Die a Stranger

CHAPTER EIGHT

I drove east through the darkness, with Vinnie’s long-lost father sitting in the passenger seat. I looked over at him more than once just to confirm to myself that this was really happening. He sat there in complete silence, looking out the window at the landscape he hadn’t seen in almost thirty years.

We were alone on the road until a car finally came toward us. He had his high beams on and it woke Lou from his trance. He patted his shirt pocket and took out the bag he had bought from the young seller at the Cozy. He flipped on the interior light, held the bag up, shook the contents in the harsh glare for a few seconds, then turned the light back off.

“Good stuff?” I said.

“It’s not ditchweed, that’s for sure.”

“From Canada, you think?”

“Definitely hydro. Very clean. So yeah, maybe Canada.”

“It could have come over on one of those planes,” I said.

“Not the last plane, I’m thinking. The cops are smoking that stuff right now.”

I let that one go. He didn’t.

“You ever do that?”

“Do what?”

“Find a big ol’ load of the green stuff.”

“Not a big load,” I said. “Maybe an ounce or two in somebody’s car.”

“Did it all go into evidence?”

I looked over at him.

“I won’t tell anybody,” he said. “I’m just wondering.”

“Yes, it all went into evidence.”

He made a clicking sound and shook his head. Like, what a waste.

“What’s the big deal with this stuff, anyway?” I said. “Why fly it over from Canada when you can grow it in your own basement?”

“Who says you can do that?”

“Well, it’s not legal, of course. But, I mean, I don’t know what it’s like out in Nevada. Here, people are getting pretty loose about it.”

“You think so? They’re getting loose?”

“Overall, yeah.”

“So you probably won’t have the Michigan State troopers knocking on your door, is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m just saying-”

“How about the feds? Are they ‘pretty loose’ on it, too?”

“Not the feds so much, no.”

“Yeah, not so much. If they get you in their sights, they’ll still come to your door, right? But instead of knocking they’ll bust it right down. Shoot your goddamned dog right in front of you. Then they’ll take your house. Take your kids away, even. Burn your whole life down, leave nothing but a pile of ashes. All because you’ve got three pot plants in your basement.”

“I don’t think that-”

“I’ve seen it happen, Alex. Not to me personally, but I know people who’ve lost everything. Got sent away for a decade or more. So I don’t have to wonder why these guys would rather just fly the stuff in from Canada. There you don’t have the Mounties breaking in your door with their guns blazing. In fact, it might as well be legal.”

“Okay, I understand what you’re saying. I’m not defending what the feds do. Not if they’re breaking down the door and shooting your dog.”

“You even it up on both sides, at least, then you don’t have people moving stuff across the border. You realize it doesn’t matter what the stuff is, right? It could be bubble gum, for God’s sake. As long as people want it and it’s more legal on one side than the other…”

“I know,” I said. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s kind of the golden age for sellers right now. More general acceptance means more people smoking it. Which means a lot more sales for them until it finally becomes legal and Phillip Morris puts them out of business.”

“How come you know so much about selling pot?”

“I don’t sell, if that’s what you mean. Never did.”

Then my cell phone rang and I had to spend the next few moments locating the damned thing on the floor.

“Mr. McKnight, I’m returning your call.” It was Chief Benally.

“Hello, Chief,” I said, trying to remember why the hell I had called him. This was earlier in the day, before I had found Vinnie’s father and everything had taken such a sudden left turn.

“What’s going on? My officer said you wished to speak to me.”

“I guess I was just wondering if you had heard anything from Vinnie yet.” I sensed Lou sitting up straight and leaning closer.

“I told you I’d be in touch if I heard anything. Where are you right now, anyway? You sound like you’re in your vehicle.”

“I’m just heading into town,” I said, looking over at Lou. He gave me a double wave of his hands, like a man signaling to the bartender not to tell his wife he’s there.

“Kinda late, isn’t it?”

“I’m a night owl, Chief. But I appreciate you calling me back.”

“I’m dead serious,” he said. “You’re not out there trying to find Vinnie, are you?”

