Authors: Craig Lesley
We followed the procession toward the freshly dug grave at the far edge of the cemetery. Standing behind the others, we waited for the ceremony to finish. Sylvester held an eagle feather to the sky and spoke the old language. Whatever he said was short, and I was glad because I felt like an intruder, especially when the old people raised their right hands to the sky and cried, "Ahhhhh." After the pallbearers folded the Pendleton blanket and gave it to the stooped old woman, I figured she was Kalim's grandmother. One of the RedWings removed his satin jacket and placed it on the coffin before they lowered it into the grave.
Jake hadn't taken his eyes off Juniper, but she glanced our way only once. Soon people started drifting toward their cars for more food or heading into the church to eat. Jake and I stood alone, and he scuffed his foot against the dirt, toeing a pebble into the hole. I stared at the large plastic flowers arranged by the headstone. A miniature basketball was among the artificial blossoms.
Juniper took the blanket from the old woman and guided her toward the church. She seemed too frail to make it on her own.
Jake nodded at the two women. "I'm going to pay my respects," he said. "You go check out the parking lot. Someone's fooling around. Don't want some kid jacking my car."
"I didn't see anybody," I said.
Jake seemed annoyed. "Go have a look. Then come back and we'll eat. If we leave now, these people will be insulted."
When I reached Jake's pickup, I saw it was only Billyum moving from vehicle to vehicle, writing down the license plate numbers. Now and then he'd kick some dirt off so he could read them correctly. Flecks of ash dotted his uniform, and I guessed he'd been out to the reservation fires. After he'd written down Jake's number, he glanced at me and put two fingers against the brim of his cowboy hat as a kind of salute.
"What's up?" I asked, following him as he moved along the line of cars.
"Routine stuff. Going by the book. A lot of times the killer shows up at the funeral. So I'm taking down everyone's plate numbers. I had some special training at the state police academy. Top-level stuff."
"But you know Jake," I said. "We found the body."
Billyum tilted his head to one side. "I know everybody here. Known 'em for years. That's what makes this job so tough." He tapped the pencil against the notebook. "You're about the only stranger. As for Jake, he knew right where to look, didn't he?"
Billyum studied me for an uncomfortably long moment before break
ing into a grin. "Ayyy," he said to show he was kidding. "I'm just practicing in case I ever go big time."
He looked past me and I followed his gaze to Jake and Juniper. They were still standing by the church, talking, but the old woman had gone inside. Billyum shook his head. "Too bad it took a funeral to get her back home." Flipping the notebook closed, he put it in his shirt pocket. "Wish I had a big break, something to cheer her up."
"What kind of break?" I asked.
"Who knows?" He spread his hands. "Three months after Bryce Chamas got killed, his shooter showed up at a rodeo wearing his boots and belt buckle. Even hung Bryce's fuzzy dice from the rearview mirror. Lime green. Only pair like it on the rez." He shook his head. "That was one for Ripley's
Believe It or Not.
"
"Maybe you'll get lucky," I said.
"Better lucky than good." He nodded. "Two weeks from now or two months, someone will talk. Ninety percent of reservation police work is just waiting for mouths to open. Like fishing." He hooked his finger, sticking it inside his mouth until his cheek bulged. Taking the finger out again he wiped it on his pants. "They talk, and I reel them in."
"Time will tell then, I guess."
Billyum nodded. "You know, I thought old Kalim should be cashy, considering how he threw money around, but he was almost tapped. Nothing but silver dollars and pocket change."
My tongue felt thick; I kept my mouth closed.
When Billyum gripped my shoulder with his big hand, I flinched, but he didn't seem to notice. Steering me toward the church, he said, "Can't round up crooks on an empty stomach, Culver. We might as well go eat."
B
ILLYUM GOT SIDETRACKED
by the Redwings and Juniper had gone inside already, so Jake and I entered the church basement through the back door. The room was a combination kitchen-cafeteria, and two tables were loaded with food. All the older Indians had taken off their blankets; now the women wore bright cotton dresses and moccasins or tennis shoes. Gray braids hung below the colorful bandannas they wound around their heads. As we moved through the line, the old women serving the food laughed and joked. One had a blue cap with bright pink pom-poms that said, "The cook is always right." "How you been keeping, Cora?" Jake asked, winking at her.
