The Spider's Web

by Coel, Margaret

  “Well, you were certainly right about the mastermind in the burglary ring.” Vicky gave him a smile. “Adams was close to bankruptcy a year ago, at least that’s what the moccasin telegraph says. He must have gotten the idea to save his ranch by robbing empty houses. Hawk and Lookingglass were working on the ranch, so he brought them in. Trouble was, they ran into alarm systems.”

  “And his wife’s nephew was an electrician who knew how to circumvent alarm systems.” Father John shook his head. “Ned wanted his own ranch more than anything else. The thing is, he didn’t like burglarizing houses. It put him out of balance.”

  He glanced in the direction of the center pole, and Vicky followed his gaze. At least two dozen men were lifting the pole upright. They hoisted it across the ground a few feet, dropped the end into a hole, and braced the pole in place. They would construct the Sun Dance Lodge now by building the side walls and pushing up the poles covered with prayer flags to the center pole, like the rafters of an open-air roof. “Ned should have been here,” he said.

  Vicky waited, and after a moment, he went on. “Gianelli thinks that after they broke into a number of houses around Lander, Adams decided to move the operation to Jackson Hole, where he could make bigger hauls by breaking into fewer homes. So he talked Ned into moving there and used an old army connection to get him a job that would get him inside the houses.”

  She started walking, and Father John stayed beside her. Other people trailed past, heading for the camps. He said, “I think Ned wanted out before he went to Jackson Hole. It’s possible Adams let him think he could make a clean start there.”

  “Then drew him back in?” Vicky said. Ned was a good electrician, she was thinking. He could have kept the job in Jackson as long as he wanted. Eventually he might have saved enough money for a down payment on a ranch.

  “Adams knew how to play him.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see John O’Malley shaking his head. “A few more break-ins, some expensive items, and Ned could get his ranch. He wouldn’t have to wait any longer. According to Gianelli, Adams had connections in Denver where he sold the stolen goods. Every month, Hawk and Lookingglass drove a ranch truck loaded with stolen goods to a warehouse. There was every opportunity to hold out on him, and Adams knew it.” He waited a moment before he went on, “A falling out of thieves, Gianelli called it. Hawk and Lookingglass shot Ned, and Adams shot them.”

  Vicky kept to the side of the road, John O’Malley in step beside her. Ella’s camp was ahead. She could see the woman’s head bobbing about the brush shade, Ned’s relatives and friends gathered around. “They think I took the part of the outsider,” she said, nodding in the direction of the camp.

  “You tried to protect your client’s rights,” John O’Malley said. “Everyone here would expect you to do the same for them. Ella knows that. She asked me to invite you to supper.”

  “Does she still believe Marcy was involved in Ned’s murder?”

  It was a moment before John O’Malley answered. She could sense the thoughts turning in his head. “Maybe she’ll always think so,” he said. “She called Marcy “Niatha” and said she was as clever as a spider. Have you heard from her?”

  Vicky shook her head. “Even her father has no idea of where she is. But he can find her, he told me. All he has to do is cut off her credit cards and close the bank account, and she’ll call him.” She walked on for a moment, then turned toward him again. “As long as there isn’t a scandal that would affect the Glory and Success Ministry, and Marcy stays out of trouble, I doubt he’ll do anything.”

  The sun had started to drop, an orange ball flaring over the mountains and bathing the peaks in orange light. The western sky was a tapestry of oranges, reds, and magentas that reflected in the white tipis. Now, Vicky knew, after months of preparing the dancers, the Sun Dance grandfathers would begin feeding their Sun Dance grandsons and their families. When they had eaten, the dancers would gather their bedrolls and line up outside the lodge. They would enter the lodge as their names were called. It would take a while, she knew. She remembered Sun Dances when the last dancer wasn’t placed inside the lodge until after midnight. Then the drums and singers would start. And every morning for the next three days, the dancers would line up at their places inside the lodge, face the opening to the east, and dance as the sun rose. People would come from across the camp and stand outside the lodge. At first there would be the complete silence of the plains, but the moment the sun had fully risen, the women would begin to tremolo. Then the people would return to their camps. And on Sunday evening, the dancers would face the West as they waited for the evening star. Then they would dance out of the lodge.

  Most of the crowd was back in the camps now, getting ready for the evening meal, Vicky knew. She was quiet, conscious of John O’Malley beside her. She wondered what he thought, this white man from another place, another past. “I think Ella’s right,” she said finally. Then she told him what Larry Morrison had said. How Marcy had taken his .380-caliber SIG P232 and hidden it inside the bathroom wall, how he had found the hiding place after she left for Denver, and how the pistol was gone.

  “But there isn’t any evidence she was involved,” he said. “Gianelli is convinced that either Hawk or Lookingglass got rid of the pistol after Ned was shot.”

  Vicky took a moment before she told him about going to Ned’s house yesterday. “I found the place in the bathroom where Marcy cut out a small piece of wallboard. The space behind it was big enough to hold a gun.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “She hid the pistol along with the latex gloves she must have used. I think Ned had wanted to break up with her. I think he must have told her she had to leave. She lives for revenge, her father said. He feared she had intended to kill him and his wife.” Vicky glanced over at one of the camps, the people milling about, children running around. “He told me she used to hurt herself,” she went on. “Bang her head against the wall, knock herself unconscious. She knew how to do it.”

  John O’Malley stepped away, then turned back, eyes narrowed in comprehension. “She could have gone to Ned’s house for the gun and the gloves the night she left the mission,” he said. “She was probably worried that sooner or later Gianelli would find them. She’s destroyed them by now. There won’t be any evidence to link her to Ned’s murder.” He paused, keeping his gaze on her. “The case is closed, Vicky.”

  “She left the mission because of you,” Vicky said. The ground seemed to shift under her feet, and an icy feeling cut through her. “She knew you would put things together. If you heard that she had stolen her father’s pistol, you would inform Gianelli. You were the one who saw into her, John. She knows that you know what she’s capable of.” She put a hand on his forearm. Beneath the thin cotton of his sleeve, she could feel the knots of his muscles. She could not imagine what she would do if anything were to happen to him.

  “Are you certain she hasn’t come back to the mission?” She caught the way he hesitated, and she pushed on. “She has, hasn’t she? She’s still out there,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “She’s somewhere, and she knows that you know her. She knows that sooner or later you’ll know what she did.”

  John O’Malley was quiet a long moment. Finally he placed his hand over hers and held it, as if it wanted to reassure her. “Ella’s waiting on supper,” he said.