“I’m driving to the Soo. I can’t imagine why he’d be there. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

The line was silent for a few seconds. I could picture him on the other end, closing his eyes and counting to three.

“I think I’ve been very up front with you,” he finally said. “I was hoping for the same in return.”

“I’ll try to do the same,” I said, not quite sure what else to say. “Not that I’m in the loop here. At all.”

He hesitated again, but then he let me off the hook and wished me a good night.

“Which chief are we talking about?” Lou said as I put the phone down.

“Bay Mills. Chief Benally.”

“Benally? I don’t know that name.”

“He’s not a local. They brought him in from Wisconsin.”

“Are you kidding me? A foreigner is running the Bay Mills police?”

“I said Wisconsin, not France.”

“That’s been a steady gig for somebody on the rez ever since they formed the department.”

“Maybe getting some new blood is a good idea, then.”

He shook his head at that one. “I can’t believe it.”

“I notice you didn’t want him to know you were in the truck with me. You were assuming he’d remember you?”

“There’d be a few of the old-timers who’d be surprised to see me around, put it that way. Even if this guy didn’t grow up on the rez, I’m sure he’s got a few other guys around him who have.”

“So what’s the big deal? What happens if some of these old-timers find out you’re back after all these years?”

“I think we’ll probably find out eventually,” he said. “I just don’t see any reason to flag down the welcome wagon.”

I looked over at him, wondering just how high the pile of ashes was from all of the bridges he had burned in his life. I kept driving down that dark empty road, listening to his breathing. He sounded tired. It was a long, long day for him, one that had started on the other side of the country, but I didn’t figure he was ready to rest. Not quite yet.

I hit the highway and gunned it north until we reached the first exit.

“Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan,” he said as we pulled onto the side streets. “I spent a few years drinking in the bars there. I wonder how many are left.”

“I’m guessing one or two of them are still around.” I looped up to Ashmun Street and headed into the downtown area, or what you’d call downtown if the Soo were big enough to have one. We were looking for a Mr. Andy Dukes, apparently the man to see for high-quality marijuana if you’re in Sault Ste. Marie. He lived on Hursley Street. I vaguely remembered that street hitting Ashmun somewhere around the power canal.

We passed a few cars coming in the opposite direction. It was just after 1:30 A.M. now. Almost closing time, but all of the good bars were down this way on Portage Street so this would be the one part of town still awake. As if to make that point, a solitary Soo police car sat still and dark in front of the theater, waiting for somebody with beer-dulled senses to come roaring by.

The bridge over the power canal was just ahead of us. That’s when I saw the turn for Hursley Street, the very last turn before the canal. I took the right and drove down the street. Once we had put Ashmun behind us, it quickly became two parallel rows of suburban houses, not much different from any other street in any other town. Although even now on a warm July night, you could see how the long winters had taken their toll on these houses. There wasn’t a single sheet of siding or a single window frame that didn’t bear the scars.

“Not the ritziest street in the world,” Lou said. “Not for a successful pot dealer.”

“This town doesn’t do ritzy.”

“You’re right about that. Some things don’t change.”

“Pot dealers like to stay under the radar, even if they can afford a mansion.”

Lou looked at me and laughed. “Okay, Detective Friday. Whatever you say.”

I shook my head.

“That was from Dragnet. Gannon and Friday.”

“Yeah, I got the reference.”

“Which house are we looking for, anyway?”

I slowed down and began checking the house numbers. We found the one we wanted a block and a half down, on the north side of the street. I rolled to a slow stop, turned off my lights and then the ignition. We sat there for a while, letting our eyes adjust to the darkness and listening to the warm engine ticking.

The house was one of several in a row that seemed to have been built with the exact same plan, probably by the same builder in the same year. Dukes’ was two stories high, and it looked tall and narrow as it stretched back to make the most of the lot. There was an enclosed front porch, pretty standard for any house this far north, and there was just enough room on each side of the house for a driveway, with a detached garage in the back. Two beat-up old lawn chairs sat empty in the front yard.

