Die a Stranger (12 page)

“What do you say we go knock on the door, just to make sure?”

“You cops don’t have any manners at all,” he said, but he got out and went right along with me. I knocked on the exterior front door first, then opened it and stepped onto the porch. A distant memory told me this wouldn’t technically be illegal entry, although I may have had that wrong. Not that it mattered anyway. There was a doorbell next to the interior door. When I pushed it, I heard the bell ringing somewhere deep in the house. Then there was nothing but silence. As I left, I looked around the porch and saw a great mess of old furniture, broken-down antiques and toys and God knows what else.

I looked around the side of the house and spotted Lou out back by the garage. He was peeking through the window.

“There’s just junk in there,” he said as he rejoined me. “No car. You think he ran?”

“If he knows what happened at the airport, I guess I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“But he’d only run if he thought it would come back on him, right?”

I nodded, thinking it over.

“Either the cops connecting him to it,” Lou said, “or somebody else. Somebody a lot worse.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Seems like you’d have to have a pretty active imagination to think they’d be coming after you, just because you happened to be in the same supply chain.”

“Unless he was a little more involved in it.”

“Or maybe
we’re
the ones with the active imaginations,” I said. “He could just be out at one of the bars. They don’t close for a few more minutes.”

“We could wait,” Lou said, “unless you feel like talking to one of his neighbors.”

The porch light was on in the house to the left, but otherwise the place was dark. The house on the right had no exterior light on at all, but we could make out a flickering blue glow coming through the side window.

“Looks like somebody’s still up over here,” Lou said, “watching a little late-night TV. Think he’d mind a visit?”

I crossed the front lawn and driveway. I was just about to knock on the door when I saw that this house actually had a doorbell on the exterior. An amazing innovation. I pressed it and heard a two-tone chime going off inside the house. Lou was standing right next to me, and for a moment I wondered what we’d look like standing there at somebody’s door at almost two in the morning, my beaten-up ex-catcher ex-cop white face next to Lou’s sun-ravaged version of an old Indian. If it was a woman here in the house alone, say, then I could imagine her being scared right out of her socks.

A light came on outside, just about blinding us. The exterior door opened and the late-night television watcher looked out at us. It was a man, and then some. He had to go around two hundred and a half, a lot of it beer gut, but he also had hamhocks for arms, with faded tattoos on either side. He was wearing an almost-white undershirt and black pants that sagged under his belly.

“Who are you guys?” he said. He was unshaven and the hair he had left on his head was slicked back. “What the hell do you want?”

“We’re looking for your next-door neighbor,” I said. “Andy Dukes. Do you happen to know where he is?”

“He left,” the man said. “He drove to Texas a couple of days ago. I got no idea when he’ll be back. If ever.”

“Do you know of any way to get in touch with him?”

“I told you, he’s gone. I got no phone number. No address. No nothing.”

“I’m smelling a little something in the air,” Lou said. He took a step closer and tried to peek around him, into the house. “I take it you’re a loyal customer of Mr. Dukes?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” the man said. “I think you guys should leave.”

“If you’re not a customer, then maybe you sell some yourself? What do you say?”

The man was flexing his forearms and looked about ready to jump on us both at the same time. But Lou stepped even closer to him.

“Come on, friend,” he said. “We’re just looking to take the edge off, okay?”

“I’m not your friend,” the man said, “and I still don’t know what you’re talking about. So why don’t you get the hell out of here?”

“Can we leave a phone number in case you hear from—”

“I told you, he’s gone and I don’t expect to have any contact with him.”

“Okay,” Lou said, nodding slowly. “Whatever you say. Sorry to disturb you, friend. Please have a nice night.”

The man took a step backward and closed the door in Lou’s face.

“Charming gentleman,” Lou said as we walked back to the truck. “It’s a shame we didn’t have more time to talk.”

“Why were you trying to buy off him?”

“I was testing him. I wanted to see if he’d sweat. Hell, maybe he
does
sell. Maybe his next-door neighbor is his partner.”

