I glanced at the Cheyenne Nation as if I didn’t know. “At Chez Bear?”
Cady retrieved her sunglasses. “Actually at the Charging Horse Casino if we don’t get going. Could you make us a reservation, just in case, Dad?” She glanced at the clock in the T-Bird’s dash. “You have six hours to catch a killer.”
Lena Moretti was looking at me again. “No pressure.”
Cady kissed my grizzled face and lowered herself back down, put on her shirt, and stretched the seat belt across her lap.
Part of me wanted to go, but I knew I’d be more help to Chief Long. “I don’t have a vehicle.”
The Cheyenne Nation pushed off the fender of the Thunderbird and turned to stand over the passenger-side door, his gaze tracking first to Lena Moretti and then to his truck parked behind the car. “I’ll leave you Rezdawg.”
He fished the keys from his pocket and tossed them to me, assorted fetishes, feathers, and all.
I couldn’t believe he actually bothered to take the keys out of the thing.
I studied the fob in my hand and then looked at the rusting hulk. The bunch of them wheeled out of the parking lot, made a right, and headed for the big city.
“Like I said, I don’t have a vehicle.”
When I walked back into the Tribal Police office, Lolo Long was on her way out. “What are you doing here?”
I shrugged. “Abandoned.”
“Good, you can come to KRZZ with me; Nate called and said that he’s got more for us.”
“What about Charles, Artie, Kelly Joe, and the impending euthanasia?”
“Mom brought over lunch, and she’ll stay till we get back.” She pulled a slip of paper from her shirt pocket and handed it to me.
“What’s this?”
“The list of people on the medications that were on the old bracelet you found. The database only goes back about twelve months, but she said she would check and see who might have had anything critical before that that would have led to that amount of medication.” She gestured toward the waiting GMC. “To the radio station?”
I raised a fist. “Stay calm, have courage, and wait for signs.”
With the chief driving, we were there in three minutes. The same vehicles were parked, with the addition of Herbert’s Cherokee. “I guess the morning drive guy finally showed up for the afternoon shift.”
Lolo led the way in, and the Sudoku gamer pointed toward the production studios beyond. Bill Miller’s Ghost Dance hovered in the speakers, and I could see Herbert His Good Horse wearing his signature mottled-gray top hat with the leather studded band stuck with the large eagle feather. He was in the on-air studio and turned and waved at us, pointing past the offices to an area where we hadn’t been before.
We turned the corner-Nate was sitting in a stripped-down studio about the size of a walk-in closet, his head resting in his hands as he listened intently, a pair of hi-tech headphones over his ears. Chief Long stepped up behind him and casually placed her hands on his shoulders, causing the young man to leap up and turn around.
Lolo raised her arms, and we watched as he slipped the headphones off. “Jeez, you guys scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry.” She smiled. “What’s up?”
He stepped past us and started around the corner. “Hold on, let me get Herbert.”
We stood there looking at the rock-and-roll posters of artists I certainly didn’t know, and after a moment Nate reappeared with Herbert in tow. Nate pushed past us, and Herbert stuffed the rest of the room with himself before closing the door on the clown-car studio.
Nate cleared his throat. “This is pretty important.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked worried.
Herbert gestured toward the young man. “Tell ’em.”
“This tape…” Nate paused. “It’s produced.”
I shot a glance at Lolo, but she looked as confused as me. “What do you mean produced?”
His eyes flitted around in a nervous way. “The Feds made this recording. These two guys aren’t even talking to each other.”
Chief Long leaned into him. “What?”
“I was listening to the amplified tape, and I kept hearing these little bumps-you know, sounds between the people speaking. It’s really well done, but it’s dubbed.” He gestured toward the equipment behind him. “This conversation’s been patched together-the Feds made this up, man.”
He half-turned and hit a few keys on the computer-and Artie Small Song’s and Clarence Last Bull’s voices exploded through the speakers. He immediately turned the volume down. “I edited it so that you can listen to the transition points between them talking.”
I listened carefully to the amplified version-and he was right.
Lolo Long’s eyes were wide as she turned to me. “I can hear it.”
“Yep, so can I.”
Nate punched some more keys, and the music in the background leapt forward. “There’s something else.”
I listened for a moment. “ Ira Hayes, I know. We checked the jukebox up at Jimtown, and it’s not there.”
Nate shook his head. “No, not that. Listen.”
We all did, but it was Lolo who asked. “What are we listening for?”
“The lyrics.”
The chief and I looked at each other and then at Nate. He gave us an exasperated look. “They’re repeated.”
We listened to the portion about the flag and throwing a dog a bone and then listened to it again.
Lolo laughed. “It’s the chorus.”
Nate frowned. “No, it’s not, and even if it was it wouldn’t be repeated that soon. Somebody dubbed the music in so that it would drown out the edits, but they didn’t realize they were repeating those lyrics.”
I glanced at Herbert, who had had a lifetime of experience in the field. “What do you think?”
He nodded his head and looked sad. “The kid came and got me, and I listened to it a bunch of times. He’s right; somebody put this recording together.”
“Why would they do that?”
Nate was almost vibrating with energy. “It’s the federal government, man-this is the kind of shit they do.”
As one of the two people in the room with a badge, I didn’t really want to be that voice of reason, but it seemed like somebody should say it. “Nate, that’s kind of crazy.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if Cliff Cly thought there was anything fishy about this tape…” I paused for a moment, thinking about the AIC’s flexible attitude concerning any kind of rule, which had resulted in his being here on the Rez in the first place.
Lolo studied me. “What?”
I took a deep breath and tried to flush the wacky idea from my system. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would the FBI be after Artie?”
“They’ve been after my brother for years, man. He’s a warrior, and they’ve been trying to keep him down.” He pulled the CD from the player. “We should go to the newspapers and get them to expose this.”
I reached out and took the CD. “No, we’re going to go play this for Cliff Cly and see what he has to say.”
Nate pegged the needles. “Are you crazy? Those are the guys that did this, man!”
“Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, if Cliff had anything to do with it, us confronting him will pretty much stop this stuff in its tracks. If he doesn’t know about it, then maybe he can help us figure out who did it.”
“They’ll burn the radio station down, right Herb?”
Herbert shrugged. “They could-I mean stuff like that happens all the time.”
I looked to Lolo for a little support, unsure of what I was going to do if she joined in with the conspiracy theory. “Chief Long?”
She looked at both Nate and Herbert. “You guys watch a lot of Fox News, don’t you?”
Nate waved her remark away. “I’m serious; the black helicopters are going to come along and sweep you guys away, and Herb and I are going to be sitting up here at ground zero.” If he’d had room he would’ve paced. “Audrey knew something so they killed her; then they killed Clarence to shut him up, and now they wanna pin it all on Artie.”