by Joseph Flynn
“This has to be it,” he said.
The site was a large green outcrop that extended from the side of the mountain. The trail ended there. At the far edge was a drop-off that might have made a mountain goat queasy. In an act of predestination, Randy carefully stepped to the brink and peeked into the abyss.
He stepped back before he lost his balance.
“The view is great up here, but we better not roll around too much,” he said, turning to look at Lily and Annie.
Each of them was wearing a blonde wig and a beret. Lily had Randy’s old Thompson submachine gun. The weapon had been in hiding all those years, too, but Lily had retrieved it. Randy wanted to think this was all a joke. Part of the deal to get him worked up. Make him think he was Clyde again. Maybe they’d brought his hat for him and —
Self-deceit lasted only until he looked into Lily’s eyes and understood how those two cops he’d killed must have felt when he put the Thompson on them. He raised his hands like a man who was being robbed, and he was. His last chance to live had just been taken from him.
All he could ask was, “Why? Why now?”
“You killed my son,” Lily said.
“And Guy and Louie barely know me,” Annie added.
Randy protested, “Jackson was going to turn me in to the cops. When I tried to take the phone from him, I had to fight for my life. It was only luck I was able to grab that ax.”
“Bad luck, the way it turns out,” Lily said.
“You said you forgave me.”
“I thought I had,” she told him. The Tommy gun said otherwise.
Her finger was on the trigger.
Desperate, Randy turned to Annie. “Why are you doing this? You don’t know your boys, get to know them. And don’t forget I hired the hooker to spike that kid’s drink. I made you rich.”
Annie said, “And I repaid you, the times I bailed you out at Clyde’s, the times I took you to Vegas when you just had to get away from Lily. If I’d forgotten about you when I married Vern, I might have been a good wife, made my husband happy, wound up rich anyway.”
Randy’s expression hardened. “There’s nothing good about either of you. You’re just a couple of whores.”
Lily said. “That’s the point. We are women of damn poor character and judgment. You can get us to do things we should never do, but we’re always foolish enough to give you one more try. Even when we should know better.”
Annie told him, “We thought this time the two of us together might finally be enough for you, but we’re not altogether stupid. From the moment we set foot in Banff, we had a private investigator following you. We know about all the other women you’ve had here. Tourists and locals.”
Randy was dumbfounded. Then amused to the point of laughter.
“That’s what’s bothering you? You thought I was going to change? You know who I am.”
Annie said, “Yeah, we know. But something else has finally changed. There’s this smart Indian tracking us now. If we get connected to you, we become your accomplices. We go down for everything you’ve ever done. So, baby, the time has finally come to say goodbye.”
Randy knew there would be no appeal for mercy.
He got one step into an attempt to flee when Lily pulled the trigger.
The hail of bullets roared past Randy, inches to his left. He responded in the only way possible; he backed up as fast as he could. His second step carried him to the edge. His arms windmilled, he fell and he screamed all the way down.
Not so much as nicked by a single round.
As Annie had said, she and Lily weren’t altogether stupid. If Randy’s body was recovered anytime soon, it would be found pulped but not perforated. He’d be adjudged the victim of an accident or suicide.
Lily put the Tommy gun back into the picnic basket, along with the blonde wigs and the berets. The two sisters, each occupied by her own thoughts and regrets, started down the mountain in silence.
Chapter 32
En route to Calgary — July 17, the present
John flew Air Canada from Boston to Calgary. Maddie Comfort, the friendly cabin attendant from his trip east, wasn’t working this flight and he had to fly coach. He got a bulkhead seat, though, the solicitous crew showing concern for his height and, possibly, his position with the U.S. government.
The flight was smooth, the kind that made John think an experience like this gave people the idea they were meant to fly. Just sit back and look out the window at the sunlit checkerboard of golden clouds and blue sky and hope that any afterlife might have views half so grand.
