Icepick Page 13

  Bear’s eyes swelled, a look of panic. ‘That was my daughter?’ he muttered. ‘That midget with a knife?’

  It only took me a second to respond.

  ‘I don’t care for the word midget,’ I said. ‘I think I am going to let your wife kill you.’

  And I bashed the side of his head five or six times until he was unconscious.

  Echu Matta sat on the sofa in the living room on Lincoln Boulevard while I told her, as briefly as I could, my story.

  The conclusion was: ‘So John Horse and I had to leave town in search of Bear Talmascy and you. The rest of the women are already on their way back to Florida. On a bus with John Horse.’

  I took a second to look around at the room. It was nicely appointed, but like something out of a demonstrator model – no real personal touches. Contemporary furniture in cream and gold, a fake Monet over the gas-log fireplace, and wall-to-wall carpet that almost matched the furniture.

  ‘You stayed behind to find me?’ She stared.

  ‘I told your kids I would find you.’

  I’d never seen a Seminole woman with tears in her eyes. It was a little unnerving.

  ‘Bear lost his spirit a long time ago.’ She glanced down at his unconscious body beside the sofa.

  ‘He’s an owl person or something,’ I said. ‘That’s what they say.’

  ‘That is what they say,’ she agreed. ‘He has strange powers.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But what good is magic if it can’t protect you from, excuse my language, a swift kick in the nuts?’

  That made her laugh, which made me happy.

  ‘What are we going to do with him?’ she asked me.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, sitting back in the wing chair, ‘that’s a puzzle. Which cops are straight and which ones belong to Pody Poe?’

  ‘I don’t know who that is.’

  ‘Local guy, bankrolled this particular business venture,’ I explained.

  ‘Which was what, exactly? No one ever told us what Bear was going to do with us.’

  ‘I only have guesses, and none of them are very nice.’ I took in a breath. ‘I think he was trying to increase the verifiable Seminole population here in Oklahoma to get a bigger bite of the government money, like a Social Security scam, you understand?’

  She nodded. ‘And it would make sense to the government agents. Most of the Seminoles who were brought here originally were men.’

  ‘Importing women would balance the population.’

  ‘Yes.’ She was glaring at Bear. ‘What did he think he was going to do to make us stay here?’

  ‘That’s the unsavory part, to me,’ I went on. ‘I think he might have intended to sell you once you were counted by the government. He’d get money two ways: for the extra people, and then for selling you.’

  ‘As what?’ She spat out a harsh breath. ‘Seminole women don’t make good prostitutes or tame servants. We’d escape.’

  I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. ‘Not if you were drugged all the time.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Bear moaned. He was waking up.

  I cocked my pistol and leaned forward, but Echu Matta was already off the sofa and on top of him.

  She took hold of his ears, one in each hand, and shook his big head like it was a rag.

  ‘I’m going to speak to you in English,’ she whispered harshly, ‘because I don’t want to defile the language of my people when I talk to you. You are lost, Bear, and you will wander eternity with no home and no family. No rest. No peace. Always hungry and thirsty. Always wanting. Do you hear me?’

  He opened his eyes. They were the saddest eyes I had ever seen.

  ‘I–I wanted to start over. I wanted to be a better husband.’ He swallowed. ‘I thought I could end my cursed path and begin another one. I was going to get the money and then come home to you. But then, when I saw you at the Benton, and you were so angry with me, I got scared. I took you. I did that. But I thought if I got you to Oklahoma and explained—’

  Echu Matta shrieked a high-pitched scrap of pain like I had never heard in my life. She started banging his head into the carpet over and over again, still screeching, not taking in a breath.

  Bear just looked up at her face and took it. Until he passed out.

  Then she climbed off him and shook her head.

  ‘Too many men believe that women are things,’ she said, her voice rasping and harsh. ‘Mostly whites, but human beings too.’

  I stood up, gun still pointed at Bear.

  ‘I don’t want to make a big deal,’ I said, ‘but we should get to your children as quickly as we can. And I’m a little uncomfortable just leaving Bear here. It’s my estimation that he’ll come after you. And me, I guess.’

