“So Sloane did confess?” Elle asked.
“Confronted with irrefutable evidence of his motive, his desire to cover up a monumental breach of his financial trust, the bugger broke down completely,” Eknar said. “And here I was, looking forward to polishing my interrogation techniques when alas, he admitted everything. Once he learned that we knew Carmello hadn’t signed the loan document, he knew he was in trouble.”
“What was his story?” Charli asked.
“Just that he went to see Jake about the loan. When he told him that he'd need to get Carmella to make the payment, Jake admitted that Angela had forged the signature and then notarized it. That put Sloane in a bad spot. If it was foreclosed, the fraud would come out. Then he remembered the insurance policy. His trip to Carmella was to ensure she kept her mouth shut and that she'd repay the loan from the insurance money.”
“So he admitted to killing Jake?”
Terri nodded. “He told him to meet him and they'd work out something on the loan.”
“Where did he get a gun?” Elle asked.
“This is New Mexico,” Eknar said laughing. “You turn over a rock to find them.”
“Seriously,” Elle asked. “He doesn’t seem like the type to get a black market pistol.”
“He didn’t,” Terri said. “He had inherited one from his father. It was old and he thought it wouldn’t be in the system and so we couldn’t trace it to him. So he shot Jake, then dumped him out by the track, hoping we’d decide it was a gambling-related death.” She smiled at Eknar who pretended not to notice. "He left the gun so that maybe we’d think it was suicide.”
Charli nodded. “But Billy took the gun.”
“Fools all around, those two” Eknar said. “Ballistics and forensics have the gun and Sloane's car now. We found traces of blood in the trunk and it’s a sure thing they are Jake’s. So even if some smart lawyer tells Sloane to shut up or if we messed up his confession somehow, we will have plenty to convict him with.”
“Then congratulations,” Elle said. “Very impressive work. And Nevermore Insurance appreciates all the cooperation.”
“Even though they still have to pay out the benefit?” Eknar asked.
“Well, I’m sure they would appreciate not having to pay money even more, but they are glad to have things clearly laid out.”
And, Charli was certain, they would be pleased, as usual, with Elle Kramer’s ability to fill in the forms without any mention of dreams, brujas, or other things that still didn’t have any appropriate boxes.
Chapter Eighteen
Decisions
After Elle and Charli said goodbye to Eknar and Terri, they checked out of their motel, bade Ruidoso Downs farewell, and drove the twenty miles up into higher mountains and back to Mescalero.
Elle was happy. “So when are you coming home?” she asked. “I owe you a drink or six.”
Charli winced at the word home. “I don’t have any idea,” she said. “Right now I’m even wondering what that means to me.”
“I'm thinking of the place you pay rent and have a job.”
“No classes, however. And as someone near and dear to me has pointed out several times, no classes means no pay, means you are unemployed.”
“That’ll change next semester. And if you don’t get back there, who will open the eyes of Tennessee’s college students to the joys of cultural anthropology?”
“I don’t know,” she said. Her heart sank. Once that had been important, but now, she wasn't sure that was at all what she wanted.
“You’re sad,” Elle said.
“The death of a dream is always sad. At one time, I thought that teaching would be my life. Now I’m sure that it won’t be. At least not the vision of it that I had.”
“Well, there is Roger. He's a vision. Don't forget Roger.”
The attempt to cheer her up was doing the trick. “No, I can’t forget Roger,” Charli said. “And I don't. But I wonder what he wants.”
“He wants you,” she said firmly. “Beyond that, he wants you.”
Charli knew that was true. “But at what cost to him?”
Elle didn't answer.
And so, Elle dropped her off at her grandmother’s home and headed out to catch a plane to return home. “Someone has to feed Lester,” she said. It delighted Charli to see that, her cynicism aside, Elle was clearly happy to be that person.
Elle was her dear friend. Sometimes she envied Elle so much that she almost disliked her. Most of the time she was grateful for such a great friend.
When her grandmother opened the door, Roger was standing behind her. “Ambush,” she shouted happily.
“In the finest Western tradition,” Roger said. “Torre is teaching me.”
“How did you....”
“Elle called ahead, Torre said. ”Unlike another person we could mention.”
The truth was that she’d wanted time to think. But the truth, that truth, didn’t matter. She was delighted. “So she’s part of your gang too?”
“You mean tribe. And of course she is,” Torre said. “She knows that we need to talk. The three of us have a future to plan.”
“The three of us?”
“For the moment. I have news of opportunities, and tons of advice for you to consider. Then Roger has some things to say. After you’ve heard them and we’ve heard you, when we’ve discussed everything, then you and your man need to get out of here.”
“I just got back.”
“You need to go see Kee’s parents. They will want to see you, to meet him, and to offer their wisdom. You don't have to take it, but this is the way we do things. It’s the Apache way.”
Before she could say a word, Roger raised his hand. “It’s the right way.”
And so, feeling as if she should’ve brought along a peace pipe, the three sat down over tea to talk.
A day later, Roger and Charli drove West, crossing New Mexico and heading for the San Carlos Apache reservation in Arizona—the home of Kee’s parents. As they drove through Las Cruces, Torre called them from the payphone in Mescalero. Then she’d called Bonita to tell her that they were excitedly expected.
“Plan on eating a lot of fry bread,” Torre told them. “They want you to feel welcome.”
As they drove, Charli and Roger continued the discussion they’d had nearly all night with Torre.
“We all agree that you need to learn more about your dreams, your dreaming,” Roger said. “We all agree on that.”
“It’s the when and where,” she said. “And what else I do while I'm doing that.”
“What do your dreams tell you?”
“Nothing, right now.”
“Then you are on the right track,” he said.
“Why do you say that?”
