Mercy Kill_ A Mystery - Lori Armstrong [67]
Rollie’s face remained placid as he whipped a U-turn. “Don’t think our sheriff candidate oughta be dealin’ drugs for extra cash.”
“Not me personally, but hypothetically speaking.”
“And you’re askin’ me, hypothetically speaking, about illegal shit like this because . . . ?”
“You da man on the rez, Rollie. Nothin’ gets past you.”
“You use that damn sugar mouth on a man just like your mama did,” he grumbled.
But I saw his half smile through his half-assed protest. “For instance, say someone has prescription drugs. Say you’re traveling through, new in the area with no plans to stay long term. You’ve got top-quality product. How do you know who to contact to unload it?”
Rollie grunted. “First off, you gotta expect if you’re unloading drugs that you’ve already been in contact with someone who directed you through the proper channels. Ain’t no one gonna show up here and walk up to Victor or Saro, especially not on the rez, and say, ‘Hey, man, I’ve heard you own this territory, and I’m hauling some premium product.’ Other associates along the supply chain would’ve already vouched for you, understand?”
I nodded. “So if I pass the ‘she’s legit’ test, then what?”
“If they’re looking to buy what you’re peddling, the next step is an in-person meet with Saro’s rep.”
“Who’s that?”
No answer.
“Come on, Rollie.”
“Cherelle.”
Dammit. J-Hawk had been talking to Cherelle, which confirmed every fear I had.
“She’s always first contact. That way if a federal agency is setting up a sting, she’s implicated.”
“Wouldn’t Cherelle turn on Saro and Victor and blab for immunity?”
Rollie shook his head. “They’ll go after her family. She’d be better off keeping her mouth shut and doin’ time.”
“If Cherelle clears me and my product, who do I end up dealing with?”
“Victor. He sets the meeting times. The meeting places. He makes the payments. Saro is the brains; Victor is the muscle. They’re like yin and yang. And trust me, they play up that angle like crazy. Because, kola, they are crazy. Make no mistake about that.”
I let that all soak in. I looked up, and Rollie was pulling in behind my truck.
“I’m gonna give you some advice, Mercy girl. Let it go. People who get involved with Saro wind up dead . . . I don’t gotta spell it out for you.”
“Meaning Saro’s untouchable?”
“Perhaps.”
My spine snapped straight with indignation. “No one is above the law. That’s the whole reason I’m running for sheriff, Rollie.”
He lit another cigarette, giving me the one-eyed squint through the smoke. “Is that really the reason?”
I counted to twenty before I answered. “If Saro’s drug, torture, and sex-for-trade business has been going on as long as you claim, then my dad was just as guilty as Dawson is for letting it slide. I won’t look the other way. I won’t let it go.”
“Your funeral.”
“Yep. I’d rather die trying than live in fear and not try at all.”
He grinned. “Can we use that as your new campaign slogan, hey?”
“Smarty-pants,” I volleyed back.
“What else is on your mind, Mercy girl?”
Intuitive old man. “Did you ever meet up with any of the guys you fought with in Vietnam? You know, a few years after you came home?”
“The surviving guys from my platoon have a reunion every year.”
“Do you ever go?”
The beads at the ends of his braids clicked together when he shook his head. “I ain’t the type to reminisce about stuff that still gives me nightmares.” He flicked ashes out the window. “You been havin’ them dreams?”
No need to explain what “them dreams” meant. I shrugged. “Some. Mostly the booze lets me sleep in peace.”
He snorted. “Shee. You mean booze lets you pass out with a false sense of security.”
“It’s a moot point now, since I’m not drinking nearly as much as I was.”
“Which is a good thing, girlie. So why you askin’ me about my marine pals, hey?”
“I just wondered if . . . you ever . . . felt you owed them or something.”
His hand curled over my fingers, which were picking at a hole in his dashboard. “I can’t help you when you’re talkin’ in riddles.”
I shared a condensed