Defiled: The Sequel to Nailed Featuring John Tall Wolf (A Ron Ketchum Mystery Book 2)

by Joseph Flynn

  Ron said, “I promise to make you breakfast twice a week, if you’ll reconsider taking the chief’s job.”

  Keely sipped the black coffee. Just the right contrast to the sweetness of the syrup.

  She said, “Okay, we got distracted last night before we could have this conversation, so let’s have it now. Tell me honestly, could you work for me? Have me be your boss? Give you a do-it-my-way order, if it came to that?”

  Ron sipped his own coffee. He’d had his breakfast while Keely was showering.

  Putting his cup down, he said, “No.”

  “Well?” Keely asked.

  He said, “If the shoe were on the other foot, would you have asked me to become your chief of police?”

  “Well, yeah, if only to be polite, and you promised to cook for me.”

  Ron laughed. “Okay, I’ll do that unconditionally. But you’re right, it wouldn’t be good for me to work for you either. We were partners too long.”

  “Besides that, you don’t know for sure you’ll even be elected mayor, an idea which still makes me wonder what I’ve been smoking.”

  Ron sighed. “It wouldn’t be my first choice. But I like living up here. I’ve come to think of it as home. And right now I don’t see anyone else I think could do a better job.”

  “I can understand that, I guess,” Keely told him. “But I haven’t been living up here, and I’m not sure I could. Not full time anyway.”

  “Oh … well. I’m grateful you came this time.”

  Keely ran her fork through a puddle of syrup and licked it clean.

  “Give me a kiss. I promise it will be a sweet one.”

  Ron did and told her, “We’re both going to have to brush our teeth for ten minutes.”

  “What a romantic,” Keely said with a laugh. “I do have one idea that might work out for us.”

  “What’s that?” Ron said.

  “Well, if you could find me a decent place to live in town, at a subsidized rent, and you offered me the right contract, I could become the Goldstrike PD’s consulting detective.”

  “Consulting detective?”

  “Why not? It worked for Sherlock Holmes.”

  “Yeah,” Ron said, “but if you’re Holmes that makes me Watson.”

  When nobody was looking Abra Benjamin drove to Reno and caught an FBI plane to San Francisco. She met Deputy Director Byron DeWitt at the Mark Hopkins Hotel. Both of them decided, the weather being unusually clear and warm for summer, that they’d walk a few laps of nearby Huntington Park.

  DeWitt told Benjamin, “I don’t know how Helios Sideris has been able to keep such a low profile for so long. Possibly because he was suspected of much but convicted of nothing at all. From information we’ve gathered, he’s been a person of interest in seven murders, coast to coast and border to border. But there’s never been quite enough for any prosecutor, even some of the more zealous ones, to bring him to trial.”

  “The cops have never questioned him?” Benjamin asked.

  “That has been done, with predictable results.”

  “He asked for his lawyer. What about us? Have we ever had reason to talk to him?”

  “You mean get him on a 18 USC Section 1001?” The law that forbade lying to federal agents. “We’ve had a crack at bat, too. He knew the magic words. ‘I will not discuss anything without first consulting counsel.’”

  “Damn,” Benjamin said.

  DeWitt nodded. He and Benjamin were both lawyers and knew that making a conditional response was a much smarter move than simply refusing to talk. Total silence by a person not in custody, in the face of an accusation of having committed a crime, might be used as an adoptive admission of guilt under the Federal Rules of Evidence.

  Invocation of counsel, however, could not be used at trial.

  Benjamin said, “If we had a go at Sideris, that must mean he has more bad habits than simply killing people.”

  “Two of the people he’s suspected of killing were the top executives of a company that disposes of toxic waste.”

  Benjamin’s head snapped around and she looked at DeWitt.

  Before then, they’d been looking at their surroundings not each other.

  DeWitt continued, “The two victims ran a legitimate business. They followed all the EPA guidelines for the proper disposal of materials you don’t want making their way into the water table. They even had the bright idea of working at a very low profit margin. Thought they’d make their money in volume, attracting clients who might otherwise go to companies with dubious business practices.”

