“Because she was pregnant?”
“They didn’t know that. That speculation began only recently. A few days ago somebody spotted Sonny Chickaway loading a big box full of baby formula onto his boat.”
“Who’s Chickaway?”
“A friend of hers. Bachelor. Lives alone. Because of all that formula, folks started putting two and two together.”
“There’s something else about Lily. She’s kind of a special case,” Bascombe added.
“Special in what way?” Cork asked.
Bascombe said, “I think these days we call those folks ‘challenged.’ ”
“Mentally retarded?”
“Mildly retarded,” Kretsch said. “Sweet as they come, that kid. Someone took advantage of her.”
“Any speculations?”
“Oh, yeah.”
It was clear from the way Bascombe spoke that this was the kind of scandal a small community chewed on with delight.
“Seth,” Kretsch cautioned.
Bascombe pushed away from the wall. “Now, Tom, you know there’s good reason for what folks are saying.”
“Christ, just tell me,” Cork said.
“Her brother, for one,” Bascombe blurted.
Cork looked to Kretsch for confirmation, and the deputy reluctantly nodded. “His name’s Noah. Noah Smalldog. He’s kind of infamous in these parts.”
“Infamous how?”
“Shady. Elusive. Hates whites with a passion. Back in the days when Indians were into scalp taking, Noah Smalldog would’ve had enough to sew himself a winter coat.”
“Criminal record?”
“Nothing serious and nothing recent. Too smart. But most folks are pretty sure he’s big into smuggling. He’s got himself a cigarette boat that can outrun anything on Lake of the Woods.”
“As I understand it, going too fast on that water can be disastrous.”
“Smalldog grew up on this lake,” Kretsch said. “His father was one of the best guides in these parts, and Smalldog did a lot of guiding himself when he was younger. I’m not sure there’s anyone knows Lake of the Woods better.”
Bascombe said, “I heard that when he smuggles he runs at night without lights or GPS.”
“This guy sounds a little mythic,” Cork said. “Like Paul Bunyan.”
“Yeah, if Bunyan had been a son of a bitch.”
“Smalldog got into trouble in his late teens,” the deputy went on. “D and D mostly, that kind of thing.”
“Just that, drunk and disorderly?” Cork said.
Kretsch shook his head. “Other things, too, but like I said, nothing really serious. It was clear that he had anger issues, and if he kept going in that direction he was looking at the possibility of jail time down the road. I guess the First Nations elders gave him the option of channeling his anger or getting run off the rez. So he joined the army and went to war. From what we heard, he was pretty good at it. Fought with the Canucks in Afghanistan. Came back a couple years ago, and pretty much disappeared in Lake of the Woods. We get Smalldog sightings all the time. Like Elvis, you know.”
“But he had this sister, Lily,” Cork said.
“Half sister, really,” Bascombe said. “Same mother, different fathers.”
“He must have had some contact with her,” Cork said. “He must have come out of hiding enough to justify the speculation that he fathered her child.”
“The folks at the camp filed complaints alleging that Smalldog sometimes trespassed at night to visit his sister.”
“Alleging?”
“They never caught him, but somebody was there. Left her little gifts,” Kretsch said.
“Gifts?”
“The camp folks figured they were bribes or payments for letting him have sexual relations with her.”
“Did they ever have her examined by a doctor after one of these visits?”
“Not as far as I know. But from what you found on that island out there, it’s clear something of a sexual nature went on.” Kretsch picked up the Rapala lure and idly touched the hook, as if thoughtlessly checking the sharpness of the barb. “So, what did this guy with the Weatherby look like?”
“My height,” Cork said. “Probably about my weight, one eighty. Long black hair in a ponytail. He had on a tan ball cap that shaded his face, so I didn’t get a good look at his features. But Indian, I’d say.”
“How old?”
“Hard to tell. A lot younger than me, but that seems like everybody these days.”
“Could be Smalldog,” Bascombe said.
“Or any number of First Nations men.” Kretsch put the lure down. “I think it’s time I had a look at that island.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Lynn Belgea stood at the open door to her home, which was nestled among a stand of tall red pine on Angle Inlet, a small community a couple of miles north of Young’s Bay Landing. She watched Rose and Jenny and Babs Larson pile out of Larson’s truck and start up the dirt path through the patch of wild grass and flowers that was her yard. At her feet stood a brown and black dog, a standard poodle, who barked at their approach and eagerly wagged his tail.
“Hush, Teddy,” Belgea said. “You’ll wake the baby. Come on in, folks. I’ve been expecting you.”
They entered her home, a modest little cabin nicely furnished with pine furniture and braided rugs, and immaculately clean. The dog danced along beside them, jumping up on his hind legs to get a look inside the basket.
“Sit, Ted,” Belgea said, and the dog obeyed. “I haven’t had him long,” she apologized, “but he’s learning. I’ve found that peanut butter works wonders with him. This way.”
She led them to a small examining room with a view of the pines in back.
“Let’s have a look at this little man,” she said.
Jenny took the baby from the basket and handed him to Belgea, who didn’t blink an eye at his misformed upper lip. The woman laid him on the examining table and looked him over carefully while Jenny explained the circumstances in which she’d found him.
“I’d say he’s between eight and ten weeks old,” Belgea said. “His weight seems good, despite his ordeal. He’s been well cared for.”
“What about his lip?” Jenny asked.
Belgea’s capable hands cradled his little head, and she looked closely at his mouth. “Not all that unusual. Native Americans have the highest rate of children born with cleft lips and palates.”
Rose said, “Why would that be?”
“Some of it’s genetic. Babies inherit a gene that either causes the cleft directly or is part of a syndrome that includes clefting as one of its symptoms. Sometimes it’s simply a gene that makes a child more susceptible, and an environmental issue actually triggers the clefting.”
“Environmental issue?”
“Smoking or drinking or drugs during pregnancy. Sadly, that’s a real problem for a lot of young Indian mothers. And this guy has another strike against him. Male babies are twice as likely as females to have clefting.”
“What can be done about it?”
