Lori Armstrong - Merciless

“But I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. You’re riding with me. And if you pull any bullshit moves, I’ll shoot you. Understand?”

“Yeah. You’re kinda violent and trigger-happy for a fed.”

“That’s why they hired me.”

No issues getting Junior to the cop shop. Officer Ferguson was on duty, and she snagged an interview room.

For all his blustering about not wanting to talk to the cops, Junior spilled his guts pretty good. Nothing he’d said was new information to me, but I was relieved to have it on record. As the interview wound down, one thing occurred to me. “I know your uncle Leo and Rollie both practice Native American herbal medicine. It seems to be a family thing. Have you ever shown an interest in it?”

“You mean has Rollie ever taken me out to gather plants, twigs, berries, flowers, and shit? No. That old-way stuff don’t interest me. That’s where me and Arlette were alike. We liked reading about it, not doin’ it.”

“How’s that?”

“Her aunt did all that natural herb stuff, too. Made her own home remedies. Every Indian has a different recipe, and they still claim theirs is traditional. It’s a buncha crap. But some folks, white folks especially, will pay big money for it.”

Fergie and I exchanged a look.

“Thanks for coming in, Junior.” I held open the conference room door. “You’re free to go.”

He snorted. “Like I had a choice. How am I getting home? You brought me here.”

“I could get a patrol car to drop you at your place,” Officer Ferguson said sweetly.

“I’d rather walk.”

After I shut the door, I noticed Fergie’s perplexed look. “Does everyone else at the tribal PD think Rollie is guilty?”

“To be honest, we haven’t discussed it. Not like you feebies do. Diagramming the problem from every conceivable angle. Keeping your findings to yourself. But I’ll admit all agencies missed the herbal angle with Triscell Elk Thunder.”

I let her opinion of feebies slide. “True. I believe I’ll have a follow-up chat with her. You busy right now?”

Fergie raised her pale red eyebrows. “You plan to just show up at the tribal president’s house?”

“Yes. Why? Do they discourage drop-by visitors?

“Do ya think?”

“But it would be for official business. Not like I’m expecting them to serve me a cocktail and appetizers or anything.”

“As an FBI agent, you can get away with dropping by-even with the no-contact order. Me? No way. The tribal president can put pressure on the council to put pressure on the tribal police to ax me. So I’ll give you the address, but I’ll be right here, safe in the office, by my computer, typing up this interview for the case file.”

I grinned. “Sounds good. Will you fax a copy to the FBI?”

“Sure.”

Before I headed out, I remembered one other thing I’d forgotten to ask Junior, so I posed the question to Fergie. “This is off the record. But if a person needed money because he had, say, a gambling problem, who’s in the moneylending business on the rez? Besides Saro. I know Rollie dabbles in it. But there’s got to be more than those two.”

Officer Ferguson fidgeted.

“This is not for an FBI case. I’m not looking to borrow money. I’m just asking; hypothetically, if I needed extra cash, who I could ask?”

She opened her mouth. Snapped it shut.

That gut feeling told me I wouldn’t like her answer. If she answered.

Officer Ferguson looked around guiltily, and then leaned forward. “You did not hear this from me. Promise you’ll keep me out of it?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re already going to the right place.”

I frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“Latimer Elk Thunder owns the gas station. But do you think that’s where he got all his money? No. He’s got a loan business on the side.”

“No kidding.” I wondered if the feds were aware and forgot to mention that small factoid to us. Or maybe they assumed because I was an enrolled member of the tribe I already knew about tribal shit like this. Dammit. I’d really hate it if I was the only agent in the dark. “How long has this been going on?”

“My understanding is he took over the gas station from his father-in-law about five years ago, after the man had a fatal heart attack. That’s when he expanded the moneylending portion of the business. Part of the appeal for borrowers is he doesn’t demand cash as repayment. He’ll take anything of value, which is why people go to him. And if repayment isn’t made fast enough, he’ll expect those who owe him to perform a task.”

Sounded very much like Rollie and the favors he bargained for. “What kind of task?”

“I’m not sure. But one guy I picked up for public intoxication a few months back begged me to arrest him. He wanted a place to sleep, even in jail, where no one could harass him.”

“After Elk Thunder got elected, was law enforcement worried that he’d overstep his bounds and ask the tribal cops to turn a blind eye to his activities?”

“Yes. No one in this office was happy he won the election. Our old tribal police chief, Darwin Swallow, requested early retirement. Then he moved to Arizona.”

“How did Elk Thunder win?”

“Members of the tribe want to believe things would get better. There would be new jobs. There would be new houses. Better health care. Better opportunities for young people. Elk Thunder played on that, without promising it. He’s pretty charismatic.” She shrugged. “He didn’t win by much, but it was enough.”

“Any other high-profile tribal members resign a position after Elk Thunder took office?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“I appreciate your candor, Fergie.” I slipped on my coat.

“Will any agents be around tomorrow?”

“Probably not here. But if somebody races in and confesses to the murders, give Agent Turnbull or me a call at the Rapid City FBI office.”

I recognized the street address Fergie gave me as being in a newer development on the outskirts of Eagle River. The Elk Thunder abode was one of the nicest houses: a brick ranch style, with a two-car garage and a circular driveway in front. A chain-link fence ran down both sides of the house, keeping critters and trespassers out of the backyard.

I parked in the circle and admired the landscape as I walked up to the front door. I rang the doorbell twice.

The door flew open, and Triscell warned, “I told you kids not to-Oh, Agent…”

“Gunderson,” I supplied.

“Obviously, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Elk Thunder, but I was on my way home, after an interview regarding Arlette’s case, and I realized I hadn’t done a follow-up interview with you.”

“Do you have any leads on who killed Arlette?”

“Not yet. Your husband asked the same question.” I inched closer to the door, wanting a peek at the presidential palace. “Is he home?”

“Yes, but he’s on the phone. Tribal council business. It can take hours.”

So much for my testing the water and hitting him up for a loan. “Ah.” I stared at her long enough that she realized she hadn’t invited me inside.

“Sorry, come in.”

I suspected I wouldn’t make it off the tiled foyer. But I could see the room beyond the fake marble arches. No colorful Indian artwork or decor anywhere in the living area. The entire room-from the couches to the end tables to the carpet to the walls-was white: hues ranging from pristine white, to off-white, to vanilla, to cream. I wondered what Rollie would say about that. “You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you. We’ve worked hard for it. No one knows how much energy it takes to own a business.”

I made appropriate affirmative noises.