  Benjamin understood immediately. “They took business away from illegal dumpers who didn’t appreciate the competition.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I was so interested to hear from you about Sideris being seen in a town threatened by a dirty bomb.”

  “Yeah and, who knows, Chief Ketchum could be right that Hale Tibbot’s death is connected to the bombing attempt, what with Sideris being a suspected hit-man.”

  “Do you want more help up there?” DeWitt asked.

  Benjamin shook her head. “I’m good.”

  “Ketchum is being cooperative?”

  “I don’t think he’s telling me everything, but I’m getting most of what he knows.”

  “Can’t ask for more than that. How are things with our friend from the BIA?”

  “Tall Wolf? He’s not what I thought he’d be. He’s not … not territorial like some of us would be in his place. He goes his own way. Maybe he even knows something the rest of us don’t.”

  “Not necessarily a bad thing,” the deputy director said.

  Benjamin stopped walking, bringing DeWitt to a halt.

  “Byron, there’s something you should know.” She looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. Then she lowered her voice anyway. “I’m pregnant, and I’ve decided to keep the baby.”

  At the risk of blowing their secret, he took both of Benjamin’s hands in his.

  “I never did plan to make government my life’s work,” he said.

  Benjamin gave her undercover paramour a smile. One with a glimmer of regret.

  She did plan to make the FBI her career.

  Gently disengaging herself, she asked, “Does Sideris have a legitimate front?”

  DeWitt said, “He designs sets for Las Vegas shows.”

  Seated in Ron Ketchum’s office, the chief and Keely were discussing her suggestion that he should be the one to question Veronika Novak. For one thing, he had the authority to detain her as a material witness to a crime. Having Keely make a citizen’s arrest would look a lot more iffy, if charges were ever brought against an alleged killer. Also, Veronika, if she got her back up, could demand a lawyer and refuse to say anything.

  To the cops, that was.

  But if Keely were to go back to Locks & Bangs, say, for a manicure, why she might get into a conversation with Veronika. A smart lawyer might claim that Keely was acting as an agent of the police and was disqualified from speaking with Ms. Novak. Only Keely’s agreement to help Ron was verbal, and the Goldstrike PD had yet to pay her a penny.

  “Maybe I should just get my nails done and go back to L.A.,” Keely said. “Make things less obvious that way.”

  “Leaving me a coded message to decipher before you do,” Ron suggested.

  “Sure. Seal it with a lipstick kiss.”

  They both laughed.

  “How about we see if Ms. Novak can be persuaded to talk first?” Ron said.

  “Both of us?”

  “You’d be the good cop,” Ron said.

  Before they could take the discussion any further, there was a knock at the door, Sergeant Stanley’s distinctive knock. Ron said, “Come in, Sarge.”

  He did, and caught sight of Keely.

  “I can come back later if you’re busy, sir.”

  “Unless it’s a personal matter, Caz, you can speak in front of Retired Detective Powell.”

  The sergeant regarded the former L.A. copper.

  She
told him, “Really, it’s okay. Ron asked me if I’d like to be the new chief of police.”

  Sergeant Stanley swiveled his head to look at Ron. He was busy rolling his eyes again.

  “It’s true,” Keely said.

  With the sergeant’s eyes on him, Ron admitted, “It was true, before I learned of the retired detective’s complete lack of discretion.”

  “You want me to really start talking?” Keely asked.

  “No.”

  “I’ll come back later,” Sergeant Stanley said.

  Ron held up a hand. “No, don’t. It won’t get any better. What’s going on, Caz?”

  The sergeant told him he’d found out Helios Sideris had been staying at the Renaissance but hadn’t been seen for the past two days. Sideris had also rented a safe-deposit box at the Sierra National Bank. Bank personnel had agreed to inform the PD if Sideris stopped into the bank again. Sideris had also asked Ms. Marjorie Fitzroy, the concierge at the Renaissance, to help him find an Indian.

  “Native American is the preferred appellation.”

  The three people in Ron’s office saw that John Tall Wolf was standing in the doorway.