  She sighed. ‘What can we do? I hate him, but I don’t really want his blood on my hands.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I agreed, ‘and shooting a guy on such nice carpeting isn’t exactly my style either.’

  Bear groaned.

  ‘I do have an idea, though,’ I continued. ‘Do you think you could manage to tie him up so he can’t get loose?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said bluntly.

  ‘Would you do the honors, then?’ I asked her. ‘I am going into the kitchen. I happened to see a phone in there. I need to make a phone call.’

  She went immediately to the beige floor-to-ceiling curtains at the back end of the living room, and I went into the kitchen to make my call.

  In ten minutes, the curtain cords were around Bear’s wrists and ankles, both behind his back, so tight that his skin was bleeding. And his back was arched in a way that made my spine ache just to look at it.

  Echu Matta stood back to admire her work. ‘What now?’

  ‘Now,’ I answered her, pocketing my gun, ‘we go to a bar in Bricktown and hope that Pody Poe is still there.’

  The unnamed bar in Bricktown was nearly deserted when the doorman let me in. Rita was at the far end of the bar, watching but not acknowledging.

  Poe was sitting at a table near the front. Two guys stood behind him, one on either side. Poe had changed into golfing attire: a yellow shirt and white pants, and those stupid shoes with cleats, like golf was an actual athletic endeavor.

  The place seemed moodier, but maybe it was the lighting. Less like the 21 Club; more like the waiting room at a mortuary. And just as quiet.

  I stood about ten feet away from Poe’s table, hands clasped in front of me. Poe was nodding like I’d said something, even though I hadn’t uttered a peep since I walked in the joint.

  Finally, he said, very slowly, ‘I have called New York. I have spoken with people. You did not ask them for the money. The money you promised me.’

  I let go a breath. ‘You and I agreed that I wasn’t going to ask anyone in New York for the money.’

  ‘I know,’ he snapped. ‘But I thought you’d ask somebody!’

  ‘I did ask somebody.’ I tried to make my voice as soothing as possible.

  ‘And?’ he demanded.

  ‘You want to know where I’m getting the money if it’s not coming from New York?’

  ‘I do.’ His voice was getting higher.

  I nodded. ‘Well, I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. But I can say that I’ve made my call, and it’s a done deal. The amount you wrote on the piece of paper is on its way to you now, Western Union service. A cashier’s check hand-delivered to the Hook ’N’ Slice.’

  ‘In my name?’ he growled.

  ‘Not unless your first name is Cash.’ I glanced down toward the end of the bar. ‘I told them that Rita would sign for it.’

  Rita downed what was left of a daiquiri then stood, waiting.

  Poe nodded, and Rita went out some back way through the kitchen without a word.

  ‘And I thought you might like to know,’ I went on, ‘that Talmascy is hogtied inside that house on Lincoln Boulevard. His wife beat him up and left him that way. I thought you might want to speak with him, seeing as he has caused you no small amount of trouble. Because my guess
is that when you called New York about this mess, they were unhappy with you. Not him. That’s why you’re so upset now. Not because you thought I wouldn’t get your money, but because my friends in New York gave you what-for.’

  I made quite a point of emphasizing the words my friends.

  He wanted to say something about that, I could tell. But he didn’t.

  ‘And so,’ I concluded, ‘I will be leaving your city now. It’s a long drive back to Florida; I want to get on the road before dark.’

  ‘It would be a good idea,’ he said carefully, ‘if you didn’t come back to Oklahoma City. Ever.’

  ‘I cannot tell you how much I agree with that sentiment,’ I assured him.

  I suspected that I was getting off easy. I backed toward the door and dropped my arms to my side, ready to go for the pistol in my coat pocket.

  But my exit was without incident.

  Echu Matta was slumped down in the passenger seat of my T-Bird, sleepy in the slant of the afternoon sun. I got in and she roused herself.

  ‘Are they going to kill Bear, the men in that place?’ she asked me.

  ‘I don’t know.’ I started the car. ‘Let’s go home – you want to?’

