Chapter 23

The next day we were back at it full blast, since Saturday would be a day off, at least for me. Our church called me as an elder back in 2007, and I've tried to keep Saturdays free for what I call "elder stuff." Since Cecelia and I got back from Oklahoma, and have started operating the detective agency as a full-time concern, I've insisted that only emergencies interfere with spending Saturdays in my church office. Since the latest body had turned up just a week earlier, it was unlikely that there would be any emergencies in the case – the perp was escalating, but not that fast, not yet.

Cecelia and I had separated, in order to talk to more people in the same amount of time, when my cell phone rang. I saw it was Darlia's number, and stepped out of the way of traffic as I flipped the phone open and put it to my ear. "Hey, 'Lia," I said, "how's the rez?"

"Well," she said in her raspy voice, with the patented dignity that often makes her seem older than 13, "I've got all my research done, and I've written up my notes and made an outline for my report, and all I need to do now is write it."

"Coolness. I'll be interested to see it – in fact, I'd like it if you'd let me see it before you turn it."

"I'll do that. But you won't try to rewrite it, will you?"

"Naw, I ain't no editor – but if I do find something I think you might want to redo, I will let you know. But it's your report, 'Lia, not mine – you'll get your grade with your own research and your own writing."

"That's good – I love you, Dad, but I don't want you passing me."

"Shoot, was I to mess with your report, it'd probably cost you points, not give 'em to you."

Darlia laughed over the phone. "You ain't that dumb, Dad!"

"It's nice to know I'm not that dumb – just dumb to a certain point."

"Oh, pish, Daddy!" She sometimes still uses the childish word, when she's in a good mood or on the infrequent occasions when she whines at me. "You know I didn't mean that!"

"Yeah, I do. So, when you comin' home?"

"Uncle Memphis says if I'm done with my research there's no more ceremonies for a while, not till February, unless something comes up, so I could go home any time and not miss nothin'." Darlia's English isn't as bad, usually, as mine, but she does take after me in how she speaks.

"Could Memphis take you to Spokane over the weekend?"

"Sure, if I asked him – you know how we are, we don't do nothin' unless it needs doin', an' we don't punch clocks."

"By 'we, ' I presume you mean the Lahtkwa."

"Yeah – I am one, you know, my card says so." The government doesn't require whites or blacks or Hispanics to carry a card to prove they're white or black or Hispanic, but it does put that requirement on Indians. I and Darlia both are enrolled members of the Lahtkwa tribe, and have the cards to prove it.

"Yeah, but you're talkin' like you're one of 'em all the way."

"Dad, I am Lahtkwa. My card says so. Uncle Memphis says so. The other elders say so. I speak the language – I'm almost fluent by now. And my heart says I'm one of the People." As with so many Indian tribes, the Lahtkwa name for themselves means, simply, the People.

"Okay, I'm not arguin' with you. It's just that I've been thinking like a white guy my whole life. Anyway, why don't you talk to Memphis, see what will work for him, and then let us know. We're both glad you've got this chance to do independent research and write a paper and get credit for it, but we do miss you."

"And I miss you guys. I'll talk to Uncle Memphis. Bye!" And she was gone. She knows how much Cecelia and I hate talking on the phone, and she accommodates herself to that even though she's not so unhappy with telephones.

I had no sooner closed the phone and stuck it back in my pocket than it rang again. I pulled it out, amazed, for the number of people who have my phone number is very small. The screen told me it was Cecelia's cell phone, and that could be something to do with the case.

"Yeah?" I said after I'd stuck the phone to my ear again.

"I shan't require you to guess who called me just now, though the temptation is powerful. It was Mama, and she and Daddy have tickets to Albuquerque."

"Tickets – as in airplane tickets?"

"Yes." It was just the one word, but I know that voice and she was so excited she probably wanted to jump up and down and shout.

"They haven't been outside Coffee County in what, eight or 10 years?"

"That's right, Darvin – and neither has ever traveled outside Alabama. Yet they've decided to come see us. Isn't that just wonderful!"

"Yeah, it is." And it was, too – my parents died when I was four, and Cecelia's parents are mine as far as I'm concerned. They're closer to me than my aunt and uncle who raised me ever were, even though Tony and Anna did love me. "When are they comin'?"

"Their flight will arrive Monday afternoon."

"Coolness. Howsomever, we're gonna need to coordinate – Darlia's ready to come home." And I told her what Darlia and I had discussed.

"Very well," she said when I was finished. "I shall call Darlia and have her ask Memphis to put her on a plane to also arrive here Monday afternoon. I have Mama and Daddy's flight number and purported arrival time; I shall pass those on to Darlia, who can then give them to Memphis. If we can pick up everyone within an hour or two it will be quite convenient."

"So who's gonna sleep where?"

"Most certainly no one shall sleep in a hotel. I propose putting Mama and Daddy in Darlia's room, and setting her up in ... I was going to say your study, but we have ample room now without the potential disturbance to your theological activities. We could prepare her accommodations in the weight shed, or else in one of the rooms in the office."

"I'd say the office – either the storage room, though that's sort o' bleak with nothin' in there but old files and whatnot, or the conference room. An' she'll have her gear from staying at Memphis' place, so she can just dump her sleeping bag and like that wherever and have almost no transition."