Lori Armstrong - Merciless

“So are you here because that other girl was found dead?” she asked. “And are the cases connected?”

“That’s what we’re working on.” I blathered about some random, pointless procedural stuff until I sensed her impatience. Then I pulled a Columbo, smiling before I apologized for rambling. “Oh, one more thing before I let you get back to what you were doing. I understand you’re an herbalist, using traditional Native American herbs?”

“I dabble. Why?”

“I have friends who dabble, too. It seems there’d be a lot of different things to store and to remember. What ingredients can be mixed together, and what cannot be mixed together. Do you have a special area where you work?”

She leaned against the wall, more at ease. “No, I work in the kitchen. There’s really not that much to mix, since I make small batches for my own use.”

“Small batches of what?”

“Facial products. Natural ointments for sore muscles.”

I nodded. “I love arnica gel. Did Arlette ever use any of your natural products?”

“No.”

“Nothing? That’s unfortunate. I hope your husband takes advantage of your herbal expertise.”

She smiled. “Oh, he does. He knows just as much about herbs and cures as I do.”

Bingo. “Do you concoct herbal teas? I know Sophie was always trying to get me to drink her rose hip and marshmallow root tea.” Such a liar, Mercy.

Triscell’s smile faded. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

I’d hit a nerve. But for teas? “It’s probably not. Well, except for the fact Arlette had poison in her body. Digitalis? Ever heard of it? Nasty stuff.”

“Are you accusing me of poisoning my niece? Because if that’s your assumption, I can assure you that your commander at the FBI will get-”

“No, ma’am, I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just asking. This information didn’t come up until after you’d been in the tribal PD, and we’ve not had a chance to speak to you or your husband about it, since he slapped us with a no-contact order where you’re concerned.”

Her eyes turned frosty. “Latimer did that? Well, I certainly had no knowledge of it. And I wouldn’t have agreed with his decision. Death is too common around here, and you can ignore it until it happens to your family.” She straightened her spine. “So ask your questions, because I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Maybe she didn’t, but I’d bet her husband did. “Since our findings indicated the poison was in something Arlette ingested, we want to cover all avenues. Especially with teens putting crazy stuff in hookahs and smoking it. Or mixing up more potent energy drinks.” I paused. “Arlette didn’t show an interest in learning traditional natural herbal remedies from you? Or would that be something she’d try on her own? And maybe she’d accidentally screwed it up by using the wrong herb?”

“I don’t keep foxglove on hand just for that reason.”

“Oh, smart.”

“Not that it matters. If food didn’t come prepackaged, or wasn’t full of fat, salt, and sugar, she wouldn’t eat it. Arlette had an aversion to anything natural.”

I wondered if this woman had made her niece feel fat, or like a freak. In that moment I had a pang of sorrow for Arlette and Verline. I took two steps back. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Elk Thunder. If you have any questions how the case is progressing, don’t hesitate to contact Carsten McGillis, your FBI victim specialist.”

• • •

Agent Turnbull wasn’t in the office the next day, so I couldn’t share my interesting findings about Latimer’s business practices and Triscell Elk Thunder’s herbalist skills. And because I’d already been reamed for not sharing information in a timely manner, I tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up. I learned from Frances that he was stuck in court.

The following day, I’d had several cases to follow up on that weren’t related to the murder cases in Eagle River. One involving a wiretap of an alleged member of a biker gang and his threats against a judge. Another involving the placement of a witness in protective custody with the U.S. Marshals Service in preparation for testimony in a federal case.

By the time I caught up with Turnbull in the conference room right before lunch, I wished I’d steered clear of him. Talk about manic highs and lows. I found myself biting my tongue so as not to ask if he’d taken his bipolar meds.

When I tried to relay what I’d pieced together, Shay waved me off. “None of that matters now.”

“None of the work I did on these cases for the last two days matters? Really? Even if it changes the course of the investigation?”

His eyes narrowed. “Did you get a confession from someone?”

“No, but-”

“Then like I said, your busywork doesn’t matter.”

Busywork? Man, he was a total asshole today. “So?”

“ So, is Rollie Rondeaux on your suspect list?”

“No, but that’s-”

“The problem. Rollie is your friend, and he played you, Mercy. Don’t you see that?”

Shay’s arrogance kicked my belligerence into high gear. “By telling me about the string of suspicious deaths that’d gone unnoticed by the tribal police? That’s playing me? Because I consider the initial information Rollie provided crucial to this case. No one in the tribal PD or the FBI connected the dots-”

“Until he told you to look for the connection,” Shay snapped. “He told you there’d be more deaths. And doesn’t that strike you as odd, Agent Gunderson? That Mr. Rondeaux, a man who’s made no bones about his hatred for law enforcement on any level, was suddenly helping us? Then the next victim just happens to be his domestic partner? Coincidental and convenient, don’t you think?”

Turnbull’s implication was wrong. I’d witnessed the look on Rollie’s face after he’d seen what’d been done to Verline. He’d masked it quickly, but that type of horrified anguish couldn’t have been faked.

I dropped my hands behind my back so Shay couldn’t see me clenching my fists. “So you still believe Rollie killed Arlette to throw everyone off, just so he could get rid of Verline? Bullshit.”

“Do you have any proof besides your gut instinct, Agent Gunderson?”

“I’m not discounting the tribal president as a suspect. Too many tribal members don’t like him, which makes me wonder if the election was rigged because the margin was so close. I can’t fit it all together yet, but he’s too slick. He didn’t miss a beat after Arlette was found dead, and he was far too eager to pin his niece’s murder on Rollie Rondeaux before Verline’s body had even cooled.”

“So the tribal president… what? Offed his niece because she was a nuisance? Then he aced his political rival’s lover to throw suspicion onto Rollie for both murders? Huh-uh. Not buying it.”

“What about the fact Verline’s body was found at the dump? Is it coincidence that Bigs Bigelow owns that land? And he supported Latimer Elk Thunder’s opponent for tribal president? This is the second body with that common thread. You’re saying it’s just a coincidence?”

“Maybe it’s too coincidental.” Shay studied me. “How much do you know about Rollie’s background in the marines during Vietnam?”

“Enough to know that he did what he had to do to survive war. He did what he was ordered to do, no different than the rest of us who took orders from Uncle Sam. Besides, how do you know anything about his background? Military service records are sealed.” I’d always suspected Shay had accessed mine, and when I saw the brief gleam in his eye, I knew that checking up on Rollie wasn’t the first time he’d crossed the line.