older one's sun-dried, weathered skin defied categorizing.
After deftly lighting his cigarette with a worn brass lighter, absorbed concentration.
the old man puffed on it. He reminded Brandon of the aged Vietnamese villagers he had seen during the war, venerated old wise men who had seen one regime topple after another, and who had waited patiently for the inevitable time when the Americans would disappear as well.
At last the old man turned his sightless eyes in Brandon's direction.
He held out the cigarette, offering it to the detective. ,Nawoj,11 he said.
Brandon's first inclination was to say thanks but no thanks, that he'd have one of his own, but instinct warned him that there was more at stake here than just refusing a certain brand of cigarettes, homemade or not.
,Take it,- Fat crack urged. 'Say 'nawoi-' 'Say what?'
I'Nawoj,' Fat Crack repeated. 'It means 'friend' Or 'friendly gift.''
'Now-witch,' Brandon said hesitantly, mimicking the strange sounding word as best he could. He accepted the cigarette and took a deep drag while Fat Crack nodded approval. The smoke was far stronger than the white had anticipated. He managed to choke back a fit of man coughing.
Fat Crac explained as he in turn took 'a puff on the cigarette.
This is crazy, Brandon thought What if someone sees me? But just then the old man started speaking in Papago. For a gringo, Brandon Walker was fairly fluent in Spanish, but this language wasn't remotely related to that. He couldn't understand a word.
When the old man stopped speaking, the younger one translated.
'He says he's sorry about your father, but that sometimes it is better to die quick than to be old and sick.'
Brandon's jaw dropped. How did this aged Indian know about Toby Walker?
'How does he ... ?' Brandon sputtered, but the old man spoke once more.
Again Fat Crack interpreted.
'He's sorry to bother you like this, but we must speak to you about my cousin, about Gina Antone, who was murdered years ago.'
The blind man's mysterious knowledge about Toby Walker was forgotten as Brandon's finely honed detective skills took charge. 'Gina Antone?
What about her?'
'We want to know about the other man, the one who went to jail.'
'He's still in prison. In Florence.'
'Are you sure?'
'Of course I'm sure.'
'We would like you to check.' This time Fat Crack spoke on his own without waiting for the old man.
'When? Now?'
Fat Crack nodded. The Indians showed no inclination to move. Shaking his head in exasperation, Brandon Walker rose to his feet and went back inside. He was gone a long time, fifteen minutes, to be exact. During that time, Looks At Nothing and Fat Crack sat smoking in the shade in absolute silence.
Finally, Brandon Walker returned. He stood over the other two men for a moment, examining each enigmatic face. Finally, he squatted back down next to them.
'I just talked to the records department in Florence,' he said.
'Andrew Carlisle was released on Friday. Now tell me, what's this all about?'
Once more the hairs on Fat Crack's neck stood up straight beneath the weight of his Stetson.
'Do you remember when my cousin was killed?' he asked.
'Yes.'
'Do you remember her wipih, her nipple?'
'I remember,' Walker said grimly. It was something he had never forgotten. 'But the man who did that is dead,' Brandon added. 'He committed suicide.'
'He is not dead,' Fat Crack declared quietly. 'It has happened again, just like that. On Friday, near Picacho Peak. The sheriff has arrested an Indian, but an O'othham wouldn't do this, wouldn't bite off a woman's nipple.
Neither would a dead man.'
A spurt of adrenaline surged into Brandon Walker's system, but his face betrayed nothing. 'How do you know about this?' he asked.
'From an Indian who was in jail in Florence,' Fat Crack answered.
'And why did you come to me? Why not go to the sheriff in Pinal County? They're the ones who have jurisdiction in the case.'
'Because,' Fat Crack said simply. looking at the second Indian. 'My friend here is an old man. He doesn't like to travel so far.'
To release her anger, Diana's first impulse on arriving home was to clean her house from top to bottom. Not