  She smiled. I drove. In no time at all, Oklahoma City was in the rearview mirror.

  EIGHTEEN

  Florida

  I had some very confusing feelings when I saw the sunrise over Fry’s Bay. It felt like coming home. I’d never thought of Fry’s Bay as home, just a place to be until I went back to Brooklyn. My home in Brooklyn.

  Echu Matta was asleep beside me. She hadn’t talked much on the trip; she said she had to get her strength and her spirit back. I understood. And to tell the truth, it was kind of nice being quiet for a while. Don’t get me wrong, I loved John Horse. But sometimes he could talk too much.

  The sun coming up was the color of a flamingo’s wing, and the stars were still blinking up high. The ghost of a moon was haunting the western sky, and gulls were headed toward the beach. It felt like a nice ending to all the troubles.

  I nudged Echu Matta.

  ‘You want me to drive you straight to the hospital?’ I asked her.

  I’d been driving all night and I was bleary-eyed. She looked at me for a minute and then nodded. So straight to the hospital I went.

  I wasn’t sure if I should come with her into the room where her daughter was in a coma and her son was quietly freaking out. I was barely to the nurse’s station when I saw the look of panic on Maggie Redhawk’s face. I was suddenly afraid of what might be wrong.

  ‘What room are they in?’ Echu Matta whispered.

  Maggie looked at me. ‘They’re gone, Foggy! Cops came and got them in the middle of the night. When I wasn’t here.’

  Echu Matta froze.

  I was so tired I thought I’d heard wrong. ‘Who’s gone?’ I blinked.

  ‘I’ve been frantic. John Horse is nowhere to be found!’ Maggie was more emotional than I’d ever seen her.

  As opposed to Echu Matta, who’d gone very still.

  ‘Cops came and got those children out of the hospital?’ I asked slowly.

  ‘Topalargee was awake,’ Maggie told me. ‘She just sat up in bed, suddenly, when I was in there. She said you’d found her mother, Foggy.’

  That didn’t surprise Echu Matta. She just nodded.

  ‘OK.’ I rubbed my face hard. ‘OK. First: John Horse is probably still on a Greyhound with the rest of the missing women. Takes the bus twice as long to get here from Oklahoma as it does a Thunderbird. Second: doesn’t sound like Watkins or Brady to just barge into a hospital room and take children away. Third: when did that happen and who was here?’

  ‘About five hours ago,’ Maggie said. ‘And Betty Patten was the nurse on duty.’

  ‘Where’s Betty now?’ I asked.

  ‘Asleep in the break room,’ Maggie answered. ‘I told her not to go home.’

  I smiled. ‘Good. Have you spoken with your brother in the past two days?’

  Maggie shook her head. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘I need to see him,’ I said, ‘but given the current situation, it’ll have to wait. This Betty Patten’s in the break room?’

  Maggie pointed. Echu Matta was ahead of me.

  Nurse Betty Patten was a waif. Couldn’t have been more than ninety-eight pounds, eyes like emeralds, nervous hands. When she saw us come in, she jumped.

  ‘Who took my children?’ Echu Matta said softly.

  It was more a threat than a question.

  ‘The police came,’ she said. She’d said it a dozen times before, from the sound of her voice. Plenty of people had already asked her what happened.

  ‘You let them take a kid who’d been in a coma?’ I asked, just to let her know that I was familiar with the case.

  ‘Her … her grandfather, the children’s grandfather, said it would be all right,’ Nurse Patten squeaked.

  ‘No,’ Echu Matta said. ‘Both of her grandfathers have been dead for over twenty years.’

  Nurse Patten looked at me. ‘They were Indians. Indian men with the police. They were the police.’

  ‘Did they have any sort of paperwork?’ I asked.

  Nurse Patten looked away. ‘No.’

  ‘You’re new here,’ I said. ‘I don’t just mean to this hospital. You’re new to Fry’s Bay.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded, still not looking at us.

  ‘That’s a midwestern accent,’ I observed.

  ‘Columbia City, Indiana.’ She sighed.

  ‘What happened?’ I asked.

