Dead Soul by James D. Doss Read Free Book Online Page B

back in Washington before the first snow. Tootin’ around on his electric scooter. Making big things happen.” Sweetwater smiled at the picture in his mind.
    The rancher seated himself on a leather couch, pointed his knees at the fireplace. “You been keeping yourself out of trouble?”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    Moon allowed himself a smile. “Just wondered if you’d managed to stay out of the pokey.”
    The tribal chairman snorted. “I don’t know what’s wrong with those cops in Granite Creek. Throwing me in the jailhouse when I was an innocent bystander reporting a crime.”
    Moon nodded. “It is a mystery. All you did was run into a restaurant at midnight, wave a loaded pistol at the cashier.” He grinned at the chairman. “And with two bodies lying outside in the parking lot.”
    “All I wanted was for that dopey cashier to call the police, but I was all outta wind. And I forgot to talk American. Them dumb coppers locked me up like I was some kinda criminal. And,” he added in an accusative tone, “one of ’em is your buddy.”
    “If the chief of police wasn’t my buddy, they might’ve kept you in that cell for a week. Scott Parris called me to find out if you had a history of criminal behavior.” Or lunacy.
    “Speaking of your lawman friend, has he got anything new on who killed Billy Smoke?”
    Moon intertwined his fingers over a silver belt buckle. “Not the last I heard. He figures it was some lowlife transient looking for a quick buck.”
    Firelight twinkled in the elder’s dark eyes. “Is that what you think?”
    The tribal investigator nodded.
    “Think they’ll ever catch him?”
    “Habitual criminals like that eventually end up in prison. Or dead from an overdose of heroin or lead. But it’s a hundred-to-one shot against us ever knowing his name.”
    The chairman snorted again. “That makes it easy for your chief of police buddy—he’s got nobody to look for.” He was silent for a moment. “But maybe the killer was somebody that knew Billy. Somebody that wanted him dead.”
    The randomness of senseless evil was always hard to accept. “The evidence is pretty clear—it was a robbery gone wrong.” Moon stretched his long legs toward the fireplace. “Wallets were stolen from both of the victims.”
    The chairman shook his head stubbornly. “Billy Smoke’s mother don’t believe that. She thinks whoever killed her boy had a grudge against him.”
    “Who’d have a grudge against Billy Smoke?”
    Sweetwater ignored this question. “And most of the tribe agrees with her.” He gave his host a sly, sideways glance. “That’s why I want you to look into the matter.”
    Well, I saw that one coming. “Granite Creek PD has already looked into it. And because a U.S. senator was assaulted, the FBI has investigated the incident.”
    Oscar Sweetwater dismissed this with a wave of his hand.
    Moon sat for a long time, staring at the flames. “It’s been months since Billy was killed. If the right suspect isn’t arrested within twenty-four hours of the crime, he usually gets away clean. If he’s not picked up within a week, the chances of ever catching him are so close to zero that—”
    “Don’t quote me no statistics,” the chairman snapped. “I know it won’t be easy. But look into the matter, Charlie. If you can’t find nothing, then you can’t. But we got to at least make a show of trying to find out who killed one of the People.”
    Make a show. Of course. It’s always about tribal politics. “Oscar, after all this time, I wouldn’t know where to start.”
    “You could talk to the senator. He’s your next-door neighbor.”
    Next door thirty-some miles away. “The FBI must’ve talked him to death already.”
    Sweetwater grinned. “Patch Davidson don’t much like the federal cops. All he gave them was a written statement through his lawyer.”
    Moon turned to the old man. “He refused to be questioned by the FBI?”
    The chairman nodded. “Damn right.