The house was completely and utterly dark. There was no car in the driveway or parked immediately out front on the street. We couldn’t tell if there was a car in the garage.

“Doesn’t look like anybody’s home,” Lou said.

“It is kinda late. Maybe he’s asleep.”

“This is prime time for a pot dealer.”

“What do you say we go knock on the door, just to make sure?”

“You cops don’t have any manners at all,” he said, but he got out and went right along with me. I knocked on the exterior front door first, then opened it and stepped onto the porch. A distant memory told me this wouldn’t technically be illegal entry, although I may have had that wrong. Not that it mattered anyway. There was a doorbell next to the interior door. When I pushed it, I heard the bell ringing somewhere deep in the house. Then there was nothing but silence. As I left, I looked around the porch and saw a great mess of old furniture, broken-down antiques and toys and God knows what else.

I looked around the side of the house and spotted Lou out back by the garage. He was peeking through the window.

“There’s just junk in there,” he said as he rejoined me. “No car. You think he ran?”

“If he knows what happened at the airport, I guess I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“But he’d only run if he thought it would come back on him, right?”

I nodded, thinking it over.

“Either the cops connecting him to it,” Lou said, “or somebody else. Somebody a lot worse.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Seems like you’d have to have a pretty active imagination to think they’d be coming after you, just because you happened to be in the same supply chain.”

“Unless he was a little more involved in it.”

“Or maybe we’re the ones with the active imaginations,” I said. “He could just be out at one of the bars. They don’t close for a few more minutes.”

“We could wait,” Lou said, “unless you feel like talking to one of his neighbors.”

The porch light was on in the house to the left, but otherwise the place was dark. The house on the right had no exterior light on at all, but we could make out a flickering blue glow coming through the side window.

“Looks like somebody’s still up over here,” Lou said, “watching a little late-night TV. Think he’d mind a visit?”

I crossed the front lawn and driveway. I was just about to knock on the door when I saw that this house actually had a doorbell on the exterior. An amazing innovation. I pressed it and heard a two-tone chime going off inside the house. Lou was standing right next to me, and for a moment I wondered what we’d look like standing there at somebody’s door at almost two in the morning, my beaten-up ex-catcher ex-cop white face next to Lou’s sun-ravaged version of an old Indian. If it was a woman here in the house alone, say, then I could imagine her being scared right out of her socks.

A light came on outside, just about blinding us. The exterior door opened and the late-night television watcher looked out at us. It was a man, and then some. He had to go around two hundred and a half, a lot of it beer gut, but he also had hamhocks for arms, with faded tattoos on either side. He was wearing an almost-white undershirt and black pants that sagged under his belly.

“Who are you guys?” he said. He was unshaven and the hair he had left on his head was slicked back. “What the hell do you want?”

“We’re looking for your next-door neighbor,” I said. “Andy Dukes. Do you happen to know where he is?”

“He left,” the man said. “He drove to Texas a couple of days ago. I got no idea when he’ll be back. If ever.”

“Do you know of any way to get in touch with him?”

“I told you, he’s gone. I got no phone number. No address. No nothing.”

“I’m smelling a little something in the air,” Lou said. He took a step closer and tried to peek around him, into the house. “I take it you’re a loyal customer of Mr. Dukes?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” the man said. “I think you guys should leave.”

“If you’re not a customer, then maybe you sell some yourself? What do you say?”

The man was flexing his forearms and looked about ready to jump on us both at the same time. But Lou stepped even closer to him.

“Come on, friend,” he said. “We’re just looking to take the edge off, okay?”

“I’m not your friend,” the man said, “and I still don’t know what you’re talking about. So why don’t you get the hell out of here?”

“Can we leave a phone number in case you hear from-”

“I told you, he’s gone and I don’t expect to have any contact with him.”

“Okay,” Lou said, nodding slowly. “Whatever you say. Sorry to disturb you, friend. Please have a nice night.”

The man took a step backward and closed the door in Lou’s face.

“Charming gentleman,” Lou said as we walked back to the truck. “It’s a shame we didn’t have more time to talk.”

