“It was a sensitive arrangement,” Watchman said. “He probably didn’t want it to show on the firm’s books. He could have done it privately with any bank.”
“I know that. But at least you’d think he’d show receipts for his fees. Unless he never charged a fee. And that ain’t like him, he never does anything without charging for it. Hell even the paper clips come off the clients.”
“All right,” Watchman said. “Then what do you make of it?”
“I don’t know. It just doesn’t make any sense at all. This whole case is screwy as hell if you ask me.”
“Did you tell Kendrick about the files in the dead drawer?”
“No. You want me to tell him I’ve been burglarizing his office?” Victorio drew an audible breath. “What you figure to do now, Navajo?”
“Think a little, first. Put Buck Stevens on again, will you?”
In a moment Stevens took the phone and Watchman said, “I’m coming down there, Buck. Stay where you are.”
“What’s up?”
“Maybe we got ourselves a killer. Meet you at the trading post.”
When he hung up Charles Rand was staring at him through the specks of dust that twirled in the shafts of light slanting in through the window.
“What killer?”
“I don’t like to talk about guesses.” The new thought had grenaded into his mind while Victorio was speaking but he wanted to reason it out and see if it worked in all the right places.
“You came in here convinced I’d killed Ross Calisher. What changed your mind?”
“Did I say I’d changed my mind?”
“Come off it, Trooper, you know I’m not guilty.”
“You’re guilty of stupidity, Mr. Rand, and from that there’s no appeal. Now if I were you I’d get over to the bunkhouse and put a crowd around you for a while. Joe Threepersons is probably coming this way. It’ll take him a while to get here and he’ll take his time working up to the house but he’ll be here—tonight, tomorrow maybe. He was gunning for Harlan Natagee first but somebody’ll tell him Harlan’s out of the state and it’s a good bet Joe will figure you for a first-rate substitute on his target list. He still thinks you hired Harlan to do the dirty work.”
Watchman walked toward the door but he stopped with his hand on the latch. “Joe can’t use the open roads getting here. It’ll take him a while. I’ve got business in Whiteriver but I’ll try to get back here before sundown. You keep your head down, hear?”
“Wait a minute. You said you’d got the killer.” Rand came around the desk. “I’m going down there with you.”
Watchman didn’t like it but it would be safer all around. “All right.”
“We’ll take my car.”
That was all right too. Watchman didn’t trust the Volvo more than ten miles at a time any more.
He got into the high leather seat of the Bentley and put his head back, thinking.
4.
It worked in his head. Joe was gunning for Rand and that was what had confused the issue—that and the vagaries of circumstantial evidence. But nothing proved Joe was necessarily after the right man.
It could just as well mean that a third party had carefully arranged the evidence against Rand in order to convince Joe that Rand was responsible for the deaths of Maria and the boy. Now if Joe carried his vendetta to its obvious conclusion it would result in Rand’s death but that didn’t prove Rand was the right man.
If Rand died it would benefit a large number of people. It would be a feather in the cap of Harlan’s red-power movement, especially if an Indian’s finger was on the trigger. Rand’s elimination would ease the pressures on the tribe’s leaders, who needed successes in their war against Rand’s destruction of the Reservation’s lakes and pastures.
Rand’s death would make the job easier too for Kendrick and Tom Victorio because Rand might have successors but they would be corporate and few dictatorships outlasted the lifetimes of their founding dynasties. As far as Watchman knew, Rand had no children to carry on the leadership of his feudal empire. The corporate heirs in their eastern boardrooms would never marshal the same single-minded fervor that Rand could summon when he went into a fight. They would lose interest, they would consider the public face they had to maintain, they would give way before liberal pressures from both the tribe and the Establishment.
It meant there could be a dozen men with reasons to want Rand dead.
Joe Threepersons had been loaded, cocked and aimed at Charlie Rand. But Joe was somebody’s tool, and Watchman had too much invested in the case to leave it go at arresting Joe.
As far as that went he had his plan and he expected Joe would walk into it.
But it just wasn’t enough.
5.
Rand was a sure driver, he kept his big fists at a steady ten-minutes-to-two configuration on the wheel and the big Rolls chewed up miles in air-conditioned silence. Halfway to Whiteriver they spent ten minutes in a thunderstorm and batted through it with the wipers slapping the heavy rain aside.
Rand spoke very little and Watchman spent most of the ride with his eyes shut, working it out. In the middle of the afternoon the big car crunched down the highway past the filling station and pulled into the lot between the trading post and the council house. Rand switched off the ignition and pocketed the key. “Your move.”
Buck Stevens must have been inside the trading post. He came around the corner in uniform, giving a half-wave of lazy greeting. Watchman made the introductions and Stevens showed his admiration for Rand’s automobile.
“Where’s Victorio?”
“I guess he went back to his office.”
“Kendrick in there too?”
“I suppose so. That’s his car, isn’t it?”
Watchman glanced at the Corvette and nodded. He said, “Joe Threepersons has been used, Buck. The man who broke him out of prison wanted him to kill Rand for him.”
“You talking about Harlan Natagee?”
“No.”
“Then you’re not making too much sense.”
“I’ve got a theory. We’ll see how it works out. Just follow my lead and try to look wise.”
“Easier done than said.” Stevens grinned at him.
Charles Rand said, “Where do I fit in?”
“You keep your mouth shut until you’re asked to comment. Fair enough? Otherwise you can sit in your car and wait for all I care.”
“It’s your ball game. You call the rules.”
“Keep it in mind,” Watchman said and walked away across the parking lot with the two men at his heels.
He went right past the fat girl at the reception desk and strode the length of the corridor to the law offices. Pushed the door open and went straight through to Dwight Kendrick’s office.
Kendrick looked up from his desk with raised eyebrows.
Watchman waited for Stevens and Rand to come into the room behind him. Then he said to Kendrick, “You’re under arrest.”
Kendrick’s face remained fixed in its expression. “On what charge?”
“First-degree murder. Four counts.”
6.
Kendrick leaned back in his chair. “Haw. Haw.”
Rand’s eyes had gone hooded, concealing his emotions. “Four counts?”
The question revealed something but Watchman let it pass momentarily. He ticked them off on his fingers. “Ross Calisher. Maria Threepersons. Joe Threepersons Junior. Jimmy Oto.”
Kendrick said in a mild way, “Where’s your warrant, Trooper?”
“I’ll get one. In the meantime I’m in my rights holding onto you.”
“You’ll end up looking like a prize ass. You know that.”
“What, no indignant denials?”
“Would there be much point to that?” Kendrick laced his hands behind his head. “It doesn’t matter what I deny. I don’t know how you managed to jump to these ridiculous conclusions but if I were you I’d——”