by Sue Hardesty
“This weekend. You like?” Carl's pale blue eyes nearly disappeared in the grin covering his sun-wrinkled craggy face. “The wife helped.”
“Oh, yeah.” Loni nodded in approval. “I think this room even likes me.”
“I hear your grandpa coming out of your mouth.”
Loni laughed and shrugged. “Bahb's Indian heritage in me keeps you guessing.”
“Must admit it's better'n your grandma's Apache temper. Only had Shiichoo mad at me once.” Carl smiled at the memory. “I ran over one of her Bantam hens. I had to keep running for a long time to keep her from beating me to death with it.”
Grinning, Loni dropped down into the only available chair and squirmed around, unable to get comfortable. “Jesus, Carl. Don't want anyone to sit here long, huh.”
Carl grinned. “Don't recall askin’ you to sit, either.”
Loni ducked her head and rubbed her bumpy nose as she continued to squirm.
“Loni. We need to talk.”
“About?”
“Got a call from Jim Albrite. Remember him?”
Startled, Loni said. “Sure. That nark head from Phoenix with the strange eyes.”
Carl leaned back in his chair. “Remember that biker that got killed last week just outside town?”
“The one with a load of cocaine in his saddlebags?”
“Yes. Jim says it's from the same source we found on my ranch last summer. He thinks the biker was delivering it to someone livin’ in Caliente.”
Loni frowned, shaking her head in denial. “No, no, no. We cleaned that drug mess up.”
“According to Jim, we didn't.” Carl stopped Loni before she could argue with him. “There's more.” Staring at Carl, Loni shut up and waited. “They picked up this same cocaine from a well-known dealer in south Phoenix. “He swears he got it from his usual source who said it was from Caliente.”
"Did they get the source?"
"Nope. In the wind."
Loni frowned. “Damn! Guess we didn't scotch the snake after all.”
“So?”
“Only saying. Maybe cut off a few rattles but damned if the thing doesn’t just keep on striking.”
Carl dropped his chair forward with a thump as he rubbed his eyes. “I thought we got this town cleaned up last summer, too.” Reaching his arm across the top of his head, Carl pulled on his ear, rubbing his thumb across the top. The more upset he got, the harder he rubbed. When he got the ear bleeding, Loni knew it was time to be very careful around him or get the hell away.
“Maybe the O'Neals will tell us something.” Loni suggested.
“Going to trial for the death penalty? Doubt it.” Carl sat thinking and rubbing on his ear a few minutes. “We could offer them a deal.”
“Think Judge Sal would go for it?"
Carl shrugged. “She does hate the death penalty.”
“They did kill a cop, but seeing as it was only your predecessor and him deservin’ it, guess it's worth a try.”
Carl grinned at Loni. “Hope you never feel that way about me.”
“Haven't thought about scalping you yet.”
Carl laughed, running his fingers through his sandy colored hair. “I got so little left I wouldn't even notice.”
Loni groaned and squirmed again. “I really hate this chair.”
“Well, then, maybe it's time you got back to work. I'll follow through on talking to the O'Neals. Why don't you start at the beginning and see what we missed. You’re good at those flow chart thingies. Start filling one in.”
“Carl, I think I agree with Jim. I think the drug distributor is someone we gotta know.” Loni held up her hand to keep Carl from interrupting. “Maybe not well, but somebody who's been around here long enough to be above suspicion, to be an accepted part of our everyday. Somebody may be showing more money than they should.”
“What’s this ‘follow the money’ thing you have?”
“It's the tell, Carl,” Loni argued. “Lots of money with no visible proof of income. Maybe valuable art work in their house. A spendy car. Expensive trips. That will be who we are looking for.”
“Maybe we should profile this asshole first.”
“I don't know what to profile yet.” Loni stood and stretched. “I think we should get State to start tracking accounts of our good citizens.”
“We can't and you know it. Not without cause.”
Nodding her head in understanding, Loni grinned and patted the top of the chair back. “Good one, Carl. This chair's a keeper.” Stopping at the door jam, she remembered. “Oh, yeah. I need a car to get home. Don't say it. I know it's my third car.”