  She finally looked over. ‘Hm?’

  ‘What happened there to make you come here? What is it you’re getting away from?’

  ‘Where are my children?’ Echu Matta growled.

  Which destroyed any chance of subsequent amiable conversation.

  ‘I don’t know! Are they going to fire me?’ And suddenly, her face looked about ten years old.

  Nurse Betty Patten was a deep well into which I chose not to dive. Her story was probably an interesting, lonely one. Like mine. But it was too much to take on, for about a million reasons.

  Echu Matta turned, abruptly, and headed for the door.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked her, following.

  ‘Police station.’

  I fell in beside her. ‘Seems like the right place. Besides, they always have coffee, and I need some.’

  We were silent for the four minutes it took us to speed to the station. I went in first, kicking the door and then shoving it open so hard that it hit against the wall.

  ‘Where are they?’ I demanded before I could see if there was anybody in the room.

  Jeanie’s face went white.

  Jeanie was a community school undergraduate student in retail management. Her job at the police department strained the concept of the part-time job. She was in the office on Tuesday mornings for an hour, and Fridays from five to seven in the evening. I had no idea what her duties were, and I always had the impression that she didn’t know either.

  She was alone in the office, standing beside one of three-dozen file cabinets. Her platform shoes, three-inch cork soles, only emphasized the fact that her grey miniskirt was way too short for a kid of her size. Wispy blonde hair in two side ponytails touched the shoulders of her pressed white short-sleeved blouse.

  She was trying to talk, but couldn’t.

  ‘Where are my children?’ Echu Matta growled low.

  The sound of that voice froze my blood, and I thought that Jeanie might pass out.

  ‘Y–your children, ma’am?’ she finally managed to squeak.

  ‘Is there anybody in holding?’ I asked her. ‘Anybody?’

  Jeanie glanced toward the door that opened on to the cells, then back at me.

  ‘No.’ She blinked.

  ‘Watkins and Brady?’ I sighed.

  ‘What about them?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Where are they?’ I shot back.

  ‘I don’t … I don’t know.
’ Jeanie lowered her voice. ‘What’s this about missing children?’

  Echu Matta turned to me. Her face only looked half-human. ‘Where are they, Foggy?’ she snarled.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and took in a breath. ‘I don’t know, and I’ve been driving all night. I’m not a reliable source. Come on.’

  I headed for the door.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Echu Matta demanded.

  ‘Coffee,’ I answered, not looking back. ‘And a donut.’

  The donut shop called, appropriately enough, Donuts, was a throwback to a bygone era, right in the center of Fry’s Bay. You could smell the yeast a block away. The counters were all starry Formica and the 45s in the jukebox hadn’t been changed since 1957.

  Cass was in charge. She was at least sixty years old, not quite five feet tall, red rouge smeared on her cheeks, red eyes set way back in her head. The henna in her hair smelled like ginger, somehow, and her face was a roadmap of the harder life elsewhere that had landed her in our little town.

  When I walked in the door she growled like a dog.

  ‘Morning, Cass,’ I said, taking a stool at the bar.

  ‘You’re not supposed to be in here,’ she warned me.

  ‘I need coffee.’

  Cass paused for a moment, then rolled her head and picked up the coffee pot.

  Echu Matta came in then; she’d paused outside for a minute, unclear or undecided what to do. When Cass saw that face, she swallowed and stepped back three full paces.

  ‘I don’t want no trouble,’ she said defensively.

  ‘Where are the policemen?’ Echu Matta whispered harshly.

  ‘Wh–what policemen?’ Cass stammered.

  Then Echu Matta screamed. It was a sound filled with days of captivity, hunger, thirst, privation, pain and – most of all – rage. Not a human sound.

  Cass dropped the coffee pot.

  The other three people in the place froze.

  I leaned forward and spoke to Cass a little meaner than I should have.

  ‘I think you know which policemen she’s looking for,’ I said.

  ‘Blake Road!’ Cass said instantly. ‘Blake Road. Jesus.’

  I nodded. ‘I’m still going to need that coffee, Cass.’