“How’s Duane doing?”
The desk jostled, and I was pretty sure she was now resting her boots on the edge. “Who the fuck knows? He’s back at the big house.”
“He knows he’s got a sentencing tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Vern says he’s going to do some time and maybe some community service. I guess the judge figures a dead grandfather is enough of a burden.”
Henry wanted a ruling on the paternity issue. “So, Duane is the father after all?”
“Nope.”
I listened as Henry’s chair squealed. “No?”
“She’s not pregnant.”
I raised my head to join the conversation. “She’s not?”
“Betty Dobbs was a little disappointed; I think the old broad was planning on adopting the little bugger.” She sighed. “Ozzie ran the business into the ground, but Betty’s got her own money and will be all right. I heard the whole development sold to investors.”
“How is Morris?”
“He’s recovered, and from what we’ve heard he’s taken his brother’s place and was out on the roof this morning.”
I thought about it some more and lowered my head; it felt like I had been staring at the surface of my desk for months, not just days. “And the marijuana?”
“Well, Gina and Polk were the long-term deal, but Gina saw a short-term scam in Ozzie. She had a lot to lose, but she had a lot to gain pitting both against each other. As for Geo, I guess he was getting a little too close for comfort on the ganja deal, and she figured she needed him out of the way. She must’ve seen him heading back with Betty and thought it was an opportunity to get him after he dropped her off. When she overheard the argument between Geo and Ozzie and saw the fight, it must’ve seemed fuckin’ perfect.”
Henry interrupted. “So, Ozzie called Polk at the Chicken Shack and then Polk called Gina to tell her to get rid of Ozzie?”
“Yeah, if Gina hadn’t gotten greedy they might’ve pulled it off.”
The intercom on my phone buzzed, and I hit the button. “Yep?”
Ruby’s voice sounded tinny in the plastic-ribbed speaker. “Mike Thomas just called the Fire Department and said there’s a chimney fire out on TK Road. They want to know if we want to send someone along.”
Vic was the first to answer. “Why would we want to do that?”
“It’s the Stewart place.”
My head came up, and the three of us stared at each other as Vic smiled. “Must have been the kerosene. Fuck it, let it burn.” There was a pause as she stood. “I have to go take a prisoner to Casper.” She didn’t move and continued to glare at me. “By the way, I let Dog out at the junkyard—I figured he could find you faster than I could. Oh, and when I have my housewarming party? He’s invited but you’re not.” With that final salvo, she turned and left.
I allowed my head to stay up so that I could watch her shapely derriere with one eye as she departed my office. There was another welcomed half-sight there in the doorway.
I hadn’t heard from him in almost a week, but Ruby said he’d been in a couple of times to check on me. Neither of us said anything for a moment, and I was pretty sure he was looking at my damaged eye.
“How are you feeling, troop?” The Basquo looked more rested, and I was glad to see a little bit of that wayward spark in his eyes again. There wasn’t much of it, but enough to give me hope. “Sorry, but I’ve got to keep my head down.” I spoke into the surface of my desk again. “That was some pretty fine detective work, figuring out that Polk was Poulson.”
I listened to the chair creak as he sat in the spot Vic had vacated. “You seem kinda shorthanded.”
“We are.”
“Um . . . I was wondering if I could have my star back?”
I smiled; it wasn’t like anybody was going to see it. “Yep, and you can have your gun back too, as soon as Joe Meyer finishes the investigation in Cheyenne.” In all actuality, the state AG had already told me he figured Saizarbitoria’s case was a walk-through and that I could reinstate him anytime I wanted. “How’s the family?”
“Good.” I listened as he took a deep breath. “We’re good. Antonio’s sleeping more, so we’re actually getting some rest.”
He said his son’s name this time, and I continued to grin at the surface of my desk. I reached into one of my drawers, which made Dog move just a little, and thumped the Beretta, still in the duty holster with the Basquo’s star attached, onto my desk alongside the back of my head. “Here.” I raised said head and glanced at him. “Please go make sure the Stewart place doesn’t burn down.”
He laughed, picked up his goods, and departed.
I began lowering my head back onto the pillow, but the little red light on my phone began buzzing and blinking again. I punched the button, my blind hand educated by practice. “Yep?”
Ruby’s voice rang through the tiny speaker. “I’ve got Comox, Vancouver Island, on line one.”
“Got it.”
I started to punch the button, but she continued speaking. “Also, I thought I should point out that Felix Polk’s thumb is still in the commissary refrigerator.”
“Do me a favor and ship it up to Billings with the rest of him.”
“Also? John Muecke wants to know why you had him transfer funds to buy a house over on Kisling just so you could sell it through the bank.”
I thought about my Valentine’s gift that hadn’t come with any card.
“Tell him to mind his own business.” I raised my head a little and looked at Henry. “What?”
He smiled. “Nothing.”
I punched line one and the speakerphone button. “Mr. Cook?”
The connection wasn’t great. “Kingfisher Lodge.”
“Is this Pat Cook?”
“Speaking.”
He sounded old. “Mr. Cook, this is Sheriff Walt Longmire, and I’ve been trying to track you for a few days.”
The line was quiet for a moment. “Concerning?”
“Well, I’m the sheriff of Absaroka here in Wyoming.” It was silent as I studied the phone and pulled the base in closer. “Mr. Cook, were you a deputy with our sheriff ’s department in 1970 when Lucian Connally was sheriff ?” He didn’t say anything, but I could hear him breathing on the other end. “I know that it wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience for you.”
“What is this about?”
“Pat, do you remember a man by the name of Fred Poulson?”
Another pause, but his voice became stronger. “It’d be a hard name for me to forget.”
“I’d imagine so.” I rested my forehead in the palm of my hand and ignored the pain in my eye socket. My other hand drifted down and petted Dog—I was careful to avoid the taped-up ear. “I just thought I would give you a call that might help you to sleep a little better at night. . . .”
I glanced at the Cheyenne Nation with my one eye, and things didn’t look half-bad.