There were those people, his parents included, who studied cloud formations for portents of the future. Most of those people had seen clouds only from below. For all they knew, the true meaning of clouds might be revealed only from above. John peered down to see if that might be the way of it.
He saw all sorts of shapes: animals, insects, even an old teacher or two. He didn’t know that they told him anything about the future. Maybe, he thought, clouds were only reminders of things already perceived and stored in memory. Flashcards in the sky.
Then, an hour into the flight, the lowering sun now giving the sky a reddish cast, he saw in a cloud a face he had never seen in life but only in a photograph: Daniel Red Hawk. Lily White Bird’s late husband. The reservation cop Randy Bear Heart was said to have killed.
The detail of the face in the cloud, John thought, was extraordinary, as though a gifted draftsman had rendered it. Frederick Remington maybe. What was equally compelling was the face’s expression. Red Hawk was smiling broadly.
It seemed almost as if he was telling John, one cop to another, this case was going to work out for the best. Justice would be had for Randy Bear Heart … and maybe for his former wife, if she’d been complicit in his death.
Had Lily set up Red Hawk to be killed?
Suddenly, John wanted to be on the ground in Canada.
Driving to Banff as fast as he could.
Chapter 33
Austin, Texas — July 17, the present
Detective Darton Blake was about to get into his personal car and go home when he heard a horn honk. He looked in the direction of the sound and saw a Volkswagen CC sedan pull up in front of him. Coy Wilson was behind the wheel. That made him smile. Back in the day, a musician like Coy would be driving a VW bug or a minivan, if she were about to go out on tour. Now, here she was with a gleaming thirty-thousand-dollar ride. Times sure had changed.
The mirth Darton was feeling disappeared when he remembered that Coy hadn’t heard the remains in Lake Travis had been identified as Jackson White. Shit. He’d hoped to get home in time to have a hot dinner, but now he had the feeling he wasn’t going to feel like eating at all.
He walked over to Coy wondering whether he should put off telling her until tomorrow. He nodded and said, “Hello, Ms. Wilson. Something I can do for you?”
She handed him a cloth shopping bag from a Central Market store. Its weight surprised Darton, but not half as much as what he saw inside: stacks of banded cash.
“You rob a bank, Ms. Wilson?” Darton asked.
Coy told him, “The money came from a bank, but I didn’t steal it.” She told him about finding the lock box key and going to see what Jackson had kept in it. “I don’t know where that money came from, but if it’s from something bad, I don’t want any blame for having it.”
“How much is it?” Darton asked.
“One hundred thousand dollars, exactly. On the other hand, if the money was made honestly, I’ll want it back. All of it.”
“Yes, ma’am. If you’ll just come inside, I’ll impound the money, write up your statement and give you a receipt.”
She looked to Darton’s eye as if she was trying to fight back tears. Whether that was because of handing over so much money or imagining the bad ways Jackson White might have come by it, he couldn’t tell.
She surprised him when she said, “There’s nothing more to say than what I already told you. You can mail
me the receipt.” As if to underscore her faith in him, she added, “I’d appreciate it if you returned my shopping bag, too.”
That was when the news Darton had been holding back popped right out of his mouth. “Ms. Wilson, I’m sorry to tell you the remains found in Lake Travis were those of Jackson White.”
She only nodded, as if she’d come to that conclusion on her own.
Unable to hold back her tears any longer, she drove off.
Watching her go, Darton thought he should have asked her if she’d found anything else in that lock box. Too late now. He took the money inside, thinking at least he’d have a good story to tell his wife, why he was late for dinner.
Then he thought he’d better tell John Tall Wolf the story, too.
Chapter 33
Calgary, Alberta — July 17, the present
John didn’t know what the fine for speeding on a Canadian highway might be, but he was sure he didn’t need the hassle of a traffic stop. He called the RCMP from the plane and upon reaching Calgary received assistance in the person of a uniformed sergeant. Rebecca Bramley stood at parade rest as the stream of deplaning passengers parted ways for her. At six-one she had no trouble spotting the man wearing sunglasses and holding a carryon bag who ducked his head coming out of the jetway.