Shaking his head, Carl hollered, “Junior!”
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you a ride home.”
“Please, Carl. Not him.”
“Deal with it Loni. He's all I can spare right now.”
“What am I supposed to drive?”
Carl grinned. “Your truck until we get funding for a new one. At least when you wreck it, I won't have to pay for it.”
“Yaw, Boss?” Junior appeared in the doorway. He forgot to duck, and the door jamb knocked off his tall Stetson hat. Loni reached out and caught it.
“Damnit Junior. How many times I got to tell you! Take that Texas Ranger star off. And take Loni home,” Carl ordered Junior.
“Home where? Ain't she from the reservation? I gotta ride in the same car with her to hell and gone?”
“No.” Carl halted Junior's diatribe. “Take her to the Wagner Airport.”
With a pleased expression, Junior looked down on Loni. “You leaving town for good?”
“No, dumbass. I live there.” Loni waved the hat in his face. “You want this back or not?”
“In an airport hangar?”
“Just take me home.” Loni sputtered as she stuffed Junior’s hat into his gut. She stalked out of Carl's office and down the hall. “Coco, come!” Loni called and the dog caught up with her as they slammed out the station door.
“Hey!” Junior yelled as he caught up with her at his car. “You're not putting that stinking dog in my car.”
“Open the goddamn door!” Loni snapped at Junior staring down at her. “She smells better than you!” Fanning away the old cigar smoke smell drifting off of him away, she waited for Junior to unlock the car doors.
Junior complained the entire three miles to the airport, and Loni had never been so glad to see her uncle’s airport hangar as it loomed in the distance. Countless dust and thunderstorms had rusted and dulled the tin pieces on the huge Quonset that squatted on the other side of the runway. It grew larger as she ignored Junior’s refusal to believe that she lived in an airport hangar. “I bet you live in one of those houses,” he said, pointing to the double row of single-story houses that snuggled up against the eastern edge of the airport runway. They were built with fire engine red roofs and white stucco walls so they could be easily spotted from the air. The houses in the front row had large airplane garages attached. The row of houses in the back row had small planes parked inside carports.
Loni closed her eyes. “To the hangar, Junior.”
“That one o' them aer-o-ports where people fly to work and back?”
Loni grunted without opening her eyes.
“Which house you in.”
Loni opened her eyes to find Junior driving across the runway toward the houses. “Damn, Junior, get the fuck off the runway before a plane lands on us.”
Junior grinned at her. “Looks like the shortest way to me seeing as how the road goes all the way down there to that graveyard and back around. Shortest way is always best I say.”
Wincing, Loni looked around as she listened for landing airplanes. “Just take me to that big hangar door, Junior.” The minute the police car stopped, she grabbed Coco and bailed out, sucking in the fresh air. She hoped Junior would get the crap scared out of him if he drove back across the runway and turned her back on him.
Loni's cousin James sat on the bottom
step of her stairs blocking access to Loni's apartment above the office in a back corner of the hangar. He looked up at her with his mother's curly light brown hair and round face. His large infectious grin exuded a sense of innocence, but Loni would never completely trust him. It was hard to forget the hatred and cruelty toward her when they were growing up, and his animosity toward her continued after she came back home last year. It wasn't until they managed to live through last summer's disasters together that they were able to put away old times. Although their issues seemed resolved, she still had trouble forgetting what he did to her when they were in high school, like sneaking up behind her in the hall and catcalling half-breed or Injin, or squaw, or buck. Or queer.
“Let me by, James. I gotta soak the blood in my shirt before it sets.”
“No, no, cousin. Set and tell all.” James grabbed her arm, trying to pull her down. “Heard you wrecked another car.”
Struggling to keep on her feet, Loni tried to pull back. “Let go! I've got to clean the blood off. And my ear hurts, dammit.”
With concern in his light blue eyes, James let her go. “What happened?”