  “Though Indian still works for me,” he said.

  Tall Wolf had just come from a meeting with Marlene Flower Moon in the living room of Clay Steadman’s house. The special agent was introduced to the mayor, who asked him, “Light sensitivity?”

  Meaning the reason he wore sunglasses indoors.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Marlene told Clay the story of John being left on a scaffold as an infant.

  His adoptive parents rescuing him.

  Clay sighed and said, “Good for them, good for you, too. I only wish I had the time.”

  “Time for what?” Tall Wolf asked.

  “To film all the interesting stories I’ve ever heard. If you’ll excuse me, I have to be going.”

  The mayor shook the special agent’s hand and left.

  Tall Wolf looked at Marlene and asked, “Do I want to know where he’s going?”

  “You probably should know.”

  “Because?”

  Marlene said, “Because I’ll soon be taking a leave of absence from my job.”

  Tall Wolf wasn’t sure he’d heard right. It was as if Coyote had just told him she had become a vegan. What could possibly … Then it came to him.

  “You conned that old movie star, didn’t you? You’re going to take him for a big chunk of money because I told you he’s sick.”

  Tall Wolf’s tone was not approving.

  Marlene didn’t care. Contrary to what Tall Wolf often seemed to think, she didn’t work for him. “What I’ll be doing,” she said, “is co-producing Clay’s next two movies.”

  “Including the one based on Chief Ketchum’s father?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you know about being a white cop?”

  “Not a hell of a lot.” Walt Ketchum had just stepped into the room. He shook Tall Wolf’s hand. “But I’ll teach her. By the way, thanks for helping me out the other day. I was a little hazy there for a while.”

  “You’re welcome,” Tall Wolf said.

  Walt excused himself, saying he’d let Marlene and Tall Wolf get back to their business. He’d just wanted to say thanks. When he left, though, he gave Marlene a look and had a sly smirk on his face.

  Tall Wolf wondered if Marlene had had the two geezers one at a time or both together.

  Coyote was certainly capable of —

  Telling him, “Yes, I’ll be paid for my efforts.”

  “Are you getting a cut of the gross?” he asked. “Is that where the mayor is going, to work out the details of your deal.”

  “He’s going to talk to people I’ll soon be meeting,” she told him. “What concerns you is that I’ll be leaving someone I trust in my place at the BIA.”

  Of course, she would, he thought. Coyote didn’t miss a trick.

  “Is there anything else?” Tall Wolf asked.

  “Yes, I’ve had another talk with Herbert Wilkins. He told me he was helpful to you, but only up to a point. I persuaded him to be wholehearted in his assistance.”

  “Did you ask Wilkins what kind of help I want?”

  Coyote gave him a smile and a shake of her head.

  Better that she didn’t know what Tall Wolf was up to, in case it went wrong.

  Then the blame would be his to shoulder.

  And if there was more than enough trouble for one person to bear …

  Maybe she’d be a studio head by then, Tall Wolf thought.

  Just stay in Hollywood, collect pelts and make billions.

  “Did Sideris tell Ms. Fitzroy why he wanted an Indian?” Ron asked Sergeant Stanley.

  “No, sir.”

  “Did she find him one?” John Tall Wolf asked.

  “She gave him the name of the local Washoe council leader.”

  “Herbert Wilkins,” Tall Wolf said.

  Keely grinned. “The special agent has been out detecting.”

  Ron asked Tall Wolf, “What’s your interest in Mr. Wilkins?”

  The chief gestured the fed to a chair so he’d know he was still welcome as a member of the team. Tall Wolf said, “I believe in keeping busy. This morning I was out looking for gold. Sergeant Stanley kindly arranged for me to borrow a Winchester from one of your officers.” The special agent turned to look at the sergeant. “I returned it cleaned and oiled, as promised, though I didn’t need to fire a shot.”

  The sergeant nodded in appreciation.

  Tall Wolf said, “Would you mind excusing us, Sergeant?” Looking at Ron, he added, “If that’s all right with you, Chief.”

  Ron said, “I’ll tell you if there’s anything you need to know, Caz. Thanks for the information about Sideris. That was good work.”