She stepped forward and asked, “Special Agent Tall Wolf?”
John nodded and Sergeant Bramley introduced herself.
He extended his hand and said, “Thanks for the help.”
Taking his hand, she said, “The force is always happy to assist a colleague.”
“Maintiens le droit,” John replied. Defend the law. The RCMP motto.
“Exactement. You’ve worked with us before?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure. But I thought it would be polite to learn a thing or two about the people who were kind enough to lend a hand.”
Bramley inclined her head, indicating the way to her car.
“You Googled us, Special Agent.”
He fell into step with her. “I did. Please call me John.”
“Thank you. Your French accent is quite good, John.”
“I went to a terrific college.”
“Well, good for you.” They stepped outside. A Ford SUV with RCMP markings and a light bar stood at the curb. “Here we are.”
Before going to the driver’s side, the sergeant cast an appraising look at John.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“You needn’t have ducked your head as you stepped into the airport, but you might be a little cramped in my car, even with the seat pushed back all the way.”
“I’ll try not to complain … unless you play country music all the way to Banff.”
Bramley smiled at him. “I could, but I like alt rock, too.”
“Much better.”
“So what kind of bad guy are we looking for?”
“Bank robber. Left three dead behind him.”
The sergeant’s face tightened. “Damn. With a guy like that, maybe we’d better pound some heavy metal into our heads.”
Chapter 34
Banff, Alberta — July 17, the present
Annie Forger and Lily White were dining in a Southwestern themed restaurant on Caribou Street. Annie started out with corn tortilla and chicken soup. Lily chose an oven baked quesadilla. Their newly hired lawyer, Colin McTee, sat with them. The sisters had offered to buy dinner for McTee but he’d contented himself with a glass of lemonade.
After disposing of Randy Bear Heart and taking other precautions, Annie and Lily had called on McTee. The lawyer had made news the previous year by winning an acquittal for a French actress accused of killing an Austrian director in the chalet the two had rented for the ski season. McTee had created reasonable doubt in the minds of the jury by casting suspicion on a jealous ski instructor whose whereabouts were currently unknown.
McTee had been about to leave town for a fishing trip in British Columbia, but Annie Forger had presented him with a check for his standard retainer and told him she and her sister needed his help, but if he was as good as everyone said they wouldn’t need much of his time.
“What’s the problem?” McTee asked.
“Poor choice of a boyfriend,” Lily told him.
The lawyer smiled. “That often leads to trouble. Who wants to talk with you?”
Annie said, “The RCMP, the FBI and the BIA.”
McTee was familiar with the first two but not the third.
“Bureau of Indian Affairs,” Lily told him. “That’s the one that worries us.”
Annie added, “Special Agent John Tall Wolf. He’s the one who advised us to get a lawyer.”
McTee said, “I suspect I may be assisting you longer than you think. But I’m intrigued. This boyfriend, you were both infatuated with him?”
The sisters nodded.
“Is he likely to provide testimony that might be incriminating to either or both of you?”
Annie and Lily looked at each other. Lily said, “He’s been avoiding the cops for a very long time. I don’t think he’s going to come forward now.”
“Good. When do you think the authorities might arrive to question you?”
Annie said, “Could be any time.”
McTee said he would remain with them until they cleared that hurdle.
Annie and Lily both ordered the blue corn chicken enchilada for their main course. McTee broke down and asked for the barbecue chorizo flatbread. They were all enjoying their meals when SAC Gilbert Melvin and Superintendent Manley Kent found them. They were reinforced by two RCMP uniformed constables.
Kent handled the introductions for himself and Melvin.
The two cops remained anonymous.
Annie asked, “Where’s Tall Wolf?”