“Or maybe he just gets paid by the ounce,” I said, “for being so good about taking messages.”

“He’d make a great receptionist, wouldn’t he?”

When we were back in the truck, we sat there for a while longer, looking at the two houses. Lou leaned his head back against the seat. It was obvious he was running out of gas.

“You’ve had a pretty long day,” I said. “Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, we’ll figure out what to do next.”

He banged his fist against the dashboard, but he didn’t argue with me.

I pulled out onto the street. He looked at the two houses one more time as we drove by. He didn’t say a word as we drove through Sault Ste. Marie, the streetlights flickering across his face. He stared straight ahead and stayed silent as we left town and found that empty road back to Paradise, running across the hayfields and through the trees, then rounding the bay with the water stretching out into the darkness.

I took us back on the northern route, through the reservation.

“Let’s stop at the casino,” he said. “The one where Vinnie works at.”

“I’ve already been there. Nobody could help me.”

“Even so. I wouldn’t mind seeing where my son works. Get a feel for the place. Hell, maybe something new will occur to us.”

It sounded like another lap around a track I’d already been on. But I had no better ideas at the moment, so I slowed down as we came around the bend and pulled into the parking lot. The Bay Mills Casino was lit up and shining in the darkness. Not Vegas level, of course, but as bright as anything else you’ll ever see up here. The lot was mostly full at the end of a beautiful summer day. Plenty of visitors to the Upper Peninsula who find out there’s not a whole hell of a lot to do after dark aside from drinking. I parked and we went inside. Instead of going right into the gaming area, Lou wandered around the lobby for a minute, looking up at the giant moose head mounted over the fireplace, then going down the line of pictures in the hallway. There were portraits of the Bay Mills Executive Council going back a few years, and Lou studied each quintet carefully.

“I went to school with a couple of these guys,” he said, more to himself than to me. “Looks like they’re doing just fine.”

I sensed some movement to our left, turned and saw two old-timers watching us. I elbowed Lou, but as soon as he turned to see what I was looking at, the two old-timers did a quick 180 and disappeared.

“Old friends of yours?”

“I kinda doubt it. But whatever. What exactly does Vinnie do here?”

“He’s been a blackjack dealer here for years. He’ll move over to pit boss if they need him, but he still likes dealing. He’s probably the best they’ve got here.”

“Taking money from white tourists. That’s quite a gig.”

“Nobody’s making them play. Sometimes they even win.”

He looked at me. “Yeah, sometimes. Look at this place and tell me just how often you think that happens. Hell, come to Vegas sometime.”

“Do you want to see where he deals, or not?”

“Yes, I do.”

I led him around the corner, past the slot machines, to the table games. There was a circle of people around the roulette table, another playing craps. Then we hit the line of blackjack tables. Most of them were full. Lou found two empty seats at a two-dollar table and he sat down.

“Couple of hands,” he said to me. “Just to clear our heads.”

I took the spot next to him. Lou took out a hundred-dollar bill and put it on the table. I went for my wallet and he stopped me.

“I’ve got you covered,” he said. “We won’t be here long.”

The dealer was a woman in her thirties, a tribal member of course, although like most people up here you could see the European influence on her features. A little German here, a little Finnish there, the intermarriages going back through the generations. Her name card said “Jennie.” She gave us an all-business smile and made change for Lou’s hundred. He slid half the chips over to me without looking at them.

She was close to the end of her decks, so we got only two hands in before she had to shuffle. That was Lou’s chance for a little small talk.

“Nice place you got here, Jennie.”

“Where are you from?” She handled the cards like she’d done this a few thousand times before.

“Vegas.”

“You must play a lot out there.”

“I try not to. I know it’s a losing proposition.”

She smiled and shrugged that off, offering Lou the yellow cut card. Lou placed it in the deck and she completed the cut.

“You know Vinnie?”

She paused at that. There was a subtle change in her body language, then she was right back to all-business again. “Vinnie LeBlanc?”

“Yeah, Vinnie LeBlanc.”