“Got shot at.” Loni watched James’s jaw drop as she passed by him and trudged up the stairs. The minute she shut her door, she stripped off her shirt and showered, carefully wiping away any blood Chelsa missed. Most of the blood had stopped flowing from the nick on the side of her ear, but it still hurting like a son of a bitch. Oh, God. Why me?
Rummaging through her drawers, she found an extra T-shirt with POLICE across the back and jerked it on. After she put her bloody shirt to soak, Loni peeked down the stairs at James. He hadn’t moved. Stiffly, she walked back down and sat beside him. Coco was pushing at James to be petted when she took his beer bottle out of his hand and held it against her ear. “Where were you this morning, James? I could’ve used your help.”
James grabbed his beer back and took a long swig before he answered. “I was called out on a church domestic.”
Loni laughed. “There's an oxymoron if I ever heard one. A domestic at a church? What happened? Caught the preacher shooting at God?”
“I wish. A couple of old farts took a chain saw to the preacher's billboard in front of the church.”
“Are you talking about the one that says God prefers kind atheists over hateful Christians? Heard he got it off Twitter.”
“Yeah, that one. These two old farts said they already tithed three times over what the property was worth, and nobody was going to tell them God could love no atheist.”
Loni was struck mute for a minute before she burst out with a short laugh. “Well, shit oh dear!”
“That's what I thought too.”
“Lola tried to call you. How come your cell phone was off?” Loni continued quizzing him.
“Don't you know? Churches have these big signs that say 'TURN OFF CELL PHONES!’ So I did.” James slugged at her arm. “Don't tell me you never saw one of those signs. Oh, right, I forgot. You're a two-spirit heathen. How does that work exactly?”
Groaning, Loni took the beer bottle back and held it against her burning ear again. “That wife of yours been dragging you to church too long.”
"Why don't you just drink that instead. You'd feel a hellova lot better."
"This is good."
“How come you don't drink it?”
“No reason. I just don't drink alcohol.” With a sigh, Loni handed the bottle back.
“Really! Afraid you'll end up frozen to death in a ditch like Ira Hayes?”
Loni snorted a short laugh. “If I end up dead in a ditch, it won't be from alcohol. More likely it would be from riding in a car with you.”
James giggled as he reached for the band aid on her ear. “Let me see. Some jealous husband shoot you?”
This time Loni snorted in disgust and looked James in the eye. “I don't do married women!” she insisted. “Listen to me. I told you already where I got shot.”
James patted her on the top of the head. “Heard you did good, too. Except for letting Manny go back to Tucson. And...”
Loni slapped her hand across James's mouth. “Don't...say...it!”
Laughing, James pushed her off. Finishing his beer, he flipped the bottle in the air and caught it. The second time he flipped the bottle, Loni snatched it and they wrestled for it until Coco backed off and started barking at them.
“Don't look at me, Coco,” James said to the dog. “She started it.”
“I did not!” Loni insisted. “He did!”
“Did not!”
Loni threw her hands in the air. “In case you haven’t noticed, she’s not listening.”
“Just like a woman. Hear only what you want to hear.”
Loni snorted. “Like you don’t. Guess you also heard about my fight with Junior.”
“Junior shoot you?”
“No, James, it was that busload of Mexican mafia.”
James grinned at her. “You shoot back this time?”
“No.” Loni leaned her head against the railing on the stairs. “I didn't want to hit Manny.”
“So,” James reached his arm around Loni and squeezed her. “To summarize, you lost a bus. You lost five Mexican mafia. You lost Manny. You lost your car. You fought with Junior. And you pissed off Lola.” Loni hung her head. James sighed. “Good job, Loni. I can see how well all that worked out for you.”
Loni cringed. “You're really enjoying this, aren't you?”
“Yeah, I really am.” James hugged her harder. “You always were my favorite entertainment.”
Loni shook her head in resignation as she watched their cousin Daniel come out of the office. Big and stocky with straight black hair and brown eyes, Daniel took after his dad, mostly dark German although his dark skin might have come from their Choctaw grandmother. Loni's dad was the oldest of the three Wagner brothers. Daniel's dad Herman was in the middle and James's dad Kirk was youngest.