“Why were you trying to buy off him?”

“I was testing him. I wanted to see if he’d sweat. Hell, maybe he does sell. Maybe his next-door neighbor is his partner.”

“Or maybe he just gets paid by the ounce,” I said, “for being so good about taking messages.”

“He’d make a great receptionist, wouldn’t he?”

When we were back in the truck, we sat there for a while longer, looking at the two houses. Lou leaned his head back against the seat. It was obvious he was running out of gas.

“You’ve had a pretty long day,” I said. “Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, we’ll figure out what to do next.”

He banged his fist against the dashboard, but he didn’t argue with me.

I pulled out onto the street. He looked at the two houses one more time as we drove by. He didn’t say a word as we drove through Sault Ste. Marie, the streetlights flickering across his face. He stared straight ahead and stayed silent as we left town and found that empty road back to Paradise, running across the hayfields and through the trees, then rounding the bay with the water stretching out into the darkness.

I took us back on the northern route, through the reservation.

“Let’s stop at the casino,” he said. “The one where Vinnie works at.”

“I’ve already been there. Nobody could help me.”

“Even so. I wouldn’t mind seeing where my son works. Get a feel for the place. Hell, maybe something new will occur to us.”

It sounded like another lap around a track I’d already been on. But I had no better ideas at the moment, so I slowed down as we came around the bend and pulled into the parking lot. The Bay Mills Casino was lit up and shining in the darkness. Not Vegas level, of course, but as bright as anything else you’ll ever see up here. The lot was mostly full at the end of a beautiful summer day. Plenty of visitors to the Upper Peninsula who find out there’s not a whole hell of a lot to do after dark aside from drinking. I parked and we went inside. Instead of going right into the gaming area, Lou wandered around the lobby for a minute, looking up at the giant moose head mounted over the fireplace, then going down the line of pictures in the hallway. There were portraits of the Bay Mills Executive Council going back a few years, and Lou studied each quintet carefully.

“I went to school with a couple of these guys,” he said, more to himself than to me. “Looks like they’re doing just fine.”

I sensed some movement to our left, turned and saw two old-timers watching us. I elbowed Lou, but as soon as he turned to see what I was looking at, the two old-timers did a quick 180 and disappeared.

“Old friends of yours?”

“I kinda doubt it. But whatever. What exactly does Vinnie do here?”

“He’s been a blackjack dealer here for years. He’ll move over to pit boss if they need him, but he still likes dealing. He’s probably the best they’ve got here.”

“Taking money from white tourists. That’s quite a gig.”

“Nobody’s making them play. Sometimes they even win.”

He looked at me. “Yeah, sometimes. Look at this place and tell me just how often you think that happens. Hell, come to Vegas sometime.”

“Do you want to see where he deals, or not?”

“Yes, I do.”

I led him around the corner, past the slot machines, to the table games. There was a circle of people around the roulette table, another playing craps. Then we hit the line of blackjack tables. Most of them were full. Lou found two empty seats at a two-dollar table and he sat down.

“Couple of hands,” he said to me. “Just to clear our heads.”

I took the spot next to him. Lou took out a hundred-dollar bill and put it on the table. I went for my wallet and he stopped me.

“I’ve got you covered,” he said. “We won’t be here long.”

The dealer was a woman in her thirties, a tribal member of course, although like most people up here you could see the European influence on her features. A little German here, a little Finnish there, the intermarriages going back through the generations. Her name card said “Jennie.” She gave us an all-business smile and made change for Lou’s hundred. He slid half the chips over to me without looking at them.

She was close to the end of her decks, so we got only two hands in before she had to shuffle. That was Lou’s chance for a little small talk.

“Nice place you got here, Jennie.”

“Where are you from?” She handled the cards like she’d done this a few thousand times before.

“Vegas.”

“You must play a lot out there.”

“I try not to. I know it’s a losing proposition.”

She smiled and shrugged that off, offering Lou the yellow cut card. Lou placed it in the deck and she completed the cut.

