Page 36

Thursday
WELL,” SAID AGENT POLOGNA, returning to their motel room with the ballistics report in hand, “I guess that’s it. The bullet and casing are from Running’s gun, he’s guilty, and now we can go back to Denver.”
Coldmoon would have liked nothing more than to get back to Denver. Two nights spent in the White Feather Motel with Pologna were two nights too many. But he tossed the hard copy on his bed and said nothing.
Pologna looked at his watch. “If we take the perp into custody now and wrap this up with the RPD, I bet we could get out of here by noon and be back in Denver by six.”
Coldmoon nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”
It was an easy morning’s work. They arrived back at Running’s place in Parmelee with LaPointe, Wilcox, and two other RPD officers. Coldmoon and Pologna remained in the car, so as not to cause a stir, as the four local officers knocked on the door and took Running into custody. After a few feeble protests while he was being cuffed, the man fell silent. Mrs. Running stood at the door cursing them in Lakota as they drove him off.
“You understand what that old biddy said?” Pologna asked as they followed the RPD van.
Coldmoon nodded. “She referred to certain anatomical parts of the arresting officers, saying that the creator had been drunk when they were conceived and gave them organs belonging, respectively, to a toad, a mud puppy, and a mosquito.”
Pologna almost doubled over in laughter. “I love it.”
At the police station in Mission, the prisoner was processed and locked up, awaiting a bail hearing. Coldmoon and Pologna filled out paperwork, and by eleven thirty were outside.
“Back to the motel, collect our shit, and we’re out of here,” said Pologna.
They got in the car and drove in silence for a minute. Then Coldmoon spoke. “Are you sure we got the right man?”
Pologna looked at him incredulously. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’tknow?”
Coldmoon wondered if he shouldn’t just shut up and call it a day. But he felt uneasy and knew the right thing was to voice his concerns.
“It’s just all a little too…pat.”
“How so?”
“First of all, the gun.”
“What about the gun?”
“We discussed this already, back before the search. Running must have known we were coming back with a warrant to search specifically for that rifle. Why’d he keep it on the premises? And you have to admit that hiding place was pretty lame.”
“Most criminals aren’t smart. You know that.”
“He didn’t strike me as dumb at all.”
“And that bullshit story about the gun being stolen—and yet he didn’t report it? You believed that?”
“No.” The story was clearly bogus, and certainly a strike against Running. “But what about the shell casing out at the shooting post?”
“What about it?”
“It was just sitting there, for all to see.”Even you, Coldmoon thought. “Why didn’t he pick it up? He was careful not to leave any other clues. There were no latents on the casing, so he must’ve loaded it with gloves. Why take care with that and then leave the casing?”
“You don’t think clearly when you’ve just killed someone.”
“The ballistics report says the gun and ammo were also wiped clean.”
“He wiped it all down before he hid the weapon.”