  The sergeant left, not entirely happy at being dismissed, and closed the door behind him.

  “You want me to go, too?” Keely asked.

  Tall Wolf shook his head.

  “Good, because that question was purely rhetorical.”

  “Can we get back to business?” Ron asked.

  Tall Wolf leaned forward. He didn’t whisper, but he kept his voice down.

  “Sergeant Stanley asked me this morning if I thought someone might put something valuable in a safe-deposit box. He wasn’t being naive, I think. He was asking if someone might really be that dumb. That’s how I took it, anyway.”

  “You mean Sideris?” Ron asked.

  “The sergeant didn’t mention his name at the time, but I believe I heard him mention that name before I stepped into your office.”

  “Overheard it,” Keely said.

  “I stopped to tie my shoe,” Tall Wolf said with a straight face.

  Keely looked at Ron. “He lies well, doesn’t he?”

  The chief said, “Can we please get to the point?”

  “Okay,” Tall Wolf replied. “Remember how I said the local Native Americans know where gold can be found around here?”

  The two former L.A. cops nodded.

  “Well, let’s say some of that precious metal has started to make its way through the local underground economy.”

  Keely saw where he was going. “You’re saying Sideris wound up getting his hands on some?”

  Ron took the idea another step. “If Sideris killed Hale Tibbot … he got paid in gold?”

  Tall Wolf said, “Valuable stuff. Better than sixteen hundred dollars an ounce.”

  “But gold, especially unrefined ore, would be conspicuous, too. A killer who got paid that way would have to figure out what to do with it. How to cash in on it,” Ron suggested.

  Keely said, “Brings us right back to Helios Sideris renting a safe-deposit box.”

  Tall Wolf nodded. “But he might have had more than changing gold to greenbacks on his mind. Like how could he up his take from the guy who hired him or find someone else who might help him become a … a claim-jumper, I’d guess you’d say.”

  “And who might th
at be?” Ron asked.

  “I’ve talked with Herbert Wilkins, the local Washoe council leader. He told me he dodged talking to a white man with yellow hair.”

  “Sideris,” Ron said.

  “But if Wilkins dodged him, what then?” Keely asked. “Sideris went after the guy who hired him? Looking for a bigger payday. Maybe a partnership deal?”

  They didn’t have an answer to that.

  Tall Wolf took things in another direction. “As I mentioned before, I was wondering if maybe Hale Tibbot had bought some land around here hoping to build a resort on it. And instead of someone coming to him with a proposition, maybe, without knowing it, he’d simply bought himself a gold mine, too. Imagine some heavy equipment operator digging the foundation for a building and noticing he’d turned up something all bright and shiny. He might say, ‘Well would you look at that, boys? I’ve hit gold.’”

  “Jesus,” Ron said. “That’d be —”

  “Enough to get all sorts of people upset.” Tall Wolf said. “From the little reading I’ve done so far, large scale gold excavation is an industrial process incompatible with a tourist economy.”

  “The real gold mine would give the boot to the recreational one,” Keely said.

  “But how would Sideris have figured all this out?” Ron wanted to know. He told Tall Wolf, “I don’t think he figured things out the way you did.”

  Keely said, “The place to start, to see how much of this we’ve got right, is the safe-deposit box Sideris rented.”

  “There’s one more thing to consider,” Tall Wolf said. “As I said, with Sergeant Stanley’s help, I went looking for gold myself this morning. Didn’t find any, but I did find this.”

  He took out the stone he’d found and put it on the chief’s desk.

  “Remind you of anything?” Tall Wolf asked.

  “An arrowhead,” Keely said.

  “The red arrows, the ones painted with Tibbot’s blood,” Ron responded.

  Tall Wolf nodded and picked up his stone. “This little stone got me thinking about the others. You think maybe Tibbot’s killer left them as helpful pointers?”

  “Pointing us in the direction of the guy who hired him,” Ron said.

  Keely said, “Yeah, that’d be quite the bargaining tool. ‘I’m in for half the gold or you’re in for half the murder.’”