"I'm still grinning," she said, "but they're all false."
We sat next to an old man wearing mismatched slacks and vest. "Planning to get your elk this year, Delvis?" Jake asked, but the old man shook his head. "Too damn much walking." He pointed to the cane beside the bench. "Let the young guys chase 'em." Finishing his plate of food, Delvis lit a pipe and wandered off.
Billyum came in from outside and grabbed two plates. I heard him say, "Doing the best I can, ladies. There's only one of me," as he moved down the line. "That sure looks good, Lettie. How about another piece of salmon? I worked up quite an appetite at those fires."
He joined us and started shoveling the food down. Glancing toward the cooks, he said, "Those old magpies make me nervous." He sopped up some remaining stew with a piece of fry bread. "They may not look tough, but those old women run the show. Every guy on the tribal council has a grandmother or aunt pecking at him."
Finishing his food, Billyum shoved the plates away. "Good snack. Now when do we eat?" He went to the dessert table, returning with three large pieces of huckleberry pie. Shoving two in front of Jake and me, he said, "Lettie Black-Eye makes these. You'll never taste better. She uses leaf lard from elk intestines."
"You're kidding," I said, but the pie was delicious. Juice had bubbled out and baked crisp on top of the crusts. "You got to come to the Huckleberry Feast," Billyum said. "The men work up an appetite sitting on tule mats, and when the women dance in wearing beaded buckskin dresses and balancing woven baskets filled with huckleberries on their heads, that's something to see."
Jake twisted in his seat. "Where'd Juniper go, anyway?"
"Back room, I imagine." Billyum nodded toward a salmon-colored door. "She's probably still talking with Kalim's grandmother. Old woman's pretty shook up." He ate another mouthful of pie. "I saw Juniper when she got in last night. You take a close look? She's packing some weight."
"Looks good on her though," Jake said.
Billyum winked at me. "You know what they say, kid. The thicker the cushion ... Ayyy."
"Don't go talking about your old girlfriend like that," Jake said.
Billyum glanced up from his plate, and I thought a look passed between him and my uncle, but I couldn't be sure. "Naw," Billyum said. "Too high style for me. Her old man was a Simnasho chief, big fish in a little pond. She'd go to a dance with me if she needed an escort. That's as far as it got."
Jake spread his hands. "Things change. Now she probably owns an art gallery. Maybe she can support you."
Ignoring him, Billyum stood. "These cooks can't expect me to solve a case hungry." He snuck past them for two more pieces of pie and slid one across the table. "Culver's a growing boy."
"Here she comes." Jake nodded toward the salmon-colored door as Juniper stepped out. She had taken off her jacket and wore a sky blue blouse with her plaid skirt.
As she approached, Billyum scooted over and motioned to the seat beside him. "Take a load off."
Jake stood and smiled.
Up close, I could tell she was a handsome woman, but now she seemed bone tired. Deep shadows haunted her eyes. Hazel colored, almost green, they showed red rims from fatigue and sorrow.
Setting her coffee down, she reached across the table to shake my hand. "You've got to be Culver. I'm sorry to say you resemble your uncle
Jake." Smiling, she seemed a little younger. "I already thanked these two for helping find Kalim. Now I want to thank you."
Her long fingers had blunt nails; a couple were chipped. Working hands, I thought. "Glad to help out," I told her.
She took the seat Billyum offered and sipped her coffee. "I've got to rest a few minutes, then get back to Stella. She was devoted to that boy."
"Sorry about missing the funeral," Billyum said. "I hated to do it, but I had to check those fires." He brushed some ash off his shirt front. "Can't get rid of this stuff."
"Anything promising with Kalim's investigation?" she asked Billyum.
Uncomfortable, he poked the pie crust sliver with his fork. "I've talked to lots of people. Something will break pretty soon."
She laughed but without humor, then added some sugar to her coffee and stirred it with Billyum's fork. "Things never change around here, do they?"
Billyum shrugged and didn't answer, so Jake said, "The new resort's finished and they're planning to rebuild Hollywood. I'd say things are improving."
"Just cosmetics," she said. "Underneath, nothing really changes." She rolled her shoulders and stretched. "But maybe I'm just tired. And I had a tough time getting someone to watch my place on such short notice."