“You know Vinnie?”

She paused at that. There was a subtle change in her body language, then she was right back to all-business again. “Vinnie LeBlanc?”

“Yeah, Vinnie LeBlanc.”

“He’s a dealer here, too. I haven’t seen him in a while. His mother died.”

“You must be a cousin,” Lou said.

“Everybody’s a cousin up here. But maybe you want to talk to Phil, sir.”

She tilted her head and called his name without taking her eyes off the cards. A dealer never takes his or her eyes off the cards when they’re in play, after all. We finished up the hand and then Lou thanked her by sliding her the rest of his chips. I did the same. As we stood up, the pit boss came out with his head cocked, waiting for our story. I knew him well enough to say hello to, and in fact he was the exact same pit boss I had taken aside just a few days ago.

“You’re Alex,” he said to me, looking right past Lou. “Vinnie’s friend, right? We already had this conversation, remember? I have no idea where he could be.”

“I guess we’re just stopping by again,” I said, “on the off chance you might have heard something new.”

“No, not a word,” he said, looking back and forth between us. His eyes narrowed as he focused on Lou. “Have we met before?”

“Maybe a long time ago. Last time I was here, this place wasn’t even built yet.”

“You’re Bay Mills?”

He took a few seconds to answer that one. The pit boss and I both waited while everyone else around us kept doing their casino business.

“No,” Lou finally said. “I’m not. I thought I still might be, but no.”

The man gave him a strange look.

“I appreciate your time,” Lou said. “I’ll let you go back to making money. That’s a nice golf course you’ve got across the street, too.”

The pit boss kept waiting for the punch line, or for Lou to start making some kind of sense maybe, but Lou just turned and walked away.

“Don’t mind him,” I said to the man. “He’s had a long day.”

When I caught up to him I grabbed his arm.

“What the hell?” I said. “Was all of that really necessary?”

“Did you notice?” he said, shaking his arm free. “As soon as I said his name, it was like a big red flag went up. Like I’m under suspicion all of a sudden, just for asking about my own son.”

“Nobody in there knows he’s your son. They’re just looking out for him.”

“I wanted to find him,” he said. “Today. I wanted to get off the plane and find Vinnie.”

There were a dozen comebacks I could have made to that one, but I let it go. Whatever the circumstances, however belated the effort, he was here to help Vinnie, and that was the one thing we could agree on.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Figure out what to do next.”

We went outside. We weren’t ten steps from the door when a car pulled up. A black four-door sedan that looked sort of like an unmarked police car, and I was already getting our story ready. But when the car stopped, the driver’s-side door opened, and I recognized the man who stepped out. He had long gray hair tied behind his head, like a lot of the old-timers around here. I’d see him over at Vinnie’s mother’s house every time I went there. He would nod to me once in a while, but I don’t think he ever said one word to my face.

“Lou LeBlanc,” the man said, coming around the front of the car. “It is you. I thought those guys must be losing their minds.”

“Henry,” Lou said. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, like hell. What are you doing here?”

“Alex, this is Henry Carrick,” he said to me. “One of Buck’s uncles, I believe.”

“I’ll ask you again,” the man said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for my son,” Lou said. “Excuse me, I’m looking for my son and your nephew.”

“I’m amazed you’d even show your face around here,” the man finally said. “I mean, hell, I’m amazed you’re still walking around with all your teeth. If some of the other guys see you here-”

“Yeah, go give them a call,” Lou said. “Round up every last one of them. In the meantime, I see you’re all talk. Just like always.”

“You’re banned from the reservation, LeBlanc. You know that. Hell, you’re banned from the whole state. I thought that was made clear when you got run out of here.”

“I didn’t get run out of here,” Lou said, stepping closer to him.

“Okay, you ran away with your tail between your legs,” the man said. “Like a beaten animal. However you want to put it, the result was the same. You were supposed to leave and never come back.”

“I stayed away for as long as Nika was alive. I kept my promise.”

“Don’t you even dare say her name. Not anywhere on this reservation. Do you understand me?”

