Blakeley and Gene Beatty. They usually spend Saturday nights with Blakeley’s cousins in Biwabik. Big poker game, goes on all night. Blakeley and Gene usually sleep over.”
“That’s good to know. I thought maybe we were just being stonewalled. We also talked to a few of the Red Boyz.”
“Who?”
“Tom Blessing, Daniel Hart, and Elgin Manypenny.”
“And you got a shitload of attitude and nothing else.”
Larson put a foot on the ladder, as if he were thinking of climbing up beside Cork. “Marsha likes Reinhardt for the murders. Doesn’t buy his alibi. What do you think?”
“The alibi’s thin, the motive isn’t. Same’s true for Elise.”
“I don’t know. Tough believing that a woman—a mother yet—could be that brutal. Tape up two people, back-shoot them. Speaking of which, we got prints off the duct tape. Rayette’s were all over the strips used on her husband, but the tape on her wrists was clean. We’re thinking the killer had Rayette tape Alexander, and then he—or she—taped Rayette and wore gloves while they did it.”
Rutledge spoke up for the first time. “I sent the tape to the BCA lab in Bemidji this morning to see if there’s something we can get from fibers or anything else the roll of tape might have come into contact with before it was used for the murders.”
Larson said, “Me, I don’t like either of the Reinhardts for this. Too brutal. And stupid. Buck’s a lot of things, but stupid’s not one of them. And he’d have to know that the Red Boyz wouldn’t let something like that go unanswered. It’s no wonder he’s carrying these days.”
“So who’s at the top of your list, Ed?”
“Seems to me this has all the earmarks of a drug hit. I spoke with Gordon Wingaard, our DEA guy down in the Cities, on the phone a little while ago. He’s inclined to believe the same thing.”
“Who did the hit?”
“Some things we know. Some things we can only speculate about. This is what we know. In California, Kingbird became a member of the Latin Lords, a gang with strong ties to the cartels across the border. The Latin Lords are a big part of the Mexican pipeline that funnels drugs to the Midwest. DEA has been aware for some time that the Lords have been using reservations as depots. Sovereign territory, for one thing. And on the reservation, so much gets tied up with family connections that people don’t talk to the law. DEA has had an eye on the Red Boyz, hoping to intercept shipments, but they haven’t been able to come up with anything, probably because the Red Boyz know ways on and off the reservation that none of the rest of us do.”
“That’s the speculation part?” Cork asked.
“DEA also speculates that the Red Boyz have been able to thin the ranks of the competition in the North Country through a disciplined campaign of intimidation.”
“And so this might be the competition fighting back?”
“DEA certainly likes that possibility. They’re talking to people they know, and they’ve promised to keep us in the loop.”
Cork studied his loose sign a moment, looked up at the thick cloud cover, then dropped his gaze back to the men below. “I don’t want to complicate your speculation, but there’s another possibility I think you ought to consider.”
“Yeah?” Larson said. “What’s that?”
“Lonnie Thunder.”
“I’m listening.”
“According to Meloux, Thunder was running scared after Kristi’s death. Kingbird took him to see Henry, hoping Meloux could help him find some courage.”
“Like the Wizard of Oz,” Rutledge threw in.
“Only Thunder didn’t stick around long enough for the wizard to give him anything. I’m thinking that if Thunder was in a panic and afraid Kingbird was going to turn him in, he might have been desperate enough for what happened out there.”
Rutledge nodded as if he liked the idea. “Which makes it even more incumbent upon us to find him.”
“Yeah, well, good luck.”
“The sheriff’s a little
“That’s good to know. I thought maybe we were just being stonewalled. We also talked to a few of the Red Boyz.”
“Who?”
“Tom Blessing, Daniel Hart, and Elgin Manypenny.”
“And you got a shitload of attitude and nothing else.”
Larson put a foot on the ladder, as if he were thinking of climbing up beside Cork. “Marsha likes Reinhardt for the murders. Doesn’t buy his alibi. What do you think?”
“The alibi’s thin, the motive isn’t. Same’s true for Elise.”
“I don’t know. Tough believing that a woman—a mother yet—could be that brutal. Tape up two people, back-shoot them. Speaking of which, we got prints off the duct tape. Rayette’s were all over the strips used on her husband, but the tape on her wrists was clean. We’re thinking the killer had Rayette tape Alexander, and then he—or she—taped Rayette and wore gloves while they did it.”
Rutledge spoke up for the first time. “I sent the tape to the BCA lab in Bemidji this morning to see if there’s something we can get from fibers or anything else the roll of tape might have come into contact with before it was used for the murders.”
Larson said, “Me, I don’t like either of the Reinhardts for this. Too brutal. And stupid. Buck’s a lot of things, but stupid’s not one of them. And he’d have to know that the Red Boyz wouldn’t let something like that go unanswered. It’s no wonder he’s carrying these days.”
“So who’s at the top of your list, Ed?”
“Seems to me this has all the earmarks of a drug hit. I spoke with Gordon Wingaard, our DEA guy down in the Cities, on the phone a little while ago. He’s inclined to believe the same thing.”
“Who did the hit?”
“Some things we know. Some things we can only speculate about. This is what we know. In California, Kingbird became a member of the Latin Lords, a gang with strong ties to the cartels across the border. The Latin Lords are a big part of the Mexican pipeline that funnels drugs to the Midwest. DEA has been aware for some time that the Lords have been using reservations as depots. Sovereign territory, for one thing. And on the reservation, so much gets tied up with family connections that people don’t talk to the law. DEA has had an eye on the Red Boyz, hoping to intercept shipments, but they haven’t been able to come up with anything, probably because the Red Boyz know ways on and off the reservation that none of the rest of us do.”
“That’s the speculation part?” Cork asked.
“DEA also speculates that the Red Boyz have been able to thin the ranks of the competition in the North Country through a disciplined campaign of intimidation.”
“And so this might be the competition fighting back?”
“DEA certainly likes that possibility. They’re talking to people they know, and they’ve promised to keep us in the loop.”
Cork studied his loose sign a moment, looked up at the thick cloud cover, then dropped his gaze back to the men below. “I don’t want to complicate your speculation, but there’s another possibility I think you ought to consider.”
“Yeah?” Larson said. “What’s that?”
“Lonnie Thunder.”
“I’m listening.”
“According to Meloux, Thunder was running scared after Kristi’s death. Kingbird took him to see Henry, hoping Meloux could help him find some courage.”
“Like the Wizard of Oz,” Rutledge threw in.
“Only Thunder didn’t stick around long enough for the wizard to give him anything. I’m thinking that if Thunder was in a panic and afraid Kingbird was going to turn him in, he might have been desperate enough for what happened out there.”
Rutledge nodded as if he liked the idea. “Which makes it even more incumbent upon us to find him.”
“Yeah, well, good luck.”
“The sheriff’s a little
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