“He’s a dealer here, too. I haven’t seen him in a while. His mother died.”

“You must be a cousin,” Lou said.

“Everybody’s a cousin up here. But maybe you want to talk to Phil, sir.”

She tilted her head and called his name without taking her eyes off the cards. A dealer never takes his or her eyes off the cards when they’re in play, after all. We finished up the hand and then Lou thanked her by sliding her the rest of his chips. I did the same. As we stood up, the pit boss came out with his head cocked, waiting for our story. I knew him well enough to say hello to, and in fact he was the exact same pit boss I had taken aside just a few days ago.

“You’re Alex,” he said to me, looking right past Lou. “Vinnie’s friend, right? We already had this conversation, remember? I have no idea where he could be.”

“I guess we’re just stopping by again,” I said, “on the off chance you might have heard something new.”

“No, not a word,” he said, looking back and forth between us. His eyes narrowed as he focused on Lou. “Have we met before?”

“Maybe a long time ago. Last time I was here, this place wasn’t even built yet.”

“You’re Bay Mills?”

He took a few seconds to answer that one. The pit boss and I both waited while everyone else around us kept doing their casino business.

“No,” Lou finally said. “I’m not. I thought I still might be, but no.”

The man gave him a strange look.

“I appreciate your time,” Lou said. “I’ll let you go back to making money. That’s a nice golf course you’ve got across the street, too.”

The pit boss kept waiting for the punch line, or for Lou to start making some kind of sense maybe, but Lou just turned and walked away.

“Don’t mind him,” I said to the man. “He’s had a long day.”

When I caught up to him I grabbed his arm.

“What the hell?” I said. “Was all of that really necessary?”

“Did you notice?” he said, shaking his arm free. “As soon as I said his name, it was like a big red flag went up. Like I’m under suspicion all of a sudden, just for asking about my own son.”

“Nobody in there knows he’s your son. They’re just looking out for him.”

“I wanted to find him,” he said. “
Today.
I wanted to get off the plane and find Vinnie.”

There were a dozen comebacks I could have made to that one, but I let it go. Whatever the circumstances, however belated the effort, he was here to help Vinnie, and that was the one thing we could agree on.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Figure out what to do next.”

We went outside. We weren’t ten steps from the door when a car pulled up. A black four-door sedan that looked sort of like an unmarked police car, and I was already getting our story ready. But when the car stopped, the driver’s-side door opened, and I recognized the man who stepped out. He had long gray hair tied behind his head, like a lot of the old-timers around here. I’d see him over at Vinnie’s mother’s house every time I went there. He would nod to me once in a while, but I don’t think he ever said one word to my face.

“Lou LeBlanc,” the man said, coming around the front of the car. “It
is
you. I thought those guys must be losing their minds.”

“Henry,” Lou said. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, like hell. What are you doing here?”

“Alex, this is Henry Carrick,” he said to me. “One of Buck’s uncles, I believe.”

“I’ll ask you again,” the man said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for my son,” Lou said. “Excuse me, I’m looking for my son
and
your nephew.”

“I’m amazed you’d even show your face around here,” the man finally said. “I mean, hell, I’m amazed you’re still walking around with all your teeth. If some of the other guys see you here—”

“Yeah, go give them a call,” Lou said. “Round up every last one of them. In the meantime, I see you’re all talk. Just like always.”

“You’re banned from the reservation, LeBlanc. You know that. Hell, you’re banned from the whole state. I thought that was made clear when you got run out of here.”

“I didn’t get run out of here,” Lou said, stepping closer to him.

“Okay, you ran away with your tail between your legs,” the man said. “Like a beaten animal. However you want to put it, the result was the same. You were supposed to leave and never come back.”

“I stayed away for as long as Nika was alive. I kept my promise.”

“Don’t you even dare say her name. Not anywhere on this reservation. Do you understand me?”

“She was my wife, Carrick. She chose me. Not you.”

“And look how well that turned out.”

Lou grabbed him by the collar. I took a step forward and Lou put out his other hand to stop me.