Chapter 16

“At least that gives me a couple of ideas,” Lyle said in his car as he headed out of the reservation.

He turned on the radio. The Rolling Stones were reminding him, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” but the music faded to background as Lyle thought about his conversations. The chief had defended his tribe against suspected involvement in NC sabotage, but he had not denied that Johnny Cooper and his band were responsible for the bridge incident.

Lyle came to an intersection and almost turned the wrong way. He could see why the railroad would be so important to NC. Driving to the casino from the park would take a long time on two-lane roads. The train, traveling a more direct route, could cover the ground in well under an hour.

Lost in thought--and the Stones--Lyle did not immediately notice the motorcycle rapidly gaining on him. As his car rounded a turn and headed out a long straightaway, Lyle saw the biker’s image in his mirror. As the bike’s reflection grew larger, Lyle slowed to let the motorcycle pass. Instead of passing, the bike pulled up directly behind him and cruised along at fifty miles per hour, just a foot from Lyle’s bumper. Then, as Lyle watched, the bike swerved around his rear fender and the rider brought the motorcycle up to the side of the car. With a gloved hand, the biker motioned for Lyle to pull over. He considered flooring it, wondering if his V-8 Mustang could outdistance the speedy bike. Before he could make a decision, the biker flipped up her visor and Lyle saw the face of Jen Smith, the woman he’d talked to at the casino. Her sly smile said she was proud of herself.

“Hope I didn’t startle you,” she said, dismounting a powerful Japanese dirt bike after she and Lyle had pulled up on the shoulder. She took off her helmet and set it on the bike’s seat. Her clear skin was the color of light oak. Her full lips now carried no hint of defiance. Small ears poked through her dark, shiny hair. “I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression back there.”

“If you’re thinking our security people blame members of the tribe, you’re right.”

“We’re used to that.”

“The security guys are jumpy right now.”

“I guess so. That gas station crash looks like murder, doesn’t it?”

Lyle tried his old detective’s noncommittal expression. “Officially, an accident.”

“I used to work at the park, until recently,” she said. “I heard all about the car crash and the damaged ride. And now the monorail wreck in the Fun Zone. Are they related? Is that what this is about?”

Max would be disappointed to know NC’s sabotage fears were about as much of a secret as the Watergate break in. Nostalgia City was a small community. Lyle decided nothing he could do would spread the story any farther than it already was.

“We don’t know for sure. Frankly, I don’t know much at all. That’s why I’m asking questions.” Lyle rested against the side of his car. “What’d you think?”

“I think you’re funny. No, don’t frown. I heard you talk in the training center when I was first hired. You were funny.”

“Is that funny ha-ha, or funny peculiar?”

“That’s funny, too. Your jokes. I liked your delivery. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I couldn’t tell you this at the office.”

“You don’t want to get too cozy with the white man.”

“Something like that.”

“So, what do you think is going on?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve heard rumors. I used to work in accounting. I heard employees saying the tribe was damaging things because they didn’t want the casino railroad. Well, there’s a few people that don’t want it, but most of us are hopeful. There’s a lot riding on this.”

“You know Johnny Cooper? Could he be involved?”

“Maybe, but he’s never worked at NC. I don’t think he would be able to get access to the rides and that car that crashed. It doesn’t sound like something he’d do, anyway. He’s just against the railroad route.”

“So he could have wrecked the bridge.”

“You know, we’re not the only people you should think about. Have you talked to Sean Maxwell?”

“Sean. Is that the--”

“President’s brother. He used to work at NC.”

“They started the park together, didn’t they?”

“That’s what I heard. But they split up and the brother went back to his store.”

“Store?”

“He runs the Route 66 Emporium and Museum outside of Polk.”

“You think he’d do something to harm the park?”

“You’re the detective. Find out.”

“I’m not a detective. I drive a cab.”

“Sure, you’re a cab driver. Okay. Whatever.”

“Thanks for the suggestion.”

Smith smiled and turned to go.

“Hey, you didn’t make a bad impression on me before,” Lyle said. “And now that I see you’re a dirt bike rider--And you’re in accounting, too?”

“I’ll be a CPA one of these days. I just finished working my way through Northern Arizona University.”

“Why’d you quit the park?”

“They wanted me at the casino office. The tribe needs a smart college girl to help them keep an eye on the balance sheet.”

“Our loss.”

Smith walked with sure steps to her bike and pulled on her helmet decorated with a drawing of a coyote running and the words “Li’l Coyote.”

As she swung a leg over the bike, Lyle noticed how her pants were like a second skin and almost the same color. C’mon, Lyle. She’s half your age. Talk about too young for you.

“If you need to know any more, you can call me at the casino.”

“Do I ask for Little Coyote?”

“Jen Smith will do.”