Dry Bones: A Walt Longmire Mystery by Craig Johnson Read Free Book Online

don’t mind my asking?”
    Mike adjusted his sunglasses and looked up at the big man. “At the behest of the American people.”
    Brandon gestured toward himself. “Are we not the American people?”
    “Certainly you are.” He looked at me for help, but I was going to let him tread water on his own. The agent licked his lip, smiled, and breathed deep. “We’re just here to make sure that everybody plays fair.”
    Brandon White Buffalo’s head tilted to one side as he considered the AIC before laughing. He turned and mounted the steps to my office, his gigantic legs carrying him up like the dinosaurs that had held my imagination recently. “You are about two hundred years too late, Agent in Charge.”
    McGroder turned to look at me as the glass door swung closed, the gold and black letters of my department shuddering with the soft impact. “I have a feeling that the next week is going to be interesting around here.”
    “I hope you’re wrong.”
    He smiled, waved good-bye to Vic, and then collected his people from the bench. “Hey, where is the High Plains Dinosaur Museum, anyway?”
    I pointed. “South end of town, across from the high school. It used to be the Moose Lodge and before that a carpet outlet.”
    He thought about it. “The tin building that I saw on the way in?”
    I shrugged as Vic and I started up the steps to our defunct library offices. “We take our institutions where we find them.”
    He pulled out his phone as the trio started toward the black Tahoe with government plates parked at the curb. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to ask for your cell number?”
    “You can ask.”
    He shook his head, and they loaded up and started off, catching the light on Main and disappearing around the corner.
    Vic finally turned. “I’ve got a question.”
    I gave her my full attention, the way I always did.
    “Skip?” She pulled the door open and entered. “A deputy U.S. attorney by the name of Skip?”
     • • • 
    “I told Brandon that he couldn’t smoke in here.” My dispatcher answered a phone and asked the caller to please wait, then hit the hold button.
    I looked around. “Where is everybody?”
    Ruby nodded her head toward the hallway behind her desk. “Your office.”
    I walked past Saizarbitoria’s door and could see that Double Tough, my other deputy, who had just come back from medical leave, was standing next to Sancho’s desk. The skin on the side of his face was mottled from having been burned, and I was still getting used to the eye patch. “How you doin’, troop?”
    He did his best Blackbeard imitation as Vic and I crowded in the doorway. “Argh . . .”
    The Basquo urged me in. “Boss, we need an opinion here.”
    “I’ve got people in my office.”
    “It’ll just take a second.”
    I entered Saizarbitoria’s immaculate but tiny room and stood there with the other two men, Vic holding at the doorway. “What’s up?”
    Sancho gestured toward Double Tough. “DT’s got a new eye.”
    What with Danny Lone Elk, like we didn’t have enough ocular problems as of late?
    I turned and looked at him. “Well, let’s see it.”
    He glanced around the room, his one-eyed gaze on Vic, and then peeled the patch back, leaving it on his forehead. “It’s a fourteen millimeter . . .”
    We all leaned in and looked at the artificial orb, Double Tough staring straight ahead and as nonchalant as you can be with three people peering into your fake eye.
    “It looks great.”
    He seemed doubtful. “Really?”
    “Yep; if I didn’t know any better I’d say it was real.” I glanced at Sancho for a little backup. “Right?”
    “Yeah, it looks great.”
    “It’s the wrong color.”
    We all looked at Vic. “What are you talking about?”
    She stepped in closer and stared at Double Tough. “What color did you order?”
    “I didn’t order it, they did . . . It’s hazel-blue.”
    She studied him some more. “Your real eye is more green.” She