Craig Johnson - As the crow flies

“I’ll take one of those Mexican salads. Watching my heart.”

Loraine smiled and disappeared into the kitchen, and I stared at him. “You were the previous tribal chief of police?”

“I was, in the sixties and seventies, then was appointed interim for a short period up until a few months ago.”

I nodded. “You were pretty good buddies with my old boss Lucian?”

“I was. How is he doing?”

“Busy as a one-legged man at an ass-kicking convention.”

He extended his hand in a more formal manner this time, and I shook it. “I’ve known about you for years, Sheriff. You made a big impression on my people with your efforts in the Little Bird case.”

“Thank you.” I thought about it. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Eddie Bailor the chief up here for the last eighteen years?”

“He was, and then I was the interim chief for a few months until they could find a suitable replacement.” He reached down and ruffled Dog’s hair. “I guess the previous Elder Chief decided I was too old to have the job on a permanent basis again.”

“That would be the Elder Chief who gave Lolo Long the job?”

“Yes.”

“The one who was indicted along with Bailor?”

He nodded with a sad smile. “Yes.”

“How come you didn’t stick on as a patrolman?”

“They had a full compliment of officers, and there were no openings.”

Loraine brought us out a brace of iced teas; I thanked her and thumbed the straw into my mouth. “Well, that’s certainly not the case now.”

He continued to smile, but this time it took on a mischievous, foxlike look. “I heard she fired the entire department.”

“She did.”

He shrugged and smiled, shaking his head. “Probably for the best; they were a bunch of lazy bastards.”

“You should go back.”

He sipped his own tea. “To what?”

I pointed to my shirt, especially the name tag. “The job.”

He studied me. “You join up?”

“Nope, I’m just on loan on a temporary basis.” I watched him and could see the thought traveling around there bumping against the ceilings of his mind like a benevolent honeybee.

“No, I’m too old to be wrestling drunks and getting hit in the back of the head with wine bottles on domestic disturbances. Anyway, I got shot a while back; they patched me up, but… I think I lost my enthusiasm.”

“She needs help.”

A stillness overtook him, the stillness that only Natives can do-like a breeze of cedar smoke, it blows through their bodies and becomes a nontangible thing, almost as if they become completely invisible.

“She’s going to be a good cop, but after this week I’m going to be gone and she could use a little guidance.”

He broke the spell by speaking. “I don’t know if I would make a very good patrolman-I was chief for so long.” He glanced up at Loraine and then to me. “And I know it’s wrong, but I’ve never worked for a woman.”

Loraine stifled a laugh.

I squelched a little chuckle of my own. “Are you married, Albert?”

“Thirty-two years.”

“Then don’t worry about it.”

He smiled some more. “Nobody wants an old broken-down Indian cop.”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people aren’t exactly knocking down the doors over at the Law Enforcement Center.” I sipped my tea. “I’ll give you a recommendation, if you need it.”

He nodded some more. “She has a reputation.”

“Yes, she does, and I’m sure we do, too.”

He changed the direction, if not the subject. “How goes the investigation into the two deaths?”

I was reticent, but if he was willing to bring up the subject in front of Loraine, it was fine by me. “You already know about Clarence?”

“Moccasin telegraph.”

“The Feds laid a trump card onto us with a recording of a conversation where Clarence Last Bull tries to hire Artie Small Song to kill his wife and child, but there’s been some doubt cast on its validity.”

“By who?”

“Nate Small Song and Herbert His Good Horse.”

“They would know.”

There was a cry from the kitchen, and Loraine left for a moment and then reentered, balancing three plates with rolls of silverware in her hands. “Who gets the half-cooked mound of ground beef?”

I glanced down. “Oh, you lucky Dog.” I took the plate and watched as the brute froze. “You take off my hand, and I’m never bringing you gambling again.” Sensing my tone of voice, he promptly sat. I lowered the plate as if I were submerging my hand into crocodile-infested waters; he waited and then dove in.

Albert and I began eating as Loraine disappeared into the kitchen only to come back with a pitcher of iced tea. I would’ve just as soon had the old police chief to myself to discuss the recent happenings, but I wasn’t going to send her away. I’d had my say in trying to enlist the man and changed the subject. “What did you do in the interim, Albert, between service?”

He chewed his salad. “Worked construction, was a jack-leg electrician, plumber, you name it. I built most of the offices over at the tribal headquarters.”

“It’s an impressive building.”

“State of the art, or was about ten years ago.” He sipped his tea. “Back in the economic heyday, after 9/11, we got all this extra Patriot Act money and put in an entire audio/visual security system.”

I thought about it. “Is it still in operation?”

He shook his head at his plate. “No. Most of the equipment wasn’t kept up, and the added expense of having somebody in the security crow’s nest just wasn’t feasible. Now they just have a desk in the middle of the hallway.”

“Barrett Long?”

Albert nodded. “He’s a good kid, but boy he gives that sister of his hell.”

I smiled. “He’s a pistol.”

Loraine’s voice joined in with the hush of gossip. “He’s also a rounder.” She looked embarrassed. “He’s a very handsome young man.”

“Gets around, huh?”

She shrugged. “He was after my daughter for a while, but I put a stop to that.”

I thought about Clarence but figured the best thing to do was let dead men lie.

“He was even flirting with Audrey Plain Feather when she and Clarence were having their problems.”

Albert glanced up at her but remained silent.

She noticed his look and was immediately apologetic. “I don’t mean anything. I mean, he’s there in the building and flirts with everything in a skirt.” She smiled in a nervous way. “He looks good in a black T-shirt.” She stood there for a moment more, then refilled our glasses. “I’d better go check on the kitchen.”

Albert watched her go, silently shook his head, and brought his eyes over to mine. “And you want me to get involved with all that again?”

I thought about how much of my six hours to break this case were gone and what I could do between now and dinner. “Maybe sooner than you suspect.” I sipped my tea and rested the glass back in the perfect circle of condensation on the counter and then picked up my burger. “You wouldn’t happen to have a set of old keys to Tribal Headquarters, would you, Albert?”

It wasn’t easy to break into the Northern Cheyenne Tribal Headquarters since the damn thing was completely surrounded by roads, parking lots, and dusk-to-dawn lights. We’d parked Rezdawg at the rear of the building with an unhappy Dog sitting on the bench seat; it was going to be difficult enough to go about breaking and entering without being accompanied by a prairie grizzly.

Albert Black Horse sorted through a ring of keys that looked like a holiday wreath. “It’s one of those square-head, do-not-duplicate ones; I always keep one of them.”

I stood with my back to him in order to provide a blind and keep a lookout. “Wise decision.” After a few moments, I asked. “Any luck?”