Daniel squatted in front of Loni and looked her over. “What trouble are you into now?” he asked Loni.
“What?” she snapped.
“Just checking to see if you're going to live.” Daniel stood up. “Scoot over.” Settling down on the other side of Loni, he put his arm around her shoulders. “Talk to Daddy. Tell me all about it.”
Loni got a stubble burn as he rubbed his face against her cheek. Fighting him off, she smelled the mix of the grease and Lava soap. “Cut it out, Daniel, or I'll shave you with my very dull, chipped knife, no soap, and cold water.”
Daniel cackled like an old hen pecking at scratch. “I heard you talking about Junior. Reminds me, Matt Barlow was here yesterday and said you came out with Junior to see him the other day. Something about undocumented workers that wandered in. Said a coyote took their money and dumped them. Matt said he was glad to see you home again. I didn't know the two of you were friends.”
“Yeah.” Loni fought off the second stubble-rub attempt. “Don't you remember? His dad and my granddad used to help each other round up cattle. They had the ranch to the north. His cattle were always coming through the fence onto our property.”
“How come your fences were so bad?” James asked.
“Built back in '33 by the WPA. You'd be tired, too.”
Daniel ignored Loni’s comment. “So Matt said you got in a fight with Junior. Did you really pull your gun on Junior and threaten to shoot him?”
“I did. And I meant it. He was being his usual assholeness, talking about hauling the workers back out to the desert and shooting them. Said back home in Texas it was great sport, and he just didn't understand my problem.”
James poked her in the side. “Assholeness? Is that a word?”
Daniel grinned. “Matt said when you finished swearing at Junior, he got into an argument with him.”
Loni shrugged, still upset with Junior. “Matt tried to warn him about that ol' Brahma bull, Helsbent, but you know Junior, the stupid know-it-all. He puffed up and pointed to that Texas star on his chest and said ‘This star means I
can go anywhere I want.’ Matt told Junior that he was in Arizona now and that Texas Rangers had no jurisdiction.”
Daniel giggled like a girl. “Did Junior really say Arizona was a subdivision of Texas and since they owned it, he could do what he wanted anywhere?”
“Yep. He said it was a fact of history and we were just a bunch of desert inverts.” It was a while before the three stopped giggling. Catching her breath, Loni continued. “He said no way was he walking around when there was a shortcut. That's when he opened the gate and started across the field. Helsbent watched every step he took.”
“Didn't he see that bull?”
“Oh, yeah. But Junior always insisted on using the shortest way. Did you see him drive me home across the runway just now? Dumb bastard! Matt kept telling him to get out of there and how the bull was way too dangerous to even work the rodeo circuit anymore, but noooo. Junior kept on going.”
“Matt really tried to warn him?”
“Hell, yes.”
Daniel shook his head. “That bull is big and ugly.”
“Oh, yeah. That bull watched Junior coming toward him and began pawing the ground. Dirt flew everywhere. But Junior just kept marching forward. Even when Helsbent bellowed at him.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t run. Helsbent's one nasty bull.”
“Well, he didn't, not until that bull charged him. Junior turned tail then, I can tell you. I was busy cheering for Helspent when Matt hollered, ‘Hey, Texas! Show him your star!’“
Giggling, James leaned against Loni. “I'm so sorry I missed that.”
“Made my day.”
The boys pulled Loni to her feet and hugged her goodnight. “Try not to make so much noise, Daniel,” Loni begged as she dragged herself up the stairs to her loft apartment, so exhausted from her adrenaline drop that she was asleep before she got her clothes off.
An hour later, Loni woke up with a start. Coco stood by the door, fiercely barking. Wearing just her police T-shirt, Loni leaped out of bed and yanked on a pair of Levis. She grabbed her gun from under her pillow before she raced down the stairs toward the frantic hammering on the hangar door. Coco kept barking while he almost tripped Loni before she threw open the door. On the other side was a sobbing Lola. Loni almost fell backward when Lola grabbed her. “They charged Manny with murder!” Lola bawled.