“She was my wife, Carrick. She chose me. Not you.”

“And look how well that turned out.”

Lou grabbed him by the collar. I took a step forward and Lou put out his other hand to stop me.

“This is between two old friends,” he said to me. “Just stay out of it.”

At that point, I would have been happy to do so. Hell, I would have just driven home and left the two of them there to have it out. But we were starting to draw a small crowd of people coming in and out of the casino. I couldn’t just let him kill this guy, anyway. Which is exactly what would have happened if they’d started swinging at each other.

“We don’t have time for this,” I said. “We’ve got more important things to do.”

Lou finally let the man go and tapped him lightly on the cheek.

“It still must hurt,” Lou said. “What is it, forty years now? The love of your life and she dropped you like a hot rock.”

“You’ve got five minutes to get off the rez.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lou said, walking away. “And then you’ll call the whole gang to come beat me up. I heard you the first time.”

“You got a lot of nerve, too,” he said. “Talking about Vinnie and Buck, like we’re not doing everything we can to find them. This from a man who abandoned his whole family.”

Lou stopped. Mr. Carrick finally found some degree of sense and went around to the other side of the car, putting two and a half tons of metal between himself and a prison-hardened man who probably could have taken him apart with his bare hands.

“You’ve been warned,” the man said. He got into his car and drove away. The people who had gathered around us continued on, into or away from the casino.

“You did mention the welcome wagon,” I said as we walked back to my truck. “I guess that was it.”

“I’m obviously not welcome here,” he said. “But can we make one more quick stop?”

“Where’s that?”

“I just want to say hello to her. And goodbye. One more time.”

I stopped there in the middle of the lot and looked at him. This was exactly what Vinnie had asked to do.

“Come on,” I said. “Get in.”

A few minutes later, we were up on top of Mission Hill. It was just as dark and empty as that night I had brought Vinnie up here. Once again, I stayed by the truck and watched a lonely LaBlanc man make his way through the graveyard to find the stone next to the freshly turned earth. Once again, it was a clear summer night and I could see all the way across to the blinking lights on top of the wind turbines in Canada.

When he was done, he got back into the truck and we rode down to the bottom of the hill, then off the reservation. To Paradise.

He was already reaching for his bag as I drove up toward Vinnie’s cabin.

“I’ve got an empty cabin just down the road,” I said. “I think you should stay there.”

Either he agreed with me or he was too tired to fight about it. He sat back as I drove him around the bend to the first of the five rental cabins. I went inside with him and showed him where everything was. He put his bag down and sat in one of the chairs. Then he took out little plastic baggie from his coat pocket.

“Is it cool if I smoke in here?”

“A joint, you mean? You’re gonna smoke a joint now?”

“I just need one,” he said. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

“This is none of my business, but you started out as ‘clean and sober,’ and then that got downgraded to just clean, right? So now you’re what? Neither?”

“I’m still clean, Alex. Clean inside and out. It’s just marijuana.”

“Yeah, just marijuana,” I said. “Tell that to those dead men on the runway.”

He just looked at me. I knew we were about two seconds away from more of the ex-cop versus ex-con routine, so I decided to bail out and let us both get some sleep.

I drove back down to my cabin. Before going inside, I stood there for a while and let the darkness and the silence close in around me. There were clouds moving quickly across a tilting half-moon. The air was still almost warm. Then the wind picked up and as it hit my face it brought along an unmistakable message. It may be July, and it may feel like summer just got here, but the end is already on its way. The cold, the snow, the ice, the natural basic state of this place, it is right around the corner.

I took a quick walk back to Vinnie’s cabin. Nothing had changed. I walked back to my own place, hoping this much exercise would help me get to sleep. I was expecting a losing battle on that front, but I must have been exhausted because I dropped right off. I had all the bad dreams I would have bet money on having, but somewhere in the night a brilliant idea came to me. Brilliant for me, at least, and thank God it was still with me when I woke up.

As I opened my eyes to the sunlight, I still had no idea where Vinnie was. But I knew exactly where Lou and I needed to go.