Page 41 of The Cabinet of Dr. Leng

“Right.” He decided not to mention he was half Italian.

“Well, it’s like this…Those caves up there? There are old burials in those caves. To go up there…would be disrespectful.”

“I see.” And he did see, quite clearly. “Disrespectful, and possibly even risky?”

She nodded.

“Why, then, did Running go up there to shoot Twoeagle?”

“A lot of Lakota today don’t care about tradition.”

“But wasn’t Running known for respecting tradition?”

Wilcox shrugged.

Coldmoon nodded. “Thanks.”

He went back out to the car, where Pologna was already waiting. The man looked pointedly at his watch.

Coldmoon started the car but didn’t drive off. Instead, he turned to Pologna. “What do you think now?”

“Still guilty as hell.”

“Really? Let’s review the facts. One: the rifle is hidden in a way that feels planted. Two: we now know why Running didn’t report the gun stolen. Three: the shooter carelessly left the casing, and yet he took all kinds of care in wiping down the weapon and the unfired rounds. Four: Running is a traditionalist, yet he didn’t seem troubled using a spiritually dangerous place for a sniper’s roost. Five: Twoeagle had the money and was maybe about to pay.”

When he was done, silence grew in the car. Finally, Pologna said, in a tired voice, “One: criminals are stupid when it comes to hiding evidence. Two: we only have Running’s word—we don’t know if it’s true. Three: again, criminals do stupid things. Four: a guy committing murder is already in a spiritually dangerous place. And five: so what if Twoeagle had the money? A lot of people with money stiff their creditors and lie about promising to pay. Besides, we neversawit. His wife justsaidit was in the safe. You didn’t ask her to open it.”

Coldmoon was rather taken aback by this intelligent refutation and colored, thinking he should have asked her to open the safe. That was stupid of him.

Pologna went on. “And finally, let’s back this up a little. If Running didn’t do it, who did? What was the motive? There’s zero evidence of anyone else being involved in this crime, and even Twoeagle’s wife said he didn’t have any enemies. Something else: the shooter obviously had local knowledge. He knew when and where Twoeagle would be collecting stone. He positioned himself and waited. That points strongly to Running. So what are you thinking? Some outsider stole the rifle, did the deed, and then planted it back at Running’s place? And all this on an Indian reservation, where a stranger, probably white, would stand out like a sore thumb? You’re talking about a sophisticated and well-planned operation—just to kill a harmless guy with no enemies.”

Coldmoon shook his head. “Still…”

Pologna swore under his breath. “Look, Coldmoon, can’t you accept that we solved the case? Let’s get off the clock and go have a beer.”

“You’re forgetting,” said Coldmoon, “we’re on the Rez. No beer in fifty miles.”

“Shit.”

Coldmoon started the car. Part of him wanted to agree with Pologna—a large part of him, in fact—but he couldn’t shake the fact he still had misgivings. He drove out of the RPD parking lot and started down the road toward their motel.

“There’s the Lakota Museum,” he said as they passed a low building. He slowed and put on his blinker.

“What are you doing?” Pologna asked.

“I want to have a look at Twoeagle’s replicas. The ones his wife said were on display.”

“Why?”

Coldmoon couldn’t really come up with a reason why.

Pologna groaned loudly. “I feel like I’m in hell.”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

He parked and they went toward the low, nondescript building. Entrance was free and the volunteer at the lobby desk said that a case of Twoeagle’s replicas could be found in the back. Everything else in the museum was real.

Entering the museum proper, Coldmoon noticed they were the only people there. He was surprised at how nice the place was. The lighting looked professional, and the artifacts were amazing, if not incredible. Ghost Dance shirts, intricate bead- and quillwork, headdresses, extraordinary ledger books filled with pictures, Sun Dance buffalo skulls painted and stuffed with sweetgrass…The richness of it was staggering.

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