“You don’t sound too concerned. If it were me, I’d be mad
as the dickens that someone rode my collector bike into the Badlands.”

“If Joe bangs it up, he’ll fix it. Believe me, the Indian’s in good hands.”

“And so are you.” Sonja walked up behind Ham and draped her arm over his shoulder and kissed his neck. She smiled at Manny. “The judge needs to prep for his hearing.”

Ham nodded. “She right. Sonja’s giving me a different perspective, a different line of questioning to prepare for. Now if you’ll excuse us.” Ham turned back to Sophie’s porch. “Let me know when you find Joe, Agent Tanno.”

Manny nodded. “Even if we find him in that sacred place?”