Kent looked at Melvin for an explanation.
Melvin had his own question for Annie. “You talked to him?”
“Yeah. He made it sound like he’d be here first; you guys were just back up.”
Melvin’s jaw tightened as if to bite back a curse. Then he told Kent, “The BIA guy I told you about. I didn’t think he’d get here for a while.”
Kent stepped forward. It was his country, whatever the squabble the Americans had amongst themselves. “Would you oblige me with a few formalities?” he asked the sisters. “You are Annie Forger and Lily White Bird?”
McTee stood and said, “I’ll be speaking for my clients.”
“They feel the need to invoke their right to silence?” Kent asked.
The superintendent and Melvin had flown out from Ottawa after his friend from the FBI had located Annie Forger’s whereabouts and explained to Kent the necessity of interviewing her. The superintendent had heard of Colin McTee, but was far from awed by the provincial lawyer. If anything, he thought McTee should be deferential to him.
As in the U.S., however, Westerners in Canada could prove both ornery and independent.
McTee told Kent, “My clients wisely seek to protect their rights from overreach by authorities both domestic and foreign.”
The faces of both senior cops turned flinty.
Kent looked at the plates of food on the table in front of him.
“Will you be ready to speak for your clients after they finish their dinners?”
“I will,” McTee said. Lily tugged at his sleeve, whispered in his ear when he leaned over. The lawyer turned to the lawmen and added, “My client suggests that we wait for the gentleman from the Bureau of Indian Affairs, so I need not repeat myself.”
SAC Melvin’s face turned red. The jump he’d gotten on Tall Wolf would soon be gone.
Worse, it would be clear he was the one who’d betrayed their working relationship.
“You know how soon he’ll be here?” Melvin asked.
Annie nodded to the door. The lawyer and the cops saw a tall man wearing sunglasses enter the restaurant. Half the people in the restaurant were looking at him. Like the guy was a damn celebrity or something. He even had his own uniformed Mountie with him.
A woman not much shorter than him in a sergeant’s uniform. Damn nice looking, too.
Fucking Indian, Melvin thought.
Tracked him down like he’d left a trail of breadcrumbs.
Chapter 35
John had followed a trail of logic. He figured Melvin, in the end, would be unable to resist screwing with him. He was Melvin’s competitor, so he had it coming. But the SAC would make sure any case he brought to a U.S. attorney would be airtight. So, working in a foreign country, Melvin would be certain to have local law enforcement on hand. He would be able to show he had played strictly by the book when he brought Annie Forger and Lily White Bird home in handcuffs.
That being the case, Sergeant Bramley, at John’s request, called ahead and asked if SAC Melvin had arrived yet. He found out that Melvin had gotten to Banff first. Two Mounties from Banff had been detailed to assist Melvin and a Superintendent Kent, who had jetted in from Ottawa. The local constables had last reported their position at a restaurant on Caribou Street.
It was the name of the restaurant that brought John up short.
The place was called Coyotes.
All the way up in Canada, what were the odds?
He wondered if Marlene Flower Moon was somehow behind all this.
He pushed through the front door.
Learning that Superintendent Kent had put the cops from both sides of the border in a holding pattern, John decided to spring for drinks for everyone. Even Melvin. A sign to the FBI man that any settling of accounts should take place south of the border.
John could justify the expense as the cost of making the FBI look bad for failing to think of the gesture first. He was sure Marlene would never argue with that. If she did, he would never let her hear the end of it.
The Canadians were well pleased by John’s solicitude.
Melvin gave him the stink eye.
The three uniformed Mounties ordered soft drinks. Kent and Melvin each had a scotch. John ordered spring water. He tipped twenty-five percent as a jab at Marlene. The two Banff constables stationed themselves near the front door where they could make sure the persons of interest did not attempt a surreptitious exit. Melvin and Kent drifted off to the far corner of the bar where they whispered to each other over their drinks.