"How is the art game, anyway?" Jake asked. "I hear you own a big gallery in Albuquerque."
"The art game." She laughed, and for the first time her face relaxed. "I don't
own
an art gallery. Things always get blown out of proportion around here. I
rent
a space. It's tiny, Jakeâitty-bitty. If you stretch out your arms, you can touch both wallsâlike this." She held out her arms, moving them up and down slightly.
"But after all the years of selling at powwows and Indian rodeos, at least my work doesn't get dusty or knocked over by horses." She paused. "So you could say the art game's improving, I guess. But I'm not setting my expectations too high. Ask me again in a couple of years."
"Maybe you could sell some of your paintings at the lodge," Billyum said. "They have a gift shop."
After hesitating a moment, she said, "I might just do that."
"How long can you stick around?" Jake asked.
"We'll see," she said. "I don't come back much, so I want to see people while I'm here, especially the old ones. I can't believe how many are already gone." She put her hand on Billyum's shoulder. "I'm sure the case will be wrapped up by then." Shaking her head, she seemed about
to cry. "Kalim was always a little wild, but who expected this? Maybe a logging accident..."
"Some wild streak." Billyum leaned back in his chair, remembering. "When he set fire to that chicken coop, Hollywood stunk for days like Colonel Sanders gone bad." He grinned. "You took after him with that shoe. Pounded him good."
Juniper frowned. "Damn it, Billyum. Don't go hanging out dirty laundry. He was just smoking in there. It was an accident."
"Now don't get all sore on me," Billyum said. "I was just remembering how strange it smelled."
She stood and grabbed her cup. "I've got to take some food to Stella. Get her to eat." Looking at me, she added, "I only hit him twice. I never could make him mind. That's how he was." Juniper turned toward Billyum. "Please watch your mouth, Billyum. And keep me posted about Kalim."
None of us spoke until Juniper had loaded a plate and carried it into the back room, closing the salmon-colored door behind her. Then Jake said to Billyum, "Check your boot heel, buddy. You stepped in something."
Billyum grabbed both sides of his hat brim, tipping it down until his eyes were covered. "Jesus. That woman always made me sweat." He lifted the brim and squinted at us. "Even so, how could I say anything so stupid? I completely forgot her grandparents burned up."
"It wasn't in that fire Kalim started, was it?" I asked.
Billyum shook his head. "A lot earlier. Hollywood wiring, or maybe they smoked in bed. Who knows? Hoot Toopah was the cop then, and he couldn't investigate a traffic ticket."
"Funerals make everybody edgy," Jake said. "It'll blow over."
"I'm going outside before these old ladies get after me." Billyum stood. "Maybe I can find a suspect, make it look like I'm questioning somebody."
"We'll keep you covered," Jake said. "Got to head back to town, anyway. This boy needs his shut-eye."
Outside, as we neared the pickup, Billyum said, "Damn woman, always catches me off guard. Remember that homecoming stunt she pulled our senior year? Just threw down her carnation bouquet and stalked off the stage. Pretty soon, the rest of the Indian princesses followed."
Jake laughed. "I was stunned all right." He turned to me. "All the homecoming princesses got boxes of flowers at the dance. Nobody knew
who was queen until they saw her open the box containing the roses. The runners-up got carnations. It was supposed to be a big secret."
Billyum said, "The deal was, some blonde from town or one of the farm girls always won. Hell, we Indians knew it was rigged, but Juniper was the first to walk away."
Jake punched Billyum's shoulder. "This guy was supposed to be her escort, but she stormed out the door and he was stuck on stage with his thumb jammed up his ass."
"Yeah, stuck with some bawling blonde holding roses. No one cared about the queen. Everyone was staring after Juniper. Finally I scooped up the carnations and headed out to catch her."
"He's always been a little slow on the uptake," Jake said. "That's why he's a cop."
Billyum touched his hand to his chest. "Look at me. Twenty years later she's still got me ducking for the exit."
***
My mother was standing at the screen door when Jake dropped me off. "You're later than I expected," she said. "I was just starting to worry." She opened the door. "Now come on in. You too, Jake. I've made some tea."
I got out but my uncle only raised his arm and waved. "Another time, Flora. I'm beat and need some shut-eye."