"You know that everyone has dreams, right?” Roger asked. “Now although everyone, even the wise folk, tell us we should follow our dreams, for you and I there is a certain extra logic, an imperative to that thought. I propose that we work on it. Why make a conscious decision about what happens next? Let's just meet Kee’s parents. Get to know them and then let your dreams continue to lead us.”
She turned at stared at him. “You think there is logic to following my dreams? Where do you get that? Sometimes they scare me and make me feel I should be running in the opposite direction.”
He laughed. “That assumes you can outrun them. I don’t think it works like that. It didn't work for your mother.”
She let out a long breath. “Well, that shoots down that theory.”
“We know there is more to them than simple fantasies.”
“Right. We can agree on that and that they are seldom simple.”
“Your dreams have substance and usually carry a message.”
“We just don’t know what that substance is or the message means,” she said.
“Well, the way I see it, figuring that out is half the fun,” he said. “If Torre is half right, and I’m sure she’s more than that, you need to be around her an
d around here for that to work out well.”
“And you call that fun? Have no plan but chasing down what truth there is in my dreams?”
He laughed. “I sure do. And you get better at it all the time.”
“What’s the other half of the fun? Couldn’t we focus on that?”
“Okay. Let's talk about that. We’ve already embarked on this grand journey to understand what this dreaming stuff is about. We know that it isn’t just you, that it’s part of the culture, and as an anthropologist, you’d be the first to admit that means something.”
“You’re putting words in my mouth.”
“But they are true ones.”
“Hmm. Can I reserve judgment?”
“It’s just that I’m getting the impression that this one of those journeys that never really ends. You and I are extreme examples of the old adage that life is what happens while you are making plans, except we skip the planning stuff.”
“That sounds ominous,” she said. “Are you trying to talk me into or out of going back to Tennessee and teaching college freshmen the meaning of the Mayan calendar?”
“It just means that I’m excited. Hey, we get to find all this new stuff out.” He smiled. “Unless you’d rather settle down to a quiet life where things always happen the same.”
She tried to picture it. Seeing herself living a quiet and predictable life was easy enough, but when it came to being happy in it, she failed miserably. A world like that sounded static. Where was the growth? When everything was predictable, where was the joy in getting up in the morning? “I don’t think I want that,” she said. “And I bet you’d be bored to death, unless we lived in the forest so you could see animals skulking about every day.”
“Now that you mention that, I probably would,” he said. Then he pointed. “Look, a chipmunk.”
She caught a glimpse of a furball throwing itself across the highway. As far as she was concerned it could’ve been a bat. “Is that relevant?”
“Just to point out that you were being prophetic again.”
“Hmmm. Sometimes being a prophet is dead easy. There are animals all over the place.”
“The point I’m trying to make is that what we are doing can be a wild ride. And being with you, I doubt I’ll ever have to worry about being bored.” He looked out the window. “That’s a good thing, Bonita.”
“How long do you intend to keep calling me that?”
“I don’t know. Is forever too long?”
She sighed. Sometimes loving Roger was just too damn easy.
He hummed softly, then looked over at her. “One other thing.”
“What now?”
“As long as you are making decisions... deciding what to do, where to be, what you want to do with your dreaming ability, I want to add one more to the list.”
“What now?” she asked.
“Will you marry me?”
For once, Charli couldn’t think of a thing to say. She stared open-mouthed at Roger.
“We can buy a pickup truck,” he said. “A used one. This fancy car doesn’t fit in around the places we are going. And we could use it to haul our stuff out here from Tennessee. Just what we need. Sell the rest.”
“I haven’t even...”
“Sure you have,” he said. “Torre can get you that teaching job on the reservation and there are several openings for rangers in the area. They've got some really nice places to work with cool animals. None of that would be predictable and boring, of course, but I think we could make it work.”
“But Roger, everything is insane right now and that’s a big, big, lifetime scale decision.”
“True. But when you look at it, things aren’t much crazier now than they’ve been since I first met you,” he said. “At least from where I sit. And, unless I’m wrong, I can’t see things getting saner anytime soon. So I figured that if I can’t calm things down, well, why not stir them up even more?”
“Are you really serious?”
He was quiet. Charli heard the hum of the tires on the road and the occasional rush of air from a semi passing them. Then he reached over and took her hand. “Never been more serious in my life, Bonita. I know it’s a big decision and one I’ve had time to think about while you’ve been exploring the meaning of dreams and solving murders. So take your time and think about it. Sleep on it. See if I fit into your dreams the way I'd like to.”
She sank back, resting her head against the window, feeling the vibration of the road ripple through her. He was right that things had been crazy and were likely to get even crazier, but the Apache and Navajo tribes had both welcomed her as if she were coming home, and as strange as this land was, it felt more like home in some ways than any place she’d ever been.
More importantly, sharing it all with Roger was amazing. He was amazing. And he loved her. There was no question about that.
She sighed and a word came out. “Yes,” she said.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, louder this time.
He looked at her. “Yes, we can buy a pickup or yes, you will marry me?”
His broad grin seemed to slip inside her, to tickle her with its joy. “Both,” she said.
He threw his head back and roared. “Yippie! As we say out here in the Wild West.”
“That’s one thing, though. We don’t say that, or ‘get along little doggie.’”
“Never?” he asked, looking sad.
“Never.”
He shrugged. “Okay, marriage is about compromise. I can live with that if I’m living with you.”
She looked ahead. They were driving I-10, heading for Lordsburg, New Mexico where they would turn north. There wasn’t a lot to see in front of her but open land, yet she felt something warm and reassuring. Part of the warmth was love radiating from Roger. The rest, like her dreams, how they worked, was still a mystery that she would have to unravel.
THE END
DON’T MISS THE FIRST two books in the trilogy:
A Murky Murder
An Unearthly Undertaking
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A Foreboding Felony Page 11
